"The Other Man: The untold story behind San Francisco's audacious fight that led to the California Supreme Court's decision to legalize gay marriage" by Susan Kostal (Photograph by Lenny Gonzalez).

On March 4, 2008, aka Gay Marriage Day at the California Supreme Court, the press conferences in city hall started at 7:30 a.m., even before the main doors were unlocked. Still, the place was mobbed with familiar faces, though the one I was searching for was notably missing. I’d expected Gavin Newsom—“the Marrying Man,” as the Advocate dubbed him in an adoring profile around this time—to be everywhere that historic morning. But here, at least, the spotlight was on city attorney Dennis Herrera, cheerful and composed in a sharp gray suit and lavender shirt and tie. This was as it should be. The mayor may get all the credit, or blame, for pushing the marriage-equality issue before the Supreme Court, but the person who deserves it—San Francisco’s real Marrying Man—is Herrera.

Compactly built, with close-cropped, graying hair and an accent that hints at his native Long Island, Herrera served as the master of ceremonies, making a few low-key remarks, then introducing the same-sex couples at the heart of the case. After they spoke, and their lawyers grandstanded, the key players headed across the street to the Supreme Court. The rest of the crowd made for the Main Library—Newsom’s destination after his own “press availability” was over—and the basement of the state building to watch the proceedings via live feeds. The lines at the metal detectors stretched out the door, calling to mind the queues of gay and lesbian couples waiting to wed four years earlier, during that giddy winter of love.

The oral arguments lasted three-plus hours (one hour is typical), and by the time they were over, it was anyone’s guess how the seven justices would decide. My own bet was a 4–3 vote in favor of marriage equality, which would be a remarkable turn of events for many reasons, the least of which is that only one of the justices, Carlos Moreno, is a Democratic appointee. After the arguments, the lawyers and litigants gathered on the courthouse steps for yet another briefing. Given the commanding performance of his top deputy, Therese Stewart, who argued the case for the city and oversaw strategy for the entire lawsuit, a stirring political speech from Herrera was very much in order. On March 4, 2008, aka Gay Marriage Day at the California Supreme Court, the press conferences in city hall started at 7:30 a.m., even before the main doors were unlocked. Still, the place was mobbed with familiar faces, though the one I was searching for was notably missing. I’d expected Gavin Newsom—“the Marrying Man,” as the Advocate dubbed him in an adoring profile around this time—to be everywhere that historic morning. But here, at least, the spotlight was on city attorney Dennis Herrera, cheerful and composed in a sharp gray suit and lavender shirt and tie. This was as it should be. The mayor may get all the credit, or blame, for pushing the marriage-equality issue before the Supreme Court, but the person who deserves it—San Francisco’s real Marrying Man—is Herrera.

Compactly built, with close-cropped, graying hair and an accent that hints at his native Long Island, Herrera served as the master of ceremonies, making a few low-key remarks, then introducing the same-sex couples at the heart of the case. After they spoke, and their lawyers grandstanded, the key players headed across the street to the Supreme Court. The rest of the crowd made for the Main Library—Newsom’s destination after his own “press availability” was over—and the basement of the state building to watch the proceedings via live feeds. The lines at the metal detectors stretched out the door, calling to mind the queues of gay and lesbian couples waiting to wed four years earlier, during that giddy winter of love.

The oral arguments lasted three-plus hours (one hour is typical), and by the time they were over, it was anyone’s guess how the seven justices would decide. My own bet was a 4–3 vote in favor of marriage equality, which would be a remarkable turn of events for many reasons, the least of which is that only one of the justices, Carlos Moreno, is a Democratic appointee. After the arguments, the lawyers and litigants gathered on the courthouse steps for yet another briefing. Given the commanding performance of his top deputy, Therese Stewart, who argued the case for the city and oversaw strategy for the entire lawsuit, a stirring political speech from Herrera was very much in order. MORE