Gay marriage in California: A historic chorus of 'I thee wed'

At a downtown Minneapolis wedding a few weeks ago, Tom Clemens and Kelly Krebs teared up at the groom's speech.

Krebs looked at Clemens, his partner of 10 years, with a loving grin and whispered: "We need to do this."

Tuesday morning, they did.

Clemens and Krebs, of northeast Minneapolis, stood before a judge at San Francisco City Hall, among the first of hundreds of same-sex couples to legally marry in California. Some of the couples were from out of state, with many more expected in the coming months. Outside, supporters cheered, waved rainbow flags and passed out cupcakes.

Last month's ruling by the California Supreme Court, which flung open the doors to same-sex marriage, became final at 5:01 p.m. Monday. Clerks in at least five counties extended their hours to mark the occasion, but Tuesday was the first full day couples could legally marry. Clemens and Krebs flew out on Monday.

Over the last few years, same-sex marriage has been hotly contested nationwide, in the courts and at the polls. Forty-four states, including Minnesota, have enacted some sort of legal barrier against such unions. In November, California voters will decide whether to rescind the court's decision.

Opposition in the state

Clemens and Krebs said they didn't see many protesters, but elsewhere in the state there has been some local opposition. In rural Kern County, north of Los Angeles, the county clerk canceled all weddings performed by her office. Weddings at the county clerk's office were also called off in Butte County, north of Sacramento.

This year, proponents of same-sex marriage have found encouragement in both the California decision and in a subsequent order by Gov. David A. Paterson of New York, instructing agencies in his state to recognize same-sex marriages performed legally elsewhere.

Unlike Massachusetts, which also allows gay marriage, California has no residency requirement for marriage licenses. Many marrying there are hoping to evoke recognition in their home states, but several gay-rights groups advised couples against filing lawsuits. It's a better strategy to persuade legislatures to make changes, the groups say, than to risk setting bad legal precedent.

Clemens and Krebs don't consider themselves activists and aren't planning legal action in Minnesota.

But they said that being part of the first wave of marriages was a historic opportunity they didn't want to miss.

Making it official

They weren't always set on the idea of marrying. They called marriage a "straight institution."

"Do we want a relationship that falls within the guidelines of the heterosexual community?" they used to ask each other.

But their attitude changed as their relationship evolved.

The two met through mutual friends. They dated for a while, then decided to just be friends. But once when Clemens went out of town, they realized their friendship was deeper than they had known.

There were no engagement rings or formal announcements, but soon they had committed to each other for good.

A typical relationship

For the past 10 years, they have lived with the usual distractions and companionship of a typical marriage.

Both work long hours. Krebs, 45, is assistant dean at the graduate school for liberal studies at Hamline University in St. Paul. Clemens, 41, is Director of Events & Outreach Programs at Capella University in Minneapolis.

They bicker at times.

Clemens over-organizes and gets agitated. Krebs, calm and laid back, gives him that loving grin that says everything will work out.

"He's my best friend. He's my biggest supporter and he challenges me and he makes me a better person," Krebs said. "I'm so much better with him as a couple than I could ever be alone."

'We want your support'

While their families have always been supportive, they say, the couple has come to see marriage as a bond to strengthen their relationship in their eyes and the eyes of those around them.

"It says to the community and your family ... 'We take that relationship seriously and we want your support,'" Krebs said.

So Tuesday morning, with a sister and a friend as witnesses, they stood before a judge in San Francisco and made it official.

"With this ring," they repeated to each other, "I thee wed."

Clemens cried as the judge read. Marriage. Trust. A lifetime of commitment.

Krebs looked up and flashed him that grin. And then they walked out of City Hall, a married couple.

The Associated Press and New York Times contributed to this report. Pam Louwagie • 612-673-7102