On Feb. 12, 2004, more than 50 years after they met and fell in love, Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin were married, the first gay couple legally wed in San Francisco after Mayor Gavin Newsom announced that he would allow same-sex marriages in his city. Six months later, that marriage was voided when the California Supreme Court ruled that Newsom had overstepped his authority. When the court ruled in 2008 that gays had a right to marry under the state Constitution, Lyon and Martin returned to San Francisco City Hall, where, on June 16, Newsom performed a second wedding for the two. Martin died in August, before California voters passed Proposition 8, a state constitutional amendment banning gay marriage once again. In early May, as the state waited for the court to rule on the legality of Proposition 8, we asked Lyon, now 84, to recall her life with Martin.
Del and I met on the job up in Seattle in about 1950. We were both working for a publishing company.
One night, Del and I and another woman decided to go and have a cocktail at the press club. We were sitting there yakking and somehow got on the topic of homosexuality. I had no clue about lesbians at that point. I had never even heard the word. My other friend, Pat, didn't know any more about the subject than I did. Finally, one of us asked Del, "How come you know so much about this subject"? She said, "Because I am one."
Well, that was very interesting.
Some months later, Del and I were in my apartment. We were sitting on the couch in the living room when she made a sort-of half-pass at me, and I made a pass back. That was the first time I'd ever had sex with a woman. I didn't fall madly in love instantly. But I really liked Del as a person.
After I moved back to San Francisco, she started coming down from Seattle more. She asked me if I'd consider becoming a couple. I said, gee whiz, I didn't know. I really hadn't thought about settling down.
She went back to Seattle, but we kept in touch. At some point, I thought, why not? It's not necessarily forever. I drove out to the ocean and sat there and wrote a note to her saying that if she still wanted to, I'd like to get together with her in San Francisco. It turns out that, at about the same time, one of her friends in Seattle said, "Why don't you just drop that dame, she's never going to go with you." Del was seriously thinking about dropping me when she got my letter.
I rented a small apartment for us on Castro Street. It wasn't a gay neighborhood back then. We had some problems getting along in the beginning. Both of us had been living alone for a long time, and we weren't used to having to think about another person. She kept leaving her shoes in the middle of the living room, and this annoyed me. One time I threw one out into the backyard. That didn't help.
At some point, a friend gave us a kitten, and I've always said that's what kept us together that first year: We couldn't split up because we couldn't figure out how to divide the kitten.
This was a time when you didn't talk about being a lesbian. You'd get fired. But I said when I went to work full time at an import-export firm that I wasn't going to lie. I wouldn't make up men that I was dating.
After a couple of years, we wanted to move someplace quieter. One day, we were driving along and saw a house for sale, and the man wanted $11,000 for it. We didn't have any savings. We were both making maybe $300 or $400 a month, and that's not much. But we just knew we had to have that house. We got it -- with its wonderful view.
The one thing we couldn't find was lesbians. We wanted to meet other lesbians, so we had been going to the bars, but we were too shy to go up and introduce ourselves. Then, at an after-hours party, we met a lesbian, and we got a chance to talk to her.
A few months later, she asked if we'd be interested in helping start a highly secret society for lesbians. We said, of course. That was the beginning of our involvement in the whole movement. We were supposed to recruit others, but Del and I didn't know any other lesbians. We did finally that first year get a few members, but it was very difficult. You couldn't advertise in the paper.
Del and I had full lives. We were both Democrats, and from the time we got together we were involved with the Democratic Party here in the city. We used to sit around with Nancy Pelosi and stuff envelopes. And we knew Phil Burton and his brother, John Burton, and Phil's wife, Sala, who took Phil's spot in Congress when he died.