a&e features
A newfound appreciation for Columbia at 50
Gen X and Millennial Blade staffers recall formative years in innovative town
An aerial shot of Columbia, Md., taken in the 1970s. For a list of anniversary activities, visit columbiamd50.com. (Photo courtesy the Columbia Archives)
Growing up as a Columbia ‘pioneer’
By KEVIN NAFF
Blade Editor Kevin Naff in 1970s Columbia. (Photo courtesy of Naff)
The reputation of Columbia, Md., as a racially integrated place was tested early, just after its founding in June 1967.
It was one year later in June of 1968 that segregationist Alabama Gov. George Wallace held a rally at Merriweather Post Pavilion in support of his presidential campaign. New Columbia residents, including some African Americans enticed to move there because of founder James Rouse’s promise of integrated housing, were upset. Some called for the rally to be cancelled.
But not Rouse.
“I am convinced that the fabric of our country is so true that we have the capability of weathering demagogues,” Rouse said, according to the Baltimore Sun. “Only through exposure have they been suffocated.”
Rouse wanted to “capitalize on the contrast between Wallace and Columbia,” the Sun reported at the time. He asked, ”Might not this be a creative experience for Columbia?”
Ultimately, Wallace spoke to a crowd of his Confederate flag-waving supporters, as Columbia residents organized a counter rally across town. The community response — passionate, informed, open — reflects my experience growing up in the new city sandwiched between Baltimore and Washington.
My parents moved to Columbia in 1974; early residents were called “pioneers” lured by Rouse’s grand dream of a new American city that would be a “garden for growing people.” His vision included racial integration during a tumultuous time in the civil rights movement. It included all, regardless of income or social status or religion. In fact, many Columbia residents worshipped in “interfaith centers,” in which a Catholic Mass might be held down the hall from a Jewish service at the same time. Even our mailboxes were designed to bring people together — communal boxes that became daily destinations and places for neighbors to meet.
Rouse’s dream included a deep respect for the environment and an appreciation for fitness and the outdoors. Columbia residents enjoyed access to parks, endless miles of paved bike paths, health clubs, neighborhood swimming pools and more. The town’s schools would be the envy of the country and, to this day, Howard County’s public schools are still ranked among the best.
I edited our monthly newspaper at my high school, Hammond High’s “Bear Press.” We tackled controversial and sensitive subjects like teen suicide. We studied foreign languages, reading French authors in the original text and chatting with foreign exchange students over progressive dinners. It was an academically challenging curriculum, before the days of demonizing education and dismissing curious students as “elitist.” Teachers constantly pushed and challenged us. My teachers at Hammond — Sherry Conklin for English and journalism; Karen Dunlop for French; and Kathleen Nawrocki for government and history — were the best I ever encountered.
There were even a few openly gay and bisexual students, which was brave and rare given the fear and hatred unleashed by the growing AIDS epidemic. When my decidedly alternative friends and I delivered a choreographed performance of “Kung Fu Fighting” at the high school talent show complete with a drag component, no one batted an eye. I graduated from high school in 1988, long before the days of Gay-Straight Alliances.
Still, those of us who grew up in Columbia had friends of all backgrounds from the beginning of first grade — different religions and races and economic situations. Subsidized apartments and upscale single-family homes were built within a stone’s throw of each other. And those streets were named after works of literature, odd names like “Greco Garth” and “Deep Smoke.” Neighborhoods were, in turn, named after the authors behind the street names, hence Longfellow, Dickinson and Hawthorne.
In our cynical times, polluted with the crass cruelty of social media attacks, all of this nostalgia sounds naive and Pollyanna. But it wasn’t that way for those of us who lived it and can now look back and appreciate the laudable goals that Rouse set out for himself and the residents of his city.
Was it perfect? Of course not. But after moving away to attend college at Penn State and encountering a roommate who had never met a black person, I quickly realized how lucky I was to have grown up in Columbia.
As Columbia celebrates 50 years, I hope its current residents remember James Rouse and his vision. As Rouse put it, “the only valid ultimate purpose of any civilization is to grow better people; more creative, more productive, more inspired, more loving people.”
This Millennial realized hometown’s appeal after she left
By RASHANNA LEE
Rashanna Lee (right) with her sister in 1990s Columbia. Lee is a 2017 Blade summer intern in its editorial department. (Photo courtesy of Lee)
My parents moved to Columbia in 1993. My mother had just graduated from Howard University and was expecting my older sister. The choice to raise children in Columbia was a deliberate, and arguably difficult, choice for my parents. My father lived all over the world, but has deep roots in Boston while my mother is from the Bronx.
They struggled between the idea of raising city kids like they were, or taking advantage of the opportunities the suburbs offered. One of the things that Columbia is known for is its school system. My mom was a first-generation college graduate and for that reason she made education the determining factor in where she decided to raise her kids.
When I was young, I wasn’t aware of the history or the notoriety associated with Columbia, but I certainly took advantage of the benefits. My elementary school was Phelps Luck and it was such an enriching and diverse place to get my formative education. I had friends of all races and religions and my teachers were diverse as well. This taught me from an early age about being tolerant and I learned that all people are worthy of respect, regardless of what they look like.
As I moved on to middle and high school, the emphasis on tolerance and respect only intensified. I graduated from Howard High School in 2014 and one of the things that sticks out to me about my high school experience was how nice (generally) everyone was to each other. There were strict, zero-tolerance policies on bullying, and support groups like the Gay-Straight Alliance and black female empowerment groups. The kids weren’t perfect, but I would say we accepted and encouraged individuality at the very least.
My relationship with my hometown, like many relationships, had ups and downs. As I got older, the repetitive and seemingly predictable nature of Columbia combined with classic teen angst caused me to resent the upbringing that my parents worked so hard to give me. I hated the familiar feeling of Columbia. I started going to New York City and exploring D.C. on weekends and I wanted a taste of metropolitan life. I wanted to be edgier.
It wasn’t until the first weekend I came home from college at Penn State in central Pennsylvania that I really valued what I had growing up. I remember getting off Route 100 and feeling relieved that I entered the bubble of familiarity I had grown to hate so much before. As I drove into my neighborhood and saw all the different faces and types of people that were able to exist in such a relatively small city, I was thankful.
When James Rouse founded Columbia in 1967 he had a vision. He wanted Columbia to be a place where people of all religions, races, socioeconomic statuses and ethnicities could live in harmony. As I walk the quiet streets of Columbia I realize that I am proof of the success of his vision. Growing up here has allowed me a certain sensibility and sensitivity that my friends from other towns and cities don’t have or don’t quite understand.
Columbia has grown exponentially since I was growing up. I can remember picking pumpkins and riding horses on various local farms that are now townhouses or shopping centers. Although the size of the city has changed, the spirit of it has not. I see bumper stickers, flags and advertisements for community groups pledging support for people of all walks of life.
As the world has become more open minded and tolerant, so has Columbia. It’s a place that grounds me when my world has become too big and I need to come back down to earth. When I’m home, I see the good in people as it is exemplified in the genial and community-oriented spirits of the people around me. That is a powerful thing.
(Photo courtesy of the Columbia Archives)
a&e features
The queer Asian comics building collective joy in D.C.
Spotlighting chaotic ways family, romance, identity take shape in their lives
Kevin Chen’s family tombstone has room for four: him, his parents and his boyfriend. The arrangement might prove to be a little awkward.
“My boyfriend is 100% white, and my parents are 100% disappointed,” Chen confessed.
Jokes about family traditions and the untraditional ways they’re practiced earned a burst of laughs at the bar where Chen was opening for the Pride Comedy Special. The D.C. stand-up event, produced by Comedy Bonfyre last month, spotlighted queer Asian comics who shared the chaotic ways family, romance and identity take shape in their lives.
From candid oral sex takes to top surgery hypotheticals like “Where do the boobs go?”, the night highlighted the loud camaraderie of the queer Asian experience — one that sounds like a cacophony of snorts, cackles and belly laughs. While the comics say they are not quite a community, there’s more than enough shared material to bring them together.
“It was such a magical experience. I loved performing in a queer API lineup. It feels so validating,” Chen said after the show. “I’m wondering, ‘Is this how white men feel all the time?’”
Each performance evoked queer Asian joy through a medium that could use more of its presence.
According to Chen, who is based in D.C., it’s hard to say whether there is a true queer Asian comedy presence in his city. There are only a scattered “handful” of Asian comics, and people of color are underrepresented in queer comic circles, he said.
When Tarunika Anand, a nonbinary lesbian comic, first entered the mainstream D.C. comedy scene, they mostly encountered straight white men, describing the experience as “a culture shock.”
“I feel like sometimes a lot of queer spaces are really white, and then a lot of Asian spaces are really straight,” Anand said. “I don’t feel like I fit into either.”
But feeling marginalized didn’t stop these comics from honing their craft and creating spaces for others like them. Alex Kim, who headlined the special and is based in Brooklyn, runs the queer Asian comedy group Boba Gays, which began on WhatsApp and has since made its way to Lincoln Center.
Every Wednesday, Anand co-produces a free comedy show called Funny Side Up. The queer-led group focuses on inclusivity and showcasing new talent.
“It’s really beautiful to speak about your experience and your existence in a way that’s uplifting,” Anand said.
Family is a major throughline of their comedic repertoires.
Chen, for instance, shared that he identifies with jokes about having Asian immigrant parents and the expectations they pass down.
“You see me, you know this part about me, you know this experience intimately, and I can see the truth that you’re trying to wrap a joke around,” he said. “That hits even harder because that’s my truth too. I think that’s what makes good comedy.”
Anand had the audience at the special howling when they explained that their parents’ be-more-like-them comparisons didn’t end when they came out. Instead, the expectations took on a new form.
“Now, my parents want me to be the best gay,” Anand said. “They’re like, ‘Do you know Ellen DeGeneres?’”
Kim said he’s been trying to unlearn things from his Christian Korean mom. Yet he described a moment when he was getting ready for the club and realized he looked just like his mother getting ready for church.
“I’ve been finding it hard to escape her,” Kim said.
Mutual recognition also radiates through the different ways queer love can take shape. From singlehood to death-do-us-part commitments, the comics cover just about every corner.
Anand is holding out hope for settling down with “a nice, pretty, Indian girl.” They recently went through a breakup and said they felt they dodged a bullet.
“As a person of color, I just don’t think I should be with a Swiftie,” they said.
Chen, touching on what it’s like to be in a queer interracial relationship, said that meeting his white boyfriend’s baby nephew for the first time felt like he was forced to participate in a diversity, equity and inclusion training.
“The dad was like, ‘Please welcome Kevin. Be curious about his culture, his history, his foods,’” Chen joked.
Laughter is not the only reward for the comics.
To Anand, comedy is a space where they can say whatever they want. “It gives me a voice,” they said.
Nik Narain, a North Carolina-based trans and nonbinary South Asian comic who performed at the special, said meeting older trans comedians and taking the stage helped him feel reassured in his identity during his transition.
“Stand-up was a really cool way to process that onstage,” he said. “[It] became a way for me to repackage my thoughts.”
Queer Asians are still figuring out their place in the greater D.C. comedy scene. The group is small in numbers and many are still working toward a full-time comedy career. But Narain feels he’s already made it.
Narain is reluctant to pin it all on one moment. He feels that success is already peeking through in milestones — opening for celebrities, traveling to performances and self-producing shows.
“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m super happy,” he said.
This story was produced as part of the AAJA VOICES fellowship program, a student journalism project of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA).
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Mr. Henry’s celebrates 60 years of proud inclusivity
Capitol Hill staple remains ‘a caring community’
America’s 250th isn’t the only milestone birthday D.C. is celebrating this year.
Beloved D.C. restaurant Mr. Henry’s, that Capitol Hill staple, celebrates its Diamond Jubilee all year long. Named for its original owner Henry Yaffe, the restaurant opened on a warm day 60 years ago in the summer of 1966 and has never looked back.
Yaffe took over what was then a country western restaurant, renovated the interior to his liking, and created an institution. Yet Yaffe had another goal. As a gay man, “he created Mr. Henry’s to be a place where everyone felt welcome — not easy in 1966 — and he succeeded,” says current owner Mary Quillian.
“Mr. Henry’s has long been a place the LGBTQ community has supported because they felt and still feel welcomed,” says Quillian. Even in the current administration, “the gay community and the diversity-minded community continue to come.”
Since then, Mr. Henry’s has changed hands, opened and closed its second floor, welcomed famed musical acts, and played host to politicians, date nights, breakups, and birthdays. But it still feels like home (and has a note in the National Trust for Historic Preservation) at 601 Pennsylvania Ave., S.E.
Its wood-paneled, Victorian-inspired art-filled décor in the downstairs dining room and bar serves American pub fare for lunch and dinner daily, with brunch on weekends (and a dog-friendly patio). Upstairs, Mr. Henry’s hosts live jazz performances and special events most nights, continuing a musical tradition that has defined the venue for decades. That upstairs bar has played host to names like Roberta Flack and Woody Allen.
Musician Kevin Cordt said that, “Mr. Henry’s has been a part of my life for more than 30 years. I started as a customer, then became a bartender and server, and now I have the good fortune to play trumpet at one of the best live music venues in Washington, D.C.”
Aaron Myers, executive director of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities, is also a supporter. “Not many cities can sport venues that have consistently served the community in the space of culture for more than 50 years, let alone can brag as the birthplace of culture defining talent.”
From the start, Yaffe promoted a rare yet celebrated combination of locals’ bar and soulful nightlife venue. Mr. Henry’s has attracted a diverse crowd at a time when such spaces were – and perhaps still are – uncommon, a diversity that is credited with helping protect the pub during the 1968 D.C. riots.
Longtime customer Evelyn Branic said, “Mr. Henry’s has been my ‘Cheers’ hangout since my wife and I moved to the Hill in 1987. I’ve experienced many iconic moments meeting politicians, reporters, civic activists, and neighbors engaging in spirited conversations. Whether political, LGBTQ, historians, neighbors, or out-of-towners, everyone could find a special place to be greeted as a friend.”
Its welcoming tables come dabbed with a bit of tea: In 1971, in a moment that has since become part of Capitol Hill lore, Yaffe lost the pub in a poker game to Larry Quillian. The Quillian family, recognizing the special role Mr. Henry’s played in the neighborhood, took over ownership, and committed to preserving its spirit. Today, Larry’s daughter Mary owns the bar, having given it a bit of a facelift for the bar’s 50th birthday, bringing in new tables and some fresh menu items.
For example, the menu has some of those dishes that regulars would riot if they disappeared. The Reuben and the hamburgers, the chili and in-house roasted turkey have never departed the menu. Dishes do evolve, says Quillen: they added wings about two decades ago.
In 2026, the restaurant is hosting monthly ticketed “decades” parties, celebrating each of the 10-year periods the restaurant’s been open, plus there were specials in June for Pride. The official 60th anniversary gala takes place Aug. 29, featuring performers, beverages, timeless favorite foods, swag – and the unveiling of a new cocktail.
Inclusive, eccentric, eclectic, Mr. Henry’s is looking forward to maintaining its centrality to diverse crowds in Capitol Hill. Battling inflation, rising menu prices, changing tastes, and thin margins, Quillian says that Mr. Henry’s has — and will always be — “a caring community for so many different folks. And THAT is why I am committed to keeping us going. Society needs places like Mr. Henry’s, now more than ever.”
a&e features
Television loses a legend, longtime ‘Will & Grace’ director James Burrows
Iconic hitmaker leaves behind a legacy of telling LGBTQ stories
You don’t have to be a pretentious film major to name 10 movie directors. But naming television directors is not that simple. They’re the unsung heroes of your favorite shows, and the late James Burrows was the television director. He passed on June 19, but his DNA runs through television history.
He directed over 1200 episodes of television and over 50 pilots. He co-created “Cheers” and directed many episodes of long-running series like “Friends,” “Taxi,” “Frasier,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and “Two and a Half Men.” You also may remember him from playing a heightened version of himself on the Lisa Kudrow comedy “The Comeback.”
He has left an indelible mark on the LGBTQ community. As recently as last year, he directed the series run of “Mid-Century Modern” starring Nathan Lane, Matt Bomer, and Linda Lavin. He was also a longtime director of “Will & Grace” and directed every episode of the series revival. He even directed the unaired “Absolutely Fabulous” pilot with Kathryn Hahn, Kristen Johnston, and Zosia Mamet.
Not to mention he’s worked with queer icons throughout history, including Betty White and Stockard Channing on their single-season series, and Jennifer Coolidge in “2 Broke Girls.”
He started his career on shows like “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “Rhoda,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and the first four seasons of “Taxi.”
He continued to work steadily and directed successful pilots that went to series for “Roc,” “3rd Rock From the Sun,” “Dharma & Greg,” and “Wings.” He directed multiple episodes of “Friends,” “Caroline in the City,” and “Frasier.”
This magic continued into the 2000s with him directing the pilots for “Two and a Half Men,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and multiple episodes of “Mike & Molly,” and the entire return series of “Will & Grace.”
What was the secret to his success? He’d enact the “fun clause” in his contract. In his words, “Life is too short to deal with obnoxious leads,” he shared. “So as long as the writing is good and the cast is fun, I’m going to enjoy the experience.”
He had the magic touch, having multiple pilots turned into long-running series. He was nominated for an Emmy 24 times in 26 years and worked consistently until a year before his death.
The secret was the way he brought the cast together. He describes, “it was my job to mold them into an ensemble, and they did round into a group of people who loved each other.”
This earned him 11 Emmy Awards and five Directors Guild of America Awards, including being awarded the inaugural DGA’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Television Direction.
In a 2003 interview by the Television Academy, he was asked how he wants to be remembered, and he said, “That every night forever you can tune in somewhere, and there’ll be a show I did.”
He’s survived by his wife, Debbie, four daughters, seven grandchildren, and the countless people whose careers he launched and the countless viewers he inspired with his television legacy.
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