Lost for 50 Years, Wedding Ring Returned On Valentine’s Day

CHICAGO — Two weeks ago, a story about reuniting a lost wedding ring with its owner unfolded in the Morgan Park neighborhood on the southwest side of Chicago.

Now the story has its official happy ending. On Valentine's Day, the ring was placed back on the finger of the woman who lost it almost fifty years ago.

The story of the return of the ring started the weekend of January 31 when a man posted on a local Facebook page that he lost his wedding ring in a snowbank. That prompted a woman in the community to post that, while gardening at her home on Artesian Avenue, she found a wedding ring in the soil but was never able to identify its owner. A third person, Clare Duggan, tagged the Ridge Historical Society (RHS), encouraging RHS to take on the challenge of finding the ring’s owner. Clare had worked with RHS on a personal research project.

That was when I got involved. As a researcher/writer for RHS, I handle the RHS Facebook page and website. RHS was founded in 1971 to preserve the history of the Washington Heights, Beverly Hills, Morgan Park and Mount Greenwood communities in Chicago. A lot of time is spent on researching local history, including the backgrounds of homes in the area.

“Sure,” I replied. “This is the kind of request we love to look into. Let me have the details.”

The finder of the ring shared that she owned the house since 2006, and found the ring six to eight years or even longer ago. There was an inscription inside the ring that read “RA to K.B. 4-16-66.” That gave the only clue to the identities of the bride and groom. It also meant the ring could have been dropped any time between 1966 and 2006 – forty years to consider.

“I hope they’re still married. Or at least still alive,” wrote the finder of the ring.

Promising to look into this, I hoped that, also.

Of course, a ring doesn’t make a marriage, but as the external symbol of the love and commitment a couple share, there are a lot of emotions tied to a wedding ring. My own mother lost the diamond from her engagement ring, and later her wedding band had to be cut off her swollen finger after an injury. She regretted the loss of those rings for the rest of her life. Hopefully, this ring would be returned to its rightful owner who might be experiencing similar feelings.

That Sunday afternoon, January 31, I reached out to Linda Lamberty, the RHS Historian, a superb researcher and genealogist. “Would you like to help look into this with me? I hope you will,” I emailed.

Linda wrote back (as I knew she would), “Are you kidding??? OF COURSE I would love to work on this with you!”

We did our “research thing,” the details of which are not critical to the story, but the positive outcome is.

We connected the ring to its owner through her grandfather, Albert H. Witt, who had passed away at that address in April of 1955. Mr. Witt had a married daughter, Clare Berk, and Linda traced that Clare had a daughter Karen Berk who married Robert Autenrieth in 1966. There was our RA to K.B. in the right year.

As Linda wrote then, “If this is not the right couple, it’s a d****d amazing coincidence!”

The Autenrieths were found in San Antonio, Texas, and Karen had a Facebook page. I sent Karen a message through Facebook at 2:00 a.m. on Monday morning. Not knowing if we would receive an answer, our back-up plan was for Linda to try reaching them by phone.

But later that morning, there was a Facebook response from Karen Autenrieth: “OMG. I lost that in the snow in front of my grandmother's house. I searched and never found it. I would love to get it back. We are going to celebrate our 55th wedding anniversary in April. What a miracle!”

Karen sent her phone number, and I called her. We had a teary-eyed conversation.

Karen shared the story of losing the ring. It was 1973. She was a young mother, with three children, ages 2, 3, and 4. They had been visiting her grandmother. There was snow on the ground and the plows had pushed it all up on the curb. She didn’t have on gloves, and her hands were cold. She climbed over the snowbanks helping the children into the car, and as she brushed the snow off the car, the ring went flying off her finger. She looked for it but couldn’t find it.

That night at home, she cried about losing her ring. Her husband Bob consoled her. They looked for the ring again, after the snow melted, but never found it.

Time brought changes, as it always does. The ring was replaced, and the Autenrieths moved to San Antonio. The house in Morgan Park changed owners several times. Karen never expected to see that ring again.

The finder of the ring asked me to return it to Karen, and after saying yes, I realized what a responsibility I had just taken on. I had a new appreciation for Frodo Baggins in The Lord of the Rings. I momentarily thought about enlisting some hobbits, dwarves and elves and driving the ring down to Texas, but settled for sending it as registered mail through the U.S. Post Office. It was a great relief when Karen reported the package arrived safely.

For the past week, Karen, Linda and I have been giving interviews about this story to local and national media, but the story wasn’t really complete.

Karen’s children made her promise not to open the ring until they were all there to share her joy. A birthday party for her youngest son was planned for Sunday, February 14, Valentine’s Day, when the entire family, children and grandchildren, would all be together, creating the perfect time for the ring ceremony.

Unfortunately, cold temperatures and icy weather, uncharacteristic for San Antonio, followed the ring down to Texas. The family party had to be postponed until later in the week.

Karen and Bob, however, decided to go ahead with opening the ring - on national television, no less. Those family members who could make it were there, the others present by videoconferencing. They shared the video of the event.

“I feel happy, very happy,” said Karen in the video, looking at the ring on her finger; “I can’t believe it. It’s amazing. It’s been a long time.”

Karen has plans to write up the story of the loss and recovery of the ring from her point of view, so we’ll let Karen tell the story in her own words in her own time. After all, this was really Karen’s story. Linda and I were happy to be part of it.

“It’s deeply satisfying to reunite a person with a possession at such a meaningful level. The hunt was what was thrilling, solving a puzzle for someone. And we should recognize it took a village to do this - kudos to the person who found the ring and to Clare for tagging RHS,” said Linda.

From my perspective, call it karma or destiny or Divine Intervention, this was meant to be. That ring could have disappeared for good many ways during the past five decades. It could have been raked up with leaves and carted off in trash removal or it could have been washed down the sewer with a heavy rain or melting snow. Instead, the ring worked its way into the soil, waiting to be rediscovered. There was no Internet or Facebook fifty years ago. All the pieces fell into place at this point in time.

Not surprisingly, there are a number of superstitions about wedding rings. A wedding ring that falls off may mean a parting of the ways. A lost ring may be a sign of coming misfortune. Fortunately, those superstitions had no relevance here.

Bob has had an important role in the story. Linda lauded him for having the ring engraved in the first place because without that clue, chances are Karen and he would never have been identified.

Another superstition says if a wife’s wedding ring falls off, the husband must be the one to place it back on her finger. On Valentines Day, Bob placed the ring on Karen’s finger just as he did almost 55 years ago.

The ring is a little too big for Karen’s finger; Karen said it was always like that.

“After everyone went home, Bob went straight to the computer and ordered a set of ring guards to ensure it doesn’t get lost again,” said Karen.

That’s love, what the ring stands for. That’s a happy ending.

Carol Flynn is a researcher and writer for the Ridge Historical Society.