Bill Langkammer and Darryl Mears: A Midsummer Night’s Love Story
It’s a muggy July night in Rehoboth Beach. At the Renegade, “It’s Raining Men” and “Billy Jean” pound through the enormous sound system as scantily clad men, women, straight, gay and not-quite-sure pulse in sync, like a sweat drenched, multi-limbed creature. The year is 1984.
Darryl Mears cradles a cold Bud Light as he scans the sea of humanity from the upper-level bar. He drove all the way from Crisfield, Maryland to escape the stress of his medical technician job. His beeper is off, and he’s ready to unwind.
In the shadows, near the doors that open out onto the huge deck, Bill Langkammer nurses his own Bud Light. The recently separated father of two is visiting for the weekend. It hadn’t been that far a drive from Thorndale, PA, and a midsummer’s night at Rehoboth’s busiest bar seemed like a great way to jump-start his new life as a gay man.
Their eyes met.
That was 27 years ago. In their own words, it was love at first sight. Both Darryl and Bill beam as they talk about the series of events that drew each of them to the Renegade on that night.
Fresh out of college in the late ‘60s, Bill enlisted in Army Officer Training School, but ended up serving as a Squadron Legal Clerk in Vietnam. In 1969 he returned to Pennsylvania to get into the car business. “Cars are my life,” he says, as he recounts his memories of the local Plymouth dealer where his Dad took him to buy his first ride at the tender age of 16. Bill is an expert at everything from sales to management, and prides himself on his familiarity with the style, make and year of just about anything on four wheels.
Darryl was the sole X-Ray tech, operating room tech and emergency room tech at the only hospital in Crisfield. You think Rehoboth Beach is a small town? You ain’t seen nothin’ like Crisfield. He knew everybody, everybody knew him, and they all knew who was in the hospital and why they were there. By the way, he also drove the ambulance in his spare time. In fact, the only thing Darryl didn’t do was surgery.
So it’s no surprise that the young guy clutching his Bud Light at the Renegade was burned out. In fact, after meeting Bill, he swore off everything medical and moved to Pennsylvania, bringing with him his knack for all things technical. He soon landed a job as a picture framer, quickly working his way up to manager. To this day, Darryl has the uncanny ability to eyeball precise measurements when cutting mats, frames, and glass. Sort of like inserting an IV, I guess, but without the screaming.
Bill left automotive sales when Darryl’s boss hired him to manage one of his framing stores. His experience running car dealerships dovetailed nicely with his ability to successfully handle both stores. Darryl and Bill kept the framing business running smoothly for two years, but began to realize that they could be doing all this for themselves—in a place where they could even more effortlessly be themselves. So they upped and moved to Rehoboth Beach.
The men opened their first store out on Coastal Highway, and immediately realized they had to distinguish themselves from other similar shops. To that end, they worked hard to perfect an innovative heat laminating technique they had seen in Canada. It was so well received that barely a year later they took the plunge and established Peninsula Laminations on First Street in Rehoboth.
Their proprietary process gives diplomas, newspaper articles, wedding invitations, drawings, paintings and posters a clean, uncluttered look. Their work graces the walls of Ocean Point Grill, Nicola’s, Louie’s Pizza, countless local homes, medical offices and even this writer’s living room. They also do “shadow boxes” for 3-dimensional items. They’ve framed collectible firearms (including a rifle), a golf club, event tickets, pins, awards, a vintage record album cover (autographed by Cheech and Chong), and even a shoe.
Peninsula Laminations maintains a large workshop near the Canal Bridge on Coastal Highway. A strict demarcation between the band saws, drill presses and the spotless “clean room” operation ensures that their fabrications are accurate and dust-free.
There’s also a “virtual” demarcation between the retail store on First Street and the facility by the canal. The workshop is Darryl’s solace, and though their dedication to one another is obvious, working together and living together can be a bit much. Like many devoted couples, Bill and Darryl finish one another’s sentences and easily anticipate one another’s needs.
On the quiet morning of our interview, they stood close together as Bill told me, “We met each other at a time when each of us needed to meet somebody. I had just separated, and Darryl was mentally spent. We were destined to meet, I guess.”
And, even after 27 years, they both still love their Bud Lights.
Bob Yesbek is a Rehoboth Beach resident. Email Bob Yesbek