Walk into Oak Creek Cafe on nearly any day of the week, from breakfast to lunchtime, and you’ll see them— “the regulars”—a group of men sitting at the same table every day. Sometimes there are eight to 10 guys, sometimes just two or three, sharing coffee, stories, history, and friendship.
They range in age from their 50s to their 90s, and many of them have been getting together for upward of 30 years.
“They’re the greatest,” says Oak Creek owner Penny Boykin. “We couldn’t be here without them.”
Then, with a wink: “They solve all of the world’s problems every day.”
The regulars occupy the same table each time—in the middle of the cafe, on your left as you enter. “This is the table of knowledge,” they quip.
From this spot, they serve as the unofficial Oak Creek greeters, welcoming guests to the restaurant. Anytime someone walks through the door and appears uncertain about what to do, the regulars offer a smile and point them in the right direction: Sit wherever you like.
And so, on this day, I join them.
They’re friendly and welcoming, with a sense of humor that quickly takes over the conversation. They poke fun at themselves and, especially, at each other.
The only rule of the group, they tease, is that everyone must wear a shirt.
“We tell the same stories over and over and over,” says Tony Chamness. “But with a bad memory, the jokes are new every time we hear them.”
The jokes are nonstop: They suggest that I might recognize one of them from a wanted poster, debate who among them is better looking, and ask the photographer if she brought a makeup artist.
Their faces are already well represented around Oak Creek. Dozens of caricatures line the cafe walls depicting people from around Dripping Springs—including most of the men at the table. Created by local artist Larry Dupuy, the sketches have become part of the character of the cafe itself.
They’re quick to point themselves out: “That’s me in the yellow hat,” or “There I am with the fishing pole.” The portraits include details that reflect their personalities and hobbies, with subtle nods to a shared history.
So how did all of this get started?
Gary Hale explains that the group began about 30 years ago when he and a handful of other men, primarily veterans from the American Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars, began meeting for coffee around town. They gathered at various places, including the school building, the old fire hall, and local restaurants, before settling at what was then Hamburger Hill, now Oak Creek Cafe.
Over the years, the group has evolved organically, growing well beyond that original circle of veterans. There’s no formal membership or schedule. Some guys come every day; others stop by once a week. Some come for coffee and breakfast; others wander in later for lunch.
“We’re pretty much just a bunch of guys sitting there telling a bunch of stories,” Gary says.
And there are plenty to tell.
Perhaps the most storied member of the group is Jack Lyle, who has lived in Dripping Springs for all of his 92 years. His family moved to Drip in 1905, and there’s a good chance you’ve set foot in his childhood home: He grew up in the house that is now Rolling in Thyme and Dough.
Jack recalls the day that he and some friends were hanging out on a Mercer Street porch when a helicopter flew overhead.
“This guy leaned out of the helicopter with a megaphone, and he was talking to us—and it was Lyndon Johnson!” Jack shares. “He said, ‘Well, what are you guys up to?’ and we were just shooting the bull with the President.”
Another familiar face at the table is Bama Brown, who retired earlier this year after 38 years as a radio disc jockey with KVET and KASE. He has also appeared on the automotive reality television series “Iron Resurrection,” filmed in Dripping Springs.
“Bama has a lot of stories and jokes,” Gary says. “He’ll start telling the joke, and before he can finish, he’s laughing too hard to tell you the punchline.”
For all their banter, there’s genuine admiration around the table. The men don’t talk much about themselves; instead, they tell me about each other.
Michael Pearson, they say, is a talented artist and collector. He’s also the first to get to Oak Creek each day, often arriving before the restaurant opens.
Bama is known for wandering around the cafe, flitting from table to table and making conversation. They call him “the butterfly.”
They brag that James Bailey has built more than 50 homes here in Drip and that Tony is a great handyman.
Ask why they keep coming back to the same table, day after day, and they lightheartedly dodge the question.
“If I didn’t come here, I’d become a hermit,” one says.
“We have to come so they don’t talk bad about us,” another claims.
They show up for each other outside the cafe, too. Jack says Tony has fixed everything from ceiling fans to doors around his house.
“Tony is a good friend,” confirms Gary. “He’ll do anything for you, me, anybody.”
And when someone isn’t at the table, they notice.
During my visit, Gary—the agreed-upon “ringmaster” of the group—was missing from his usual spot. He was recovering in a rehabilitation facility, and the men made sure I knew about him. Many had visited, called, and texted to check in on their friend. And they insisted that if I wanted to understand the group, I needed to talk to Gary.
So a few days later, I visited Gary. Away from Oak Creek, I heard more stories about old Dripping Springs, about the cafe, and, not surprisingly, about the other guys.
They share their lives—the good stuff and the hard stuff. And that closeness isn’t limited to the men around the table.
“If the guys stopped showing up, I would be heartbroken,” Penny says. “They’re family.”
Bama says that feeling goes both ways.
“This is a family-owned cafe, and we’re all close to the family,” he shares. “They’re great people, and we keep up with them, and we’ve known their kids since they were little.” That circle includes longtime employees and their families, too.
In the end, no one around the table seems particularly interested in putting into words what the group means to him. Instead, they show up.
They’ve been showing up for decades, even as gathering places have changed and people have come and gone. They show up to drink coffee, solve the world’s problems, tell stories they’ve already told, and give each other a hard time. They show up when someone needs a hand around the house, and they show up when a friend lands in rehab.
And chances are, tomorrow morning, before Oak Creek Cafe even opens, Michael will be there waiting.
Soon enough, the others will begin to trickle in. They’ll take their places at the table of knowledge.
And if you happen to walk through the door looking a little confused, one of them will probably speak up:
Sit wherever you like.
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