enlarge John Patriquin/Staff Photographer

Sen. Lawrence Bliss, D-South Portland, right, and his partner of 14 years, B. Nolan McCoy, take part in a media interview at Bliss’ office at the University of Southern Maine in Portland.

Sen. Lawrence Bliss stood at the head of the Senate and banged the gavel.

Gay marriage had passed the Senate.

With a shaking hand, he signed the legislation. Bliss, Senate President Elizabeth Mitchell and Sen. Dennis Damon, the bill's sponsor, walked down a floor to personally present LD 1020 to Democratic Gov. John Baldacci. They chatted, Damon, D-Trenton, handed the bill to Baldacci, and the senators left.

Less than an hour later, Baldacci signed the bill into law, making Maine the fifth state to legalize gay marriage.

"I often say to my kids that I'm going to Augusta to make Maine a better place," said Bliss, his voice breaking with emotion. "And I believe that."

As a gay man raising three children along with his partner of 14 years, B. Nolan McCoy, Bliss has been at the epicenter of the gay marriage debate as it sped through the State House.

The co-chairman of the Judiciary Committee, Bliss was the focal point of hundreds of people who testified at a public hearing before lawmakers – half telling heart-rending stories of how they had been discriminated against, the other half explaining the many reasons they truly believe gay marriage is wrong.

After a rapid-fire week of debate, votes and opponents' vows to overturn the new law with a people's veto, Bliss, 62, paused late last week to consider how history has been made in Maine and the part he played.

On Wednesday, recognizing his work as co-chair of the committee, and the personal importance to him, Mitchell handed Bliss the gavel on the final Senate vote, allowing his signature on the document.

He hesitated, teary-eyed, considering what it meant for him to sign that paper.

"It's pretty sweet," he finally said, choked up, as McCoy rubbed his back.

But it wasn't exactly to script.

Bliss, D-South Portland, didn't really plan to become a legislator nine years ago, and had no interest in chairing Judiciary this year. In fact, he – not Damon – had intended to submit the marriage equality legislation.

It was McCoy who initially ran for the House in 1998, against well-known incumbent Peter Cianchette. McCoy lost, and said he didn't receive much support from the Democratic Party, as a young and unknown candidate.

In the next election cycle, South Portland Democratic leaders asked Bliss if McCoy might run to fill a hole on the ticket. Bliss said he didn't know, then when it seemed no one else would jump in, Bliss did.

"If there's a job that needs to be done, and no one wants to do it, he'll step in," said McCoy.

Bliss ran a Clean Election campaign and went door-to-door asking for $5 contributions. He learned that politics in Maine, unlike in his home state of California, are incredibly local. Voters want to know their representatives and aren't shy about calling with questions or knocking on the door Sunday morning. He faced a sitting city councilor for the seat and won the election.

"I defeated her, and discovered that I liked (legislating)," he said.

His focus in his time at the Legislature has been on "the three E's": the economy, environment and equality. Open about his life as a gay family man, he's been careful about discreetly picking his issues in Augusta.

"It's been very important to me not to be 'the gay legislator,'" said Bliss.

Getting pinned with a label makes it too easy to be marginalized and not taken seriously on other issues, he explained.

But he's still a gay man, Bliss said, and has had experiences where he's basically been treated like a second-class citizen.

"That has to be part of my consciousness," he said.

In fact, Bliss wasn't even sure that gay marriage was necessary until about a year and a half ago. McCoy, who performs audits of affordable housing program properties, had left his job at a company to do the same type of work as a consultant.

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