Henry Schalizki, left, and Bob Davis first met in 1942 in Rhode Island. They happened to be in the same place at the same time and spent the entire night talking, but oddly enough nothing more happened.
Three years later, the pair crossed paths in Baltimore. A romance that has lasted more than 60 years soon followed.
On June 20, they exchanged vows on the balcony of the presidential suite at the J.W. Marriott in Washington.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
Their second encounter is when the sparks began to fly. It was during that run-in at a bar in Baltimore that Schalizki learned Davis had moved to his hometown for work and that he was staying in a seedy boarding house.
Schalizki invited him to stay the night in his guest room, saying, "tomorrow we'll find you something." But that never happened. They fell in love, and Davis "stayed and stayed."
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
From the beginning, they traveled and socialized and spurred on each other's early passion for the theater.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
In the earlier years, the two never shared their affection openly, nor did they completely hide it. Davis was always invited along to dinner parties at the homes of Schalizki 's railroad colleagues. And Schalizki regularly attended Davis's social engagements.
While bigotry never dominated their lives, the relationship they held most sacred was never fully acknowledged. "What they don't know won't hurt them,' " Bob remembers thinking. "Let's not antagonize people."
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
Even among their families, it was never discussed. At the end of his life, however, Henry's dad wrote a letter instructing the two to take care of each other. Bob's mother always adored them both.
Being gay, even in the 1950s when they moved to Washington, was never their biggest relationship challenge. In the beginning, Schalizki's drinking held that title, until Davis staged an intervention with help from Alcoholic's Anonymous in 1957. And Schalizki hasn't touched a drink since.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
Through good times and bad, sickness and health, through Stonewall and Vietnam, through the terms of 12 U.S. presidents, starting with Harry Truman. Through the loss of more friends than they care to count, the two have shared their lives together. And now, their union is legally recognized.
Shown here, photos of the pair in their younger years adorned the tables.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
The topper on their wedding cake was custom-made to match their suits.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
When gay marriage became legal in the District, Henry set his sights on a wedding. Bob wanted no part of it.
"We're accepted as two human beings, always as a couple. I said, 'I don't see any reason for it,'" Davis recalls. "Besides that, Vera Wang will never make a gown for me to wear."
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
Henry reminded Bob of the reaction to a speech he'd given during the 2008 Helen Hayes Awards, where the couple was honored. Schalizki -- unofficially -- professed his love and support for Davis. The audience gave him a standing ovation.
Their shared life is the contribution they've made to the gay rights movement, Schalizki argued, and marriage solidifies that. "We've been an example," he says. And eventually, Davis came around.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
Their 60 guests, including Councilman Jim Graham, far right, and Helen Hayes Awards Chairman Victor Shargai, gathered around a grand piano as local actor Will Gartshore sang show tunes during the cocktail hour reception.
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
During a toast to the couple, their maid of honor, Linda Levy Grossman, the president and chief executive of the Helen Hayes Awards, said: "They have never, ever, ever needed a label for their love," she said. "They are simply the air that each other breathes."
Katherine Frey-The Washington Post
Gallery Credits:
Photo Editor, Producer Troy Witcher
Text Editor Andrea N. Browne
