Scenes From a Marriage: Historic Rush of Same Sex Weddings at County Clerk's Office

With a long-anticipated ruling Friday morning, the Supreme Court of the United States made marriage the right of every couple from coast to coast, striking down a ban on same sex marriage in 14 states, including Tennessee.

Same sex couples here have been living under such a ban since 2006, when 81 percent of voters approved an amendment to the state constitution defining marriage as the union between a man and a woman. With its ruling Friday, the highest court in the land expanded that definition to include gay and lesbian couples. And while it took Ryan Haynes, the chairman of the Tennessee Republican Party, little more than half an hour to declare that “the issue is far from settled,” there is a reason the court is called Supreme.

Within a couple of hours the Davidson County Clerk’s office was putting the word out that they had been given the go-ahead to tie some knots. By 11:30 a.m., several couples were ready at the clerk’s office. But more patience was required.

We are, of course, a people of paperwork. Justice Kennedy's opinion and the decision of the Supreme Court aside, there are very practical matters that had to be handled before the first same sex couples could say their vows and trade their rings and make official what, in every case, was real if not state-sanctioned: a couple, committed to one another, often with the trappings of marriage — a house, children and so on — but without that document, that imprimatur of the state.

And that imprimatur proved a hold-up. A faraway software vendor serves as the software developer for more than 90 of Tennessee's counties, and the computerized marriage-license application has two very important blanks, heretofore heteronormative: "Bride" and "Groom."

That wasn't good enough anymore.

So the developer had to fix it, had to change those blanks to "Applicant." What was supposed to happen at 2 p.m. was rescheduled to 11, then noon, and then "15 minutes."

County Clerk Brenda Wynn moved the first trio of couples to a separate room with dedicated computers, but even that didn't speed up the process. It had been a long wait, and it was going to be longer still.

One of the maids of honor for Alex Fortney and Kayla Nickens — the second couple of the day to say their vows — had feverishly been refreshing a web site. Suddenly "Bride" and "Groom" both changed to "Applicant." Like Lloyd Dobler with his boom box in Say Anything, she hoisted the laptop victoriously over her head.

The nomenclature changed. And yet, there was, of course, another hold up. The printer went kapooey. That fix could be done on-site and didn't take nearly as long as the coding change. The mundanity of filling out paperwork became one final obstacle, but an easy one, comparatively.

Bearing their license (which, oddly enough, still read "Bride" and "Groom," though both terms were crossed out), Nikki Von Haeger and Lauren Mesnard headed to the altar, flanked by the U.S. flag and the Tennessee flag and some ferns and a string of white lights — a facility that's always there for couples who don't want to wait once they have that piece of paper in hand.

Councilwoman At-Large Megan Barry opened a book — a copy of the works of William Makepeace Thackeray with the ceremony taped on some inside pages. This is standard procedure for the current mayoral contender, who has the authority to perform weddings as part of her standing as a council member; she always picks up a used book when she's asked to perform a wedding. She then presents the book, with the verbiage of the ceremony, to the newly nuptialized couple.

Delays of years and minutes behind them, Nikki and Lauren were married, officially, paperwork and all, a few minutes shy of 1 p.m.

After a brief intermission, it was time for Fortney and Nickens. Each was flanked by maids of honor; each was surrounded by a unique wedding party of television cameras and disheveled reporters, there to witness their taking the plunge. In a significant sense, they already had. As another couple there for a license, Jill Nichols and Alison Slamon, had said of their own union earlier, the newlyweds had already lived married every day. But this, importantly, would make it legal.

There was no pause for objections, as the Supreme Court had already declared that there was no reason these two should not be wed. They shared their vows, exchanged rings, and kissed their bride.

“We weren’t married this morning,” said one to the other. “Now we are. This is crazy.”

Earlier, the couple had jokingly demanded that the gaggle of media photographers send them the photos, but as it turned out that wouldn't be necessary. John Yates was there with his own camera, one of a group of wedding photographers who had been waiting for this occasion. When the ruling came down, he sped over to the clerk's office and offered his services.

Later, there would be other couples, men included. They mingled amongst a steady stream of straight couples — there to do the same. But the third wedding of the day at the Davidson County Clerk’s office had a particular poetry to it.

Next in line was Lisa Howe, her partner Wendy Holleman, and their daughter, a family whose patience has undoubtedly been tested. It was Howe who was famously forced out of her position as women’s soccer coach at Belmont University in 2010, after she told her team that she and Holleman were expecting a child. On Friday, some four and half years later, the three stood between the ferns and the flags, with a crowd of friends — one holding up a phone so faraway family members could watch via Facetime — and had their union recognized by a state no longer allowed to deny it.

“We could’ve run off to any state to get married once marriage equality started in other states,” Howe told a reporter, as friends came up to hug and congratulate her. “I mean, Wendy would’ve loved to go to Chicago or New York. But once we saw that avalanche starting and we felt like we could get married here in our hometown, our home state, we just thought we’re gonna wait. We’re gonna do it here.”