Lesbian couple of 55 years ready to say 'I do'
SAN FRANCISCO (AP) - June 16, 2008 On Monday afternoon, more than a half-century after they became
a couple, Lyon, 84, and Martin, 87, plan to become the first
same-sex couple to legally exchange marriage vows in San Francisco,
and among the first in the state.
"It was something you wanted to know, 'Is it really going to
happen?' And now it's happened, and maybe it can continue to
happen," Lyon said.
San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom plans to officiate at the
private ceremony in his City Hall office before 50 invited guests.
The May 15 state Supreme Court ruling overturning laws banning
gay marriage goes into effect at 5 p.m. local time. At least five
county clerks offices are opening their doors after hours on Monday
to issue gender-neutral marriage licenses, and like Lyon and
Martin, many couples will be married on the spot.
A conservative Christian legal group that opposes the marriages
has filed a petition with a state appeals court in an effort to
stop the weddings, but legal experts consider the motion a
longshot. A spokeswoman from the Virginia-based Liberty Counsel
said Monday it hadn't heard anything from the court.
He picked Martin and Lyon for the front of the line in
recognition of their long relationship and their status as pioneers
of the gay-rights movement.
Along with six other women, they founded a San Francisco social
club for lesbians in 1955 called the Daughters of Bilitis. Under
their leadership, it evolved into the nation's first lesbian
advocacy organization. They have the FBI files to prove it.
Their ceremony Monday will, in fact, be a marriage do-over.
In February 2004, soon after he became mayor, Newsom challenged
California's marriage laws by issuing marriage licenses to same-sex
couples. His advisers and gay rights activists knew right away
which couple would put the most compelling human face on the issue:
Martin and Lyon.
Back then, the couple planned to celebrate their 51st
anniversary as live-in lovers on Valentine's Day. Because of their
work with the Daughters, they also were icons in the gay community.
"Four years ago, when they agreed to be married, it was in
equal parts to support the mayor and to support the idea that
lesbians and gay people formed committed relationships and should
have those relationships respected," says Kate Kendell, a close
friend and executive director of the National Center for Lesbian
Rights.
Lyon and Martin vividly recall the excitement of being secretly
swept into the clerk's office, saying "I do" in front of a tiny
group of city staff members and friends, and then being rushed out
of the building. There were no corsages, no bottles of champagne.
Afterward they went to lunch, just the two of them, at a restaurant
run as a job training program for participants in a substance abuse
program.
"Of course, nobody down there knew, so we were left to be by
ourselves like we wanted to be," said Martin, the less gregarious
of the two. "Then we came home."
"And watched TV," added Lyon.
The privacy was short-lived. Their wedding portrait, showing the
couple cradling each other in pastel-colored pantsuits with their
foreheads tenderly touching, drew worldwide attention.
Same-sex marriage would become legal in Massachusetts in another
three months, but San Francisco's calculated act of civil
disobedience drove the debate.
In the month that followed, more than 4,000 other couples
followed Martin and Lyon down the aisle before a judge acting on
petitions brought by gay marriage opponents halted the city's
spree.
The state Supreme Court ultimately voided the unions, but the
women were among the two dozen couples who served as plaintiffs in
the lawsuits that led the same court last month to overturn
California's ban on gay marriage.
They were having their morning coffee when Lyon heard the news
on the radio. She rushed across the house to embrace Martin. Not
long after, Newsom called to offer congratulations and to ask if
they would be willing to be at the forefront yet again.
"Sure," was the answer they gave.
The couple, who live in the same San Francisco house they bought
in 1956, do not get out much now. Martin needs a wheelchair to get
around. Although they plan to briefly greet well-wishers at City
Hall after the ceremony, they are having a private reception for
friends and family.
"It's so endearing because they do seem excited and a little
bit nervous," Kendell said. "It's like the classic feelings
anyone has as their wedding day approaches."
Because a few other clerk's offices have agreed to stay open
late Monday, other couples planning late afternoon weddings may
already have tied the knot before the mayor pronounces Lyon and
Martin "spouses for life."
They don't mind. They know they already are.
"We get along well," Lyon said. "And we love each other."
"I love you, too," Martin said.