Every weekday morning around nine o’clock, a familiar ritual unfolds in a garage that would put many commercial shops to shame. Coffee is poured, stories are exchanged, and a group of retired and semi-retired men gather for a daily dose of camaraderie.

The host is John Harris, a local welder whose talents with metal have earned him a reputation as something of a magician. While Harris still works out of his shop on the corner of Fourth and Harris streets, these days he says he only takes on projects for friends. Yet one of his most enduring creations may not be something made from metal at all. It may be the community that gathers around a pot of coffee in his garage each morning.

The coffee break began years ago when a group of friends regularly met at a local restaurant in town. As with many small-town stories, exactly why those meetings came to an end depends on who is telling it. Suffice it to say that a disagreement with a waitress eventually made the restaurant a less-than-ideal gathering place.

That’s when Harris stepped in with a simple offer.

“I told them I can make coffee,” Harris said.

The invitation worked. The group relocated to Harris’ garage, and over time attendance continued to grow. While the faces present vary from day to day, the morning gathering now regularly attracts around half a dozen men.

For Harris, the appeal is simple.

Many members of the group enjoyed the daily conversations and good-natured banter that naturally came with working life. After retirement, those opportunities became harder to find. The morning coffee break filled that void.

“It gives everybody a place to meet,” Harris said, noting that the conversations range from local happenings to memories, projects and just plain “guy-talk.”

Of course, there are limits.

With a grin, Harris admitted that if the conversation starts dragging on too long, he has a tried-and-true method of reminding visitors that there is work to be done. He simply wanders back to his workbench and fires up a grinder.

The message is usually received loud and clear.

Like many gathering places, Harris’ garage has become a source of friendship, shared stories and unexpected inspiration. One such spark arrived when fellow Air Force veteran Gil Gravitt attended a morning coffee break and noticed an unusual project sitting on Harris’ workbench.

“I said, ‘Hey, that looks like a fuselage for a 141,’” Gravitt recalled.

The observation launched a conversation between the two veterans about airplanes and military service. Both men share a deep appreciation for aviation, and before long an idea began to take shape.

The plan was to create metal models of the aircraft Gravitt flew during his Air Force career and display them along the fence bordering Dickey Street at the corner of Third Street. The property, once known as the Crabbe Mansion, is now the Gravitt home.

The first two aircraft have already taken their places on the fence, transforming an ordinary stretch of metal into a distinctive public art display.
To call the creations impressive is definitely an understatement.

Crafted entirely by hand, the aircraft capture remarkable detail and accuracy. Harris estimates that each one required more than 120 hours of work. The finished pieces are equal parts sculpture, engineering and tribute.

Even so, Gravitt recently reminded Harris that the project isn’t finished.

Of the three aircraft he flew in the service, only two have been completed.

There’s still one more plane left to build.

Given the amount of time and craftsmanship involved, many people might hesitate to take on another project of that scale. Harris, however, doesn’t seem ready to rule it out.

Perhaps that’s because the fence art itself stands as a reminder of how good ideas often begin. Not in a boardroom or planning meeting, but over a cup of coffee among friends.

And at John Harris’ garage, there’s always another cup brewing.