My wedding was not supposed to be held on the dead, muddy grounds of a dilapidated haunted house. I did not know I had to specify that guests and wedding party should not have to traipse through the wet dirt paths of a newly created graveyard, or that a tree should not block the road from ceremony to reception.

It was supposed to be a picture wedding, held on the pristine grounds of the beautiful Dunsmuir House & Gardens in Oakland. As the reservation and pre-payment was made months in advance, I naively believed that this was the one part of the hectic arrangements which I had nailed down. Flowers, cake, and clothing seemed to be in order, and last minute touches and decisions were being made about the food to be served. Parents and family had flown in from the east coast, and the rehearsal and dinner would take place the next day.

Fortunately my mother watched television that day, and I can only shudder to imagine what would have happened otherwise. When I came home from work, she told me that there had been a special program about the place in which I planned - just days from now - to marry. The program was about how Hollywood filmmakers had transformed the gleaming white house, green lawns and lush flowers of the Dunsmuir House into a dirty, off-white, haunted house with its blistered paint peeling. The grounds had been allowed to completely burn in the California summer and the desolate scene had been completed with a graveyard.

Exhibiting a rather astonishing, for her, show of assertiveness, my mother had found and contacted the TV station and informed them that while this was all well and nice, did they know that a wedding had been planned, and the wedding party never notified about this?

The following morning a crew arrived at my office to interview me as a follow up to their previous program. While interesting, and giving me an opportunity to say what I thought (self-edited!), the problem remained: where to get married?

The only available solution was to marry in a corner of the grounds which were not destroyed. The gazebo was used as a backdrop and filled with last minute pots of fuchsias. A last minute catastrophe was not, however, averted.

On the day of my wedding they filmed the storm scene. Water and wind were added to the mess, leaving a barely passable route from the gazebo to the reception in the carriage house. When my fiance arrived to ensure delivery of cake and flowers went smoothly, he was told the film had gone into overtime and he could not enter the property. He stepped into his sports car, and drove onto the scene ready to battle anyone who got in his way. Fortunately, they called it a wrap.

The wedding did take place, a photographer from the Oakland Tribune posing us in front of the decrepit mansion for a front page local interest item, and the guests were intrigued by the unique surroundings. Personally, I could have used a lot less excitement.

Learn more about this author, Lorraine Wright.
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