You can’t trust what you hear at the Clayton Coffee Club. When any member slips out of the conversation to offer insight about the rowdy crowd, a buddy hollers from across the table, “Don’t believe anything that guy tells you!” That brand of banter draws a dozen or so men every weekday morning to this coffee klatch, a ribald variation on the book club theme. As member Howard Berger summarizes, “It’s old geezers talking politics and sports.”
Jeffrey Korn and Marc S. Rubin founded the group two decades ago, after Straub’s closed its breakfast bar, their usual morning hangout. Korn, a former shoe supplier, reveals the lilting accent of his native South Africa as he describes how the club came to be. (“We asked for Mandela, and they gave us Jeffrey Korn,” someone cracks.) Korn explains the club meets at City Coffeehouse & Creperie because, in his opinion, “It’s the best coffee shop in Missouri.” Plus, it has plenty of room for the boisterous bunch, which occupies the front room from 7:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m., at which time members take their cups across the street to sit outside at the Cardwell’s patio. New faces are welcome, notes Alan Silverberg, who joined two years ago when a friend invited him. “The first words out of their mouths were, ‘Sit down, shut up, and welcome to the group,’” he says.
Rubin, an attorney (“Put the word ‘prominent’ in front of my name!”), proudly announces he’s the only participant who’s not retired. The others protest: “He’s a lawyer, he doesn’t work!” Their office days may be behind them, but these seasoned St. Louisans have an impressive breadth of backgrounds. There’s Kim Tucci, co-founder of The Pasta House, and Myron Klevens, who helped start St. Louis Bread Co. John Reid’s Federal Reserve cap reveals his former profession. And the guys are quick to boast that Larry Baker was recently honored with a Clayton Alumni Hall of Fame Distinguished Educator award for his years teaching economics at Clayton High School.
Each is eager to offer his own point of view about Wall Street Journal headlines and the Cardinals’ batting lineup, and at times it’s impossible to discern what’s being discussed. But they all want to hear what Jimmy Manion thinks. “He’s like the guy from the Dos Equis commercials: the most interesting man in the world,” someone says. “And old as the hills!” Manion, who placidly reads the paper amidst the hubbub, smiles when asked about his coffee companions. “It’s very difficult to learn anything because they all talk at the same time,” he says. “But it’s a nice group of guys. They’re no dummies. They’ve all worked, so they’ve got a little smarts to them.” For all their teasing, the guys care about each other, Manion says, remembering how they called to check on him when he was out of town and missed a week of meetings.
Before the party breaks up around 9:15 a.m., they drag Ann Gallardo, owner of City Coffeehouse, across the street to testify. “She knows everyone by name, and knows their birthdays,” Klevens says. Gallardo calls them her best customers, then amends herself. “You don’t know how much these guys mean to me,” she says. “They’re more than friends—more like family.”
By Rebecca Koenig
Photo by Rebecca Koenig
Pictured: Kim Tucci, Howard Berger, Mark Todorovich, Jeffrey Korn, Mark S. Rubin, Phil Klasskin, Alan Silverberg, Al Finkelstein, Myron Klevens, Larry Baker, Alex Berger
