The Race to Save Marriage Equality

by Chuck Colbert | photos by Marilyn Humphries

The untold story of how an unprecedented, years-long coordinated effort by gay rights advocates to defeat a ban on equal marriage in Massachusetts was decided in the final nail-biting moments of a vote on June 14, 2007

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  Marriage equality proponents at the State House on June 14, 2007

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  House Speaker Sal DiMasi, Governor Deval Patrick, and Senate President Therese Murray lead lawmakers from the chambers to a news conference

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  Victory!

Three hours before the vote, Holly Gunner received an urgent phone call. “We need a priest,” said the voice on the other end. “We need a priest to speak with a Catholic lawmaker.”

As a seasoned lobbyist on Beacon Hill, Gunner knew she had to act quickly. Every vote counted. It was June 14, 2007, and the Massachusetts Legislature seemed on the brink of allowing a popular vote on whether to take away civil-marriage rights from same-sex couples.

That morning, the lead lobbyist for the anti-gay opposition, Kris Mineau, told reporters that he had the votes.

If Mineau were right, then the Commonwealth of Massachusetts was headed for an ugly, multi-million dollar statewide battle with national implications—something marriage equality supporters wanted to avoid at all costs.

Six months earlier, no one thought it would have come to this.

In November of 2006, local newspaper Bay Windows declared in a top headline: “Anti-gay amendment is really, truly dead.”

At that point, most observers believed that the measure – a right-wing movement to change the state constitution to define marriage as strictly between man and woman – would never pass muster with the Legislature.

As it turned out, rumors of the amendment’s death were greatly exaggerated.

In a dramatic reversal of fortune, marriage equality opponents resurrected the amendment that most thought had been killed by a procedural vote on November 9, 2006. Same-sex marriage detractors revved up a grassroots campaign and took legal action aimed at forcing the legislators to vote yea or nay on the measure.

On November 19, 2006, then-Governor Mitt Romney hosted about 5,000 same-sex marriage opponents at a State House rally and told them he would appeal to the state’s Supreme Judicial Court (SJC) to call on lawmakers to vote. “The issue now before us is not whether same-sex couples should marry,” Romney said from the steps of the State House, standing behind a huge American flag that was draped from the capitol building. “The issue before us today is whether 109 legislators will follow the Constitution.”

While the SJC could not require the Legislature to vote because of a separation of powers provision in the state Constitution, the court’s unanimous December 27, 2006, ruling left little doubt about what the justices thought: “The members of the joint session have a constitutional duty to vote, by the yeas and nays, on the merits of all pending initiative amendments before recessing on January 2, 2007.”

The decision scared lawmakers into voting. So on the last day of the session, January 2, 2007, the Legislature voted “on the merits” of the measure. Before the roll call vote concluded, Norma Shapiro, the marriage equality lobbyist for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), knew it was a lost cause. For equality to prevail, at least 151 lawmakers needed to vote “No.” Shapiro accurately predicted the outcome: only 138 lawmakers rallied to the cause.

So the amendment was very much alive. Six months later, Gunner and others were fighting to kill it for good. If they pulled this off, it wouldn’t be because of any last-minute magic or backroom deals. It would be because of months of relentless lobbying, flexible strategy, and good fortune.

Given the recent gains in Vermont and Iowa, as well as the defeat last Election Day in California, there are lessons to be learned from that battle in the Bay State. What follows is the little known back-story that led to that ultimate victory for same-sex marriage rights in Massachusetts.

Not Quite the Summer of Love

The summer of 2006 was unkind to marriage equality. Although the Massachusetts Superior Court gave the green light for gay and lesbian couples from Rhode Island to marry here, New York and Washington states’ highest courts ruled against same-sex civil marriage. New Jersey’s high court would follow suit in October. News of the separation of Hillary and Julie Goodridge—lead plaintiffs in the historic 2003 lawsuit that led to marriage equality in Massachusetts—cast a pall. And in mid-October at Tremont Church in Boston, religious and social conservatives held a nationally televised broadcast, dubbed “Liberty Sunday,” condemning same-sex marriage.

In Massachusetts, a split began to emerge amongst same-sex marriage allies in the Legislature over what were acceptable risks to take in voting on the ballot measure. Uncomfortable using procedural tactics to kill the marriage ban, some progressive lawmakers posited taking a vote, fully aware it would win approval, but with hopes it would fail when a vote had to be taken again in 2007. This tactic rested on having a new ally in the governor’s office and a new Senate president, along with the election of additional pro-gay marriage lawmakers and ongoing efforts to line up enough votes to win.

The politics of this were way too risky, according to other lawmakers and lobbyists who were obviously not convinced. They were not prepared to chance losing marriage equality in the only state in the nation where it existed. In their view, the fail-safe approach would be working to win over enough votes to ensure victory.

The disagreement over strategy and tactics among lawmakers began to spill over into deliberations of the core strategy council of MassEquality, a coalition formed to protect same-sex marriage rights in Massachusetts. This latest development worsened when the lobbyists on that council learned that information discussed in planning sessions was leaked to lawmakers.

The leak, in part, created an atmosphere of bad feelings between advocates and some of key legislative players. No one has publicly admitted to the leak, and those familiar with the proceedings declined to provide specifics in order to protect current working relationships.

On November 9, 2006, both strategies were employed. Lawmakers first took up—and defeated—a more extreme marriage ban, one that would have barred both civil marriage and “its legal equivalent” (arrangements such as civil unions and domestic partnerships). Then came the vote to recess until January 2, 2007, which is what led most to believe that any ban on equal marriage was “really, truly dead.”

Then, the unanimous Supreme Judicial Court ruling sharply changed the legislative dynamic, and, for lobbyists, there appeared to be only one strategy left—line up enough votes to win “on the merits” of the amendment. But on January 2, 2007, they lost.

The Tide Starts to Turn

Despite that vote, early 2007 saw significant gains to the equal-marriage cause. Massachusetts inaugurated its first Democratic governor in two decades. In fact, MassEquality had endorsed Deval Patrick and put its organizational manpower behind getting him elected. Unlike Republican Mitt Romney, Patrick was, and is, an ardent backer of same-sex marriage.

Marriage equality advocates also got a fortunate break with the election in March 2007 of a new Senate president, Therese Murray (D-Plymouth). Unlike her predecessor, Murray fully backed same-sex marriage. Although she promised there would be a vote on the merits of the measure, she would act as the presiding officer of the Constitutional Convention—that is, the joint session of the House and Senate that would have to vote on the proposed constitutional amendment. And she would use her power to push for full equality, not take it away.

The new configuration on Beacon Hill meant that all three leadership positions, including Speaker of the House Sal DiMasi (D-Boston’s North End), were actively working in tandem to kill the amendment.

At the same time, MassEquality played a major role in the election of several additional pro-marriage equality legislators. The organization had done extensive electoral work to identify supportive candidates and help get them elected. MassEquality also conducted polling, canvassed voters, ran phone banks, and helped with fundraising and direct mail.

The handful of new pro-marriage equality lawmakers effectively narrowed the gap of votes needed to win. Estimates of the number of additional lawmakers necessary varied from as few as five to as many as 12. As openly gay Mass. state Representative Liz Malia (D-Jamaica Plain) explained it, “We’re down to the hard core” of conservative lawmakers, some of whom may be uncomfortable with their last vote. “We have our work to do,” she said, “with some very specific people, not many.”

Keeping Score

To win an up-or-down vote would be an uphill battle, if not a long shot. Gunner, Shapiro, and the other members of the lobbying team understood the magnitude of the challenge ahead. The team included chief lobbyist Arline Isaacson, chair of the Massachusetts Gay & Lesbian Political Caucus; Marc Solomon, campaign director of MassEquality; and Matt McTighe, the coalition’s political director.

Each time the lobbying team met, the group worked from the Caucus’ non-descript piece of paper, which included five columns. Each column had under it a list of names. The five-column lists had no headings, title, or explanatory markings. The lists were in fact the lobbying team’s running tally of where each Massachusetts lawmaker fell on a marriage amendment continuum, from one to five.

On the far left—the 1s—were listed 141 lawmakers solidly committed to a “No” vote against the anti-gay amendment. From left to right, in the next column, were listed about a dozen lawmakers—the 2s—those whom the lobbying team was actively courting. In some cases, they were legislators who had committed to voting “No,” but whom the lobbying team thought could possibly change their minds at the last minute.

In the middle column were listed about half a dozen names of lawmakers not yet entirely abandoned. In other words, the 3s were still “getable.”

In the fourth column, they listed the 4s, lawmakers considered to be remote possibilities for changing their votes. And in the far right column were the 5s, lawmakers considered solidly committed to the gay-marriage ban.

Lead lobbyist Isaacson declined to identify any lawmaker by name nor his or her placement on the continuum list. However, past voting records and public statements suggested, for example, solid “Yes” votes would come from state Representatives John A. Lepper (R-Attleboro), Jeffrey Davis Perry (R-Sandwich), and state Senator Robert S. Creedon Jr. (D-Brockton), among others.

On the other end of the continuum, previous votes and statements suggested solid “No” votes would come from stalwart equality backers like state Senators Robert A. Havern (D-Arlington), Pamela P. Resor (D-Acton), and state Representatives Alice Hanlon Peisch (D-Wellesley), and Byron Rushing (D-Boston’s South End), among others.

Out in the Field

As always, lawmakers cared about public opinion within their districts. So the lobbying team relied on “field reports.” Solomon and McTighe shared their accounting of the extensive fieldwork that more than a dozen of MassEquality’s affiliates had accomplished over the last years and months, an effort directed by the organization’s Amy Mello.

A field report included a list of the Legislature’s 200 lawmakers. Alongside that list were three columns. The first included a numerical count of the number of constituent-signed postcards supporting same-sex marriage rights, which each lawmaker had received. The second column indicated how many pro-marriage equality letters-to-the-editor or op-ed articles had appeared in local weekly community newspapers throughout each legislator’s district. The third column indicated the number of negative press articles or letters.

When members of the lobbying team met with legislators, they were able to produce empirical evidence of growing support in each Senate or House district. MassEquality arranged for married couples and other constituents to meet lawmakers in small informal settings to share their personal stories. The organization’s volunteers also worked phone banks, coordinating thousands of supportive phone calls to legislators.

Sacred Rites vs. Civil Rights

Counter to conventional wisdom, one of the most important aspects of the fight to hold onto marriage equality came from the religious community. Pro-gay religious advocacy, led by the Religious Coalition for the Freedom to Marry (RCFM) accelerated marriage equality’s momentum in several ways.

First, the battle lines were no longer drawn in stark opposites of gays versus religion. Now there were differences between denominations and faith traditions that favored same-sex civil marriage and those that did not.

Second, clergy from mainstream Protestant denominations—including the Episcopal Church and the United Church of Christ— as well as Unitarian Universalism and Reform Judaism voiced a key distinction between religious and civil marriage. The former was a matter of sacred rites, the latter an issue of civil rights, they said.

Accordingly, RCFM clergy clarified that marriage equality would not require faith traditions that prohibit same-sex marriage (for example, the Catholic Church), to perform them. Rather, it would free clergy from gay-positive traditions to solemnize same-sex weddings in the public square for state recognition.

At a press conference, RCFM clergy also publicly confronted Roman Catholic Cardinal Sean O’Malley, a vocal opponent to marriage equality, charging him with “religious discrimination” in opposing equal civil-marriage rights.

Finally, pro-gay religious voices demonstrated to LGBT people that religion could be a powerful theological ally in their civil-rights struggle. In other words, religion was not their enemy.

“The organized opposition to marriage equality—and LGBT rights in general—was always created by religious conservative organizations and churches,” said lobbyist Gunner, who had studied their movement since the early 1990s. “They claimed to speak for the entire Judeo-Christian world. And they reinforced the public’s common misconception that civil marriage and marriage sanctioned by religious institutions are the same. So having ordained Jewish and Christian clergy speak up for their values of justice, equality, and the sanctity of love was essential to tip the scales in our favor. It helped deeply religious legislators see that religious leaders supported their own social-justice instincts. And it helped them talk sensitively with religious constituents who saw marriage equality as a threat to their beliefs.”

In May, RCFM announced it had secured the 1,000th signature on a religious declaration of support from clergy who favor civil-marriage rights for same-sex couples. A separate document, signed by thousands of Catholic laypersons, demonstrated support from within that tradition.

Confronting “Let the People Vote”

With VoteOnMarriage—the group formed to fight for the gay-marriage ban—pounding its message with Bay State citizens, MassEquality took its case directly to the court of public opinion. In the spring of 2007, the organization launched a $750,000 advertising campaign with three different ads airing on local television stations. The group also produced a DVD about same-sex marriage specifically for lawmakers.

Amy Hunt, a local media relations professional who produced the TV spots, said the three, 30-second ads were “designed to give a clear answer to ‘Let the people vote,’” a mantra that has been an ever-present slogan used by VoteOnMarriage.

“It’s easy to take something away when nothing personal is at stake,” Hunt explained. “We got tired of being beaten over the head with VoteOnMarriage’s mantra. Imagine the idea of voting on other people’s rights and families and being on the receiving end of that kind of bumper-sticker campaign.”

MassEquality had also tired of getting beaten up over propaganda about ill effects of same-sex marriage on children. To combat that distortion, one TV spot highlighted the personal story of college hockey star Peter Hams, whose two moms, Marcia and Sue, were the first same-sex couple to receive a marriage license under the new law ushered in by the SJC’s marriage-equality decision.

Live footage from outside Cambridge City Hall provided historical background and context of the momentous occasion from that day in 2004. “If this was all taken away from us, it would be absolutely devastating to my family,” Hams said in the ad. “I think it’s wrong to vote on other people’s rights. It’s not American to do that.”

Even before the ads began to air, Hunt said, the focus group feedback, especially about Hams, was fascinating.

“People looked Peter Hams up and down,” which, she said, “confirmed for me that personal storytelling is important.” What’s more, Hunt said, “Peter is not gay. He is part of a family. And this is not only about gay people. Peter is not an abstraction.”

Voting Day Arrives

On the morning of June 14, the RCFM held a prayer breakfast at the Episcopal diocese cathedral across from the Park Street T stop. Afterward, they arranged a procession to the State House.

Led by Episcopal Bishop Thomas Shaw, the clergy reached Beacon Street where hundreds of same-sex marriage opponents began to sing “We Shall Overcome.” In crossing over Beacon Street to the State House side, the clergy parted a sea of green and white “Let the People Vote” placards.

“I heard from many people,” said the Rev. Anne Fowler, president of the RCFM. “That was a peak moment in their lives—to see all those people in a body of faith marching. It was transformational, inspirational, a moment of real grace.”

All morning, swelling numbers of marriage equality proponents and opponents lined up outside the State House. They squared off across from each other on Beacon Street, with pro-gay activists below the steps of the State House, the anti-gay crowd across the street. It was a peaceful war of words with dueling placards: “Let the people vote” versus “No discrimination in the Constitution.” Some lawmakers ventured out to rally their troops. A few pro-equality legislators even crossed the street to speak with opponents.

A few days beforehand, Isaacson counted 148 or 149 lawmakers who would vote to defeat the amendment, a few short of the 151 necessary. That meant the final vote could break either way. By mid-morning that day, the situation was still fluid, and Gunner had tapped into her carefully cultivated confidential network of Catholic priests to find the right one to place a phone call.

Catholic lawmakers, who made up more than two-thirds of the state’s 200 legislators, presented a unique challenge. Some Catholic legislators, however, were early supporters of marriage equality, including state Senator Marian Walsh (D-West Roxbury) and state Representative Barbara L’Italien (D-Andover), both of whom Catholic laypersons targeted (unsuccessfully) for defeat in the 2006 elections. But others still struggled with what the Church said about marriage against what it had taught them about social justice.

Gunner’s task was to find priests who could speak with lawmakers and sensitively help them work through their Catholic issues. “There’s a world of difference,” she said, “between parish priests who deal with real people in their parishes every day and the hierarchy and bishops who are not ministering to families.”

In the previous days, six Catholic lawmakers remained up for grabs and open to lobbying efforts. In the final tally, four of them voted to kill the measure. Two did not. Citing confidentiality, Gunner declined to name them.

But one Catholic lawmaker went on the record with his story in a telephone interview a few days after the vote. State Representative Paul Kujawski (D-Webster), a Catholic Polish-American, credited his change of heart to his constituents, the “person after person who told the same story, but not in exactly the same words, that [they] didn’t ask to be born this way.” He ran through the list of stories he had heard in the previous few months: parental rejection of and embarrassment for their gay child, and, in some cases, outright ostracism; GLBT youth being forced to move away from home; one mother who spoke of her lesbian daughter’s battle with depression and her own struggle to accept her daughter’s sexual identity.

Kujawski said he voted against the marriage amendment to ensure, he said, that gay couples “are able to live with dignity and happiness.”

The Final Hour

At noon, a core of same-sex marriage lawmakers and lobbyists huddled at the Episcopal diocese cathedral. They had in place a system, devised by the Caucus, whereby key lawmakers were assigned various roles for the vote. “Counters” were to keep track of the vote totals. If necessary, “runners” could race to the podium with messages to slow down the voting procedures. “Sitters” stayed with other lawmakers, making sure their “No” vote held firm.

Mineau, the anti-gay leader, again told reporters and supporters that his side had the votes to approve the measure.

Ten minutes before the vote, Patrick Guerriero, the Massachusetts native and one-time politician who went on to head the national Log Cabin Republicans, said that he confirmed two Republican lawmakers had changed their votes to “No.” Guerriero had been lobbying GOP legislators for some time.

Apparently, those efforts paid off. State Representatives Richard Ross (R-Wrentham) and Paul Loscocco (R-Holliston), who is Catholic, voted against the measure.

In explaining his change of heart, Ross said he did not want gay families in his district “to be put under a microscope.”

“We were going to subject them to a period of hate and vitriol and dragging everything up all over again,” Ross told the Boston Globe. “It wouldn’t be good for them, and it wouldn’t be good for the commonwealth.”

Ross also apologized to “faith communities” who were counting on him to vote for the ban. Ultimately, he voted his conscience, he said. “I have become convinced in my heart in the last few days that [putting the ban to a popular vote] is absolutely the wrong way to go.”

Shortly after 1 p.m., the roll call vote began. State Senator Scott Brown (R-Wrentham) cast the first “Yes” vote.

After Senate President Murray cast a resounding “No” vote, she flashed thumbs up.

The final tally was announced: 45 in favor of the ban, and 151 against. The cheers went up.

Altogether, nine legislators—from different parts of the state and from different political philosophies—changed their vote from support of the ban to opposition. In addition to Ross, Kujawski, and Loscocco, they included Senators Gale Candaras (D-Wilbraham), and Michael Morrissey (D-Quincy), and Representatives Christine Canavan (D-Brockton), Robert Nyman (D-Hanover), James Vallee (D-Franklin), and Brian Wallace (D-South Boston).

Two new representatives—Geraldo Alicea (D-Charlton) and Angelo Puppolo (D-Springfield)—had been expected to advance the marriage ban, but turned against it.

By their accounts, personal storytelling made the difference for legislators who changed their votes. Another case in point is Senator Candaras. Intense lobbying from her broader base of constituents, she said in a statement released after the vote, brought Candaras around. “For me, what all this comes down to is this: same-gendered couples are taxpaying, law-abiding citizens who are important community contributors, well-loved and well-respected by their families, friends, neighbors, and employers. They deserve and are entitled to the same legal protections enjoyed by all other citizens of our state.”

Behind the personal storytelling was something never before seen in Massachusetts political and electoral work, said Sue Hyde, a MassEquality board member. “The genuinely statewide mobilization, largely driven by married couples with kids,” Hyde explained, “put a human face on the issue of same-sex marriage and its importance to the lives and families of gays and lesbians. Our opponents had no stories; we had 10,000 [same-sex married couples and families with stories], and thousands of them got told to lawmakers face-to-face.”

Yet one lawmaker said he relied on a small core of supporters to make his decision. Senator Morrissey told the Boston Globe that he ignored the lobbyists and the powerbrokers. Instead, Morrissey said, he sought counsel from his wife, his family, his oldest friends, and a few constituents, making up his mind moments before walking into the House chamber. “People’s ability to be happy is fundamental,” he said. “To pass judgment on that, in the end, I found hard to do.”

With the lawmakers adjourned, outside the House chamber someone unfurled a banner that read, “Victory! Love wins!”

Attorney Mary Bonauto, civil rights project director at Gay & Lesbian Advocates & Defenders (GLAD), spoke about the significance of the amendment’s defeat. “Marriage is secure in Massachusetts,” she said, “and any state that is considering this and wants to do the right thing—and not pull back and not do some half-measure [like civil unions]—can do it.”

Why? “Because,” said Bonauto, “when they see what marriage looks like and understand you can’t make up lies about what it looks like, people’s better instincts of fairness come and they can do the right thing.”

At last, the obituary could finally be written: “The anti-gay amendment was really, truly dead.