Just one year following a double diagnosis of Lyme disease and pancreatic cancer, Long Beach coffee pioneer, father, husband, and much-loved community member Wade Windsor has died at the age of 45 this past Saturday, Mar. 14.
With his death, Long Beach lost one of its foundational figures in the coffee scene, whose work helped define what specialty coffee would become in the city. A public fundraiser launched during his treatment detailed how quickly the diagnoses arrived and how aggressively he pursued care, including enrollment in a UCLA clinical trial, even as the illness intensified.
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Wade Windsor is the pioneer of third-wave coffee in Long Beach, unabashedly eschewing anything his felt was inauthentic to his vision.
“Wade is the reason we have the coffee culture we do in Long Beach. He was uniquely himself. Everything about him, and Lord Windsor, was just authentically him. He wasn’t trying to be anything other than who he was. That really set the tone for the coffee world here in Long Beach and, in a way, empowered people to just do things the way they wanted them done.”
These are the words of Bobby Hernandez, the man who founded Long Beach legacy business Recreational Coffee before handing the reins to Brooklyn Warden. It is but a small reflection of Wade’s influence.
After all, for many in Long Beach, Wade’s name is inseparable from Lord Windsor, the 3rd Street café and roastery that, long before specialty coffee became commonplace locally, introduced a deeper vocabulary around coffee. Sourcing. Roast profiles. Extraction. And intention. At a time when most people still viewed coffee as fuel, Wade treated it as craft, culture, and hospitality all at once.
There was no wifi; you were encouraged to read. Or talk with your neighbor. Or simply peruse your mind’s thoughts while passersby jaunted across your sightfield.
In that way, Lord Windsor became more than a shop. It became a hinge point in Long Beach’s culinary identity.
Wade’s influence on Long Beach is the tangible result of coffee’s proud presence across the entirety of the city.
“In 2014, I was a barista at one of the first multi-roasters in Long Beach,” said Robby Hainley, who operated the much-missed Makai and has worked at multiple roasters since. “That’s where I first experienced the different varieties and roast profiles he whipped up in a cup of black coffee—and it completely changed how I thought about coffee.
“Those moments were foundational for me and helped spark the passion that still drives what I do today… What I would give to get one more cup from him.”
Long before later specialty names such as Recreational Coffee, Rose Park Roasters, and Black Ring Coffee emerged as defining forces in the city’s coffee scene, Lord Windsor had already planted the idea that Long Beach could sustain serious coffee culture—one built not on trend, but on care, education, and consistency.
Yet people who knew Wade rarely led with his résumé.
They talk first about how approachable he was: Deeply knowledgeable without ever being intimidating. Someone who could explain roast curves or brewing methods with precision and then immediately pivot into genuine conversation, humor, and kindness. He had the rare ability to make expertise feel welcoming.
He was, by all accounts, profoundly affable—a person who made room for others.
The tragic ending of Lord Windsor that Wade, magically, made feel less tragic.
That quality became even more visible after May 10, 2021, when a drunk driver crashed through Lord Windsor’s storefront on 3rd Street, a blow that effectively halted the business’s physical future. Though there were hopes of reopening, the shop never fully returned. Even so, Wade’s persistence in remaining in coffee, roasting for others, it was quite clear that he “felt blessed,” as he would say.
Though he never said it directly, he had the legacy of Lord Windsor. It was the generation of coffee professionals, café owners, and customers whose standards changed because Wade showed them what coffee could be. He had launched a canned cold brew line so successfully that he found Lord Windsor on the shelves of Costco.
“Wade was funny without trying,” said John Aguirre, owner of Steelhead. “Adventurous without apology. And so completely himself, it gave the rest of us permission to be the same. A coffee professional to his core, he didn’t just make coffee for a city, he made coffee matter to a city.”
More directly, he would say he had his home. He had his family. He had his largest role, which was not coffee. And that was being a devoted husband. A loving father. Steady friend. And a deeply caring member of his community—someone whose generosity was not performative, but habitual.
On a personal note…
I’ve been writing about Long Beach for nearly twenty years and one of the most significantly beautiful things that comes with that is watching relationships grow beyond the pen. With Wade, it was always one of mutual respect; of constantly pushing one another to be better, be present, and—yes, even for a writer—be more hospitable.
Wade deeply understood that hospitality was never just what happened across a counter. It was how you treated people in ordinary moments: how you listened, remembered, encouraged, and showed up.
In one particular moment, I was having a fairly rough time. I was formally removed from a newspaper and attempting to somehow make it on my own, build a community—and there was Wade: Here’s some coffee. I miss you. Don’t give up. It wasn’t just a friend but a hospitable friend.
This would be returned to him in many ways, like when the team at Ellie’s comped his family’s meal after the drunk driver incident. In Wade’s own words: “This brought me to tears. I love this community so fucking much.”
That is why Wade’s passing lands so heavily across Long Beach. The city is not simply mourning a business owner or coffee expert. It is mourning one of the people who quietly helped shape what Long Beach became—and did so through empathy, kindness, understanding, and care.
His imprint remains in every serious cup poured locally—and in every person who left his presence feeling seen. I know that includes me. Rest in caffeinated power, my friend.
