a&e features
Local couple met via Blade personals ad in ’99
Classifieds were a common way to meet before apps took over


Personal classified ads, as many Washington Blade readers will recall, used to be a huge thing. They started appearing in the early ‘70s not long after the paper launched in 1969.
“That was the first type of advertising that existed,” says Phil Rockstroh, the Blade’s classifieds manager, who has been with the paper since 1986. “The easiest thing to do was to add a couple of lines of text on the back page.”
There were no photos but the ads were “cluttered” with acronyms.
“It was GWM, 34, searching for GBM,” with “GWM” standing for gay white man and “GBM” standing for gay black man.
“Trying to figure out what half of [the acronyms] meant was always the fun,” Rockstroh says.
Two men who remember them fondly are Isaiah Poole and Paul Crego. They met in the summer of 1999 when Poole placed a Blade personal ad stating he was looking for a relationship with a man “for whom spirituality was important.”
One of the men who responded was Paul Crego, a former United Methodist minister with a theology doctorate from Harvard.
“His ad had the word ‘spiritual.’ That’s the tag that I attached to,” Crego says.
The couple says these types of personal ads were a common way for gay men to meet in the late ‘90s and early 2000s.
“Of course, you could do the bar scene. But I just really felt that the best thing for me to meet people who were outside of my circle would be putting an ad and see what would happen,” Poole says.
Poole remembers that the Blade had multiple sections for personal ads, one for those looking for “encounters,” or hookups, and another for those looking for long-term relationships.
Lesbians, bi and trans folks also placed Blade personal ads.
“At the peak — I would say in the late ‘90s — we would have a whole page of men’s personals, a half page of women’s,” Rockstroh says. “And classifieds altogether had grown into maybe six pages.”
The section continued to grow until the internet all but wiped it out.
“Craigslist and all of the phone services became more sophisticated and took us out of the pie,” Rockstroh says. “Now, Grindr, Tinder and other apps have made ads in the Blade even less common,” though a few still appear.
Crego and Poole went on a date to a Filipino restaurant in 1999. Though the restaurant is now “long gone,” Crego says, he and Poole are still together.
They got married on July 24, 2010, soon after marriage equality legislation passed in the D.C. Council. And their 10-year anniversary is fast approaching.
Originally from the D.C. area, Poole grew up in an adoptive family and became a reporter after high school. He started at The Washington Times, where he covered Jesse Jackson’s presidential campaign and served in both writing and editing roles for a decade until 1991.
“There was an actual gay mafia at The Washington Times in the 1980s,” Poole says.
Following his time there, Poole floated between local papers and even worked for an AIDS advocacy group for a bit. In 2000, he left D.C. for three years to earn his bachelor’s degree in journalism at Penn State.
“I managed to skate through a huge chunk of my life without an undergraduate degree and felt like I had gotten to the end of skating.”
Poole and Crego maintained their relationship while Poole studied in Pennsylvania.
“I wanted to be sure that Paul was the person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I would say that Paul’s persistence made a difference,” Poole says.
Crego remembers taking the bus from D.C. to Pennsylvania to visit Poole on weekends.
“When someone genuinely loves you, it’s stupid to say no to that, especially when he is as good a person as Paul is,” Poole says.
Once Poole completed his degree, he returned to D.C. to work as a reporter for Congressional Quarterly. He now serves as the editorial manager at the Democracy Collaborative.
Crego’s path has been a little less complicated. From just north of Syracuse, N.Y., he has worked at the Library of Congress for more than 20 years.
Both religious, Crego and Poole always valued marriage as an institution. And both men were involved in early battles for gay rights.
While at The Washington Times, Poole worked with other LGBT journalists to help establish the Association of LGBTQ Journalists (NLGJA) in the mid-1980s.
“It was about a dozen of us who were involved in early meetings to get that organization launched. It’s now a huge thing,” Poole says. “I think partly because of the NLGJA, it’s not a big deal that Anderson Cooper and Don Lemon have shows on CNN.”
Crego presided at a 1984 union service of two men in Syracuse through the Metropolitan Community Church.
“I did it with the proviso that my name was not to be mentioned anywhere because I could have been kicked out of my job,” he says.
The Syracuse Post Standard picked up on the story and it soon reached The New York Times.
“You can look in The New York Times of September 5, 1984, and there’s an article called ‘Homosexual Weddings Stir Dispute.’ They mention the minister of a mainline denomination. That’s me,” Crego says.
On the day same-sex marriage became legal in D.C. in 2010, Crego emailed Poole, asking, “When are you going to get married?”
“That got his attention, and he showed it to everybody in his office,” Crego says.
Poole and Crego wed in July of that year. “Although it wasn’t on the hottest day that summer, it was 102. And the church wasn’t air-conditioned,” Crego says.
The wedding drew approximately 80 people, Poole remembers, including three best men and six clergy members from multiple denominations.
Poole and Crego now live with two cats, Tina and Ketedan, in Northeast D.C.
“We go to movies, plays and musicals. We saw ‘Hamilton’ when it was only on Broadway two weeks. We got tickets well before they were $1,000 a piece,” Crego says.
“And it all started,” Poole says, “With an ad in the Washington Blade.”
a&e features
Visit Cambridge, a ‘beautiful secret’ on Maryland’s Eastern Shore
New organization promotes town’s welcoming vibe, LGBTQ inclusion

CAMBRIDGE, Md. — Driving through this scenic, historic town on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, you’ll be charmed by streets lined with unique shops, restaurants, and beautifully restored Victorian homes. You’ll also be struck by the number of LGBTQ Pride flags flying throughout the town.
The flags are a reassuring signal that everyone is welcome here, despite the town’s location in ruby red Dorchester County, which voted for Donald Trump over Kamala Harris by a lopsided margin. But don’t let that deter you from visiting. A new organization, Proudly Cambridge, is holding its debut Pride event this weekend, touting the town’s welcoming, inclusive culture.
“We stumbled on a beautiful secret and we wanted to help get the word out,” said James Lumalcuri of the effort to create Proudly Cambridge.
The organization celebrates diversity, enhances public spaces, and seeks to uplift all that Cambridge has to share, according to its mission statement, under the tagline “You Belong Here.”
The group has so far held informal movie nights and a picnic and garden party; the launch party is June 28 at the Cambridge Yacht Club, which will feature a Pride celebration and tea dance. The event’s 75 tickets sold out quickly and proceeds benefit DoCo Pride.
“Tickets went faster than we imagined and we’re bummed we can’t welcome everyone who wanted to come,” Lumalcuri said, adding that organizers plan to make “Cheers on the Choptank” an annual event with added capacity next year.
One of the group’s first projects was to distribute free Pride flags to anyone who requested one and the result is a visually striking display of a large number of flags flying all over town. Up next: Proudly Cambridge plans to roll out a program offering affirming businesses rainbow crab stickers to show their inclusiveness and LGBTQ support. The group also wants to engage with potential visitors and homebuyers.
“We want to spread the word outside of Cambridge — in D.C. and Baltimore — who don’t know about Cambridge,” Lumalcuri said. “We want them to come and know we are a safe haven. You can exist here and feel comfortable and supported by neighbors in a way that we didn’t anticipate when we moved here.”

Lumalcuri, 53, a federal government employee, and his husband, Lou Cardenas, 62, a Realtor, purchased a Victorian house in Cambridge in 2021 and embarked on an extensive renovation. The couple also owns a home in Adams Morgan in D.C.
“We saw the opportunity here and wanted to share it with others,” Cardenas said. “There’s lots of housing inventory in the $300-400,000 range … we’re not here to gentrify people out of town because a lot of these homes are just empty and need to be fixed up and we’re happy to be a part of that.”
Lumalcuri was talking with friends one Sunday last year at the gazebo (affectionately known as the “gayzebo” by locals) at the Yacht Club and the idea for Proudly Cambridge was born. The founding board members are Lumalcuri, Corey van Vlymen, Brian Orjuela, Lauren Mross, and Caleb Holland. The group is currently working toward forming a 501(c)3.
“We need visibility and support for those who need it,” Mross said. “We started making lists of what we wanted to do and the five of us ran with it. We started meeting weekly and solidified what we wanted to do.”
Mross, 50, a brand strategist and web designer, moved to Cambridge from Atlanta with her wife three years ago. They knew they wanted to be near the water and farther north and began researching their options when they discovered Cambridge.
“I had not heard of Cambridge but the location seemed perfect,” she said. “I pointed on a map and said this is where we’re going to move.”
The couple packed up, bought a camper trailer and parked it in different campsites but kept coming back to Cambridge.
“I didn’t know how right it was until we moved here,” she said. “It’s the most welcoming place … there’s an energy vortex here – how did so many cool, progressive people end up in one place?”
Corey van Vlymen and his husband live in D.C. and were looking for a second home. They considered Lost River, W.Va., but decided they preferred to be on the water.
“We looked at a map on both sides of the bay and came to Cambridge on a Saturday and bought a house that day,” said van Vlymen, 39, a senior scientist at Booz Allen Hamilton. They’ve owned in Cambridge for two years.
They were drawn to Cambridge due to its location on the water, the affordable housing inventory, and its proximity to D.C.; it’s about an hour and 20 minutes away.
Now, through the work of Proudly Cambridge, they hope to highlight the town’s many attributes to residents and visitors alike.
“Something we all agree on is there’s a perception problem for Cambridge and a lack of awareness,” van Vlymen said. “If you tell someone you’re going to Cambridge, chances are they think, ‘England or Massachusetts?’”
He cited the affordability and the opportunity to save older, historic homes as a big draw for buyers.
“It’s all about celebrating all the things that make Cambridge great,” Mross added. “Our monthly social events are joyful and celebratory.” A recent game night drew about 70 people.
She noted that the goal is not to gentrify the town and push longtime residents out, but to uplift all the people who are already there while welcoming new visitors and future residents.
They also noted that Proudly Cambridge does not seek to supplant existing Pride-focused organizations. Dorchester County Pride organizes countywide Pride events and Delmarva Pride was held in nearby Easton two weeks ago.
“We celebrate all diversity but are gay powered and gay led,” Mross noted.
To learn more about Proudly Cambridge, visit the group on Facebook and Instagram.
What to see and do
Cambridge, located 13 miles up the Choptank River from the Chesapeake Bay, has a population of roughly 15,000. It was settled in 1684 and named for the English university town in 1686. It is home to the Harriet Tubman Museum, mural, and monument. Its proximity to the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge makes it a popular stop for birders, drawn to more than 27,000 acres of marshland dubbed “the Everglades of the north.”
The refuge is walkable, bikeable, and driveable, making it an accessible attraction for all. There are kayaking and biking tours through Blackwater Adventures (blackwateradventuresmd.com).
Back in town, take a stroll along the water and through historic downtown and admire the architecture. Take in the striking Harriet Tubman mural (424 Race St.). Shop in the many local boutiques, and don’t miss the gay-owned Shorelife Home and Gifts (421 Race St.), filled with stylish coastal décor items.
Stop for breakfast or lunch at Black Water Bakery (429 Race St.), which offers a full compliment of coffee drinks along with a build-your-own mimosa bar and a full menu of creative cocktails.
The Cambridge Yacht Club (1 Mill St.) is always bustling but you need to be a member to get in. Snapper’s on the water is temporarily closed for renovations. RaR Brewing (rarbrewing.com) is popular for craft beers served in an 80-year-old former pool hall and bowling alley. The menu offers burgers, wings, and other bar fare.
For dinner or wine, don’t miss the fantastic Vintage 414 (414 Race St.), which offers lunch, dinner, wine tasting events, specialty foods, and a large selection of wines. The homemade cheddar crackers, inventive flatbreads, and creative desserts (citrus olive oil cake, carrot cake trifle) were a hit on a recent visit.
Also nearby is Ava’s (305 High St.), a regional chain offering outstanding Italian dishes, pizzas, and more.
For something off the beaten path, visit Emily’s Produce (22143 Church Creek Rd.) for its nursery, produce, and prepared meals.
“Ten minutes into the sticks there’s a place called Emily’s Produce, where you can pay $5 and walk through a field and pick sunflowers, blueberries, you can feed the goats … and they have great food,” van Vlymen said.
As for accommodations, there’s the Hyatt Regency Chesapeake Bay (100 Heron Blvd. at Route 50), a resort complex with golf course, spa, and marina. Otherwise, check out Airbnb and VRBO for short-term rentals closer to downtown.
Its proximity to D.C. and Baltimore makes Cambridge an ideal weekend getaway. The large LGBTQ population is welcoming and they are happy to talk up their town and show you around.
“There’s a closeness among the neighbors that I wasn’t feeling in D.C.,” Lumalcuri said. “We look after each other.”
a&e features
James Baldwin bio shows how much of his life is revealed in his work
‘A Love Story’ is first major book on acclaimed author’s life in 30 years

‘Baldwin: A Love Story’
By Nicholas Boggs
c.2025, FSG
$35/704 pages
“Baldwin: A Love Story” is a sympathetic biography, the first major one in 30 years, of acclaimed Black gay writer James Baldwin. Drawing on Baldwin’s fiction, essays, and letters, Nicolas Boggs, a white writer who rediscovered and co-edited a new edition of a long-lost Baldwin book, explores Baldwin’s life and work through focusing on his lovers, mentors, and inspirations.
The book begins with a quick look at Baldwin’s childhood in Harlem, and his difficult relationship with his religious, angry stepfather. Baldwin’s experience with Orilla Miller, a white teacher who encouraged the boy’s writing and took him to plays and movies, even against his father’s wishes, helped shape his life and tempered his feelings toward white people. When Baldwin later joined a church and became a child preacher, though, he felt conflicted between academic success and religious demands, even denouncing Miller at one point. In a fascinating late essay, Baldwin also described his teenage sexual relationship with a mobster, who showed him off in public.
Baldwin’s romantic life was complicated, as he preferred men who were not outwardly gay. Indeed, many would marry women and have children while also involved with Baldwin. Still, they would often remain friends and enabled Baldwin’s work. Lucien Happersberger, who met Baldwin while both were living in Paris, sent him to a Swiss village, where he wrote his first novel, “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” as well as an essay, “Stranger in the Village,” about the oddness of being the first Black person many villagers had ever seen. Baldwin met Turkish actor Engin Cezzar in New York at the Actors’ Studio; Baldwin later spent time in Istanbul with Cezzar and his wife, finishing “Another Country” and directing a controversial play about Turkish prisoners that depicted sexuality and gender.
Baldwin collaborated with French artist Yoran Cazac on a children’s book, which later vanished. Boggs writes of his excitement about coming across this book while a student at Yale and how he later interviewed Cazac and his wife while also republishing the book. Baldwin also had many tumultuous sexual relationships with young men whom he tried to mentor and shape, most of which led to drama and despair.
The book carefully examines Baldwin’s development as a writer. “Go Tell It on the Mountain” draws heavily on his early life, giving subtle signs of the main character John’s sexuality, while “Giovanni’s Room” bravely and openly shows a homosexual relationship, highly controversial at the time. “If Beale Street Could Talk” features a woman as its main character and narrator, the first time Baldwin wrote fully through a woman’s perspective. His essays feel deeply personal, even if they do not reveal everything; Lucian is the unnamed visiting friend in one who the police briefly detained along with Baldwin. He found New York too distracting to write, spending his time there with friends and family or on business. He was close friends with modernist painter Beauford Delaney, also gay, who helped Baldwin see that a Black man could thrive as an artist. Delaney would later move to France, staying near Baldwin’s home.
An epilogue has Boggs writing about encountering Baldwin’s work as one of the few white students in a majority-Black school. It helpfully reminds us that Baldwin connects to all who feel different, no matter their race, sexuality, gender, or class. A well-written, easy-flowing biography, with many excerpts from Baldwin’s writing, it shows how much of his life is revealed in his work. Let’s hope it encourages reading the work, either again or for the first time.
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.




