a&e features
Diane Rehm successor is not who you’d expect
Out ‘1A’ host Joshua Johnson is passionate journalist first and foremost
Joshua Johnson says launching a new daily two-hour radio show is a ‘mountain of work even under the best of circumstances.’ (Photo courtesy WAMU)
It was last Halloween weekend when Joshua Johnson got the call that he’d been named Diane Rehm’s successor.
Rehm, who began her eponymous National Public Radio call-in show in 1979, retired in December and as of Jan. 2, WAMU broadcasts a new show, “1A” in what had been “The Diane Rehm Show’s” timeslot.
Johnson had subbed for Rehm two days last September and shadowed her another day. Based in San Francisco for the last six-and-a-half years where he was morning news host for KQED while also teaching podcasting at the University of California (Berkeley), Johnson was in Palm Springs visiting friends with Joe Gallagher, his boyfriend of a year and a half, when he got the call. He says it’s a moment he’d been working toward since age 6.
“This wave of peace washed over me and I just got very calm,” says the 36-year-old South Florida native. “It was like my fists finally unclenched after weeks of waiting. I didn’t have that moment of, ‘Oh my God, I’m going to do the show.’ It was just kind of like, ‘Finally — I’ve been waiting on this for my entire life and now it’s going to happen.”
“1A” is a live, two-hour daily WAMU radio program distributed nationally by NPR each weekday at 10 a.m. that seeks to “provide deep conversation about the thorniest issues of our time delivered with insight, intimacy and personality.” It’s both a new, freestanding show but also a successor to the Rehm show, whose “legacy of civil dialogue and analysis” its team hopes to continue.
Producers were initially almost certain they’d hire a woman to succeed Rehm.
“We weren’t 100 percent sure, but you know, sort of in the high 80s or 90s,” says Rupert Allman, “1A’s” executive producer. Johnson won the search team over, Allman says, with his “huge relatability.”
“There was something about his own curiosity and his manner that was really appealing,” he says. “Especially the idea that he was very much interested in civil dialogue, taking time to develop arguments and not always chasing the next shiny ball. Those pieces came together and the stars began to align and that was it.”
Nobody’s universally loved in this era of Internet trolling, but early signs are strong for Johnson. “1A” is being carried on 204 stations with more expected in April (“The Diane Rehm Show” was carried on 198) and WAMU says the show was the No. 1 regional performer in its time slot throughout January, the latest month for which figures were available. WAMU says it expects the show will have a weekly audience of about 2.5 million soon based on early numbers.
Johnson, as loquacious as you’d expect, sat with the Blade in a WAMU conference room on Feb. 16. His comments have been edited for length.
WASHINGTON BLADE: How do you feel it’s going so far?
JOSHUA JOHNSON: It’s going well. Very, very busy. There’s no lack of things to talk about for sure, but it’s good. Launching a national show, any new show, is a heavy lift to say the least, but we have an amazingly good team and we’ve had lots of support from listeners and stations. We’ve found interesting ways to talk about what’s going on in the world and to divert from the headlines that have everyone’s attention to talk about other topics that may be getting lost in the shuffle around the new administration. And we’ve also found ways to take a breath and just do topics that are fun or different as a little relief from the top of the news cycle, so I think it’s been good.
BLADE: What’s your strategy to turn this into more of a Johnny Carson-to-Jay Leno kind of succession as opposed to, say, a Pat Sajak kind-of thing?
JOHNSON: The only thing we can do is control each day’s program and that’s what I try to focus on. I never worry about the 37 years that came before me. That’s Diane’s legacy and that’s solid and done. …. If you worry too much about the distant future, you miss the opportunity to really knock out today.
BLADE: Has the learning curve been about what you thought it would be?
JOHNSON: I tried to come in with very few expectations other than it would be really, really hard and it has been. …. But we’ve gone down from me working like 16-17-hour days to more like 12-13, so that’s a big step forward. … It’s just a mountain of work even under the best of circumstances.
BLADE: What’s been your favorite episode so far?
JOHNSON: I don’t have one. We did a Sunday show a few weeks ago on the immigration ban and we just let stations air it if they wanted to. … But we probably haven’t done my favorite show yet or even conceived of it. I think for me to start grabbing onto favorites at this point would set the bar too low for what we want to be. I don’t think what we’ve done in our first month will compare to what we’ll be doing a year from now or five years from now.
BLADE: When things are crazy, do you get energized or stressed by that?
JOHNSON: Probably a little bit of both. I tend to be the kind of person that the crazier things are around me, the calmer I get, which is how I survived breaking news. … But you have to be on the outer edge of your comfort zone in order to grow, so I just accepted that that was going to be the way it was going to be some days or maybe even most days.
BLADE: Was it hard to leave San Francisco?
JOHNSON: It was really, really hard … but this opportunity was worth it.
BLADE: Have you had any time to explore Washington much yet?
JOHNSON: No. I live a few blocks from the station here in Van Ness, so I walk to work because I cannot take a snow day. And everything I need is right here, the grocery store, the gym and so on. Once I get a better handle on the workload, I’ll be able to get out more and see the city.
BLADE: Were you intimidated to accept?
JOHNSON: Not really. …. I think I was more grateful and humble. … I felt very ready. Like, “Yeah — I’ve been preparing for this for 30-plus years.”
BLADE: You say you had this dream since age 5 or 6. How was this type of thing even on your radar at that age?
JOHNSON: Well, Kermit the Frog played a reporter on “Sesame Street.” …. I grew up seeing Ed Bradley on “60 Minutes” or Bernard Shaw on CNN or Dwight Lauderdale on my local Miami ABC station. Seeing those black men doing what I wanted to do just instantly clicked for me. I always had an affinity for broadcasting. I just didn’t know what form it would take.
BLADE: So was it something you chose or did it choose you?
JOHNSON: Well, it has to be both. Just because destiny knocks doesn’t mean you have to answer. It went through a lot of permutations of whether I would answer or how I would answer and then eventually it became that one thing that I knew if I didn’t go after, I’d regret the rest of my life.
BLADE: Had you been a big listener of “The Diane Rehm Show”?
JOHNSON: Yeah, I listened to her in South Florida on the station where I grew up, WLRN. I never thought I’d be her successor, but yeah, I listened to her for years.
BLADE: How do you decide on the balance between meat-and-potatoes news topics and lighter stuff?
JOHNSON: I don’t think it’s a matter of balancing lightness against substance. The show we did on country music was very substantive. What we’re always trying to figure out is what is it about today’s show that a fan would tell their friends, “You gotta listen to today’s ‘1A.’” Why? How do you answer that? if you start there and work backwards, you can build a great show. So even if it’s a lighter topic like country music today or the Grammy Awards or the Super Bowl, we never want it to feel like, “OK everybody, we know life is really hard so we’re just gonna give you some sugar and candy for an hour.” That’s not good enough. Even if it’s not politics or not some trouble-in-the-world topic, it still has to be time well spent. Plus, I get bored easily, so I get tired of talking about the troubles of the world all day. …. It can’t be all sugar but it can’t be all steak.
BLADE: Some people are saying there’s been more sugar though lately. The Super Bowl show got some flak.
JOHNSON: It depends whose table you’re dining at. I think there are different ways to talk about different things. I did have a listener who got very snooty about the Super Bowl show …. but there are many aspects to a cultural event like that that are worthy of discussion. … Just because people listen to NPR doesn’t mean they don’t watch football and just because they listen to NPR doesn’t mean they don’t like pop music.
BLADE: True, but hasn’t NPR always sort of been that hub where you could get something you couldn’t just get anywhere else? If ESPN is doing round-the-clock sports coverage, do we really need to hear about sports on NPR too?
JOHNSON: But we don’t talk about the Super Bowl like ESPN would talk about it. We didn’t get caught up in stats and who’s up and who’s down. We talked about it more broadly, about what was going on in Houston and sort of the politics around the event, the cost of buying an ad there and so on. We tried to make it really fun. One thing public media serves is to give people a diverse view on the world. Anybody who thinks public media is designed to be all meat and potatoes all the time has clearly never heard “Car Talk” or “Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me.” … These are just wonderful shows that are about interesting things that make life worthwhile and we can’t pretend that doesn’t matter.
BLADE: Does the “1A” format give you more opportunity to weigh in than other journalism posts you’ve had?
JOHNSON: No. My job is still to be an analyst of the day’s events. This is not the Joshua Johnson show. It’s not my platform to tell you what I think about the news. I’m still a reporter. But that doesn’t mean I can’t call out inconsistencies. The other day we had a guest who kind of fudged an answer on climate change and I (called him out). But I can do it in a way that hews to evidence and fact and not just my belief.
BLADE: There’s so much obfuscation in partisan discussions, though. How do you press people for clarity without sounding partisan, at least at times?
JOHNSON: The way we’ve been doing it —what we do works. You do your homework, you do smart shows, you ask smart questions and you don’t worry about whether people like you or are comfortable with it. I’m here to perform a service as a journalist. … For me to start worrying about it now is to doubt the very reasons I came here. Facts still matter, the truth is still the truth and there are still such things as facts. People know and understand what the NPR standard is and outlets that don’t follow that standard — I don’t need to worry about people who deal in that kind of foolishness.
BLADE: How do you decide if you’re going to pick up a thread after a break or not?
JOHNSON: It depends what’s coming up after the break. If we have a guest we need to get to or we have other questions that segue into that thought. Being in the studio is basically air traffic control because we have guests in the studio, remote guests, my script, my questions, I’m watching the clock, I have a timer that counts down to certain elements, then I have another screen that shows me e-mails and Tweets and Facebook posts and if we receive a voicemail during the show, we can play that. I have my laptop, which has more communication, I’m in touch with the control room and the newsroom upstairs and it’s all happening at once. There are all these different elements that I have to make balance so it’s a lot of plate spinning. It will be different every single day and I have to figure out in the moment what we’re going to next and if it’s duplicative of what we just said, how much time we have left and so on.
BLADE: How many people work on the show and are any of them veterans of Diane’s show?
JOHNSON: I think we have 11. Two of them were former producers on her team. The rest are new hires.
BLADE: Do you anticipate getting more mileage out of the Trump administration than you otherwise would have?
JOHNSON: There’s more to life in Washington so I don’t look to any one sector of the news as my bread and butter. … Also, public radio is very committed to the idea of localism … so we can’t allow the current political climate to eclipse all of that because then you’re basically saying that localism doesn’t matter anymore … so we keep that all in perspective.
BLADE: Even though “1A” is distributed throughout the country, doesn’t it seem slightly odd considering WAMU’s push for live and local to have brought you in from San Francisco? Some listeners were predicting a Washington person. Do you know how many names were in the hat?
JOHNSON: I don’t. I’ve heard different numbers but I honestly don’t know nor do I know who they were. As for live and local, we are live and we are a program from WAMU. I think it’s important to the DNA of public radio that local stations are a provider of national programming (gives examples). We are Washington’s NPR station and we think the ability of WAMU to produce shows like “1A” and “Big Listen” is something we can be proud of. (Allman says Johnson’s outsider status was a plus. “[We liked that] he wasn’t from D.C., is not wowed by the Beltway. He brings a completely different perspective on the country. He gives the audience something new, someone they didn’t know so it doesn’t just seem like the business of shuffling people around.”)
BLADE: You seem at times a bit more abrupt than Diane. Do you agree?
JOHNSON: I try not to be. If I interrupt, I try to apologize for it unless they’re just going off the deep end. I try to be as respectful as I can but that doesn’t mean we have time to let everybody finish their thought.
BLADE: How serious are you and your boyfriend? Any plans for him to move out here eventually as well?
JOHNSON: He owns a barbershop in San Francisco so there are some moving parts we’d have to figure out. For now, we’re doing the bicoastal thing. We’ll make it work.
BLADE: Is Millennial engagement a big push at NPR? Are NPR stations seeing the drop-off we hear about at the orchestra, the ballet, the mainline churches and so on?
JOHNSON: Millennials have gotten a bad rap. They consume immense amounts of news and information — they just do it differently. There are a lot of NPR member stations that are trying to be where younger audiences are. … We’re also getting better at saying, “Hey, maybe we don’t have a relationship now, but check this out.” Or, “We’ll try to make ourselves available in a bunch of different ways and if you only listen once or twice, that’s cool.” Or, “If you’re a fan of this podcast or station but don’t yet understand why you should give, fine.” … We’re getting better at accepting people where they are in the continuum of use in public radio. …. I think the institutions that do well are going to be the ones that skate harder in the direction the puck is going, not just going in the direction they wish it would go.
BLADE: You told Diane Rehm you hoped race would inform the program but not be the lens of the program. What’s the difference?
JOHNSON: Well, it’s about taking the experiences of your life and using them to add context to a conversation. You know, my lens on life is that I’m an African-American man in the 20th and 21st century. I can’t pretend that’s not who I am. So for me to pretend that it’s not or to pretend that I view life with no conception of race, that would be a lie. I have to acknowledge my life experiences. But at the same time as a journalist, I can step out of those experiences and try to view something from another person’s perspective. I can’t step outside of what I won’t acknowledge. It’s like taking off a shirt you don’t admit you put on. I have to own the truth of my life … but I don’t want people to feel like it’s a black man’s perspective on the news or that I’m a black man doing the news. Because I own the totality of who I am, I can step out of it as a journalist and say, “OK, let me see how people with different life experiences than me view this.”
BLADE: Did either being gay or being black pose any career hindrances?
JOHNSON: I don’t think either one was detrimental. I grew up in South Florida, which is a very gay-friendly news market. … I made a decision early on that I couldn’t make a career out of telling the truth about everyone else’s life while lying about my own. I knew eventually one of those lies would come back to bite me because one of them would be leverage for someone to use over me, so I decided I just needed to own the whole truth of my life and not let that be an impediment to my success. … Once you as a gay man deal with shame and you learn how poisonous it is, it can give you the leverage to never impute that shame on other people because it never helps, it never lifts up, it never clarifies, it never improves anything. … It burns everything it touches, so I just decided not to play with that fire because I knew what that burn feels like.
BLADE: That’s profound — what age were you? I wouldn’t have been able to articulate any of that at 16, 17, 18.
JOHNSON: I wouldn’t have been able to say that to you at that age either but I tend to be a very logical person but growing up in the Baptist church … I just thought to myself, the scriptures say you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. Well, this is the truth of my life. There has to be some freedom in here somewhere and I just held on to that. This is what the book says. This has to make sense somehow. That thought process always served me well as a journalist so how do these two things lock together? I just allowed that process to play out.
BLADE: But you make it sound so tidy. Surely there was some angst at some point, no?
JOHNSON: Oh, of course there was. This was just the ending. But yeah, there were times it was awful, it was terrible. Coming out sucks even under the best of circumstances. But working through that gave me a way to figure out where my inner reservoir of toughness came from in terms of career. I knew I had this dream and I was too greedy to give up on it.
a&e features
Looking back at 50 years of Pride in D.C
Washington Blade’s unique archives chronicle highs, lows of our movement
To celebrate the 50th anniversary of LGBTQ Pride in Washington, D.C., the Washington Blade team combed our archives and put together a glossy magazine showcasing five decades of celebrations in the city. Below is a sampling of images from the magazine but be sure to find a print copy starting this week.
The magazine is being distributed now and is complimentary. You can find copies at LGBTQ bars and restaurants across the city. Or visit the Blade booth at the Pride festival on June 7 and 8 where we will distribute copies.
Thank you to our advertisers and sponsors, whose support has enabled us to distribute the magazine free of charge. And thanks to our dedicated team at the Blade, especially Photo Editor Michael Key, who spent many hours searching the archives for the best images, many of which are unique to the Blade and cannot be found elsewhere. And thanks to our dynamic production team of Meaghan Juba, who designed the magazine, and Phil Rockstroh who managed the process. Stephen Rutgers and Brian Pitts handled sales and marketing and staff writers Lou Chibbaro Jr., Christopher Kane, Michael K. Lavers, Joe Reberkenny along with freelancer and former Blade staffer Joey DiGuglielmo wrote the essays.
The magazine represents more than 50 years of hard work by countless reporters, editors, advertising sales reps, photographers, and other media professionals who have brought you the Washington Blade since 1969.
We hope you enjoy the magazine and keep it as a reminder of all the many ups and downs our local LGBTQ community has experienced over the past 50 years.
I hope you will consider supporting our vital mission by becoming a Blade member today. At a time when reliable, accurate LGBTQ news is more essential than ever, your contribution helps make it possible. With a monthly gift starting at just $7, you’ll ensure that the Blade remains a trusted, free resource for the community — now and for years to come. Click here to help fund LGBTQ journalism.
a&e features
In stressful times, escape to Rehoboth Beach
Here’s what’s new in D.C.’s favorite beach town for 2025
At last, after an uncharacteristically cold and snowy winter, another Rehoboth Beach season is upon us. I have been going to Rehoboth Beach since 1984, and it was the first place I went where people only knew me as a gay man. It was the year I came out. It was a summer community back then. Today it really is an exciting year-round community. But it’s still the summer season when Rehoboth shines, and when the businesses make most of their money.
The summer brings out tens of thousands of tourists, from day-trippers, to those with second homes at the beach. Everyone comes to the beach for the sun and sand, food, and drink. Some like to relax, others to party, and you can do both in Rehoboth Beach, Del.
Stop by CAMP Rehoboth, the LGBTQ community center on Baltimore Avenue, to get the latest updates on what is happening. CAMP sponsors Sunfestival each Labor Day weekend, and a huge block party on Baltimore Avenue in October. They train the Rehoboth Beach police on how to work with the LGBTQ community, and have all kinds of special and regularly scheduled events. Pick up a copy of their publication, Letters, which is distributed around town.
I asked Kim Leisey, CAMP’s executive director, for her thoughts, and she said, “CAMP Rehoboth looks forward to welcoming our friends and visitors to Rehoboth Beach. We are a safe space for our community and will be sponsoring social opportunities, art receptions, concerts, and art exhibits, throughout the summer. If you are planning a wedding, shower, reception, or business meeting, our beautiful atrium is available for rental. We look forward to a summer of solidarity and fun.” While at CAMP stop in the courtyard at a favorite place of mine, Lori’s Oy Vey! Café, and tryher famous chicken salad.
There’s something for everyone at the beach, from walking the boardwalk and eating Thrasher’s fries, to visiting Funland, or playing a game of miniature golf. Or head to some of the world-class restaurants like Drift, Eden, Blue Moon, or Back Porch.
Some random bits on the summer 2025 season. Prices are going up like everywhere else. Your parking meter will cost you $4 an hour. Meters are in effect May 15-Sept. 15. Parking permits for all the non-metered spaces in town are also expensive. Transferable permits are $365,non-transferable $295, or after Aug. 1 if you only come for the end of summer, it’s $165. Detailed information is available on the town’s website.
Rehoboth lost one of its best restaurant this off-season, JAM, but Freddie’s Beach Bar and Restaurant is open for its fourth season. Owner Freddie Lutz told the Blade, “We are looking forward to a fabulous season. Freddie’s has a dance floor and is the only music video bar in town.” There is also live entertainment, karaoke, and Freddie’s Follies drag show Friday nights.
My favorite happy hour bar is Aqua Grill, which has reopened for the season. I recommend taking advantage of their great Tuesday Taco night, and Thursday burger night. Then there is The Pines and Top of the Pines. Bob Suppies of Second Block Hospitality told me, “Come, relax, and play. We are ready! I have been spending summers here since the mid-90’s, and Rehoboth Beach seems to age like a fine wine. Between the new, and favorite restaurants opening back up, the shops bursting with incredible finds, and all the great LGBTQ+ bars to entertain everyone, nowhere beats the Delaware beaches this summer.”
Head down the block on Baltimore Avenue and you get to La Fable restaurant. Go all the way to the beach and you will see the new lifeguard station, which is slated to open later this month. Also, demolition of the old hotel and north boardwalk Grotto Pizza has happened. The site will become a new four-story, 60-room hotel, with ground level retail space.
Then join me at my favorite morning place at the beach, The Coffee Mill, in the mews between Rehoboth and Baltimore Avenues, open every morning at 7 a.m. Owners Mel and Bob also have the Mill Creamery, the ice cream parlor in the mews, and Brashhh! on 1st street, where Mel sells his own clothing line, called FEARLESS! Then there is the ever-popular Purple Parrot, celebrating its 26th year, now with new owners Tyler Townsend and Drew Mitchell, who welcome you to their iconic place. It has only gotten better. If you head farther down Rehoboth Avenue you will find the Summer House with its upscale Libation Room, and a nice garden looking out on Rehoboth Avenue. Also on Rehoboth Avenue is Gidget’s Gadgets owned by the fabulous Steve Fallon. With the renewed interest in vinyl records you may want to stop in at Extended Play.
Then there is the always busy and fun, Diego’s Bar and Nightclub. Joe Zuber of Diego’s told the Blade, “Get ready for a great gay ole time in Rehoboth Beach. Plenty of entertainment, dancing and fun as we seem to be the next Stonewall generation with this newest administration. Each election brings its concerns about how our gay community will be affected. Come to Rehoboth Beach to escape this summer season!”
If you are in town for Sunday happy hour, make sure to stop there to hear the talented Pamala Stanley who is celebrating her 20th season entertaining in Rehoboth.And on Mondays, Stanley plays Broadway and other classics on the piano at Diego’s.
If you are looking for culture Rehoboth has some of that as well. There is the Clear Space Theatre on Baltimore Avenue. Rumors abound that Clear Space will move out of town. But I can’t believe the commissioners and mayor would be dumb enough to let that happen. This year’s shows include “Spring Awakening,” “Buyer + Cellar,” “Hairspray,” “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical,” and “RENT.”Tickets sell fast so I suggest you book early and they are available online. Then mark your calendars for Saturday, July 19 for Rehoboth Beach Pride 2025 at the Rehoboth Beach Convention Center.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention some of the other fine restaurants and clubs in town. Just a reminder, during season you often need dinner reservations. Come to the beach often enough, and you can try them all: Café Azafran, Dos Locos, Goolee’s Grille, Rigby’s, Frank and Louie’s, Above the Dunes, Mariachi, and Henlopen City Oyster House, and Red, White & Basil. And take a short drive to Dewey for breakfast or lunch at the Starboard; popular bartender Doug Moore (winner of the Blade’s Best Rehoboth-Area Bartender 2024 award) holds court at one of the inside bars, which has become a de facto gay bar on Saturdays.
One major development in the local dining scene last summer was the purchase of the Big Fish Restaurant Group by Baltimore-based Atlas Restaurant Group. Nearly a year later, not much has changed at the many Big Fish restaurants, although many locals are hoping for a renovation of Obie’s along with a gay night at the ocean-front bar/restaurant.
These are only a few of the fantastic places to eat and drink at the beach. Remember, book your reservations for hotels and restaurants, early. Rehoboth is a happening place and gets very busy.
We are living in stressful times. A visit to Rehoboth is a nice way to escape them for a while. Take the time to destress, enjoy the sun and sand. Take a stroll on the boardwalk and listen to the sound of the ocean, and people having fun. Enjoy good times, good food, good friends, and remember that life can still be good. Recharge your batteries for the rest of the year, by enjoying some summer fun in Rehoboth Beach.
a&e features
Down to shuck!
Oyster farmers Jordan Nally and fiancé Jimmy Kane on caring for Delaware’s waters — and sharing something special with customers
Although I didn’t come out to my family until my 20s, they should have seen the signs. During one of our annual trips to Indian Shores Beach in Florida, my parents splurged on a Polynesian dining adventure at the only tourist spot in town – Tiki Gardens. While waiting for our table, my sisters found a saltwater tank lined with oysters. For what felt like a fortune to an eight-year-old, a fisherman would shuck a pair and sift through the contents. Dressed in my floral Hawaiian shirt, my excitement turned to desperation when both of my sisters’ oysters revealed pearls. After much begging, my father reluctantly paid to have the small, oddly shaped gems mounted in rings. Watching my sisters flaunt their new jewelry, I seethed with envy and secretly vowed to return one day to claim my own treasure from the sea.
Nearly 50 years later, I’m a full-time resident of Rehoboth Beach, Del. It’s the Atlantic Ocean, not the Gulf of Mexico, but it’s close enough to Florida for me. As a local in a small coastal town, I’m keenly interested in how entrepreneurs are capitalizing on the growing tourism industry with innovative business ideas, so when I stumble across an Instagram page featuring two gay oyster farmers, Jordan Nally and his fiancé Jimmy Kane operating just a few miles away on Rehoboth Bay, my curiosity is piqued. After liking all the posts on the page, I slip into their DMs and ask whether we can meet for an interview. I’m delighted and a little nervous when they agree and invite me out on the boat to tour the farm and talk shellfish. Since everything I know about oysters came from a restaurant menu, I did some research.
Less than a week later, I arrive at the marina on Collins Avenue in Dewey on a picture-perfect morning in early May. Nally is waiting by his pickup truck, casually chatting up a couple of tourists. He’s a Delaware native and looks every bit like an oyster farmer in a long-sleeve, sweat-wicking shirt, PVC-coated shorts, and a branded baseball cap for sun protection. That’s all the more surprising given that Nally spent more than a decade working for JPMorgan Chase and had run for election to the Delaware House of Representatives in 2020.
As a good reporter, I’ve done my research: I know that the Inland Bays (made up of Rehoboth, Indian River, and Little Assawoman Bays) were once prolific oyster producers, with peak annual harvests reaching up to two million bushels. However, by the mid-20th century, overharvesting and a parasitic fungus drastically reduced the oyster populations. By 1960, the annual harvest had plummeted to just 49,000 bushels, marking a low point for the industry. In 2013, former Gov. Jack Markell signed legislation, and the commercial shellfish industry was reborn.
As we unload the flatbed of his EV pickup truck and transport the contents to the waiting boat, a retrofitted pontoon, “The Mullet,” Nally fills me in on his origin story. He came up with the idea to dive into aquaculture while he was quarantined in a hotel in Vermont with nothing but a TV and a local magazine with a cover story on oyster farming. He pitched the idea to his partner Jimmy Kane over the phone, and together they started planning how to make it happen. Nally jokes that what began as a fun “COVID project” quickly bloomed into a thriving business: “Some people did sourdough starter, but we decided to start an oyster farm.”
Although Kane is always there to lend a helping hand, Nally is the one who’s usually out tending the farm. Still, Nally stresses that Kane plays a critical support role: “He’s in charge of merchandising, running sales at the market, and grounding me when I have too many wild ideas.”
In April 2023, the couple planted their first batch of “oyster babies,” provided by the hatchery at the University of Delaware. At the time, they were still living full time in Wilmington, so the first year on the farm meant long drives, managing their day jobs from the car, launching the boat, and working for hours out on the bay before heading back home. Eventually, the capital investment and 14-hour days paid off; now, just two years later, they have 50 floating bags, each holding about 2,000 oysters.
Out on the open water, we see a half-dozen other oyster farms off in the distance. Despite the great weather, we’re the only boat on the bay. Standing confidently at the helm with his eyes fixed on the horizon, Nally gives me a quick biology tutorial on how oysters make it from the bay to the bar. Growers trigger spawning by adjusting water conditions to mimic spring, then feed the larvae specialized algae. After two to three weeks, the larvae develop an “eyespot” and are transferred to grow-out areas on the seabed or suspended bags. Oysters generally reach market size in 18 to 36 months, but the ideal conditions in Rehoboth Bay cut that time down to less than six months.
Nally opens the throttle and, in less time than I expected, we reach the place where the magic happens – the acre of water designated for Nancy James Oysters. Unconventional and bordering on camp, the couple came up with the moniker to honor their late parents. When I ask Nally to explain why they’ve stuck with the venture, his answer, like the name of their business, is personal: “Every single day, we learn something new. And every single oyster reminds us why we started: to grow sustainably, care deeply for our waters, and share something truly special with our customers.”
As we arrive at the oyster farm, Nally cuts the engines and explains the innovative farming technique Nancy James uses to grow its oysters; picture a series of mesh bags, buoyed by floats, and attached to a main line stretching across a tract of water and anchored at both ends. Growing oysters at the water’s surface allows Nally and Kane to capitalize on natural currents and food availability, resulting in faster growth rates and enhanced flavor profiles. The only downside to this growing technique is that the guys never find pearls because the insides of their oysters are cleaner than those of the bottom dwellers.
The farm is directly across from Bird Island, and the cacophony of 10,000 birds is even louder than the whirring sound from the propellers. After anchoring the boat, Nally casually strips down to his bathing suit and surf shoes and jumps into the 60-degree water without a second thought. It’s the ultimate cold plunge, but if he feels the cold, he doesn’t show it; there’s too much work to do.
“You ready to get dirty?”
The waters of Rehoboth Bay may be pristine, but Nally’s question and smirking grin reinforce the message that oyster farming is a messy business. The first order of the day is to change out the older bags to address biofouling — the attachment of seaweed and algae that can affect the health and inhibit growth of new oysters. Nally selects three gnarly bags and hauls them over to the boat. I pull one onto the deck. Once he’s back on board, we empty the first bag onto the cleaning table, and I feel my stomach lurch. Mixed in with small crabs and tiny shrimp, the oysters are covered in muck. Suddenly, I’m glad to be wearing a pair of rubber gloves.
Following instructions, I start sorting; chefs prefer smaller oysters with well-shaped shells. Trying not to get distracted by Nally’s stories and the ravenous flock of waiting sea birds floating above me, I count out four batches of 100 oysters for same-day delivery. Nally and Kane care about how their oysters taste and look. The boat has a portable generator, sump pump, and pressure washer to clean the shells thoroughly. Always ready to quote DNREC requirements scripture and verse, Nally explains that he has to use approved water, and the easiest way is to clean them with water from where they’re growing.
When I ask if it’s hard to comply with the federal and state requirements, like logging the exact time oysters go in and come out of the water, Nally shrugs and offers a surprisingly pragmatic answer: “Everyone on the bay is aware of safety and works together to comply. If anyone gets sick from shellfish, they don’t care where it came from; it will affect all of us. When you are eating oysters in Delaware that came from Delaware, I feel really confident about safety.”
After harvesting and storing the oysters on ice, Nally checks the currents and wind direction before jumping back into the water; he regularly inspects the bags, floats, securing lines, and clips to ensure everything is in working order. As the oysters grow, Nally and Kane move them into bags with progressively larger mesh sizes and mark each with color-coded zip ties to indicate their growth stage. As they mature, the oysters are thinned out and spread across more bags to prevent overcrowding. It’s hard work, but at the end of the day, the two men are proud of what they’ve built together.
Nally explains that the warm temperatures, sandy bottoms, and high salinity of Rehoboth Bay are ideal. Still, not all farm sites are created equal: “The water here tastes different than the water on that side of the bay. It’s the fetch you’re getting from waves, all the swell, and the current. We have a really strong current on this side, and that side doesn’t, so they’re not as salty.”
Although Rehoboth Bay is known for its shallow depths and typically calm waters, aquafarming is still risky. Nally recalled a harrowing incident last winter when his lines got tangled in the boat’s propeller. Rough weather and a hefty chop made it hard to keep the boat steady. Determined to free the line, he put on his wetsuit and plunged into the frigid water. As a safety measure, he shared his location via iPhone with Kane and told him that if the location stopped moving, Nally was in the water and Kane should call the Coast Guard.
On another occasion, Nally slipped on a wet deck and hit his head — an accident reminiscent of what happened to poor Jennifer Coolidge in “White Lotus.” Fortunately, he fell into the boat rather than overboard. He takes no chances now, wearing a special life vest that automatically inflates if he falls into the bay.
Nally and Kane are the only local farmers offering premium catering services, bringing the freshest oysters and top-notch shuckers to events such as weddings and birthday parties. Nancy James Oysters can also be enjoyed at local restaurants, including Drift Seafood & Raw Bar and Lewes Oyster House. You can find them in person at the Bethany Farmers Market and the Historic Lewes Farmers Market. This summer, the couple will be shucking oysters live every Sunday afternoon at Aqua Bar & Grill. Oysters are always available for purchase online at nancyjamesoysters.com.
It’s another beautiful day when I make the short trip to town and park just outside Drift on Baltimore Avenue. Grabbing an empty seat at the outside bar window, I order without looking at the menu (at Drift, ask for the “Rehoboth Rose” oyster). In less time than it takes to check my phone, there are a dozen premium oysters in front of me — bedded in a tray of crushed ice, just waiting to be devoured.
Savoring the poetry of the presentation, I lift a shell to my mouth and slurp down the meat in one swallow. The taste is pure Delaware. Tom Wiswell, the former executive chef at Drift, describes it best: “It reminds me of being a kid at Rehoboth Beach and like a wave splashing you in the face. It’s fresh, briny, and salty.”
As I enjoy a swallow of a good glass of Cava and reach for another oyster, I realize why these exotic delicacies were dubbed “white gold.” Nearly a half-century older and wiser than that kid in the Hawaiian shirt at Tiki Gardens, I’ve finally realized that the hidden treasure inside the oyster was never the pearl.
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