GAZETTE Tampa Bay Gay and Lesbian News

By Horst Glamsch
PROVINCETOWN, MA-It all began in 1981. I had returned to Provincetown, Massachusetts, to work the summer "season" for a second year. (The idyllic town at the tip of Cape Cod is where the Pilgrims actually touched ground before heading on to Plymouth Rock.) Because of its natural beauty and sea winds, Provincetown early on attracted a colony of artists, (who commingled with Portuguese fishermen), and with artists' open minds, eventually secured itself as a mecca for gay tourists by the mid 1970s. As this was still the roaring days of disco and throwing caution to the wind, working a summer in "P-town" was any gay boy's dream come true.

My first week back I secured a job at an outdoor French cafe where I was to work as a busboy. On my third or fourth day, since I was already "experienced," I was assigned to train the new busboy. In walked one of the cutest, freshest, young men I had ever laid eyes on. After working with him all day, seeing his zest for work and eagerness to explore the town (he was 19 and had only been out two months!), I asked him out on what would be our first date. Indeed, since that day 23 years ago, on May 23, my boyfriend/lover/partner/husband (different terms for different times) Brian, and I have always celebrated our "anniversary" on May 23.

Skip ahead through more than two decades of happiness, struggles, college, jobs, deaths, parties, marriages, divorces, and a steady stream of friends, and we were approaching our "23rd on the 23rd." We had thought about a big party at home in Tampa, or flying to Las Vegas to see the sites, but as the date suddenly loomed near we still had nothing officially planned. Then, as the ruckus in New England became louder, it became clear that true history was going to be made on May 17, when Massachusetts would become the first U.S. state to legally recognize same-sex marriage. It became to us where we needed to be on our anniversary! A casual question to Brian ten days before we officially tied the knot turned into one of the most profound moments in our lives together.

We hurriedly made flight, car, and guesthouse reservations, as we needed to get to the Cape's county courthouse by Friday of that week in order to make our deadline of the 23. To be honest, I kept pleading with Brian to slow down and let us wait a week or two, since it all was coming up so fast. He wouldn't hear it-not only because he wanted to wed on our "anniversary," but because he was afraid some court intervention might occur (the way it did in San Francisco and New Paltz, NY), and we wouldn't be able to do it at all. No one even dreamed that the homophobic Governor of Massachusetts would invoke an antiquated and racist 1913 law forbidding out-of-state couples from wedding in Massachusetts if their home state wouldn't honor the marriage. Provincetown and three other cities bucked the Governor and said they would issue licenses to all same-sex couples, whether state citizens or not. As it turned out, we got in just under the wire, with the Governor finally threatening to arrest Town Clerks who defied his order (the law is currently being challenged in court).

Aside from the biting cold weather, the weekend went perfectly. Bringing our blood tests with us from Tampa, first we went to the Barnstable County Courthouse to get a judege's order waiving the three-day "waiting period" that Massachusetts requires from all couples who wish to marry. We sat with two female couples in a family courtroom that was packed with bitter straight couples seeking divorces or alimony and child support rulings. The judge seemed to be an real hard-ass, slamming the irresponsible spouses with steep charges. We three couples sat in the back, not knowing what to expect. After a couple of hours we were all asked to rise while the judge took a break. We looked at each other nervously, as we wanted to get to P-town, a little over an hour away, as soon as possible and get our licenses. Within a few minutes the gay couples were called one-by-one into the judge's chambers. His wall lined with photos of children he had helped adopt out, the judge welcomed us with a warm smile and outstretched arm. The hard-ass who had been so mean to the quarrelling couples in his courtroom was more than welcoming to all of us, congratulating us on our lives together, and wishing us all the best. Someone suggested that maybe because he sees so much misery in his everyday courtroom proceedings, he was happy to grant us something he knew we truly wanted! Next it was off to P-town.

After checking into our guesthouse, we headed to the Town Clerk's office to get the license. There were three Town Clerks on duty, and all were busy. The benches outside of Town Hall were lined with tourists, both gay and straight, to witness this history in the making. After a short wait we were inside with two other couples. Some had dressed for the official licensing, while most were casual. After basic questions of names, parents, date and location of birth, and the bloodtest results, we had the license in hand. As naive as we were about the whole process, we believed that when we walked out of the Town Clerk's office, we could wave the license in the air and we would be married (as we had witnessed in San Francisco). Not so. We still had to have a ceremony with a Justice of the Peace. The Town Clerk's office provided a list of reputable ones.

We stopped by our friend's restaurant, The Martin House, sitting on the Bay directly next to the Boatslip, where famed tea-dances are held daily throughout the summer. Glen Martin, the owner, was my first roommate in P-town in 1980, and had returned to P-Town again and again, eventually moving there full time. He now owns one of the most renowned seafood restaurants on the Cape! A feature they have created for special events is a trellis-covered garden, resplendent with lilacs and blooming flowers, and with a view of the bay in the background. Our choice of where to wed was obvious! After Martin House we called our dear friends Jane and John, who live in Maine, to tell them we had the license, but still were going to wait two more days to be married, on Sunday. Jane said "Give me the name of the guesthouse because we'll be there." We secured a Justice of the Peace, a Unitarian Reverend, who, although busy up-Cape earlier, could make it to Martin House by 6:30 on Sunday. With all in place we took it easy for the next day and night until Jane and John came down on Sunday.

Our marriage ceremony was simple, but beautiful. I gave Brian a ring I had bought for him several years back, and since I don't wear jewelry, he lovingly put his thumb-ring, which we had fitted with a piece of duct tape so it wouldn't slide off, on my wedding finger! Even though our marriage won't be recognized anytime soon in Jeb Country, we feel that what we did was perfect for us. Not only did we really get legally married in this magical place where we first met, but we feel we are somehow part of history in the making, one more statistic that validates our worth.

Throughout the weekend, some type of wedding party would pass by on P-town's pedestrian street. Anything from the two female "bride and grooms," to the male couple who rented a limo (a rarity in P-town, due to their size), who drove from one end of town to the other honking horns and dragging the customary tin cans behind. The night before ours, a young lesbian couple next door to us had their wedding in a church, with both brides' families there to witness it. Signs of happiness abounded, from a forty-foot long banner on a guesthouse on a hill reading "Congrats Newlyweds," to t-shirts in windows reading in large rainbow colors "I DO." Love was truly in the air.

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