a&e features
Holy spandex tights! It’s Batgirl!
Nearly 50 years later, Yvonne Craig reflects on ‘Batman,’ ‘Star Trek,’ Elvis and more
Sometimes indelible pop culture impressions are made in a very short time. Yvonne Craig played Batgirl for just one season — the third and final — of the 1966-’68 TV series “Batman,” yet it’s the role she’s best known for nearly 50 years later.
And although the character appeared once on the big screen (in the oft-derided 1997 movie “Batman & Robin” in which she was portrayed by Alicia Silverstone), it is Craig, by far, who is most identified with the role.
Craig, 77, was a steadily working actress throughout the 1960s and beyond racking up appearances on “Perry Mason,” “The Barbara Stanwyck Show,” “My Three Sons,” “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis” and — donning head-to-toe green body paint — as Marta, an Orion slave girl, in the classic “Star Trek” episode “Whom Gods Destroy.” She also played opposite Elvis Presley in two feature films — “It Happened at the World’s Fair” (1963) and “Kissin’ Cousins” (1964). She was brought on “Batman” for the 1967-’68 season to play Commissioner Gordon’s librarian daughter Barbara whose alter ego Batgirl could be counted on to ward off villains with Batman (Adam West) and Robin (Burt Ward).
After years of legal wrangling, the series was finally released on DVD and Blu-ray last November. That was our initial peg for reaching out to Craig, but several delays including gall bladder surgery for the otherwise-healthy actress, pushed things back. We spoke to her by phone from her Los Angeles home two weeks ago. Quick to laugh and always ready to launch into a funny anecdote, Craig — who’s straight and happily married — was willing to indulge any inquiry. Her comments have been edited for length.

Yvonne Craig says she enjoys meeting fans though she has rarely watched ‘Batman’ or ‘Star Trek’ since their original broadcasts. (Photo courtesy Craig)
WASHINGTON BLADE: Have you lived most of your adult life in Los Angeles?
YVONNE CRAIG: Yes. We moved up to Nevada, to south Lake Tahoe, about three years ago and we moved back last year and I’m so grateful to be back. You can only look at so many trees and eventually you say, “Where’s the classical music? Where’s the ballet company? Where’s the art museum?” Well, they’re not there.
BLADE: Let’s start with “Star Trek.” Sci-fi fans in general are often so ardent and you had such a major role on one of the most famous episodes of the iconic original series yet I’m sure for you at the time, it was just another job. What’s it like when you meet fans and they assume you’re going to be a walking encyclopedia of “Star Trek” ephemera?
CRAIG: Well, it’s been lovely for me and I loved the part. I did a convention where a young woman came up to my room to walk me down to where I was supposed to do a Q&A and I said to her, “There are so many weird people here,” and she said, “We’re all weird, we’re all misfits and the reason we like this is because we can all get together and understand one another and it’s the only place we’re really accepted by our peers.” And I thought, “Wow, that’s really insightful.” … I’ve always liked the fans and they’ve been charming to me. It’s just when they come up and say to me, “Do you remember the third rock on the left in the such and such,” and I say to them, “You know what? I’ve only seen two ‘Star Treks.’ One was mine and the other was ‘The Trouble with Tribbles,’” you know, the furry little things. (I’m told) “Whom Gods Destroy” is the second most popular episode after “Trouble with Tribbles.”
BLADE: Was it hard to relax between takes with the green body paint?
CRAIG: No, but getting it off at night was a disaster. I started with a shower at the studio, then I had to go home and take an oil bath, then take another shower. I think if I were doing it today, I would have just slept very carefully somewhere at the studio.
BLADE: Aren’t you glad you didn’t have to play her for several seasons?
CRAIG: Oh, wouldn’t that be horrible? We also had trouble making it stick during the day. We were at our wits’ end and it’s like the fourth day and finally … we found a makeup guy who could make it stick. He wasn’t really supposed to do it because at the time male makeup artists were not allowed to put body makeup on women, but I didn’t care. We brought him in and sure enough, he did the last two days and it never moved. It was great but we never told because he could have been fired. It’s so sexist I can’t believe it.
BLADE: Have you followed the various “Batman” film adaptations over the years? Do you have much interest in that?
CRAIG: Yes, I do. I liked Michael Keaton. I just loved him but in the second one, he got stuck with the Penguin and it had, like, six endings. You think it’s over and the Penguin is gone and he would come back spitting ink again. So I just knew immediately why when Michael Keaton said he’s not doing anymore, I knew immediately why. Who wants to be second banana to a penguin? … I thought George Clooney was just going to be terrific … and I thought Chris O’Donnell … would be a good match … then you get to the movie and it’s just awful. I don’t know what was going on, if George Clooney was just doing too many things at the same time so he didn’t think this out or something. Every time they mentioned that Alfred was ill, no Alfred isn’t just sick, Alfred is going to die, he just had this smirk. I’m like, “What’s funny about that? This is the man who brought you up, what is going on?” And then Chris O’Donnell just kept whining about a car and I thought, “God, I hate this movie.” I actually thought Alicia Silverstone would just be darling as Batgirl and I wrote her a note and said, “You’ll just knock ‘em dead.” … First of all, they made her whole relationship she was Alfred’s niece or something instead of Commissioner’s daughter, which was screwy, then they put them all in these Robocop outfits so they couldn’t even move, it was horrible. I didn’t like Val Kilmer but once they got Christian Bale, I loved it. I mean I really like him. He’s an excellent actor. So yeah, I keep up with them.
BLADE: They’ve gotten so dark. Why?
CRAIG: Well, when we first started there were people who remembered the (serial) films from the 1940s or whenever they did them and that was dark. So I think they are kind of of their time. We were busy being hippies and throwing flowers and love and peace and all of that and people were offended. They said, “This isn’t what Batman should be.” Those were the diehard ones. Now they’re all dead because it was a long time ago. The one with Michael Keaton, I thought was pretty dark and a couple of times you couldn’t see who was fighting whom, so you weren’t invested. If you can’t see who the villains are and who the good guys are, you lost interest. Then they got lighter for a while but our times have changed. I think we’re going back to dark because these are darker times. We have drive-by shootings and terrorists with no conscience. So I don’t know what the next thing might look like but I bet it will be scary.
BLADE: I guess “Batman v. Superman” (slated for 2016 release) is next.
CRAIG: Oh is it? Well, I may have to see that one.
BLADE: Should Batgirl be in it too? Do you feel any investment in these things as you hear of them?
CRAIG: No. I loved doing the role. I liked the way the writers wrote her. When people come up and say she was a role model, I always think, “Wow, I wish I had one of the writers next to me to hear this” because they’re really the ones who wrote this. Everybody forgets that the actor can only do anything with what they’re given. Writers never get the esteem they should have.
BLADE: Yes, but so many of the actors on the ‘60s show really became synonymous with the parts. When we think of the Riddler, we think of Frank Gorshin, we think of Cesar Romero (the Joker), we think of you as Batgirl and of Julie Newmar and Eartha Kitt as Catwoman. Why did that series have such impact?
CRAIG: Well it was a top-rated show and nothing had ever been seen before that looked quite like that. It was really a comic book that was live action so you saw “bam” and “pop” and all of those things you saw in a comic book. The colors were brilliant and they had this crazy thing where when the villain entered the camera was tilted. So it was innovative and unique for its time. There were a lot of things only the adults would have understood, double entendres, … yet it was safe to watch with kids because it wasn’t violent. You’re not seeing body parts and blood and guts and people shoot one another. … As far as being attached, I was only in the third season and I had a body of work before and I didn’t have a problem at all doing other things. I think Adam (West) was a whole other story because he has a very distinctive speech cadence. (Imitates West) “That’s just the way he talked — (pauses) — citizens.” When he’d go read for other parts, they just thought he was doing Batman so he had a hard time getting hired. … Now he’s doing voiceovers and it’s working for him again and I like that. He’s a nice man.
BLADE: Was the costume stretchy?
CRAIG: It was. I was used to being in leotards, so it was perfect for me. … It was easy to work in, easy to get in and out of and I did stunts, so it was easy to dance in, kick in and all those things. I had no problem with it. Lee Meriwether (Catwoman briefly in 1966) and I were on a panel together once and she said that was the most uncomfortable costume she has ever worn and it was kind of the same as mine, that same stretch fabric. I think it just has to do with whether you were used to wearing leotards or not and I was.
BLADE: Did you keep anything, the costume or any props or anything?
CRAIG: No, because it didn’t belong to me.
BLADE: That was your own hair as Barbara?
CRAIG: Yes. I told them I didn’t mind being a redhead as long as it was a wig, which it was and you saw it very prominently displayed in her secret room. A friend of mine at the time wanted to set me up with this guy. I was single then. She told him, “She plays Batgirl.” And he said, “Oh, well I like the little brunette better.” And I thought, “Oh he’s too dumb to go out with.”
BLADE: Was it a fairly chummy set?
CRAIG: Oh yes, the happiest set I’d been on since “Mod Squad.” … It was terrific. The cast liked one another, the crew liked one another and we all loved having all of these people on we’d never have worked with otherwise. I never would have worked with Milton Berle or Ethel Merman (otherwise). And they all loved it too because it was so different from anything else they’d ever done. It was a happy place to go to work every day.
BLADE: Burt’s (Robin) memoir was quite interesting.
CRAIG: Yes. I think he had a very vivid fantasy life.
BLADE: His (“Boy Wonder: My Life in Tights”) was quite different from yours (“From Ballet to the Batcave and Beyond”).
CRAIG: It was. He had asked me to write the foreword for his. I said sure, send it to me. He never did. He’d call and read me funny things and finally we were getting tight on time. I was leaving the country and he said he needed it so I sent him something that said, “I have not read this book.” (“Batman” writer) Stanley Ralph Ross said, “You can’t write a foreword to a book you haven’t read,” so I read the book and it was just relentlessly sexual. Even if it were true and it wasn’t, nobody wants to think of their little Robin as this voracious satyr. … I know there are different takes on things, but I can tell you truly in the third season, nothing happened on that set, nothing. And I can almost guarantee you nothing happened the first two seasons either. Now what they did when they were out on the road, I have no idea but as far as it happening on the set — he claimed he was behind scenery — but we were there working, they had somebody building on the next set we were going to use and we had stunt people, including me, off in a corner trying to figure out the fight scene. We shot those in three days. I mean it was just gangbusters, go! So I don’t know where he found the space or the time and I never saw any of it. … Plus we had children visiting the set almost every day.
BLADE: Would you have continued on another three or four seasons had it been renewed?
CRAIG: I would have. I loved doing it.
BLADE: How far into the season were you when you heard it wasn’t being renewed?
CRAIG: We had a wrap party for the third season and we all went home thinking we would be picked up and only when it was time to start shooting again did I hear we weren’t. So we never really had an over party. We just went home for Thanksgiving or Christmas or one of those and we didn’t know. And of course, we didn’t know 50 years later people were still going to be talking about it. We just said, “OK, on to the next job. What else do you have lined up for me?” because that’s the way the business runs.
BLADE: Alan Napier (Alfred) said once that Eartha Kitt (Catwoman on the third season) was “kind of marvelous” but complained a lot on the set. Agree?
CRAIG: I don’t know. In the scenes I had with her, she wasn’t complaining at all. She was a woman, oh boy, who was I would say rather conflicted and very insecure so who knows, she might have complained and he might have heard her or he might have had more down time sitting with her than I did because usually when I wasn’t shooting, I was off with the stunt people. But no. One time we did some kind of reunion-type thing and my husband was excited to meet her and she was just so nervous about doing this, I don’t know, it was like a talk show or something. And she said, “I’m sorry, I can’t meet him, I can’t meet anyone, I have to get myself together for this.” And I thought, “How strange — this is just a talk show.” But you know, her background was not wonderful. I can see it. You’re black, you’re in America, you purportedly said something not very nice to the first lady (Lady Bird Johnson). I didn’t see anything wrong with what she said, she was just asking a question. But you know, it probably adds up.
BLADE: I know you didn’t work with Julie Newmar (Catwoman, first two seasons) on the show but you’ve made appearances with her at various events since then. Have you gotten to know her at all?
CRAIG: Not really. At the conventions she’s done, she always arrives late but she has a great work ethic. Somebody said to her one day, “OK, Julie, so when you get up, what do you do?” And she said (slipping into Newmar’s purry voice) “Well — pauses — I put on a little makeup — pauses — and then I have some coffee …” And I figured, “OK, well, that’s why she’s always late,” but I’ll tell you what, she’s wonderful with the fans and she will stay until the last person sees her. There are a lot I could mention who don’t do that, so I think she and I have the best work ethic of the group.
BLADE: It was obviously such intentional camp. You seemed to play it very earnestly. Was it hard to find the right tone with the material?
CRAIG: No. I played it completely straight and that’s the clue. I think if the material is completely over the top, you play it straight and that makes it funny for the audience. If you play it with a wink, then it isn’t funny. This tends to happen a lot with child actors.
BLADE: Were you happy to see it finally released?
CRAIG: Yes. We don’t get any residuals or anything because, of course, there was no such thing as DVDs back then. I probably won’t watch it, but I’m glad to see it out. I live in the present and I don’t look back other than to say, “Well, that was a wonderful experience,” and if it weren’t a wonderful experience, as in the case of, say, Bill Shatner (Kirk on “Star Trek”), who I don’t think ever allowed anyone to have a wonderful experience with his acting, I just feel we only have a certain amount of time and I don’t want to spend it looking back.
BLADE: I saw a photo not long ago of you with Bill Bixby (“The Incredible Hulk”) and you were in a bathing suit. What was that from?
CRAIG: We were on “Courtship of Eddie’s Father” and “My Favorite Martian” together but I was never in a bathing suit. In those days, God, I sound like such a codger, they had Photoplay and these fan magazines, so they would set up these photo shoots. One time Adam took me out on his boat and we took pictures but it was just for photos, I had never been on his boat before or after.
BLADE: But you and Bill were friendly?
CRAIG: We dated! … We remained friends, but it just wasn’t a good match.
BLADE: They kept casting you as different girlfriends of Dobie Gillis. Did that seem odd to you at the time?
CRAIG: I don’t remember thinking that. I think I just thought, “Oh, I get to play somebody new.” Dwayne Hickman (Dobie) still cracks me up. My husband doesn’t understand it. He looks at me and says, “He’s not that funny,” and I just say, “To me, he is.” It’s like George Burns or Jack Benny. All I have to do is look at Dwayne and I laugh. I did four “Dobies,” I think. It’s really weird when I tell people who all I worked with. Once I even worked with (silent screen legend) Francis X. Bushman on (“Dobie” episode) “The Flying Millicans.” He played my father. He had this long gray hair and we were trapeze artists. To think that I actually worked with somebody who was in silent films!
BLADE: Lynda Carter said once that DC Comics reached out to her when they were going to change the Wonder Woman costume. Have they ever lent you any sort of Batgirl emeritus status or consulted you on anything over the years?
CRAIG: No, not at all.
BLADE: Both “Star Trek” and “Batman” were modest hits during their original runs but went crazy in syndication and ran forever. Any theories on why?
CRAIG: I honestly couldn’t tell you. I haven’t the foggiest idea. We only went three seasons and we were a mid-season replacement so it wasn’t even like they were long seasons. Some of those Westerns went on for like 22 years or something crazy.
BLADE: Like “Gunsmoke.”
CRAIG: Yes. And I hated doing Westerns.
BLADE: Did you do many?
CRAIG: Oh yeah, a whole slew of ‘em. “Wagon Train,” “Bronco.” As long as the horse hits his mark, they don’t care what you say. They figure, “OK, the horse is in place, she’s up there, we can always loop it.” It’s all predicated on a horse.
BLADE: Do you see any homoerotic subtext in Batman and Robin, either on the show or in any other incarnation?
CRAIG: I never really felt there was. I think a lot of people who were reading into that were not gay. It’s the homophobes who would say, “You know, an older man, I bet he’s diddling that kid.” People who do not understand homosexuality at all.
BLADE: Did you have a favorite villain?
CRAIG: Oh yes, Vincent Price (Egghead). Not because of the villainy, but any time you had down time with Vince Price, he was just wonderful. He was bright, he was curious, he had a great sense of humor, he knew a lot about art, he knew a lot about ballet. He was just very well informed and you knew he kept up.
BLADE: Did you know he was gay at the time?
CRAIG: Yes.
BLADE: How did you feel when you heard Elvis had died?
CRAIG: Oh dear. Well first, he was just the sweetest man. He was so polite and he took all this unsolicited advice from me, what he should do with his hair, crazy stuff like that. … When he died, the Dallas Morning News called me up, I was seeing my future husband at the time, and this reporter said (slipping into exaggerated Southern accent), “How did you feel when Elvis died, were you just devastated?” I said, “Well, no, because I think dead is really a thing just like alive except you have less choices to make.” And there was this dead silence. Finally she said, (returning to accent), “OK, well thank you very much.” He said to me, “Nobody understands what you mean when you say that,” and I just said, “Well, that’s her problem.” I was sorry he died so young. There’s a group up in San Francisco that are just huge Elvis fans. They have his leading ladies up to talk and I’ve been there and then they have an impersonator come out. When I was there, it was Elvis Herselvis, this rather fat, gay woman. She does a wonderful job.
BLADE: Have you kept much career memorabilia?
CRAIG: No, nothing. When I did the book, all the photos were from fans who’d sent them to me at one time or another. When Capital Cities bought ABC, they sent me a whole stack of pictures they were just going to otherwise throw away and said, “Do you want them?” But that was it. I don’t keep stuff. I probably don’t have much of a sentimental bone in my body.
a&e features
Yes, chef!
From military service in Syria to cooking in coastal Delaware, Justin Fritz delivers comfort and connection
Driving down the long stretch of road that connects Rehoboth to Bethany Beach, I’m thinking about the morning ahead of me. I’ve done tough jobs before on subjects I knew nothing about. But when it comes to this assignment – profiling a local chef – I can’t help but worry that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
I eat food. I love food. Ironically, I can’t cook.
Sure, I can make a passable meal in a pinch, but when it comes to innate culinary skills, I don’t have the gene. That means I eat out often. Even when the food is good, the experience is rarely inspiring. I have no doubt that the guy I’m about to profile can cook, but for me, food is fuel, not fun. Writing about eating feels like reading about dancing. You can understand the mechanics, but the magic is harder to capture.
Sooner than I expected, I reach my destination. Rising quietly from the dunes, the weathered cedar shingles and wraparound porch of The Addy Sea Inn gives off the kind of understated confidence money can’t buy. Built in 1904, it doesn’t try to impress you. It just does. I pull into a gravel parking space, step out of the car, and take a breath. Already, I sense that I’ve misjudged what this morning will be.
Inside, breakfast service has just wrapped, but the dining room is still humming with energy. Plates clink. Fresh coffee is brewing. After a quick round of introductions with the staff, I’m ushered back to the kitchen, where Executive Chef Justin Fritz is waiting.
The room is modest, only slightly larger than my kitchen at home, anchored by a narrow stainless-steel island that serves as the operational center. Whatever the kitchen lacks in space it makes up for in technology. The appliances are state-of-the-art and the multi-tiered glass oven on the wall looks smarter than I am.
There’s no brigade of line cooks. No shouted orders. No “Hands” or “Yes, chef!” echoing off the walls. There’s just me and him. It’s a one-man show.
His first wedding tasting is less than an hour away, but instead of rushing, Justin offers me the grand tour. Pride radiates from him — not ego, but something quieter. We move through the inn, past guests and staff he greets by name, out onto a porch overlooking the beach and Atlantic, where meticulously planned weddings unfold like carefully choreographed dreams.
“This whole place transforms,” he says, gesturing toward the lawn. “We pitch a 90-foot tent in a yard that can accommodate 150 guests. We set the DJ and the bar up in the back on a floating deck that becomes a dance floor.”
On our way back inside, we stop to see herbs growing in a double row of hanging planters — mint, basil, strawberries trailing down the wall like decorations you can eat. It’s not performative. It’s practical. Everything here has a purpose.
Back in the kitchen, the tempo shifts. There are no printed-out recipes or neatly arranged mise en place. Justin stops talking just long enough to consult the whiteboard hanging on his refrigerator. There are notes – words, not sentences – cueing him on all the things he needs to remember.
When he finally goes into action, it’s intense, but controlled. Justin knows every inch of his kitchen and moves efficiently to gather what he needs to get five different entrees into the oven. I try to be a fly on the wall, but I’m the elephant in the room. I try, and fail, to move out of his way.
After our fifth near-collision, he laughs. “You just stay there,” he says. “I’ll move around you.” And he does.
Justin’s path to The Addy Sea Inn wasn’t linear, and in many ways, that’s what defines him. After culinary school and early professional success, he made a decision that shifted everything: He enlisted in the Army Reserves alongside his younger brother. In an unexpected twist, Justin completed the enlistment process first, while his brother’s path was delayed pending a medical waiver.
Initially, Justin’s role had nothing to do with food. He worked as a computer technician, repairing advanced equipment — a technical, methodical position that stood in stark contrast to the creative environment of a kitchen. Then, as often happens in Justin’s stories, his circumstances changed. A casual conversation with a commanding officer one afternoon led to a sudden reassignment.
“He said, ‘You’re supposed to be at the range. Get in the car — I’ll explain on the way.’” Justin recalls. “Next thing I know, I’m deploying.”
The destination was Syria. And instead of working with electronics, he found himself back in a kitchen — only this time, under conditions that redefined what cooking meant.
“They didn’t want military cooking,” he says. “They wanted home cooking.”
That expectation, simple on the surface, became extraordinarily complex in practice. Ingredients had to be sourced from local markets where quality and safety were inconsistent. Refrigeration was limited. Water couldn’t be trusted. Meat arrived butchered in ways that required improvisation rather than precision.

“One time I ordered lamb,” he says. “It came back as bones. Just bones. I scraped the meat off and turned it into sausage because I couldn’t waste it.”
So, Justin adapted. He baked bread from scratch, created meals that could be eaten days later, and found ways to bring a sense of normalcy into an environment defined by uncertainty. French toast, burritos, pretzels, tiramisu — dishes that, under different circumstances, might have felt routine became something else entirely.
“I think people underestimate what food means,” he says. “It’s not just eating. It’s memory. It’s comfort. It’s safety.”
That last word lingers.
By the time Justin arrived at The Addy Sea Inn, he carried more than just professional experience. He brought discipline, resilience, and a perspective shaped by environments far removed from coastal Delaware. But he also brought uncertainty.
The new role required something different from what he’d done before. Here, he wasn’t executing someone else’s vision — he was responsible for creating one.
“I realized I get to do this,” he says. “I get to build this.”
What he has built is both ambitious and carefully controlled. Under new ownership and with a growing team, The Addy Sea Inn has evolved into a sought-after destination for weddings and events. The scale has increased, but the operation remains intentionally lean, which puts more pressure on Justin to deliver.
A single day might include breakfast service, take-away lunch preparation, afternoon tea, wedding tastings, and a full-scale event execution. Layered on top of that are cooking classes, early-stage digital content, and a catering business Justin has deliberately paused so he can focus on something more cohesive.
“I want to grow the culinary side of this place,” he says. “Not just more events, but better experiences. Classes, tastings — things that bring people into it. I love teaching. I love sharing it.”
It’s a vision rooted less in expansion and more in depth. Not more for the sake of more, but more meaningfully.
When I return a few days later for breakfast service, the experience feels both familiar and entirely new.
The day begins with sunrise. Before anything else, Justin pauses and brings his team outside. It isn’t a long break, and it isn’t framed as anything formal. It’s simply a moment — watching the light shift over the water, occasionally catching sight of dolphins moving just beyond the shoreline.
Then, without ceremony, the work begins.
Eggs crack. Bacon sizzles, potato pancakes bake on the grill. Orders move in and out with steady consistency. There’s no frantic energy, no sense of scrambling to keep up. Instead, there’s a flow — continuous, measured, almost meditative.
“It doesn’t always feel like work,” he says.
Watching him move through the morning, it’s easy to understand why.
Hours later, after the hustle and bustle of the first meal has ended, Justin turns his attention to a larger, albeit more creative task — cupcakes for two themed parties. Already inspired, he lifts a heavy electric mixer onto the counter and pushes a flour-dusted binder in front of me.
“I’ll bake the cupcakes. You make the butter-cream frosting,” he says, flipping to the page with the recipe. “Double it.”
The request sends me into a mild panic, especially since it requires math. But Justin believes I can do it. To my surprise, so do I. The first batch of chocolate cupcakes are already out of the oven before I finish the first bowl of frosting. Since all I have to do is repeat the process, I’m starting to feel relieved and maybe even a little cocky. That’s when it hits me.
“Chef, I made a mistake…I forgot to double the amount of vanilla. I need to do it over.”
“It’s fine,” Justin says casually, swiping a small disposable plastic spoon across the silky surface. “It tastes great. Focus on the next batch.”
The result, two exquisitely decorated cupcakes, are almost too pretty to eat.
“These are yours to take home,” he says as he carefully packs them away in a to-go box.
I start to protest, to tell him he should save the best for himself or the other guests. But I stop myself and pause and savor the moment. This one, I keep.
Chef Justin Fritz resists easy categorization, and that may be part of what makes him so compelling. He is classically trained, but without pretense. His military background suggests rigidity, yet his approach is flexible and intuitive. He carries himself with a quiet confidence, never needing to announce it. Part Jason Bourne, part Willy Wonka. Justin isn’t just cooking food, he’s making magic.
By the time I leave, my understanding of the assignment has shifted. What I expected to be a story about food has become something broader, more nuanced. It’s about care. About connection.
That sense of purpose extends beyond the kitchen. When I ask Justin what’s next, he speaks not just about growth and ambition, but about balance — about building a life that allows space for both. There’s a quiet acknowledgment of Cheyenne, his partner of five years, woven into that answer. Not as a headline, but as something steady and grounding, part of how he measures what comes next.
I arrived thinking I would write about a chef. What I found instead was someone who uses food as a language — a way to communicate, to connect, and to create something that stays with you.
The only way to experience Chef Justin’s cooking is to step inside his world — by checking into The Addy Sea Inn (www.addysea.com) or securing a ticket to one of the inn’s limited public events, including the Spring Soirée and the Toys for Tots Holiday Fundraiser. There’s no standalone restaurant, no reservation to book online. His food exists within the rhythm of the inn itself.
In louder, larger kitchens, “Yes, chef!” is a command — sharp, immediate, unquestioned.
But here, at the edge of the ocean, it lands differently.
Not as an order.
As trust.
And maybe that’s the real story — not the food, not the title, but the quiet, deliberate way Chef Justin Fritz makes people feel something they don’t forget.

a&e features
Memorial for groundbreaking bisexual activist set for May 2
Loraine Hutchins remembered as a ‘force of nature’
The Montgomery County Pride Center will host a celebration honoring the life and legacy of Loraine Hutchins, Ph.D., on May 2. People are invited to attend the onsite memorial or a livestream event. The on-site event will begin at 10 a.m. with a meet-and-greet mixer before moving into a memorial service around the theme “Loraine a Force of Nature!” at 11 a.m., a panel talk at 12 p.m., break out sessions for artists, academics, and activists to build on her legacy at 1 p.m. and a closing reception at 2 p.m.
Attendees are encouraged to register for the on-site memorial gathering or the livestreamed memorial. The goal of this event is also to collect stories and memories of Loraine. Attendees and others can share their stories at padlet.com.
An obituary for Hutchins was published in the Bladelast Nov. 24, where people can learn more about her activism in the bisexual community. A private service for friends and family was held in December but this memorial service is open to all.
Alongside her groundbreaking work organizing for U.S. bisexual rights and liberation including co-editing “Bi Any Other Name: BIsexual People Speak Out” (1991), she also integrated faith into her sexual education and advocacy work. Her 2001 doctoral dissertation, “Erotic Rites: A Cultural Analysis of Contemporary U.S. Sacred Sexuality Traditions and Trends,” offered a pointed queer and feminist analysis to sex-neutral and sex-positive spiritual traditions in the United States. Her thesis was also groundbreaking in exploring the intersections between sex workers and those in caregiving professionals, including spiritual ones.
In an oral history interview conducted by Michelle Mueller back in August 2023, Hutchins described herself as a “priestess without a congregation.” While she has occasionally had a sense of community and feels part of a group of loving people, she admitted that “I don’t feel like we have the shape or the purpose that we need.”
“I’ve often experienced being the Cassandra in the room, the Cassandra in the community. Somebody who’s kind of way out there ahead, thinking through the strategic action points that my community hasn’t gotten to yet, and getting a lot of resistance and hostile responses from people who are frightened by dissent and conflict and not ready for the changes we have to make to survive,” she said.
“For somebody who’s bisexual in an out political way and who’s been a spokesperson for the polyamory movement in an out political way, it’s very exposing. And it’s very important to me to be able to try to explain and help other people understand the connection between spirituality and sexuality,” she explained citing how even as a graduate student she was “exploring how to feel erotic and spiritual, and not feel them in conflict with each other in my own spiritual contemplative life and my own sensual body awareness of being alive in the world.”
“Every religion has a sense of sacred sexuality. It’s just they put a lot of boundaries and regulations on it, and if we have a spiritual practice that is totally affirming of women’s priesthood and of gay people, queer people’s ability to minister to everyone and to be ministered to be everyone, what does that do to the gender of God, or our understanding of how we practice our spirituality and our sexuality in community and privately?”
“There’s no easy answer,” she concludes, and she continued to grapple with these questions throughout her life, co-editing another seminal text, “Sexuality, Religion and the Sacred: Bisexual, Pansexual, and Polysexual Perspectives,” published in 2012. Her work blending spiritual and queer liberation remains groundbreaking to this day.
Rev. Eric Eldritch, a local community organizer and ordained Pagan minister with Circle Sanctuary who has worked for decades with the DC Center’s Center Faith to organize the Pride Interfaith Service, is eager to highlight this element of her legacy at the memorial service next month.
a&e features
Queery: Meet artist, performer John Levengood
Modern creative talks nightlife, coming out, and his personal queer heroes
John Levengood (he/him) describes himself as a modern creative with a wide‑ranging toolkit. He blends music, technology, civic duty, and a sharp sense of wit into a cohesive artistic identity. Known primarily as a recording artist and performer, he’s also a self‑taught music producer and software engineer who embodies a generation of creators who build their own lanes rather than wait for one to appear.
Levengood, 32, who is single and identifies as gay and queer, is best known as a recording artist who has performed at Pride festivals across the country, including the main stages of World Pride DC, Central Arkansas Pride, and Charlotte Pride.
“Locally in the DMV, I’m known for turning heads at nightlife venues with my eye-catching sense of style. When I go out, I don’t try to blend in. I hope I inspire people to be themselves and have the courage to stand out,” he says.
He’s also known for hosting karaoke at Freddie’s Beach Bar in Arlington, Va., on Thursday nights. “I like to create a space where people feel comfortable expressing themselves, building community, and showcasing their talents.”
He also creates social media content from my performances and do interviews at LGBTQ+ bars and theatres in the DMV. Follow the Arlington resident @johnlevengood.
How long have you been out and who was the hardest person to tell?
I have been fully out of the closet since 2019. My parents were the hardest people to tell because my family has always been my rock and at the time I couldn’t imagine a world without them. Their reactions were extremely positive and supportive so I had nothing to fear all along.
I remember sitting on the couch with my mom, dad, and sister in our hotel room in New Orleans during our winter vacation and being so nervous to tell them. After I finally mustered up the nerve and made the proclamation, I realized my dad had already fallen asleep on the couch. My mom promised to tell him when he woke up.
Who’s your LGBTQ hero?
My LGBTQ heroes are Harvey Milk for paving the way for gays in politics and Elton John for being a pioneer for the fabulous and authentic. My local heroes in the DMV are Howard Hicks, manager of Green Lantern, and Tony Rivenbark, manager of Freddie’s Beach Bar. Both of them are essential to creating spaces where I’ve felt welcome and safe since moving to the DMV.
What’s Washington’s best nightspot, past or present?
Trade tops the list for me because of the dance floor and outdoor space. It’s so nice to get a break from the music every once and a while to be able to have a conversation.
We live in challenging times. How do you cope?
I’m still figuring this out. What is working right now is writing music and spending time with family and friends. I’ve also been spending less time on social media going to the gym at least three times a week.
What streaming show are you binging?
After “Traitors” Season 4 ended, I was in a bit of a show hole, but “Stumble” has me in a laughing loop right now. The writing is so witty.
What do you wish you’d known at 18?
At 18, I wish I would have known how liberating it is to come out of the closet. It would have been nice to know some winning lottery numbers as well.
What are your friends messaging about in your most recent group chat?
We are planning our next trip to New York City. If you can believe it, I visited NYC for the first time in 2025 for Pride and I’ve been back every quarter since. Growing up in the country, I was subconsciously primed to be scared of the city. But my mind has been blown. I can’t wait to go back.
Why Washington?
It’s the closest metropolitan area to my family, but not too close. I love the museums, the diversity, the history, and the proximity to the beach and mountains. It’s also nice to live in a city with public transportation.
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