Journal perfessor multigeek's Journal: Hooking Up On The City Hall Steps 4
So, that was fun.
I ran into some Episcopalians (one a minister formerly at the Cathedral of St. John) in the subway on the way down. We'ld taken the subway together to the February 15th peace march last year so they were familiar faces. I discovered from them that the real start time was 1:30 and most of us had been given an earlier time to ensure that we wouldn't be late.
Ah, they know us so well.
The crowd in front of City Hall was small (about thirty of us and not a single opponent) when we got there and they started letting us in in groups of ten to pass through the now obligatory security check. Most of the cops were polite and helpful so it all went fast.
In front of the steps it was amiable chaos as the various officiants (reverends, priests, rabbis, etc.) said their hellos and everybody tried to get ready. One great moment was a big, bluff silver haired minister making his way through the crowd yelling "Episcopalians!" while he waved copies of their joint statement for them all to review.
We were all (even most of the press) feeling mellow and happy, it was bright, warm, and sunny, and most of us knew other folks there and were busy saying "hey, glad you could make it! Whatcha doing after? How's that [fill in the project] going?". These things are always a bit of a kaffee klatch and this was, even more then most, all in the family.
The crowd was like a portrait of the progressive left. Racially mixed, mostly either kinda pudgy or relentlessly fit, bits of ikat and tie die but mostly very Patagonia and Lands' End. A few of us, like me, were in full corporate regalia, with our tailored sport jackets and trench coats. The ministers and such pretty much the same except that each had their signature cloth stole draped over their shoulders, mostly richly embroidered or brightly appliceed. The word had gone out to refrain from partisan displays, so the political stuff was mostly limited to the occasional button like the small green one that said "the Patriot Act is soooo 1984". We were mostly thirties through fifties with a few clusters of mostly crophaired "dykey" twenty-somethings and a few little kids brought by their moms.
In short, other then the priestly regalia and the clusters of press and television cameras, we looked like a mixed reunion of a small liberal arts college or a suburban Unitarian congregation. Completing the picture were the tags many people were wearing, clearly printed on somebody's inkjet that morning and in little clear plastic "my name is" style holders. They had, IIRC, a red cross in a blue shield with one filled quadrant, a quote from some "very reverend" eminence about "our church believes in the open doors of belief" (I'm paraphrasing), and the name of some church.
The press looked and acted pleasant enough and not as rushed as they usually are at small political events. They were desperate for "visuals" and created a fun-to-watch cluster all taking shots of one four year old boy in an outfit that matched what I assume was his father's as another adult pinned roses to the lapels of their navy blue blazers. Sure, it was cute, but did it really merit fifteen or twenty professional photographers?
So for a while we all drifted around, chatted, got loosely into place, and gave the stragglers time to arrive. Meanwhile the officiants drifted towards the steps, the folks with the heavy duty cameras got their tripods into an ever more orderly row, and, oh, by the way, almost anonymous in the midst of us, two couples made their way towards the front.
What did they look like? The two guys were all in black and, other then a slight nervousness and an occasional flicker of a smile, looked like a couple of prosperous Chelsea residents going out for dinner and drinks. Except for an almost wistful amusement in their eyes and a little something in their manner, I wouldn't have guessed that this was anything but a typical day for them.
The two women, a couple of five-fourish, heavyset light-skinned, black women looked much more like a couple about to get married. One was in a Chinese silk, deep blue, embroidered sheath dress that shimmered in the light, with her hair full and thick, her partner in an impeccable tux, with about an eight of an inch of hair and a happy but protective look as the woman in the sheath dress leaned into her a bit nervously, pulling a bit away from the crowd.
Yeah, they looked a bit nervous, yeah, the woman in the dress was crying a bit, and yeah, they looked really damn good.
I didn't even see the third couple, only glimpsing bits of head or shoulder under the chuppa later that day.
Meanwhile, with the working press long since in place, the "vacuous baritones" and "bubble blondes" of the major stations bullied their way through, having just arrived but pushing to prime positions by sheer force of ratings dominance.
The ceremony? Well, first, of course, came the politics, as a rabbi of New York's rather high profile gay- and lesbian-oriented Temple Simchat Torah stepped up to the mikes and gave a passable but pedestrian speech. I'm sorry, but when I hear a rabbi, I expect somebody who can project, doggone it. Of course, pathetic horndog that I am, I was nonetheless aware that, like quite a few of the women there, she was really cute. (Yeah, I'm hopeless.)
Then a cluster of the ministers gave a joint statement, they took a few questions, and FINALLY asked the first couple forward.
Aw, c'mon folks, don't ask me to get all mushy here. Yeah, it was *really* sweet. A Hispanic minister and Rabbi Ellen (NOT from Simchat Torah but one of my homegirls from Cholot H'aienu (sp?)) gave a kickbutt speech about the obligation of leaders of communities of belief to move beyond laws that conflict with their ethics, declared that the couples were each married in the eyes of God, and generally kicked ass and took names.
Oh, who am I kidding? At least a quarter of the people cried, we all had smiles that stretched past our ears, and it was to the point, loving, and amazing. I'm just always impressed with Rabbi Ellen.
Various officiants found their ways to participate, like the minister who said that he had never been to a wedding with so many wedding photographers (even some of the press laughed). Several of the usual elected officials showed up though they were invisible until near the end and took no part in the speeches or organizing. Tom Duane waded in with his congrats, my neighborhood better-than-nothing-but-not-by-much assemblyman Phil Reed put in an appearance. And so on. I did not see Deborah Glick or Margarita Lopez.
In other words, with a few exceptions, even the openly gay politicians moistly seem to have sat this one out, which, given how much fun we had and how positive most of the press seemed, was just fine (This excepting one asshole from one of the Big Three who asked one couple "are you criminals or married?" Prick.)
But mostly it was gentle, collaborative, and welcoming. Most of the folks with cameras seemed content to snap shots of signs and all those photogenic and professionally charismatic officiants in their big, smiling clusters. The microphones swung here and there and just about anybody was prone to get asked to provide a sound bite or two.
So it all spun down and we started to drift off. I joined up with the friend who had called me and we meandered off in search of lunch, stopping first to chat with a very Irish, very gay, just "retired" subway motorman who liked our signs and wanted to chat.
Now, of course, since then and lunch I have been working, in transit, or writing this so I have no idea of what the media coverage or the political reactions were. Given what the officiants said, they are each at some small but real risk of arrest or other penalties.
But from what I saw, this was a real success. No anti-demonstrators, no hostile cops, no trouble from the various obvious right wingers who had to get past us on the way into or out of City Hall.
The ceremonies went by without a hitch, we had a blast, and the event was well coordinated, well covered, and well attended.
Personally, I would have been happier of there had been at least one officiant who was neither Christian or Jewish but I'll accept fighting one battle at a time. I had a good chat later that day with the reverend of a multifaith center in lower Manhattan, so for today I'm feeling no pain on that front.
I'm sure I missed a lot but chances are you can find all the pictures you want and plenty of more formal coverage out there somewhere. If any of you see a picture of a pudgy, bearded guy with a red-lined beige trench coat and a big green sign, then let me know.
Happy days,
Rustin
I ran into some Episcopalians (one a minister formerly at the Cathedral of St. John) in the subway on the way down. We'ld taken the subway together to the February 15th peace march last year so they were familiar faces. I discovered from them that the real start time was 1:30 and most of us had been given an earlier time to ensure that we wouldn't be late.
Ah, they know us so well.
The crowd in front of City Hall was small (about thirty of us and not a single opponent) when we got there and they started letting us in in groups of ten to pass through the now obligatory security check. Most of the cops were polite and helpful so it all went fast.
In front of the steps it was amiable chaos as the various officiants (reverends, priests, rabbis, etc.) said their hellos and everybody tried to get ready. One great moment was a big, bluff silver haired minister making his way through the crowd yelling "Episcopalians!" while he waved copies of their joint statement for them all to review.
We were all (even most of the press) feeling mellow and happy, it was bright, warm, and sunny, and most of us knew other folks there and were busy saying "hey, glad you could make it! Whatcha doing after? How's that [fill in the project] going?". These things are always a bit of a kaffee klatch and this was, even more then most, all in the family.
The crowd was like a portrait of the progressive left. Racially mixed, mostly either kinda pudgy or relentlessly fit, bits of ikat and tie die but mostly very Patagonia and Lands' End. A few of us, like me, were in full corporate regalia, with our tailored sport jackets and trench coats. The ministers and such pretty much the same except that each had their signature cloth stole draped over their shoulders, mostly richly embroidered or brightly appliceed. The word had gone out to refrain from partisan displays, so the political stuff was mostly limited to the occasional button like the small green one that said "the Patriot Act is soooo 1984". We were mostly thirties through fifties with a few clusters of mostly crophaired "dykey" twenty-somethings and a few little kids brought by their moms.
In short, other then the priestly regalia and the clusters of press and television cameras, we looked like a mixed reunion of a small liberal arts college or a suburban Unitarian congregation. Completing the picture were the tags many people were wearing, clearly printed on somebody's inkjet that morning and in little clear plastic "my name is" style holders. They had, IIRC, a red cross in a blue shield with one filled quadrant, a quote from some "very reverend" eminence about "our church believes in the open doors of belief" (I'm paraphrasing), and the name of some church.
The press looked and acted pleasant enough and not as rushed as they usually are at small political events. They were desperate for "visuals" and created a fun-to-watch cluster all taking shots of one four year old boy in an outfit that matched what I assume was his father's as another adult pinned roses to the lapels of their navy blue blazers. Sure, it was cute, but did it really merit fifteen or twenty professional photographers?
So for a while we all drifted around, chatted, got loosely into place, and gave the stragglers time to arrive. Meanwhile the officiants drifted towards the steps, the folks with the heavy duty cameras got their tripods into an ever more orderly row, and, oh, by the way, almost anonymous in the midst of us, two couples made their way towards the front.
What did they look like? The two guys were all in black and, other then a slight nervousness and an occasional flicker of a smile, looked like a couple of prosperous Chelsea residents going out for dinner and drinks. Except for an almost wistful amusement in their eyes and a little something in their manner, I wouldn't have guessed that this was anything but a typical day for them.
The two women, a couple of five-fourish, heavyset light-skinned, black women looked much more like a couple about to get married. One was in a Chinese silk, deep blue, embroidered sheath dress that shimmered in the light, with her hair full and thick, her partner in an impeccable tux, with about an eight of an inch of hair and a happy but protective look as the woman in the sheath dress leaned into her a bit nervously, pulling a bit away from the crowd.
Yeah, they looked a bit nervous, yeah, the woman in the dress was crying a bit, and yeah, they looked really damn good.
I didn't even see the third couple, only glimpsing bits of head or shoulder under the chuppa later that day.
Meanwhile, with the working press long since in place, the "vacuous baritones" and "bubble blondes" of the major stations bullied their way through, having just arrived but pushing to prime positions by sheer force of ratings dominance.
The ceremony? Well, first, of course, came the politics, as a rabbi of New York's rather high profile gay- and lesbian-oriented Temple Simchat Torah stepped up to the mikes and gave a passable but pedestrian speech. I'm sorry, but when I hear a rabbi, I expect somebody who can project, doggone it. Of course, pathetic horndog that I am, I was nonetheless aware that, like quite a few of the women there, she was really cute. (Yeah, I'm hopeless.)
Then a cluster of the ministers gave a joint statement, they took a few questions, and FINALLY asked the first couple forward.
Aw, c'mon folks, don't ask me to get all mushy here. Yeah, it was *really* sweet. A Hispanic minister and Rabbi Ellen (NOT from Simchat Torah but one of my homegirls from Cholot H'aienu (sp?)) gave a kickbutt speech about the obligation of leaders of communities of belief to move beyond laws that conflict with their ethics, declared that the couples were each married in the eyes of God, and generally kicked ass and took names.
Oh, who am I kidding? At least a quarter of the people cried, we all had smiles that stretched past our ears, and it was to the point, loving, and amazing. I'm just always impressed with Rabbi Ellen.
Various officiants found their ways to participate, like the minister who said that he had never been to a wedding with so many wedding photographers (even some of the press laughed). Several of the usual elected officials showed up though they were invisible until near the end and took no part in the speeches or organizing. Tom Duane waded in with his congrats, my neighborhood better-than-nothing-but-not-by-much assemblyman Phil Reed put in an appearance. And so on. I did not see Deborah Glick or Margarita Lopez.
In other words, with a few exceptions, even the openly gay politicians moistly seem to have sat this one out, which, given how much fun we had and how positive most of the press seemed, was just fine (This excepting one asshole from one of the Big Three who asked one couple "are you criminals or married?" Prick.)
But mostly it was gentle, collaborative, and welcoming. Most of the folks with cameras seemed content to snap shots of signs and all those photogenic and professionally charismatic officiants in their big, smiling clusters. The microphones swung here and there and just about anybody was prone to get asked to provide a sound bite or two.
So it all spun down and we started to drift off. I joined up with the friend who had called me and we meandered off in search of lunch, stopping first to chat with a very Irish, very gay, just "retired" subway motorman who liked our signs and wanted to chat.
Now, of course, since then and lunch I have been working, in transit, or writing this so I have no idea of what the media coverage or the political reactions were. Given what the officiants said, they are each at some small but real risk of arrest or other penalties.
But from what I saw, this was a real success. No anti-demonstrators, no hostile cops, no trouble from the various obvious right wingers who had to get past us on the way into or out of City Hall.
The ceremonies went by without a hitch, we had a blast, and the event was well coordinated, well covered, and well attended.
Personally, I would have been happier of there had been at least one officiant who was neither Christian or Jewish but I'll accept fighting one battle at a time. I had a good chat later that day with the reverend of a multifaith center in lower Manhattan, so for today I'm feeling no pain on that front.
I'm sure I missed a lot but chances are you can find all the pictures you want and plenty of more formal coverage out there somewhere. If any of you see a picture of a pudgy, bearded guy with a red-lined beige trench coat and a big green sign, then let me know.
Happy days,
Rustin
First link (Score:2)
Trust me, from that far back I was lucky to see anything.
The sign that I'm holding up, btw, says, "Prevent loving couples from making commitments? Sometimes I don't believe the stuff that people say about me. -God." as nicely calligraphed on one of those big sheets of car
More links (Score:3, Informative)
Here's the Kansas City Star [kansascity.com] (!?)
Some commentary from the Gotham Gazette [gothamgazette.com].
Sorry, George, no N.Y. Post link yet.
Actually most reporters have barely hit deadline by now, so slowpokes like the Times won't weigh in fully until tomorrow afternoon.
Meanwhile, MSNBC prefers to leave its space reserved for commentary about New York's gay penguins [msn.com].
Ah, our wonderful world.
Rustin
In a way I'm old-fashioned, I guess (Score:2)
Nice to see that some Episcopalians were there. :-)
All the best and congrats to the new couples, too.
Cheers,
Ethelred
Re:In a way I'm old-fashioned, I guess (Score:2)
Episcopalians "there"? In all but name they were running the show.
I don't want to think what this city would be like it the influence reaching from the Cathedral of St. John was anything like the influence that spreads from St. Patrick's.
Consider congrats extended.
Rustin