I was watching a movie on a Spanish language cable television station recently and saw Mexican singer/actor Jorge Negrete dressed in a "charro" outfit (what mariachi players wear) in an early 1950's era romantic comedy. He and another man, also dressed in a charro outfit, were wooing their love interests and at one point locked arms to an impromptu wedding march as they walked towards the women.

Seeing this pairing was a reminder of a newspaper assignment I had 2 days prior on Friday, February 20, 2004, at San Francisco City Hall to document the marriage of two Modesto women, Robbie Brinkman and Kim Hankins. The previous night, I'd had an assignment to meet Brinkman at Modesto Junior College to photograph some defaced signs for the gay and lesbian club, Prism, in a classroom building. She is president of the club, but when I called her cellular phone to confirm our appointment there was no answer, so I left a message on her voicemail.

She phoned back about an hour later and apologized because she'd been stuck in a meeting. She also let me know that she'd be unavailable the next day because she and her partner, Hankins, were going to San Francisco - about 90 miles away - to be married. Of course, my first thought was that I'd be interested in documenting that for the newspaper and I pitched it to my boss, and she assigned me to shoot it the next day.

Brinkman and Hankins left Modesto at 3:30 a.m. Friday morning to try and ensure that they'd be in time for the "first come, first served" line that had hundreds of couples, friends and family moving slowly into the San Francisco City Hall. I arrived about 9:30 a.m. and still spent an entire day waiting with them. There were hugs and kisses throughout and it was a bit of an eye-opener for me to observe the pure and sincere love expressed as the hundreds waited for the line to slowly advance. It didn't seem that anyone was there primarily to make a political or social statement, but merely to take advantage of a legal loophole which might be slammed shut at any moment. In fact, there was a court hearing that day attempting to force an injunction stopping the weddings and many couples feared that a decision might be imposed before they had a chance to exchange their vows.

As I said before, the line was moving slooooooooowly. I went out in front of the building and saw some anti-gay marriage protesters assembled and many people surrounding them. One man had a bullhorn and was reading passages from the bible to prove that gay unions were against God's law. He then stopped to pray out loud, asking God to "show a sign" of his disapproval by causing a massive earthquake in San Francisco. "Jesus!," I thought. This is fucking love? "Dear God, destroy a city, kill these people and countless other innocents JUST so you can show your displeasure with these hundreds of sodomites!" There was also a young man (about 23) carrying a sign that read, "I hate faggots, but I love AIDS." An equally young woman carried a flag with a swastika on it. She only dared put it up once. A crowd gathered around this couple and police officers stood nearby in case things got out of hand.

I went back inside and wandered around the building to photograph various other aspects of the event to supplement the story. I went to the second floor of the city hall rotunda, a classic architectural structure that's been showcased in a number of films. First, I trained my camera on a couple of men in matching black tuxes with red cumberbunds as they stood on the first landing. A videographer is documenting them with his Canon XL-1 digital video camera. A photojournalist from Agence France-Presse next to me, says to himself - in English - "Perfect" as he's shooting with his 80-200mm zoom lens. Neither of us, unfortunately, get downstairs in time to get their idents...

Afterwards, I look across and see a ceremony being performed with two women on the other side of the massive rotunda, so I walk around the left walkway and stop to observe a man presiding. One woman, the butch one in black western rider's coat, holds a handful of white calla lillies. She's smiling with so much apparent love and barely contained joy. Her wedding partner is dressed in a red suede western dress. There's a tv camera opposite me to my left. I snap a couple shots, they kiss and I shoot a tight hug from behind as the woman in red clutches the lillies. It ends and they break for congratulations and a group photo. I need to get idents, so I ask the woman taking the picture for the information. "That's San Francisco Sheriff Michael Hennessy marrying Undersheriff Jan Dempsey and her partner Nan Humbel, " she says.

INTERESTING: I suddenly recognize the significance of this. When I get a chance I call the newspaper and let them know I have a photo of the top law enforcement officer in the City and County of San Francisco presiding over the marriage of the number 2 badge. I wonder what this means in a legal sense? What is Hennessey's responsibility to comply with State law? From my perspective, he seemed to happily marry the couple.

I then went back downstairs with Kim and Robbie, who are now a bit nervous as the line doesn't seem to be moving much. They're in a big, open room with a massive skylight illuminating the great room that now houses the gift and souvenier shop on one end and the city hall restaurant on the other. The ceiling must be some 30-40 feet above this room that might encompass 5/8ths of an American football field.

I walk around a bit and finally can't resist the temptation, I approach two men looking dapper in black tuxes. I show them my press credentials and ask them if I can take their photo for the newspaper. Sure. But when I ask for idents, one guy says he doesn't want his name used. I told them the photo wouldn't be printed without full identification, so I thanked them and walked away. The other man soon sought me out and gave me his partner's name and told me it would be okay afterall to use their names. Seeing the two gentlemen in their fashionable tuxes reminded me of Jorge Negrete and the other caballero locking arms in the film. I wonder if any couple will wear matching charro outfits with big sombreros to City Hall for their marriage ceremony?

There was interesting interaction with the various parties throughout the day (remind me to tell you about the woman who was on hand to be a witness for her ex-husband's marriage to another man. Her current boyfriend was there, too). Hankins and Brinkman finally reached the clerk's office about 3:00 pm and were sealing their vows on the second floor at the edge of the rotunda at 3:22 p.m. I congratulated them and rushed (with a couple slight detours) to get back to the newspaper for deadline.

As I was leaving I was paged and apprised of another, totally unrelated assignment at a San Francisco rug gallery. I dreaded the thought that I would have to drive to another point in San Francisco and try to find a parking space. But I found the place in a surprisingly short time, took the pix within 15 miinutes and I was ready to get back to the newspaper hoping that I wouldn't be asked to transmit. I had used my company-supplied ibook to transmit over phone lines before, but finding an analog (required) phone line isn't as simple as you'd think. But, at least I had done that before.

But my boss was saying I needed to transmit via Wi-Fi. I had never used the wireless "Airport" card that had been in my computer for more than a year. However, the tech dude back at the newspaper, my other boss, walks me through the procedure.

I edited the photos with captions in the car outside the rug gallery building. And after listening to Mr. G's instructions, I'd try and remain calm in this field test.

I went to a Starbucks about 2 blocks away from this SOMA area, which has the t-mobile hotspot service available. I pull down the "Turn on Airport" command. There's a radiating icon update in a small triangle at the top of the screen. I click on the Safari browser as per G's direction. Ok, there's the screen. I put in the name and password suppled to me and I'm online. I open up the link to our FTP site and drag the jpeg files over. I think there may be 6 total, including the rug gallery. The T-1 line consumes these files in about 22 seconds (hell, I wasn't timing it, but it may have been that fast, or faster).

In the past two weeks since first using it, I've used it four more times: in Modesto, Angels Camp, Stockton and Sacramento. To be able to transmit the photos from anyplace that has a Starbucks suddenly makes me a supporter of Globalization. Transmitting as many photos as can be used on deadline in a matter of seconds is an amazing revolution in photojournalistic logistics and editorial control. I'm going to do this as often as I can.

Posted by: Adrian / 12:24 AM
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