In the summer of 1946, less than a year after the end of the Second World War, LIFE magazine shared a story from a small town in Ohio that suggested, in LIFE’s laconic phrasing, that “the U.S. [had] turned another corner in its return to peacetime normalcy.” The validity of such an assertion, meanwhile, largely depends on one’s understanding of what constitutes “normal.”
A lovesick flagpole sitter [LIFE wrote] named “Mad Marshall” Jacobs, 37, who had been sitting on his 176-foot roost for 26 days to revive interest in his art, decided to get married. He came down to earth, proposed to his fiancée, Yolanda (“Lonnie”) Cosmar, 21, a waitress from nearby Clowville, that they get married on the flagpole. She said yes and set June 30 as the date. On the afternoon of their wedding they were hoisted up to the 40-inch diameter perch for a rehearsal. While the justice of the peace stood on the ground, talking through a loudspeaker, LIFE’s cameraman [Allan Grant] hovered nearby in a helicopter, the only vantage point from which to photograph the big event properly. That night they were really married before 1,700 paying spectators. Mad’s perch, which cost him $3,000 of his war-plant earnings, had all the comforts of home, including a telephone, an electric hot plate and a chemical outhouse, but the newlyweds decided to come down that evening and spend their honeymoon on the ground.
Here, in the midst of wedding season, seven decades after Mad Marshall and Yolanda tied the knot, LIFE celebrates the lengths, and heights, to which people will go to consecrate their love. Be sure to check out some of the other—and, if possible, even more vertiginous—pictures from their special day, below.
Finally: If anyone happens to know what became of the pole-perching newlyweds—Did the marriage last? Did they have kids?—please let us know in the comments. Thanks.