Kipperman's Pawnshop
![[Photo: Ted Kipperman in front of his pawnshop/wedding chapel]](kippermans_pawnshop-1.gif)
(Sounds of street.)
DAVE ISAY: Kipperman's Pawn Shop
stands out on East Bellfort Street in Houston -- a decidedly grungy strip of
fast food joints, beauty parlors and liquor stores. The building, located across
the street from an abandoned bowling alley, is an oasis of color. Huge signs
beckon "We marry you $49, no appointment necessary" and "Hock it
to me."
TED KIPPERMAN: One of my slogans out here
at this place is "When you're in the mood to say I do, and you really care,
think of Kipperman's Wedding Chapel, where love is always in the air."
ISAY: As you may have guessed, that is
Ted Kipperman, the mastermind of this operation. An enormous painted portrait of
the man takes up an entire side of the building. He looks distinctly pope-like
in his chaplain's outfit -- a long white robe, a red stole draped around his
neck.
The inside of Kipperman's Pawn Shop is packed with the usual assortment of
hockables-- TVs, VCRs, toasters and tools, glass display cases of jewelry and
racks of guns.
KIPPERMAN: This is a 25-caliber pistol,
$79.95 . . .
People always kid me and say, "This is the only place in town you can
get married and buy a gun all at the same time."
This is a .38 right here. Boy, that will stop 'em.
ISAY: The genesis of this odd
combination of businesses dates back to the early 1980s. Houston had hit
particularly tough economic times, and customers were hocking huge numbers of
wedding rings. Kipperman says that he just couldn't bring himself to melt any of
them down.
KIPPERMAN: There's too many memories.
ISAY: It became an obsession for
Kipperman. His collection of surplus wedding rings grew and grew and grew until
one day, in 1984, when Kipperman reached his breaking point.
KIPPERMAN: I woke up one morning in a
cold sweat. What am I going to do with those wedding rings? So God spoke to me
and said, 'Maybe a wedding chapel will be a good thing to put in that pawnshop.'
ISAY: Kipperman followed this divine
inspiration. He wrote away to the National Chaplains Association and got himself
ordained. Then, sparing no expense, he installed a chapel in his pawnshop. It's
hard to miss. At the back of the store Kipperman has built a miniature church façade
-- complete with columns and fake stained glass windows, the whole structure
adorned with blinking Christmas lights. On an easel next to the chapel entrance
sits a big-framed color photograph of Kipperman.
KIPPERMAN: Oh, so happy to see you here,
right on time for your wedding.
ISAY: Kipperman's first couple of the
day has arrived, Ernest and Lucy -- a handsome pair who live in the neighborhood
and say they were drawn to Kipperman through his "Buy a ring, get a free
wedding" offer.
KIPPERMAN: Come right in here.
ISAY: Kipperman leads the couple
through two frosted glass doors into his wedding chapel, a small plush room with
a few rows of cushioned pews.
KIPPERMAN: Stand right here.
ISAY: Kipperman positions the couple at the front of the chapel, and
stands before them inside a seven foot tall wrought-iron heart, threaded with
plastic flowers. He hits the play button on an old cassette recorder.
(Tape of "The Wedding
March" plays.)
KIPPERMAN: Dearly beloved, we are
gathered here today to join Lucy and Ernest in marriage. They're getting married
today. Why? Because they're in love with each other.
ISAY: Ernest and Lucy have opted for
Kipperman's bargain basement wedding, passing on all of the extras he offers --
like the $14.95 bouquet, a $50 value.
KIPPERMAN: I have a wedding gown here
that if they'd like to rent, that'll be $20.
If they want to have a videotape of the wedding, I've got a video camera I
can come in here and shoot it with it. One of my employees can do it for, say,
$49.95. That's a good deal.
KIPPERMAN (to couple): Till death
do us part.
LUCY AND EARNEST: Till death do us part.
ISAY: The ceremony is brief, but heartfelt.
KIPPERMAN: Okay, then by the authority of
the State of Texas, and my authority as a chaplain, and as a minister, and by
the still higher authority of the word of God, I now pronounce you husband and
wife. Whom God . . .
ISAY: As is wont to happen, Kipperman
is overcome by the emotion of the moment.
KIPPERMAN: Whom God has joined together
let no man put asunder. Ernest, you may now kiss the bride.
Well, congratulations. I have Mr. Ernest and Lucy Duran. Thank you very much
for letting me officiate. Thank you, Mrs. Duran. Now stand right there . . .
ISAY: One of Kipperman's clerks, Carl
Davis, sits at the chapel's Baldwin organ -- which, incidentally, can be
purchased for a mere $200 -- and plays.
(Sounds of organ music.)
In keeping with tradition, Ted Kipperman poses the newlyweds, Ernest and
Lucy, for a complimentary Polaroid. They toast empty plastic champagne glasses
in front of a fake, albeit realistic-looking, wedding cake.
KIPPERMAN: I have to change the cake out
about every four or five months because people try to eat the cake.
ISAY: Have you ever had anyone actually
get married and then come in later and hock their wedding ring?
KIPPERMAN: Well, once in a while they'll
come in when they get down on their luck, but most people, they pick up their
wedding rings up after they pawn them. Once in a while, they'll come in and tell
me they don't want their wedding rings anymore because they think they're gonna
get a divorce and do I do annulments. And I say, "No, I don't do
annulments. My weddings are always for better or for worse."
ISAY: No sooner have the newlywed
Durans departed, than Rose Martinez shows up at the pawnshop. She is here
without her betrothed, a man named Michael Smith who, she explains, is currently
locked up at the state's maximum security penitentiary. He's been there for
eight years. Rose and Michael have decided that now is as good a time as any to
tie the knot -- by telephone.
ROSE MARTINEZ: I guess we don't want to loose each other. But by the time he
comes out he'll be 50-something years old and I'll be 50-something years old,
but I love him. I love him very much, and he loves me too, so I guess that's
what counts.
ISAY: A wedding by proxy. Kipperman
knows the routine well. Rose has brought with her a marriage license and the
prison's phone number. That is all Kipperman needs to join the two in holy
matrimony. Unfortunately, there's no telephone in the chapel, so the ceremony
takes place out front.
KIPPERMAN: We'll have to do this one
across the counter.
MARTINEZ: It don't matter, as long as I'm married to the man I really love.
KIPPERMAN: Oh, is this the Eastham Unit?
Is Warden Martin there?
ISAY: As it turns out, the groom is
unreachable. So, Ted Kipperman has the prison chaplain stand in for Michael
Smith at the penitentiary. And, on this end, who to stand in and exchange rings
with the bride? Well, I do the honors.
KIPPERMAN: Dearly beloved, we're gathered
here today to join Michael and Rosario in marriage.
ISAY: I have to admit, we were both a
little nervous. But Kipperman, with his sugary smile and sure-footed execution
of the ceremony, puts us right at ease.
KIPPERMAN: Rosario, do you take Michael
to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live with him according to God's holy
ordinances?
MARTINEZ: I do.
KIPPERMAN: And we have a stand in for the
groom Mr. David Isay. You do vow to take care of her and do everything according
to God's holy ordinances? Say, "I do."
ISAY: I do.
KIPPERMAN: Well then, by the authority of
the State of Texas, and my authority as a chaplain, I now pronounce you husband
and wife. Whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Congratulations.
(Organ music.)
ISAY: And so another couple is joined
in matrimony. Just add them to the long list of satisfied customers who've found
love at this most unlikely locale, Kipperman's Pawn Shop and Wedding Chapel in
Houston, Texas.
For National Public Radio, I'm David Isay.
MARTINEZ: I appreciate it a whole lot. If my husband was here too, he would
thank you, too.
