Living

Labor of love

Md. man remembers late spouse, years of activism

Published

14 years ago

January 3, 2013

Michael K. Lavers

Larry Esser (right) with his late spouse Tom Toth. (Photo courtesy of Larry Esser)

GLEN BURNIE, Md.—Larry Esser was 25 when he met Tom Toth on his first day of work at the old Chessie System’s office in Baltimore in June 1981. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had just reported the first cases of what later became known as AIDS. Maryland’s anti-sodomy law was still on the books, but Toth, who was 32 years older than Esser, felt it was important to live his life as an openly gay man.

“Tom kind of pursued me, to put it quite bluntly,” Esser tells the Washington Blade during a Dec. 13 interview. “I really liked him, that’s the funny thing. I didn’t feel like he was imposing himself or anything like that … he’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. His personal courage astonished me.”

Esser stressed he “had no idea I was gay” when he met his future spouse. He grew up in what he describes as an “extremely strict Roman Catholic household” in Connecticut where he routinely heard gay people “were probably worse than murderers and they were to be avoided at all costs” and they were “mentally defective.” Esser eventually found himself in a relationship with another man he conceded wasn’t “going anywhere” when Toth finally made his move.

“He was sitting at his desk and he was singing,” Esser recalls, laughing. “It was like in a joking sort of way he was singing and the other people around him were laughing when he was doing it and he was singing something about it’s springtime and it’s time for love. The way he tells this story, I came in the door and heard him singing that and I tried to sneak away. I didn’t want any part of that. And he saw me and he said, ‘Uh oh.’ And that’s when he began to realize that I was not what he thought I was. How can you explain how two people fall in love? I can’t explain that. But it just happened. I wasn’t afraid of him personally.”

Gay News, Washington Blade, Gay Maryland

Frank Kameny with Tom Toth in D.C. (Photo courtesy of Larry Esser)

Couple’s activism starts at home

The couple routinely engaged in what Esser calls “guerrilla activism” that began when he said the railroad fired him after they began dating in 1983 because of his sexual orientation. He considered moving back to Connecticut, but Toth insisted he move into the small Glen Burnie home he shared with his then-84-year-old mother, Mary.

“There was no arguing with that,” Esser says. “The funny thing is when he said it, it was exactly what I wanted to hear, but of course I couldn’t ask him that. It was up to him to ask me, and he did. And I was delighted.”

Esser took care of Toth’s elderly mother until she died the following year. He says the same Chessy System vice president whom he claims fired him threatened to do the same to his partner once he found out they were living together. (He says the railroad in the late 1970s had tried to fire an early member of the Baltimore Gay Alliance that later became the GLBT Community Center of Baltimore and Central Maryland, but the union fought for him.)

“He couldn’t do it directly,” Esser says, recalling efforts to fire Toth, who was a unionized stenographer. “He did a bunch of different things to try to get Tom to quit. And amazingly, Tom was actually ready to resign. A woman whose name I can’t remember, but will always be grateful to her told him don’t resign because the railroad is going to do a bunch of buyouts and you’ll be able to get a lump sum payment and retire, and that’s what he did.”

The couple also for years distributed copies of the Blade at locations throughout Anne Arundel County.

They decided to approach the Anne Arundel County Public Library Board of Trustees in Annapolis in 1993 after they read about the newspaper’s threatened lawsuit against the Fairfax County (Va.) Library for its proposed ban on the publication’s distribution inside its branches. Esser said Toth was “really rough with them,” in part because “he’d gone through a very repressive time back in the 1950s.” (He lived in Manhattan for 25 years and the New York Police Department once arrested him during a gay bar raid.)

“When we got to the library board, he told them point blank, ‘You’d better do this,’” Esser says. “They were not happy. They were not happy at all. I think some of them were actually kind of sympathetic to what we wanted to do, but they were taken aback by how assertive he was. They weren’t used to that. The library board is used to people coming and requesting things, not telling them what they’re going to do. And they were not happy.”

Esser says one of the board members later told him the board did not want to meet with Toth anymore because “he was very blunt,” but in the end they granted them permission to place 15 copies of the Blade in libraries in Glen Burnie, Severna Park and Annapolis. They continued distributing the Blades each week from the Center for more than two decades.

“By putting the paper there, I always felt that, I always wondered … if a young person going by thinking they were maybe gay or knew they were gay but felt very isolated, if they saw those papers, maybe that would give them a little bit of encouragement or a little bit of reassurance. But the other point was just sheer visibility. By having those papers there, Tom used to say … if even one person picks one up, he said even if they throw them away they still got to look at them. And that was an excellent point. And he was quite right. That meant a lot to us.”

Trust the truth

The AIDS epidemic had begun to exert its toll on gay men by the time the couple began dating — Esser recalls a time both he and Toth went to a small Severna Park health clinic to get HIV tests. Toth says the nurse asked him whether he was a gay man. “He said that was the first time in his entire life anyone asked him that directly,” Esser says. “He had never been asked that question.”

Larry Esser today. (Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

Esser says he felt the atmosphere during the late 1980s was “pretty optimistic” in spite of the epidemic and late-North Carolina Sen. Jesse Helms, fundamentalist preachers Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson and other social conservatives who sought to demonize gay men during the AIDS crisis.

“Oddly enough, Tom never disliked [then-President Ronald] Reagan, but I think that’s because he remembered him from his movie star days,” Esser says. “He felt Reagan didn’t understand the whole situation that he was dealing with AIDS and gay people. He felt that Reagan really just didn’t understand it. It’s not that he was anti-gay particularly; he just didn’t really know what he was doing … I didn’t feel so kindly to Reagan at all. I thought he was just horrible.”

Toth and Esser also became involved in the effort to add sexual orientation to Maryland’s non-discrimination law in the 1990s.

He recalls one legislator who was “really being ridiculous, saying really ugly things about us” during a hearing on the measure in Annapolis. One of this lawmaker’s colleagues who had refused to listen to his speech asked Toth and Esser how they could stand to hear his rhetoric.

“Tom said, ‘Well we know it isn’t true, so we don’t worry about it,’” Esser says. “Of course you’ve got to fight. You can’t let people say things that aren’t true and let them say it without challenging it. And Tom did that. But at the same time you can’t let it stop you. You can’t let that negativism stop you. You have to keep fighting, pushing against it and that’s what Tom really, really did.”

Esser notes that Toth’s life spanned the same period through which Frank Kameny lived — the two met during the 2000 D.C. Pride parade. And Esser says when they met, it was as if they were kindred spirits.

“They were really speaking the same language,” he says, noting both Esser and Kameny came of age in the 1950s when lobotomies were performed as a way to cure homosexuality. “It was very impressive for me being a younger person relative to them seeing what these two men must have come through and how they were both so determined to do what they were doing. They refused to back down. They refused to accept what they were being told they had to accept. They wouldn’t do it. And that was a beautiful thing to me. It’s a moment I will never forget.”

Mesothelioma that Toth developed from asbestos exposure while working at a Baltimore shipyard that built liberty ships during World War II had already taken its toll by the time Gov. Martin O’Malley signed the state’s same-sex marriage law in March.

Toth and Esser legally married in D.C. in 2010, but he wanted to vote for both Question 6 and President Obama on Election Day. He applied for an absentee ballot because he did not think he would live until Nov. 6.

It arrived in the mail in early October.

“It came and I said do you want to sign it?,” Esser, who fought leukemia at the same time his spouse struggled with mesothelioma, says. “And he said, ‘No, I’ll do it tomorrow. Well the next day he wasn’t strong enough.”

Toth died three days later — on Oct. 11 — at age 88.

“He never did sign the absentee ballot,” Esser says. “He was very aware of what was going on. He was politically interested. He definitely wanted Obama to win. We just detested Romney. The hardest thing to communicate to people who were not gay (is) how much Obama had done to us, compared to everybody else.”

Esser says Toth wondered whether history would remember Obama along the same lines as Franklin Roosevelt in terms of “what he had done, particularly for gay rights.”

“When you come from a time where you were ignored totally … and suddenly here’s the president and he’s doing all these executive orders and this happening and that’s happening and then he comes out in favor of same-sex marriage, well that’s fantastic,” Esser says. “He was just delighted.”

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Autos

Hot hatchbacks: Honda Civic, Subaru Impreza

Two fun and functional rides

Published

6 days ago

July 19, 2026

Joe Phillips

Honda Civic

The latest Honda Civic hatchback and Subaru Impreza are two of the segment’s stars. Both offer sensible pricing, excellent utility and enough personality to avoid feeling like appliances.

The Civic is more polished. The Impreza, more rugged. Luckily, neither is trying to be obnoxiously flashy.

HONDA CIVIC

$28,000

MPG: 30 city/38 highway

0 to 60 mph: 8.9 seconds

Cargo space: 24.5 cu. ft.

PROS: Fuel efficient. Spacious cargo area. Good resale value.

CONS: No all-wheel drive. Fussy infotainment. Low rear headroom.

WHAT’S NEW: Only minor updates for 2026. The biggest change carries over from last year’s refresh: the addition of the hybrid, which has become a star performer.

The Honda Civic hatchback won’t scream for attention. It won’t arrive wearing sequins and carrying a smoke machine. It’s more like Nomi Marks from “Sense8”: intelligent, sophisticated and impressively capable.

The styling remains handsome and clean. Long hood. Low roofline. Crisp lines everywhere.Honda resisted the urge to make this vehicle look like a spaceship or an angry robot. That’s refreshing.

Inside, the dashboard is simple and elegant. The honeycomb air-vent treatment remains one of the coolest interior details in the segment. Materials feel expensive. Controls are easy to understand. And visibility is excellent.

I love how the cargo space is generous, with rear seats that fold flat. A bicycle, several suitcases or enough supplies for an ambitious weekend road trip fit without much hassle.

Then there’s the hybrid. The system produces a healthy amount of power while delivering fuel economy that borders on the absurd. Around town, handling feels smooth, quiet and surprisingly quick. You almost glide through traffic. The standard gasoline engine isn’t bad, but the hybrid is stellar.

The Civic also shines on twisty roads. Steering is precise. Body motions stay controlled. The suspension strikes a sweet balance between comfort and sportiness.

Biggest weakness? No all-wheel drive. For drivers in snowy climates, that’s not so good.

Still, the Civic’s stellar combination of efficiency, quality, and driving enjoyment remains incredibly hard to beat.

SUBARU IMPREZA

$27,000

MPG: 27 city/33 highway

0 to 60 mph: 8.5 seconds

Cargo space: 20.4 cubic feet

PROS: All-wheel drive. User-friendly tech. Safety cred.

CONS: No hybrid version. Some road noise. Modest cargo room.

WHAT’S NEW: The Impreza receives relatively minor updates for 2026. Subaru continues refining this hatchback rather than reinventing it.

If the Honda Civic is urbane, the Subaru Impreza is unfussy. There’s a kind of Kristen Stewart energy here. Cool without trying too hard.

The styling isn’t dramatic, but it works. This hauler appears ready to tackle rain, snow, dirt roads or an impromptu weekend escape.

And all-wheel drive comes standard on every Impreza. (Most competitors only offer front-wheel drive or include all-wheel drive as a pricey option.)

The result: Slippery roads simply don’t create much anxiety. The suspension absorbs bumps nicely. Long trips are comfortable. Visibility is great, thanks to relatively thin roof pillars and large windows.

I like how the cabin is functional rather than fancy. Materials don’t quite match the Civic’s upscale vibe, but everything feels sturdy. A large infotainment screen dominates the dashboard and generally works well, though some drivers may prefer more physical buttons.

Cargo space is respectable, and the design makes loading bulky items easy.

Performance depends heavily on trim. The base engine gets the job done, but nobody will confuse it for a sports car. The RS trim’s larger engine provides more power and makes the ride livelier. But even then, acceleration remains merely adequate.

The Impreza’s real appeal lies elsewhere, with a mix that few rivals can match: hatchback practicality, standard all-wheel drive, strong safety scores and reasonable pricing.

Perhaps that’s the key difference between these two hatchbacks. The Honda Civic impresses immediately. The Subaru Impreza grows on you.

Fortunately, choosing between them is less stressful than deciding who gets the last mimosa at brunch.

Real Estate

When buying a home, it’s decisions, decisions, decisions

Keeping notes on the process makes for an informed purchase

Published

6 days ago

July 19, 2026

Joseph Hudson

If you’re buying a home, take careful notes throughout the process. (Photo by Andy Dean Photography/Bigstock)

When looking to buy a home, there are lots of details to consider. Many of my clients would come to me and say, “Joe I want to buy a place, but I haven’t decided which neighborhood to buy in.” And the struggle was real. A few clients had everything decided from the color of the hallway walls to the cabinet handles and sometimes which three square blocks they wanted to look at.

But other clients were occasionally looking at properties in areas as distinct as Union Market/NOMA, Brookland, Logan Circle, and then we would even go across the river to look at a property in Shirlington or the Van Dorn areas of Virginia, which all have their own unique flavor and characteristics.

Sometimes clients would tell me, “I only want to look in Mount Pleasant or Adams Morgan.” Or, “don’t even show me any properties west of this street or south of that street.” My job wasn’t to convince people where to live. It was to just take the parameters they set for me and find as good of a property in that zone as I could, coordinate the showings and, if necessary, offer the strategy.

One can see that buyers often had more decisions to make than a seller. From a seller’s perspective, the house was where it was, and we just had to make the best of it. But working with a buyer could mean looking at five different neighborhoods, and then being a “thought partner” to help them figure out which were the top two or three areas they had seen, and then further distilling those down into what was available and weighing those options against each other.

One house could have the dream bathroom but also be located six blocks further from a Metro stop, walkable shopping and dining, and “just too far away from my friends.” Another house could have all the neighborhood options a client was looking for, but was just not in turnkey condition, and would require an additional $30,000 of upgrades once purchased to make it into the dream home they envisioned.

One activity I often asked buyers to do was to keep an active list in their heads of the properties they liked, and to keep a running rank of the top three. I often encouraged them to bring a notebook along on the journey where they could take notes and write down questions they thought of as they looked. It was an important decision, and sometimes the largest purchase of their lives. Why not take it a little seriously, and take notes? This could often help the buyer later when they felt it was time to decide.

The point here is, keeping a notebook handy can sometimes help a person with what feels like an overwhelming process. It provides a space to explore how one feels, jot down important details to remember, and then use that to make an informed decision.

Joseph Hudson is a referral agent with RLAH. Reach him at 703-587-0597 or [email protected].

Real Estate

Under-the-radar Delaware beach towns smart buyers are targeting

There are other options if Rehoboth prices are scaring you off

Published

3 weeks ago

July 5, 2026

Justin Noble

If you want to escape the crowds and nightlife scene of Rehoboth Beach, Sussex County offers plenty of options. (Blade file photo by Daniel Truitt)

Look, we love Rehoboth. We will always love Rehoboth. Queer folks have been flocking there since the 1940s, and with scores of LGBTQ-owned businesses and a Pride calendar packed tighter than the boardwalk in July, “Rehomo” earned its crown fair and square.

But let’s be honest with each other: trying to buy property there right now feels a lot like trying to get a reservation at the one good restaurant in town on a Saturday in August. Everyone wants in, inventory is tighter than your swim trunks after Labor Day brunch, and the prices have officially entered “are you kidding me” territory.

So here’s a thought: What if you didn’t fight the crowd? What if, instead, you let Rehoboth keep doing its glorious, chaotic, glitter-bomb thing and you quietly built your beach life 15 minutes away for considerably less drama and considerably more square footage? Here are four towns ready for their close-up.

Lewes: The Charming Overachiever

Lewes is what happens when a beach town actually has its life together. Historic charm, walkability, proximity to Cape Henlopen State Park, less crowding, and a strong year-round community. Unlike towns that turn into ghost towns after Labor Day, Lewes maintains a real community all year long, which is more than we can say for some situationships.

And right now, the market is practically begging you to make a move. It’s one of the most desirable and stable markets in the county — built for buyers thinking long-term, not flippers, and Sussex County overall has flipped into genuine buyer’s market territory for the first time in years. Translation: you finally get to be the one with leverage.

Bethany Beach: My Personal Pick

Full disclosure: I own in Bethany. So consider this section a little biased — and also the most honest thing I’ll tell you in this whole article.

When I drive down from D.C., I’m not looking for more of D.C. I love this city, but I also love leaving it — and yes, some of the people in it too (you know who you are, and so do I). Bethany gives me that full exhale. It’s quiet in the way that actually means something: fewer crowds, slower mornings, a soundtrack that’s mostly waves instead of nightlife. It leans hard into its “quiet resort” reputation, with low property taxes and a limited geographic footprint, and it is not the least bit sorry about it.

But quiet doesn’t mean isolated. I’ve got a genuinely excellent food scene nearby, real shopping, and a string of charming neighboring beach towns — and when I do want a taste of Rehoboth’s energy, it’s a short, easy drive away. I get to choose my dose of chaos instead of living inside it.

And here’s the part that matters most for this article: the price. If you’ve looked at Rehoboth listings and quietly closed the tab in despair, I need you to hear this — you can absolutely afford a beach house. It just doesn’t have to be in Rehoboth. Bethany’s average home value sits around $848,592, which is still real money, no question — but it buys you more house, more land, and more peace than the same budget gets you closer to the boardwalk. Bethany is welcoming too, just without Rehoboth’s decades of built-in queer institutional history — and for plenty of us, that trade-off is more than worth it.

Fenwick Island: Small Town, Big Flex

Fenwick rarely gets mentioned and, frankly, it should be insulted. It’s tiny, it’s quiet, and it has beach access without the carnival energy. The market data tends to lump it in with Bethany, where single-family oceanfront homes clear $1 million while entry-level condos start in the $600s — proof that “under-the-radar” doesn’t mean “bargain bin,” it means “fewer people fighting you for it.”

South Bethany: For the Boat Gays

Some of us want sand between our toes. Others want a private dock and a boat named something deeply unserious. South Bethany’s canal communities are built for the latter — water access on both sides, fewer crowds, and a lifestyle that says, “I have a captain’s hat and I am not afraid to wear it.”

The Math Works in Your Favor Now

Here’s the part that should really get your attention: Sussex County’s median sold price has dropped to $440,000, down 3.3% year-over-year, and buyers are routinely closing around 88 cents on the dollar compared to asking price. That’s a far cry from the unhinged bidding wars of 2021 and 2022, when overpaying was basically a competitive sport. Inventory across the county sits at nearly 2,500 active listings — the most of any county in Delaware, meaning you actually get to be picky for once. Revolutionary, we know.

And no, choosing one of these towns doesn’t mean leaving your people behind. Sussex Pride serves the entire county, not just Rehoboth proper, and CAMP Rehoboth’s resources extend well beyond town limits too. You’re not exiling yourself to the suburbs of queerness — you’re just getting a bigger kitchen, a quieter porch, and a much shorter line for the bathroom.

Add in the fact that Delaware has no estate tax and some of the lowest property taxes around, savings that genuinely add up over a retirement horizon, and the case writes itself. Rehoboth will always be the beating, sequined heart of queer beach culture in Delaware. But if you’ve been telling yourself a beach house isn’t in the cards — I’m here to tell you it absolutely is. It just might be 15 minutes south, with your own quiet porch, your own salt air, and considerably more room to breathe.

Have a real estate question or Rehoboth market tip? Reach out to [email protected] for LGBTQ-friendly real estate resources in the Rehoboth area.

Justin Noble is a Realtor licensed in D.C., Maryland, and Delaware with Monument Sotheby’s International Realty. Reach him at [email protected] or 302-897-7499.