Together for seven years, the women are expecting a baby boy in May and were eager to marry before he arrived. Jordan-Hullar, who drove four hours from Birmingham, Ala. But religiously, I can't support it."Īmong the gay couples who traveled to Pensacola from other states were Abbie and K.C. "For me, I can see how, civilly, they have the right to the benefits of marriage. Yet they espoused a shoulder-shrugging ethos that seems to permeate Pensacola, and sets it apart. (The dictionary amended the definition several years ago to include same-sex couples.) Look up the definition of marriage in Webster's Dictionary, they instructed, citing a core text for gay marriage opponents. A local hit-and-run crash involving a police officer got higher billing.Ī Tuesday regular at the diner, Earl Barrett, 72, and his two breakfast companions voted in favor of Florida's gay marriage ban in 2008. It's also home to the Pensacola News Journal, one of the few newspapers in Florida that chose not to feature the start of gay marriages on its front page Tuesday. Until Tuesday, when gay marriage became legal statewide, it was the only city west of Tallahassee that allowed gay couples to enter into domestic partnerships. Pensacola has its own opera company, its own art museum and a growing gay community. It's a city of contradictions: a home to roughly 52,000 people, many deeply conservative churches and three gay bars, one of them cowboy-themed. But Pensacola is also known as the "Gay Riviera," a nickname earned for its blowout Memorial Day weekend celebrations that draw thousands of gay Floridians and southerners to Pensacola Beach, a barrier island. Known for its sugary beaches, this Gulf Coast city, part of a stretch of North Florida sometimes dubbed the "Redneck Riviera," has long been a favorite vacation destination for rural southerners. "We will move forward to provide the service equal to all." In all, 48 same-sex couples received marriage licenses on Tuesday in Escambia County. "This is the new normal," she said, after officiating the wedding of one of her employees. Inside, Escambia County Clerk Pam Childers plugged in a boom box and, over the strains of Here Comes the Bride, began making history.