Love Story Chapter 4: February 22, 1969

Me in Salzburg, 1969

Walking and talking—that's how we fell in love. After our Sunday talk we were together every day. Dee took his camera and asked me along. That first week we hiked to the Festung, "jogged" through the marble quarry, fed the ducks, strolled to the Post Office, and visited the camera store, knipsing photos and nattering all the way. We had such diverse things in common.

Mozartsteg

Walking over the footbridge to Salzburg, we noticed some men cleaning the banks of the river. Dee told me they were government employees doing welfare work projects. I commented that it sounded like the WPA. Dee couldn't believe that I knew about the WPA, and we had a long, involved conversation about Franklin D. Roosevelt.

I told Dee about a Young Democrats Rally I'd attended at BYU to hear Bobby Kennedy speak. Dee had been president of the Young Democrats at the time. Peter, Paul and Mary were my preferred group; I'd seen them on one of their first tours to Salt Lake City when I was in 9th grade. Dee had a tape of that very concert. His favorite songs from the concert were "Car, Car" and "Le Deserteur" and those were mine, too.

Salzburg Festung

I talked about Herr Bruderer, my German teacher in high school who was zealous about German history, WWII, and linguistics. And Mr. Tolman, my political science teacher who, even as a prisoner of war near Berlin, had come to love the Germanic culture in a roundabout way. Because of these teachers, I was in Austria. Dee was reading history books before kindergarten, and was majoring in European Studies and Geography before he went to Germany for a two-year stint as a Mormon missionary. How many swooning couples can weave these topics into their sweet nothings and find passionate agreement? We were meant for each other!

Marty at Salzburg Shrine

We walked and talked for hours. I made it very clear that I already had a boyfriend, and Dee made it clear that he staying in Europe that summer to work. We both understood there would be no long-lasting romance here, so we totally relaxed into a friendship. Then my roommate Judie bet me that I couldn't get him to kiss me before Saturday. I rose to the challenge.

After six days of walking and talking in Salzburg, we decided to go to Munich. Ray Clifford was a graduate TA and he and his wife Karen lived in The Steinlechner Hotel with us as chaperones. Newlyweds, just a few years older than us, they had bought a VW for the semester. We chipped in for gas, and made the 90-minute trip with them Saturday morning.

Hofbrau Haus, Munich

We bought me a Dirndl, toured the Frauenkirche, saw the Glockenspiel, and went to the Hofbrau for dinner. It was a glorious day, but it was almost over and I was losing my bet.

The drive home was cold, dark and foggy. Dee and I cuddled up in the backseat and he put his arm around me. (Up until then, he hadn't made any moves.) I put my head on his shoulder, and kept my lips puckered up just in case.


Ninety minutes is a long time to stay in kissing position without any action. My charms failed me. Dee said goodnight and Judie met me at the door with her hand out. Secretly, I told myself I admired him for respecting me. Even more secretly, I wondered what was the matter with me. Wasn't I kiss-worthy?

Dee in "The Apt."

Exploring the next night, we found a room in the attic of our hotel. It was tiny, with a couch, table and chair, and a carved wardrobe stuffed with linens. We nicknamed it "The Apt" (for apartment) and claimed it for our study.

Lunch had been special: Wienerschnitzel, Rotkohl, and Cremeschnitte for dessert. Now we had sack suppers, an English newspaper and a quiet evening ahead. Dee unwrapped his cheese sandwich and I took a swig of Quark. It was a sour, chalky tasting substance that looked like yogurt, and I shuddered. Dee laughed. I remember we were standing by the window, and then, very softly, he kissed me. Just once. It was too sweet to gloat over.

I don't think I even told Judie.