Gay marriage supporters rally in front of the Supreme Court before a hearing about gay marriage on Tuesday. (Joshua Roberts/Reuters)
The cheers followed them down East Capitol Street, then around the corner toward the court. The Tennessee plaintiffs walked between long separated lines of spectators, drawing kisses and applause from the staid, suited lawyers’ line and shouts of “Give ’em hell!” from the scruffier line for the public.
“We’re Tennessee!” shouted Abby Rubenfeld, one of their attorneys. She held up her hand for high fives, like a basketball player coming in for warm-ups. “We’re gonna win!”
On Tuesday morning, in the hour before the U.S. Supreme Court hears a landmark case that could legalize same-sex marriage nationwide, the mood outside the court was expectant and jubilant at once. Encouraged by past rulings, many supporters of same-sex marriage were confident that their side would win — even before a word had been spoken inside.
“I just think the time is right. The law is right, and the Supreme Court is giving all the signs,” Rubenfeld said in an interview. “The court wants us to win.”
The nation's highest court is hearing Obergefell v. Hodges, a case that examines if same-sex couples have a constitutional right to marry. Here's what you need to know about the case that could make gay marriage legal across the nation. (Julie Percha/The Washington Post)
[Q&A: What happens when the Supreme Court hears arguments about same-sex marriage?]
As a chilly spring morning dawned outside the grand court building, there were already dozens of people in line and others setting up for protests. On this little patch of concrete, the only thing that mattered was time.
“First come, first served. This is my spot,” said Christine Weick, 50, a Michigan woman who had arrived on Thursday. She had a sign denouncing gay marriage as a violation of biblical law. Next to her, and a little later arriving, was a well-organized group on the same side: the Alliance Defending Freedom. Its members had brought a small podium, ponchos, doughnuts, a pallet of bottled water, Band-Aids, avocados, sweatshirts and tarps to mark territory.
But Weick, whose desire to travel the country showing her sign at gay-pride parades had cut her off from her family, had been in her spot first. And she wouldn’t budge. Even for an ally.
“I’ve been here four days,” she told them. “This is how it works.”
In general, however, crowds of protesters were small on both sides. Both sides said they believed, looking at the court’s past decisions, that the justices would make same-sex marriage the law of the land.
“Oh, extremely small,” said Buddy Fisher, a salesman from North Carolina who had come with a group of others to shout slogans about the sinfulness of homosexuality. He meant his chances of winning. “With God, all things are possible. But no, this battle was lost in America when the 26th state accepted same-sex marriage.”
[Religious groups don’t agree on how to oppose same-sex marriage]
On the side supporting same-sex marriage, there was such a sense of happy momentum that this could be a moment for humor. Ryan Aquilina, 24, was sitting outside the court with a sign reading “Marry me, Scalia” — a reference to conservative Justice Antonin Scalia.
“I’m out here partly to just be ironic,” he said, although he thought this would be a historic day. If it is, he said, he will have a story to tell: He was there for the big day in court. Being ironic. “I was there,” he could imagine himself saying, “keeping my humor the whole way.”
For others in the line, the chances of success made it even more important to see the case in person.
“Ever since I was a little boy, I just wanted to see Mary Bonauto argue this case,” said Sean Varsho, a law student who had come from Chicago and spent four days in line. He has sneaked away to shower and put on a suit, to see Bonauto, a legendary attorney involved in a a number of gay-rights cases. He was sure she would win. “One hundred percent,” Varsho said.
“It’s just like, you know, this special piece of history that nobody else has,” Varsho said, meaning the moment in the courtroom, where no cameras are allowed. When they win, he can say, “I was there.”
Two hours before the arguments began, the lines began filing in. They had to file through a group of protesters denouncing gays in biblical terms. Many of those entering were recording the moment with cellphones, but they kept the cameras pointed forward, toward the grand columns of the court, not at the protesters to the side.
The last to go in were spectators in the “three-minute line,” who would wait to be allowed to watch the arguments for just three minutes. One of them was Rio Franciosa, 26, a student from New Jersey who had come with his boyfriend. While he waited, he walked up to taunt the taunters who had been yelling as people filed by.
“How many of you smoke marijuana?” a man with a bullhorn yelled.
“Yah!” Franciosa yelled.
“How many of you think it’s okay to be gay?”
“Yah!” he yelled. “Gay marijuana for all!”
Franciosa and the man with the bullhorn argued about what God thought of this crowd, both the yellers and the yellees.
“You’re a false prophet!” the bullhorn man yelled.
“I’m a PROPHET!” Franciosa yelled back, delighted at the promotion. He took a picture.
“Tag me on Facebook!” the bullhorn man said.
Franciosa went back to the back of the three-minute line..
“This is going to be the best three minutes of my life,” he said.
David A. Fahrenthold covers Congress for the Washington Post. He has been at the Post since 2000, and previously covered (in order) the D.C. police, New England, and the environment.
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