The morning rush was picking up at the Broadway Diner on Eastern Avenue in Baltimore on a recent Tuesday, with the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation, and server Lisa Bahm dashing from one table to the next. As the clock struck 9, in walked a familiar crew — a group of men who have turned breakfast into tradition.

“A lot of your customers become your regulars,” said Bahm. “It’s like a pattern for them.”

This group has maintained the pattern for years. Every second Tuesday of the month, they gather for breakfast, dubbing themselves “The Breakfast Club.”

Sitting at the table, was the group’s appointed ringleader: 91-year-old Milton R. Kalthof.

“Our favorite waitress is here!” Kalthof exclaimed as Bahm greeted them.

For the five years Bahm had worked at the diner, she’s always served this group.

Seated around Kalthof were his close friends: Tom Cox, Don Weinle, Bobby Reynolds, Stanley Morrow, Fred Whiton, and Lou Workmeister.

Kalthof said he’d known Workmeister for 68 years and added the two were like brothers.

“That was me and that’s Milton,” said Workmeister as he pointed to an old photograph with a chuckle. “He was the best man at my wedding, and he still thinks he’s the best man!”

And speaking of “best men,” Morrow couldn’t help but joke about his standing in the group.

“Well, I feel good because I’m the youngest,” Morrow laughed. “It’s about the only place I can go and be the youngest!”

At the end of the table sat Kalthof’s daughter, Phyllis Nadeau. Kalthof said they likely wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for her kindness.

“She has to drive us now, ‘cause I can’t drive anymore,” said Kalthof.

Despite their physical limitations now, the bond between the friends remains unbreakable, forged, in part, on their shared love for sports and camaraderie.

“We played softball together, basketball, we bowled together, we golfed,” said Kalthof. “I spent more time I think with these guys then I did my family.”

Another shared trait between the group: They are true Baltimoreans.

“Oh yeah, we’re Baldi-morons hon,” said Kalthof with a laugh.

In fact, most of the group met while working for Lever Brothers manufacturing company more than three decades ago.

“They said $2.20 an hour, I said ‘all right, I’ll take it,’ ” Weinle said, recalling the earlier days. “They sent me to Lever Brothers, and I thought I’d died and went to heaven.”

For generations, the old soap factory employed hundreds of workers. Now, it’s gone, along with much of old Baltimore.

“When we worked there, Lever Brothers was the best blue-collar job in the state of Maryland,” said Fred. “It’s torn down now.”

The group said Baltimore was in many ways unrecognizable to them now.

“The world has changed, but us guys have never changed one iota about each other,” said Kalthof as he pointed to the group around him. “The best friends in the world, the best family in the world. I could never ask for anything else.”

As much as Kalthof cherished his friendships, he also acknowledged the hard truth of aging.

“The worst thing about getting old is you lose all your really good friends,” said Kalthof.

He could still remember where each late friend used to sit. And making his way around the table to every empty chair, Kalthof pointed out what he missed about each one.

Once a group 25 strong, the Breakfast Club has dwindled over the years. But the memories lived on.

“Everybody had a story,” Workmeister said. “And even though you may have knew them well, these breakfasts have brought out stories that we never knew before.”

Each month over coffee and eggs, they continued to share those stories — stories that would live on long after their plates were cleared. And for Kalthof, when one day he too leaves behind an empty chair, he only hoped he was celebrated in this way.

“I don’t want nobody to mourn because I had a great life,” said Kalthof.

“Alright what’s the odds on who ain’t gonna be here next month?” Morrow joked as the group finished their breakfast and began to gather their things. “We’re all gonna make it!” he added.

“We hope!” Workmeister laughed.

“All right, thanks a lot see ya next month!” The group called out as they made their way outside.

Still laughing, still united by years of friendship, and still a little bit Baltimore.

Have news tips? Contact Shannon Lilly at slilly@sbgtv.com.