I’m a Man Who Likes Talking to a Man Who Likes to Talk

By James Banakis

April 25^th, 2025

“I’m a Man Who Likes Talking to a Man Who Likes to Talk”

-Sidney Greenstreet, Maltese Falcon

In the final scene of “The Godfather,” Kay has the door to Michael’s office close as she attempts to enter. She effectively is shut out of that aspect of his life as he eliminates his enemies and consolidates power. That’s how the film ended with me wanting to be in that room. So many times, we might have wished that we could have a summons to discussions we were not invited to. I know I have always wanted to be where the conversation was taking place. It’s always been one of my favorite pleasures, as I always enjoy good natured arguments, gossip, and old stories.

As a child, whenever we had company, my father would gather the men, and they would enter a room shut the door and talk. I always tried to get included. My father patiently said when I was older, I could join the group. This only fed my imagination as to what I was missing. I invented them discussing hidden treasures, surprise vacations for the family, maybe outings to the ballpark. Topics kids might discuss. After about an hour they would open the door and join the women and kids. I imagined the men to have a collection of exciting secrets.

The women were never that clandestine. They gathered and talked away oblivious to what kids might be listening to.  One year I was home from school on Christmas break. As the men headed to the inner sanctum, my father motioned to me and said, “join us.”  I guess I became a man. I realized almost immediately that I hadn’t missed anything all these many years. As soon as the door closed my father complained that his feet were always bothering him. My Uncle Gus suggested he go to Dr. Demeur the podiatrist.  Then they discussed who had the best mechanic. Finally, a discussion/argument on what were the best streets to the airport. In short, I couldn’t wait to escape and join my friends. Later in the week I confessed to my father that I found the conversation dull. He was shocked. He went on to tell me that that’s how men share useful information. I was unimpressed. At that point in my life, I expected a heated political discussion or bawdy stories. In short, the discussions I was having in college at the time. Think back. These were some of the best discussions most of us can remember. Many lasted into the early morning hours, or anytime in the student union.

It was about this time that my brother Chris became an intern for the Irv Kupcinet Saturday night TV show. The program began at 10:30pm and was broadcast live. Kup would have 5 or 6 guests sitting around a coffee table and have a free-range conversation. The panel members might include entertainers appearing on Rush Street, political figures, authors, and media and sports figures. Others have tried to replicate this show, but this was unique.

Everyone had a Kup coffee cup that had anything but coffee in them. The viewer was able to feel as if they were a member of the discussion. Chris, who at the point in his life was attempting to enter show business himself, escorted the guests from the green room and engaged in small talk. He would come home with wonderful backstage stories. Jimmy Durante was funny and kindly, like our grandfather. Danny Thomas and Kup got into a shouting match before airtime and the producers had to calm everyone down. Barbara Walters was a prima donna but very professional. Hugh Heffner was mysterious and weird. The whole atmosphere was very “Mad Men” lots of smoking and drinking. Just watching I felt involved.

Enter Dr. Mary Kamberos the eminent pediatrician.  Mary was my daughter’s godmother and one of the most consequential figures in my life. Think of her as Auntie Mame in the movie starring Roslyn Russell. She became a widow at about 60, and dedicated the rest of her life to philanthropy, and parties. She was the quintessential hostess. Her dinner parties were epic.

The guests always varied with opera singers, church hierarchy, and always a delightful mixture of entertaining oddballs. Bless her soul, she always included my wife and I on her guest lists. Of all the many things she taught and modeled for me was her insistence on a civilized cocktail hour with her guests. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but it taught me the importance of relaxed conversation as a compliment to dining. It made me a better host, while introducing me to some of the most stimulating dinner companions in my memory.

Mary was fond of Grey Goose up with blue cheese olives. As she got older, I’d sit beside her and lovingly and covertly add ice cubes to her glass. Any occasion was an excuse for a party. Every fall she had a themed yard costume party. She was fearless, funny, naughty, and direct with everyone. I almost forgot, she was an inspired cook. She brought out the best in everyone. I miss her.

On turning 70, Sean Connery said, “life is wonderful, but the 3^rd act is not so hot.” So true Mr. Bond. One of the reasons I opened breakfast restaurants was that I realized “Boomers” of which I was a lodge member were aging and getting together at breakfast and lunch instead of dinner. Always look for a hole in the market.

Now as a recent retiree I spend many enjoyable hours with varied groups of friends in conversation over breakfast or lunch, and on rare occasions, dinner. Let me give you a composite of what these discussions are like.

There are usually 6-9 of us around the table. We almost always start with some type of physical issue one of us is experiencing. We have a retired cardiologist who answers questions and dispenses medical advice. That turns into talking about who died recently. Since there are always former restauranters, who’s doing well and who isn’t is always a popular topic. We have an attorney who always advises us on what he deems legal and illegal. The attorney, as all attorneys always do, challenges almost everything that comes up arguing the opposite instinctively. We have a TV producer who always announces he has a groundbreaking secret and then refuses to say what it is. This guy comes and leaves mysteriously, taking his secrets with him. For added entertainment, we have a standup comic with perfect timing, and a treasure trough of stories that morph into jokes.

We all enjoy commenting on food, but we have one guy who always can identify the hidden spice. By far the most popular topic in all these groups is reminiscing about life before we started families. We have one guy who makes the reservations and figures out the check.

Even though this third act is not as stimulating as the first two, life is wonderful, and it’s comforting to know that we can always share it with our fellow travelers. Finally, I’ve come to realize that my conversations now are the same as those my father had with his buddies. I ones I used to label boring. Which just proves everything in life has happened before, and it’ll happen again. What could be more comforting than that?

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Jimmy Banakis is a life-long restaurateur.  He was an honorary batboy for the White Sox in 1964. He attended Oak Park River Forest High School, Nebraska Wesleyan University, and Chicago-Kent Law School.  He claims the kitchen is the room he’s most comfortable in anywhere in the world. He published an extremely limited-edition family cookbook. He’s a father and grandfather, and lives in Downers Grove Il.

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