Bipartisan Bride : Harmony Reigns as Assemblywoman Weds in Capitol

She said she was mellowing, but for anyone who has watched Assemblywoman Diane Martinez wage vendettas, spew invective and stomp out of the Assembly chamber in a fury, her turn in the spotlight Thursday was a jaw-dropper.

Right there on the lower house floor, doing as no one had done before, the warrior Democrat from Monterey Park, in full white regalia, got married.

And not just married, but married to a Republican.

And not through the usual introductions leading to betrothal, but on the Internet.

“So?” she said.

As the last order of official business before the Legislature’s spring break, Martinez, 44, and Jon Elliott Mandaville, 59, a professor at Portland State University, were joined in marriage--she for the third time, he for the second--by Speaker Cruz Bustamante (D-Fresno).

Later, the happy couple was whisked away by horse and carriage on a sunny, first-day-of-spring morning to a finger-food reception across town. They planned to honeymoon in Hawaii.

Martinez smiled shyly through it all, providing a dumbfounding contrast to the tough, no-compromise style that she brought to Sacramento following her first election in 1992. She became known for brutal floor speeches, declaring as “stupid” measures by Republicans and Democrats alike, and accusing witnesses of lying as she grilled them in committee hearings.

Once, when former Assembly Speaker Willie Brown ordered members locked into the Assembly chamber to force a vote on a tough measure, Martinez stormed out, daring the sergeants-at-arms to force her back inside. They demurred.

But those days seemed far removed on Thursday, as Martinez choked back tears while taking her vows, and flower girls along with the likes of Republican Assembly Leader Curt Pringle scattered rose petals in her path as she trod the Assembly aisle.

Marriages had been performed twice before in the Senate but never in memory in the Assembly and never while a house was in session--until Thursday.

And so, the usual cynicism that stalks the Capitol corridors seemed temporarily on hold as the colorful, dress-up ceremony unfolded.

On this day, said Assemblywoman Barbara Alby, a conservative Republican politically poles apart from Martinez, “I love my sister Diane Martinez.”

About half the chamber’s 80 members stayed to witness the brief ceremony. Several members were known to have early plane reservations to begin the spring recess. The next Assembly session is March 31.

One assemblyman, however, said he ducked the event. “It made me feel uncomfortable,” he said.

Most exceptions to the mood were more light-hearted.

Several legislators chuckled when the newlyweds took vows to listen when the other spoke. “Uh oh, he’s in trouble already,” said one lawmaker.

To ensure there would be no grumbling over personal use of the Assembly chamber, however brief, Martinez and Mandaville together appeared before separate closed-door meetings of Assembly Democrats and Republicans.

Instead of hearing complaints, Martinez said, meeting the Republicans “was like facing 37 big brothers.” The couple got questions such as, “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” and “How long have you known each other?”

Democrats, she said, “wanted to get their yuks in” and also acted like relatives, “a little bratty. . . . For them it was comic relief.”

Martinez’ mother attended the wedding. Her brother Gil Martinez and a brother-in-law, Keith Baker, escorted her down the aisle.

Her congressman father, Rep. Matthew G. Martinez (D-Monterey Park), remained in Washington.

Also catching the spring marriage bug at the Capitol is state Sen. Charles M. Calderon (D-Whittier). He is marrying Lisa Rodriguez, a public relations employee with the Edison International utility firm, tonight in Los Angeles.

Assemblywoman Martha Escutia (D-Bell), a longtime pal of Martinez, said Thursday during introductory remarks that being Martinez’ enemy, or her friend, “can be a tough, tough ride . . . and being married to Diane is not for the faint of heart.”

Martinez’ first marriage lasted seven years and produced a daughter, now 20, but her second marriage survived only 4 1/2 months at the beginning of last year. Marrying him was an act of mercy, Martinez said, because her mate had no health insurance, was ill and would have died rather than go on the dole. The couple divorced once he was eligible to buy into a health insurance plan.

“But this one’s for love and for keeps,” she said.

Mandaville, the director of Middle Eastern studies at his university, told reporters he has known for months the tougher side of his blushing bride. At committee hearings he witnessed, “she talked straight. Sometimes that gets in the way of traditional protocol, but she does her job as her constituents expect.”

The two met a year ago by exchanging e-mail after they discovered common interests in poetry as members of a computer chat group, said Martinez.

They corresponded on the Net and later by phone, she said. In an interview, Martinez quoted from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay that she e-mailed to Mandaville as the attraction grew:

My candle burns at both ends

It will not last the night

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--

It gives a lovely light!

They met in person about a month after the first e-mail exchange.

“Love and age do amazing things to a person,” Martinez said. “I’ve evolved . . . and I was bound to mellow out.”

Then, as if something of the old Diane Martinez just had to resurface, she added:

“We actually got our marriage license on Valentine’s Day,” standing in line at the county clerk’s office “like the kids there--all gooey-eyed. Talk about love crap.”