It was 11:30 a.m. on Labor Day, 2018 and everyone was gushing over the birthday boy, Mannie Corman, who wore a black shirt that read “Vintage 1918; Aged to perfection,” and a matching hat with the number 100 printed in white.
Mr. Corman, who sat in an electric wheelchair, reveled in the company of his 160-plus guests, some who had flown in from California, Las Vegas and Texas with others from New York. They kissed his cheeks, reached for his hands, and took his photo. When Judith Goldman, 76, Mr. Corman’s girlfriend of seven years, wasn’t at his side, she was mingling with the crowd.
Off to the side a crooner sang love songs while a roaming photo booth and videographer each captured different moments on the Liberty Warehouse’s airy deck, overlooking the New York Harbor in Brooklyn.
At noon, the guests were asked to take their seats inside the main room, which housed three buffet stations and a dance floor. A black and white portrait booth was in one corner. Another booth held two virtual reality games. A third showcased mini basketball hoops, Foosball and air hockey. Handmade wooden boxes that depicted a specific year, and highlighted important happenings during that time, served as table centerpieces. Beautifully decorated shortbread cookies made to look like the Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty, a passport and the number 100, were on the tables as well.
The centennial birthday brunch for Mr. Corman, whose birthday was Aug. 31, was a success.
Then, the party took a turn.
Once guests were seated awaiting brunch, the closed black velvet curtain was opened and revealed a flower girl and ring bearer. Ms. Goldman, who had freshened her makeup and had added a veil to her white ensemble, and Mr. Corman, who now fashioned a black tux jacket, trailed behind them while “Young at Heart” played in the background. A collapsible huppah appeared and was immediately erected with family members, representing both sides, proudly holding each corner. They were among the few people, besides the bride and groom, who knew what was about to happen.
“I’ve known Mannie for more than 50 years, I never dreamed he would be having a wedding,” said Steven Cohn. “It’s fabulous. It’s an inspiration for us. It’s never too late.”
“I’m shocked. We had no idea,” echoed Lynne Laufer, who sat next to her just-as-surprised husband. “We were told this was a birthday party. Had I known, I would have brought them a gift.”
Ms. Goldman, who was a special-education teacher at a Bronx high school, met Mr. Corman, who retired as garment manufacturer, in 1999. She was getting married, for the second time, to Rabbi Phil Goldman, one of Mr. Corman’s best friends.
“I liked Mannie instantly. He was clever and he knew about the sewing industry, just like my father did,” she said.
Through her late husband, the two become friends.
“When my husband died in December 2010, Mannie was in rehab from complications from a car accident, so he missed the funeral,” she said. “When he got back home, he called me and asked to get together. I was going in for knee surgery so we didn’t see each other until April.”
The two went for dinner in Brooklyn. And went again in May. In June, Ms. Goldman decided to donate some belongings to her late husband’s temple. Mr. Corman accompanied her.
“In the parking lot, he grabbed my hand and it was like a bolt of lighting went through me. Then he kissed me. My whole body melted,” she said. “I couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt good. We held hands in the car and looked at each other.”
If this seems a bit untraditional, just wait. There’s more.
A few important facts, aside from their 24-year age difference: Ms. Goldman has been married twice before; Mr. Corman once. She has two children from her first marriage; he has none. She lives in White Plains, about an hour on a good day from his Brooklyn Heights apartment, where he lives with a full-time aide. They intend to keep separate residences, because neither wants to move.
After their relationship took a romantic turn, they saw each other on and off over the next year. Ms. Goldman included him in the family holidays; he invited her to temple functions. Sleepovers became a regular occurrence as did monthlong jaunts to Florida.
In 2014, Mr. Corman proposed.
“We were sitting in my home having breakfast and Mannie said, ‘It would be wonderful for you to marry me. But you’d have to live in Brooklyn,’” Ms. Goldman said. “I couldn’t do that.”
“I have a life here. I babysit for my grandchildren. I have a lot of energy. Moving in with Mannie and leaving my home would be like cutting off part of my life. I told him, ‘I’ll change as a person and you won’t want me. I’ll be very different.’”
Mr. Corman was put off, but accepted her answer.
“She’s got a strong mind, and a strong will,” he said. “ I didn’t want to give up my place and she didn’t want to give up hers.”
Over the next year he would announce in front of friends, family and random people, “I want to marry her, but she won’t live in Brooklyn.”
A step closer to compromising happened in 2015; they bought a home together in Del Ray, Fla.
”I’m looking for caring, shared moments and travel,” Ms. Goldman said. “He makes me feel secure. I’m not looking for a 72-year-old prince with wavy hair. I’m looking for a real person to be with.”
Mr. Corman spoke similarly. “Judy and I have a wonderful love affair. She’s a very bright lady. It’s really easy to talk to her. We laugh a lot.”
Another bonding moment happened a few months later when Mr. Corman gave Ms. Goldman an engagement ring. He used the diamond from her mother’s engagement ring, and placed an additional diamond on either side.
“The ring was about commitment to him, and I felt comfort from wearing something of my mother’s,” Ms. Goldman said. “I wanted to be with him, but I wasn’t going to compromise myself. I needed my space.”
A final step toward ever-after happened during the 100th birthday party-planning process, which started in 2017.
“Mannie suggested getting married a few months after his party,” Ms. Goldman said. “There was no way I could do this a second time. So after talking it out, he finally said we could live like we do now.”
And so it was decided in May that the wedding would be part of the birthday party.
“When you go with a girl like Judy, you’re supposed to marry her. That’s the way it works,” Mr. Corman said. “I’m good with the arrangement. I want her to be happy. I was ready to marry. So it can go on like this.”
Ms. Goldman felt the same way. “We’re at the stage of our relationship to make a stronger and deeper commitment,” she said. “He’s gotten older and more vulnerable. Each year he knows how much he loves me. I want to make his life be the best for him.”
When the pair told David Milowitz, Ms. Goldman’s son from her first marriage, he was unfazed.
“You look at him and you think, ‘He’s an old man,’ but he’s so funny with these amazing stories,” said Mr. Milowitz, 43. “They’re both adventurers, and they love that in each other.”
Rabbi Joseph Potasnik, who married the couple and officiated at more than 1,000 weddings, said Mr. Corman is the oldest groom he has ever married.
“People like Mannie and Judith recognize the importance of each and every day,” he said. “They don’t worry about tomorrow. They may think about yesterday, but they concentrate on today.”
The age issue did not seem to be a factor for the bride or the groom.
“I never thought I’d get married at my stage,” Mr. Corman said, while on the dance floor surrounded by friends, family and fans. “Love is not a commodity. It’s a deep, intense feeling. She loves a man that’s 100. You got to be off your rocker. I joke with her and say, the next fella you’re with after me had better be a young man of 70 or 80.”
The party was a success despite a few hitches: a suitcase with Mr. Corman’s medications, among other items, was left behind in White Plains, and retrieved; some people didn’t show, others came unexpectedly; pastry baskets were put on tables late.
“I love this man — age is just a number,” said the bride, who was indeed beaming. “It makes us a legal part of the family. Now when people ask me, ‘Who are you?’ I can truly say his wife. It feels good. I feel like someone took a scarf and tied it around the two of us.”
