When my parents married in 1951, their union was illegal in 28 states. They were from New York, so they had no trouble obtaining a license. But they knew that if they traveled – especially if they were together in public in the South – locals could freely, legally harass them, or even imprison them for fraud, fornication, violation of the Mann Act, and more. The validity of their marriage could be questioned by segregated hotel owners, shopkeepers, and then the local sheriff. Though they were activists, my parents weren’t interested in testing the law there. Alabama’s legislature didn’t stop fighting interracial marriage
until the year 2000. (No, we're not victims. Here’s a full list of pleasures and events our family missed by not being welcome in Alabama: OK, I’m all done.)
So when Gail and I had our wedding in 1995, we didn’t presume that involving the government in our marriage would make it more sacred, or improve it somehow. In fact, the opposite seemed more likely.
We looked at the benefits of a legal U.S. marriage, and decided we could wait. Instead we signed agreements handling our affairs in case either of us died, and other such emergencies. Though we didn’t realize it then, what we wanted from the government is called a civil union.
When the following year, the two most famous adulterers in the government respectively created and signed the Defense of Marriage Act, we remained very happy with our decision. The Act’s entire definition of marriage concerned who couldn’t do it. Its author, Senator Bob Barr, had so enraged his first wife that she’d sent his abortion receipts to the press – so the world could know that her ‘pro life’ ex was not just a hypocrite but was, in his own mind, a murderer. Barr was on his third marriage, so thanks to his initiative, instead of a ‘three strikes’ divorce rule, or perjury penalties for people who break their vows, the U.S. now simply defines marriage as a privilege of heterosexuals. That made us eligible! Pass.
This past December solstice, we attended a beautiful, tiny wedding in a Santa Fe buddhist temple for our dear friends Russell and Patricia. An angelic blanket of snow fell, from just before the ceremony until just after. On the videotape I shot, Russell’s daughter-in-law tiptoes up to the camera to whisper, “So David, I’m confused, are you and Gail married to each other?”
“Pretty much,” you can hear me whisper back. Watching this later, Gail and I couldn’t stop laughing. Everyone in our circle knows of our grand wedding, which was even immortalized in Tom Ashbrook’s bestseller, “The Leap”. We wear rings, have children, and keep a huge collage of the wedding over our bed. We didn’t trumpet our hesitation to make it legal. But somehow the word was getting out that these days a U.S. marriage wasn’t quite good enough for us.
While the witnesses signed Patricia and Russell’s license, the question came up again and I found myself saying, “We don’t expect to get legally married until all couples can.” I was relieved to hear Patricia say sincerely how great she thought that was.
This Valentine’s Day we sent the kids on sleepovers, attended a larger, local wedding party for Patricia and Russell, and then holed up in the San Francisco Hilton for our own celebration. The hotel was sold out, and we could feel the electricity of thousands of lovers celebrating.
Sunday morning as we packed up for a late checkout, we knew something exciting was happening and turned on the local news. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the day had come. Thousands of lifelong lovers were getting married at San Francisco City Hall. In just one city, a U.S. marriage was worthy of every committed adult couple. We rushed over.
We arrived at a huge party. A small poster, under the statue of Lincoln there, called it a “Marry-In”. We soon learned that several hundred gay couples, camped out since before dawn, had claimed all of Sunday’s licenses already. We were touched by how precious the licenses were to these couples. Unless there was some legal value to having a straight couple with them, we’d have to wait. We stayed and partied with the glowing group.
So, what is a different-sex couple’s value in this movement? In an earlier civil rights movement, white participants weren’t just welcome – they were indispensable. In the deep south, traveling with a white person offered the only chance that if a civil rights worker was murdered or disappeared, the crime would be investigated and the killers convicted. My father used his whiteness to clandestinely integrate suburban New York neighborhoods. He even got the local
Knights of Columbus to admit Negroes – and then promptly quit. (He only joined when he learned they had asserted their right, as a private club, to remain segregated.)
Today, if we’re to believe polls, most heterosexuals would still like to prevent loving couples who are different from them from marrying. To these people, if a parent can’t visit her child in the hospital, or a spouse can’t inherit property after a tragedy, fixing that is not as important as symbolically keeping their own marriage as sacred as one of Bob Barr’s, or (the real issue?) discouraging young people who might be gay. Many marriages are still performed by representatives of what we now know is the largest cabal of child molestation in human history. Couples are now routinely paid to marry on reality TV and, thanks to TiVo and Animal Planet, yesterday my daughter showed me an elaborate wedding held for two bulldogs. But we’re asked to believe that it’s all those loving couples, waiting happily in the drizzle outside City Hall, who threaten the sanctity of marriage.
Picture whites in the Jim Crow South, going into a restaurant where Negroes are sitting in and aren’t being served, saying “Hey, isn’t this place great? There’s no waiting! Why are these other people trying to wreck it?”
Straight couples: if you respect your relationship and our nation's values, we recommend you have the wedding of your dreams, and sign up for a civil union from your state government if you can. You’ll get the full benefits of all the best couples, and without feeling the least bit tainted by the adulterers, self-styled murderer, pedophiles and bigots who have defined what a legal U.S. marriage is today.
Or if you’re an idealist with hope for the sanctity of marriage, you might run into Gail and me at some City Hall. We’ll be right behind an eager gay couple or two, with a video camera. And if they’re brushed aside, we’ll step forward and say, “Excuse me, we want to get married, but I believe these people were ahead of us in line, and it just wouldn’t be right if you served us first. We’re happy to wait right here until they’re taken care of.”
And as you and other couples join us, and the line runs out the door, we’ll have another great party.
Ossie was never shy about his politics – heck, in the 50’s a great black actor wouldn’t notice if he’d been blacklisted. Except for extraordinary productions like 
