Get The Ink Out:

The banker ...

the tennis player ...

the career Navy man ...

the property appraiser ...

the staff commodore (make that two) ...

the veteran (make that five) ...

the newlywed ...

Basically a great group of elderly gentleman who meet at least once a week (usually more) and gab “like a bunch of old ladies” (their words, not mine).

Betty Kilmer called me after last week’s column on the Omelette Parlor (“Give me my home”) and told me I ought to meet up with her husband and the other men who eat there every Tuesday.

These fellows are all members of the Balboa Yacht Club.

There’s Jack Niday, who joined the yacht club in 1981 and started attending the Tuesday lunch shortly thereafter.

Ernie Beauchamp is an original O.P. lunch member.

Howard Neff has been dining at the parlor almost as long as Ernie.

Dick Lawrence, another original O.P. lunch member, owns a steamboat and has sailed in 50 Ensenada races.

Bob Shackleton is the newest member at five years.

Everett Fenton has been going to the lunch for “only” 15 years.

And finally, Betty’s husband, Dan Kilmer, has been attending for six to eight years.

Ernie explained how it all got started.

“Charlie Sparkhul was a retired dentist who got into boat building,” he said. “He worked on 17th Street.”

The story was interrupted here so the men could discuss about where exactly he worked. A company called Westerly, Dick confirmed.

Charlie would go to the Omelette Parlor for lunch because the yacht club is closed Monday and Tuesday.

“If you wanted to find Charlie, you had to come here,” Ernie said.

They all agreed that in the past 20-plus years of meeting for lunch every Tuesday, only once or twice have they dined somewhere other than the parlor.

I keep saying lunch, but I showed up to meet them at 10 a.m. Why so early? Well, the place is popular in the middle of the day, they explained, and if you got there too late, you’d be stuck sitting on a stool. So each member would start coming earlier and earlier to avoid the stool, until they finally settled on between 10 and 10:30 a.m.

And why Tuesday? Aside from the club being closed, there also used to be a pretty good discount on a sandwich called the Wedge, which Everett still orders.

After two decades, the parlor knows their habits well. Owner Susan Adkins has a special sign she puts on the corner booth to save it just for them at 10:30 a.m. (The restaurant doesn’t take reservations.) The gentlemen bragged that they once got nine of them in the booth. After dining with them when there were eight of us, I believe it.

The men raved about the waitresses and how they know their orders so well, even going so far as to have one waitress rattle off Ernie’s favorite — a Cobb salad, no cracked bowl and 1 1/2 dressings. I didn’t quite catch the rest, but I could hear the certainty in her voice and caught the knowing look in the other men’s eyes. They also love that they automatically get separate checks.

And they all eagerly agreed after Everett explained, “My wife said, ‘I married you for dinner, not for lunch.’”

Although Bob said he does take half of his lunch home for his wife each week.

The conversation over the years has gone from girls to cars and boats to pumps and motors and computers to aches and pains.

And yes, five of them have served in the armed forces. Jack was a Merchant Marine and then in the U.S. Army during the Korean War.

Ernie was in the Navy during World War II and Korea. The other guys like to brag about what he did, but I think I’ll let that be a secret among us.

Howard was an Army aircraft mechanic.

Bob served in the U.S. Navy on the USS Albany, USS Wisconsin, a battleship and the USS Ebersol, a destroyer.

(This is when one of them quipped that the Navy just couldn’t figure out where to keep Bob, and everyone laughed.)

Dick was a gunnery officer for four years and served during World War II.

“It’s why I can’t hear,” he laughed.

As for the rest of the list above, Bob’s the banker, Jack’s the tennis player, Ernie’s the career Navy man, Everett’s the appraiser, Howard and Dick are the former staff commodores, and Howard’s also the newlywed (and a former sheriff).

These gentlemen know how to have fun and be funny.

This week another group had sat at their table and took forever to leave. They all joked about pulling the “eye” trick.

They took turns and talked over one another to tell the story.

Jim Williams, “a dry wit if ever there was one,” “he was 81 and from Missour-uh” (it felt good to hear that nice Midwestern accent again).

“People were at our table so we stood around.”

“Jim looked around the table. The people were uneasy.”

Jim said, “My grandpa was in here and lost his glass eye.”

“The people left shortly after that.”

“But they did help look for the eye first.”

“Jim flew a B17 bombardier. He’s gone now.”

I asked them what they’ll do when the parlor closes May 31. Howard said he’d sit out front and cry. Ernie declared he would not be joining him. But in all seriousness, they are looking for another spot to have a bite to eat and catch up.

And of course if Susan opens up somewhere new, these guys are No. 1 on the list to find out where.

JAMIE ROWE is a copy editor for the Daily Pilot. She may be reached at (714) 966-4634 or [email protected]. Squee wishes Grandpa Fred a very happy birthday. He’ll be expecting a large piece of chocolate cake for his efforts.