The Great San Francisco Marriages of 2004, part 3

Posted in Gay rights, Married life, Politics at 3:50 pm by ducky

After the Valentine’s Day rally, Jim and I hopped on a bus with about fifteen other couples and a reporter or two, and went off to take the message of marriage equality to a bunch of little towns in the California interior. Between the rally and the bus trip, we were away all weekend, when I really wanted to be at City Hall helping couples get married.

Thus on President’s Day, February 16, I went up to San Francisco. My beloved husband, against his better judgment, took the day off from work and classes to join me.

The day was cold and rainy. No, that doesn’t really capture how awful the weather was. It was that kind of wet cold that grinds into your bones and numbs your feet. It was the kind of chill that creeps in slowly, and once it’s in, makes you wonder if you will ever be warm again. It was the kind of sloppy wet weather that you really don’t want to be out in at all, let alone for an hour or two.

When Jim and I rounded a corner and saw City Hall, I almost burst into tears. It looked like a hedge made of plastic, with blooms of umbrellas. There were hundreds and hundreds of people lined up around the block who clearly had been out all night in the cruel weather. To see how many people were willing to endure that misery delivered a message to me like the kick of a horse that this was something very important.

When we got closer, I nearly burst into tears again: people were jumping out of cars with cardbord carboys of coffee. “Coffee? Coffee? Anybody need coffee?” Other people were passing out doughnuts and muffins. Strangers were taking care of strangers. People were being incredibly generous, on a scale that I’ve only ever seen in the company of natural disasters.

It was about 9:05, and what we’d heard about volunteering was that we should be there at 9:00. When we got there, there were about ten people standing patiently in line. They told us that a bunch of volunteers had gone in at 8:30, and the People In Charge had told the remnants that they didn’t know if they’d need any more volunteers. So they waited. So we waited.

More people came and got in line, barely sheltered from the rain (and not from the cold) by a slight overhang. And we waited. That’s me fourth from the right in the photo below.

At about 10 AM Joe Caruso from the mayor’s office emerged and looked bewilderedly at the twenty people standing in line. He seemed stunned that twenty people would stand around in the cold and wet (remember I said it was really nasty weather?) for the chance to volunteer. He told us that they didn’t need any more volunteers now, but that maybe they would at 1 PM. He gave us a phone number to call at 1 PM. A few people wandered off, but most of the would-be volunteers hesitated. Joe finally ordered us to leave on the grounds that we were a security risk for the mayor, who would be driving in shortly. (I think he made that up, wanting us to not catch cold in the rain.) Finally, reluctantly, the line dispersed.

Jim and I went back to plan B: handing out literature to people in line, giving them Freedom To Marry stickers, and telling them about Marriage Equality California. We saw some couples that we knew here and there, and one couple that we’d met on the bus trip. We would have liked to go inside, but they were only letting in couples and witnesses.

We clearly were going to run out of materials shortly, so I found the bus-trip couple and asked them if they had brought a witness, then offered to be their witness. They were gratifyingly enthusiastic about that. So I got in line with them. The line eventually worked them through the door, through the metal detector, down the stairs, down one hallway, down another hallway, down another, up some stairs, through a light court, and then into the Recorder/Assessor’s Office. While they were standing in line, they filled out their license application and were given a booklet (as required by law) on how to prevent pregnancy.

From there, we went into the Rotunda. If you have never been inside the San Francisco City Hall, you really should. It is world-class impressive. I was told that the SF dome is bigger than the one in the U.S. Capitol, and it is ornately carved with florid designs. In the center is a staircase to beat all staircases, about two floors high and fifty feet wide.

We waited in another (shorter) line for an officiant, and eventually Supervisor Bevan Dufty came all the way down all those stairs to collect “my” couple. As we were walking up all those stairs, I wondered why Bevan didn’t just marry them in the Rotunda. What better spot could there be?

Um, the San Francisco Board of Supervisor’s Chambers. Aside from being isolated and quiet, the supe’s chambers are panelled completely in wood and lavishly, sumptuously carved. (I guess during the gold rush, San Francisco had some money to throw around — and they did!)

Dufty spent quite a lot of time with “my” couple. While he didn’t dawdle and ask about the weather, he was very respectful, deliberate, careful, and thorough. This was a pattern I saw and heard of over and over about the officiants. Clearly, the idea had gotten around that this was a very special, important day to each of the couples, and they deserved for it to be treated as such. I was glad that I had dressed up.

After “my” couple left, I was inside and a free woman, so I went and found someone with a volunteer tag on. I was determined to help! The person I found was Rob, who was taking people from the Recorder’s Office to the officiant line in the Rotunda. It’s not far — probably only fifty feet — but it’s a big and confusing place and we wanted to make everything as smooth as possible. I helped Rob with the shuttle service for a while. At some point, the Minister of Volunteers came to Rob and said, “I need four or five volunteers! Can you come?” Rob said, “Uh, I’m busy — take her!” and pointed to me. I, thinking quickly, said, “I can get you five volunteers in about thirty seconds.”

I phoned Jim (who was still outside the doors) and told him to come to the front door with volunteers; after some confusion, we got Jim and a few others in the door. It turned out that they had run out of those velvet ropes that they use to show where people should go, so we were to stand about ten feet apart and point to people which way they should go.

There was a city employee who was handing out directions to couples as they passed through the metal detectors who was complaining about being hungry. By this time it was probably around 2PM, and she had had neither breakfast nor lunch. Somebody handed me a bag of purple foil-wrapped kisses and asked me to pass them out. I gave some to the city employee, which she appreciated greatly, but even so, she suddenly disappeared, presumably to eat something. Thus I ended up handing out instructions on how to get married to happy couples coming through the metal detector. As not everybody coming through was a couple — some were city employees, some were press — I’d ask them, “Getting married?” before handing them a paper.

At one point, a slight Asian woman came through. Uncertain, I asked her, “Getting married?” She laughed and said, “Yes! No!” and laughed again before explaining, “I’m Mabel Teng!” (County Assessor Mabel Teng is one of the people who made this possible!)

For part of the day, the deputies were allowing couples to come to the door, point out their witnesses, and the deputies would let the witnesses in. At one point, however, about fifteen people — some of whom were not their witnesses, just desperate couples — muscled their way in. Shortly after that (and yes, I think there was a causal relationship) they stopped letting any witnesses in. That was most heartbreaking when a woman pleaded to get her eight-year old grandson in, her grandson who had the rings.

In part because of the friends who couldn’t get in, there was a big crowd outside. I was close enough to the doors that I could hear the crowd cheer every time a new couple emerged.

At one point, a couple in absolutely beautiful Mexican formal dress left, and a mariachi band started playing. Apparently the couple had hired the band, but the band couldn’t get in.

(While it was sad, I can understand why they didn’t feel they could let more people in. It was pretty packed, and presumably the city employees who were volunteering their time would like to go home at some point. Yes, I say that knowing full well that I got in via subterfuge. While I am absolutely thrilled that I got to be a part of it, they would have been completely within their rights to kick me out.)

As I stood there passing out instruction sheets, many couples thanked me personally for being there. The first time, I was speechless. Me? I wasn’t one of the ones who was standing out in the ick all night! I don’t deserve the thanks, it is I who should be thanking you!

At some point (3PMish?), they closed the doors. Everything at the metal detectors slowed down. Jim decided that he’d like to actually see one of the ceremonies, so he got in the “want to be a witness” line. He was at the head of the line when Michael and Ismael got to the front of the line; they had no witness, so cheerfully accepted Jim’s presence.

It turned out that they hadn’t brought any rings, so Jim shucked his wedding ring and his “practice ring” and lent them to Michael and Ismael. (I’d gotten us a pair of cheap $5 rings to wear for two weeks leading up to the wedding just so we’d be used to having rings on our fingers and hence be less likely to lose the good rings on our honeymoon. Jim liked his “practice” ring, so continues to wear it.) Jim noticed that they were very careful to give the rings right back when they were done with the ceremony. Jim is very proud to wear what he calls “his twice-blessed rings”.

That left me with a pair of deputies and two women who were both waiting for the Recorder’s Office to spit out their friends. I was chatting with them when a man came toward one of them, proudly showing a marriage certificate, beaming a smile that could have melted the Arctic icecap. I will always remember that look of pure, unadulterated, unguarded, unrestrained joy on his face.

(His partner finished up in the Recorder’s office a few minutes later — and it was someone I know!)

You’ll be happy to know that at about this time, an official came down specifically to let the eight-year-old grandson out of the crowd and into his grandmothers’ ceremony.

About this time, Jim realized that there was media all over the place who would probably enjoy getting a statement from the Policy Director of Marriage Equality California, so he started hunting reporters.

Eventually things wound down and we decided we should go. As we walked out, I whispered to my husband that he had an audience outside, so should say something. He kind of made a face like he wasn’t sure that was appropriate, but I talked him into it… and he gave one of the most eloquent impromptu speeches that I’ve ever heard him give.

I should note that my beloved husband was working full-time, taking two classes, singing with the San Francisco Symphony Chorus, and serving on the board of two non-profits. He really couldn’t afford to take that whole day off after spending Saturday and Sunday on the rally and bus tour. He has no regrets.


The Great San Francisco Marriages of 2004, part 2

Posted in Gay rights, Married life, Politics at 3:56 pm by ducky

For several months, my husband had helped a bit to organize a big Freedom to Marry rally in Sacramento scheduled for Valentine’s Day, 2004. They wanted to make it a really big deal with lots of people. I worried enormously that there wouldn’t be a big turnout: that they’d get set up for seven hundred and only get seven.

Well, because of the marriages in SF that had started two days ago, there was adequate interest. Way adequate. There were about a thousand people there.

There were speeches and cheering and speeches and cheering and speeches and cheering and speeches and cheering. One of the speeches was given by my beloved husband to prove that there are straight people out there in favor of equal access to marriage. (I got to stand next to him to prove that he really is straight. I remember fixating on how my pantyhose was riding down.)

Looking out at the crowd, I remember feeling really gratified at the sea of “WE ALL DESERVE THE FREEDOM TO MARRY” signs that I saw. You see, the Freedom to Marry Coalition had printed up some large number of signs — I think 500 — for the 2003 San Francisco Pride parade. I spent quite a lot of time trying to hand out those signs before the parade with very little luck. At the end of the day, as we were leaving, we decided we really should go past where we’d left the signs to salvage any few that might be left there.

I was very discouraged to see that most of the signs were still there. It seemed like it had been a big waste of money for the coalition to print up all those signs. Looking at the huge piles of signs, I was tempted to just cut and run and let somebody else throw them away. It had been a long day — I was tired, I was hungry, and people clearly didn’t cotton to those signs. Furthermore, the signs were kind of dirty, and I had on good clothes. (If you’re going to subvert The Establishment, it helps to look like The Establishment.) Jim said that we really should take the signs home. He was right, and I knew it, but I didn’t have to like it.

So we loaded several hundred signs in the back of our car, took them home, and unloaded them into our already messy garage, where they stayed for seven months. We loaded them all into our car and took them to Sacramento with us, where we passed them out.

Thus, to see all those signs made me feel really good. I might not have wanted to collect all the signs, but we did, and that turned out to be the right thing to do.

Go to part 3 — volunteering


The start of the great San Francisco Marriages of 2004

Posted in Gay rights, Married life, Politics at 3:57 pm by ducky

Let me tell you about how it was on February 12, 2004.

For the past five years or so, my beloved husband and I have been going to Freedom to Marry events near Valentine’s Day. On February 12th, there was another rally scheduled, and I almost didn’t go.

It’s always the same old (boring) thing: ten to fifteen marriage activists, a few onlookers, a minor governmental official, and a symbolic attempt by a gay or lesbian couple to get a marriage license that would get rebuffed. At best we get a few short spots on the evening news; at worst there is no coverage at all.

Since I was already in San Francisco, I finally decided that I should probably go, plus the organizer asked me to bring a few signs. Fine.


My first clue that something was different was seeing about ten TV vans when I got out of the taxi.

It turned out that Gavin Newsom, mayor of San Francisco, had instructed the clerk’s office to issue marriage licenses to same-gender couples. I had heard that, but I had the impression that would take another week or so to get in place. I also didn’t really believe that it would actually happen before getting struck down.

However, they were ready on February 12th! That meant that all the couples who had come to our rally expecting to get rebuffed had to suddenly face the opportunity to actually get married instead. (For most, this was a microscopic leap in commitment.)

There were 10-25 TV crews there. There were at least as many, probably more, still photographers there. There newspaper and magazine reporters. There were elected officials. There were crowds of people. I don’t know exactly how many couples there were, but it was probably in the 15-30 range.

There were representatives from most of the major gay and lesbian political organizations. (I remember seeing people I knew from the National Center for Lesbian Rights, Equality California, Marriage Equality California, and ACLU, among others.)

It was a little disorganized, without particularly clear herding of the couples. For example, because of a big long line at the metal detectors, we at the back of the line lost sight of the organizers. We gravitated towards a big crowd in the Assessor’s office, but it became clear that this was folks getting ready for a press conference, not the place to get a license. So I grabbed the nearest person who looked like he might know something — Assemblymember Mark Leno — and asked where couples were supposed to be. He said the Clerk’s office, so I stuck up my hand and yelled, “All the couples who want to get married, follow me!” (and then more quietly “uh, Mark, where’s the Clerk’s office?”). We then wandered around City Hall a bit before a guard showed us where to go.

While couples were going through the license line, Mark Leno and County Assessor Mabel Teng held a press conference. Eventually, the Clerk’s Office started emitting couples with licenses. The couple would come down to the Recorder’s Office, and they would dodge through the crowd to find an officiant.

It was ecstatic bedlam. At any moment, there were usually about three gravitational wells of a solemnization happening, each with a cluster of cameras in orbit around the three participants; then cameras would spin out as that couple finished up; then a new couple would come from the Clerk’s Office and the constellations would re-form around the new couple.

There was also a constant swirling current of print reporters harvesting quotes, newly-minted spouses coursing around with the other newly-minted spouses, officiants looking for new couples, couples looking for officiants, and a few bystanders like me who were just soaking it up all the joy.

Imagine a wedding. Everybody gets happy and misty-eyed, right? Now imagine all that emotion packed into five-minute solemnizations. Now imagine three of them at once. Now imagine that it happens again, then again, then again. Now imagine that these were people who had had very little time — sometimes less than an hour — to get used to the fact that they were finally going to get to do something they had never imagined they would be allowed to do. It was an overwhelming experience for me, and I wasn’t even a participant, just an onlooker.

So the next time there’s a political event that you’re not sure you should bother going to, GO. You might be lucky enough to be an intimate witness to history in the making.

Go to part 2 — Valentine’s Day rally