These men, mostly retired, dispense free advice one joke at a time

Recently, they decided to branch out.

With something like a collective 750 years’ experience and wisdom among them on any given day, they decided — at least half in jest — to offer advice to anyone who wants it.

A sign outside their group explains the deal: “Old men giving advice,” it says. “It’s free.”

Last week, Katja Hasu approached them with two questions: How can she find single men in the area, and how should she invest her money with an eye on eventual retirement?

For the first question, the men suggested that she get out and about; participating in activities she enjoys will increase the opportunity to meet men who have the same interests. They demurred on the second question, though, fearful of offering financial advice that may prove financially ruinous.

It did not matter to Hasu that they only answered one question. “Seriously, this is the best thing ever, “ she says.

Nearly all of the group of 10 or 12 men are retired. Many were businessmen or professionals, though the group also includes retired St. Louis policeman John Dregely and electrical engineer Howard Berger, who jokes that he is the only one who did actual work with his hands.

“The key is the diversity,” says Mike Bush. It was Bush who first had the idea of making their combined wisdom available to others.

The oldest member is Sandy MacLean, 87, vice chancellor emeritus at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. He still competitively runs 5K races. The youngest by at least a few years is Joel Iskiwitch, a Realtor and lawyer, who is 66.

“We’re babysitting,” says Allan Silverberg, a semi-retired insurance agent.

Earlier this year, the group lost its oldest member, Jimmie Manion, who was 90. Manion was a real estate executive and co-founder of Boone Valley Golf Club; he also flew fighter jets in the Korean War.

Manion was also one of the group’s three founders, along with businessman Jeffrey Korn and Mark Rubin, a lawyer. Some 25 or 30 years ago, they started getting together for coffee at what was then the Howard Johnson’s restaurant on Clayton Road.

Gradually, other men joined them. They were friends, or friends of friends, who came for a cup of coffee and stayed for the conversation. The group was always amorphous; members come and go. But something about their personalities just clicked, and they would while away a pleasant hour or two trading stories and talking about sports and politics.

“We used to have a (politically) red table and a blue table. The red disappeared during the Trump era, and we became a purple table,” Silverberg says.

They no longer can have the political debates they used to enjoy because “it got too dangerous,” Silverberg says.

For the men, the coffee and conversation is a way to ease into a day often filled with activity and other undertakings. For instance, Alan Ludmer, a retired businessman, is a docent at the St. Louis Kaplan Feldman Holocaust Museum, is a mentor in entrepreneurship at St. Louis University, teaches tai chi and writes occasional articles about martial arts.

Others are just as busy. Berger is a docent at the zoo and restores old radios. Phil Klasskin works at the Washington University campus YMCA, working with students to help them volunteer in the community.

It is this combination of personal accomplishment, intellectual curiosity and community spirit that encouraged the men, at least somewhat tongue in cheek, to act as a collective male version of Dear Abby.

When one woman asked what is the best advice they could offer about marriage, they said never to go to bed mad, and to have a sense of humor. When asked the best places they have ever traveled to, the responses ranged from the fjords of Norway to the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, for scuba diving.

And for advice on how to lead a well-lived life, Klasskin says the secret is to “have fun and don’t take yourself too seriously.”

Too seriously is not how these men take themselves. Much of their conversation is jokes, amusing anecdotes or affectionate insults and arguments.

At one time, they thought about charging 5 cents for their advice, like Lucy did for psychiatric help in the Peanuts comic strip.

“But no one has nickels anymore,” Berger says. So the advice remains free.

“We have offered two-for-one specials, but no one takes us up on it,” he says.

One woman asked if she should have a hip replacement.

“We didn’t have a doctor in the group, but that didn’t stop us,” Bush says.

They asked if her hip hurt. She said yes. They asked if her doctor recommended it. She said yes. So they told her to go ahead and have the surgery.

Less seriously, a woman asked for advice on the home she was renovating. She wanted to add a bathroom, but there was no plumbing where she wanted it to go.

“Ultimately, the advice was to get a Port-a-Potty,” Berger says.

“It was very practical advice,” Iskiwitch says.

Though some number of the men get together every weekday, the advice is only offered on Fridays. They currently meet at Herbie’s restaurant on Maryland Avenue in Clayton, which isn’t even open for business in the morning. Owner Aaron Teitelbaum allows them to sit outside — they prefer to be outside, because of COVID — and even turns on the outdoor heaters for them when the weather is cold.

Coffee comes from the City Coffee and Creperie, across the street. That’s where they met for years when they could be indoors. Last week, owner Ann Gallardo — who considers them an integral part of the restaurant — came over to say hello and ask when they would be back.

From their perch at Herbie’s, along with the talking and the joking they also watch the passing parade. As befits experts in their fields, and in some fields that aren’t their fields, they observe others with a fine eye.

They have noticed, for example, that people who pay for their parking spaces on the street at remote pay stations take either 40 seconds to complete the transaction or five minutes. It all depends on the age of the person paying; younger people take less than a minute, older ones take five.

“We’re easily amused,” Klasskin says.