This mixed group—mostly in their 50s, 60s and 70s—has been meeting daily for years to shoot the breeze and share true tales about what they've been up to. They're not organized, though they'd like others to think so. They don't all meet at the same time, some gathering in the morning, others in the afternoon. And as for newcomers, they're welcome to join in as long as they can either provide good conversation or be quiet long enough to listen to others rattle off some whoppers.

"I'm 22," says Paul Porrovecchio, who's really 76, "I just look good for my age."

The Liars Club of Willow Glen was a name somebody just arbitrarily called the group and it stuck.

Rumor has it that a Realtor came into Le Boulanger a few years ago and saw a bunch of people having a raucously good time. A few days later he came back and presented them with a plaque dedicated to the Willow Glen Liars Club, with the caption: "Where Friends Meet to Expand the Truth."

Members say they've been coming to Le Boulanger for years. Some come in as early as 6 a.m., order coffee and pastries and stay until 8 a.m. or so, unless they've got something to do that morning, which isn't often. Most, but not all, are retired.

One 76-year-old who says he still works out of his real estate office near Lincoln Avenue is Joe Guerra. His son, also named Joe Guerra, founded the Willow Glen Resident in 1987.

Guerra is one of the regulars who arrives at Le Boulanger a little past 6 a.m. to sit at the row of tables across from the registers. Above them in a nearby corner the Liars Club plaque is positioned on a shelf.

Usually already seated with their breakfast and waiting for anyone else who might show up are Peter DeVincenzi, 76, and sisters Vi Nisonger, 70, and Delores Smested, 84.

"The Italians always get here early," says 72-year-old Theresa Moore, who has lived in Willow Glen her entire life.

DeVincenzi has lived in Willow Glen since 1936. He's a large gentleman who prefers Le Boulanger's well-lit ambiance and spacious walkways and especially its air conditioning. One morning it wasn't running and he was perspiring.

"Maybe you're getting hot flashes in your old age," Moore teases.

"I wish it was hot flashes," DeVincenzi counters with a guffaw.

Some remember when a streetcar ran along Lincoln Avenue. Others were teenagers when Jack Holmes and Harold Thurmond were lynched in downtown San Jose in 1933 after kidnapping and killing Brook Hart, heir to Hart's Department Store.

Others recall when there were two movie theaters on the same street, and everybody agrees that the avenue hasn't been the same since Bergmann's department store closed.

Be careful about asking when the store closed, or when the avenue's other hallmark, the Garden Theater, screened its last movie. The answers may be diverse. What matters more than when places closed, however, are the memories the club members have of them.

"I remember that Willow Glen Theater—I think it was called that—was across the street," says DeVincenzi, gesturing to the area across the street from Le Boulanger. "It was next to this hardware store. I remember because the last movie I saw there was this Italian flick. I couldn't tell you what it was; it's been too long."

Porrovecchio remembers—and he also recalls the after-movie antics he and his friends would get into.

"After the movies we'd go down to the soda shop where they still had those wide straws when you order a milkshake," he says, the guilt beginning to well into a chuckle. "And we'd take the paper wrapper from the straw, wad it up and use the straws to spit them at the ceiling."

That, he assures, is the worst crime he and his cohorts ever committed.

Nisonger, the group's unofficial historian, said that this group has been meeting for several years, well before anyone thought of calling them a club.

"We used to meet at Ed's Fine Foods on Willow Street," Nisonger says. "Then he closed and we moved to the bistro behind Bergmann's."

Bergmann's closed in the early 1990s, with Le Boulanger and home furnishings store Casa Casa moving into the building's first floor. The club quickly made itself comfortable in the bakery.

Gerald Zimmerman, the bakery's manager for 2¹/2 years, can't recall a morning when the Liars Club hasn't come in.

"They've been here longer than I have," Zimmerman says, "but they're good customers and even though they can get rowdy, they keep to themselves and make the place inviting."

The Liars Club has become so ingrained into Le Boulanger that it even receives mail at the bakery.

"When one of them goes on a trip they'll send postcards here and I just place it on the shelf," Zimmerman says.

The shelf, which also houses the plaque, has become a figurehead for the club. The ever-present plaque has been adorned with flowers, get-well cards, Christmas decorations and a red, white and blue ribbon for the Fourth of July.

Apparently, the management not only tolerates the novelty but encourages it.

"The business owners gave the club their blessings," Zimmerman says, "so it's OK with me."

The plaque and the shelf aren't what keep the club here, however.

"This is just a good group of people," Hank Haggard says.

The 72-year-old and his wife, Shirley, have lived in Willow Glen for 40 years.

"When you come here every day," he says, "it's pretty hard not to get to know and like everyone here."

Nisonger, who lives within walking distance of Le Boulanger, says the bakery is a safe haven.

"In the winter, when it's really dark in the mornings, I feel safe making the short drive and I know that there will be lots of nice people here," she says.

Though some people come and go and may not be seen for days at a time, the club is close-knit. Nisonger says she keeps a members list with addresses and phone numbers. Such a list came in handy for her when she was in the hospital for hip replacement and several club members came and visited her.

"I had to write so many thank-you notes," Nisonger says, "We've really become something of a support group, and we help each other out when we can."

Help was what Martha O'Day was giving and taking when she would come into Le Boulanger before work in the mornings.

"My membership was gradual," says 56-year-old O'Day, who has become the club's youngest member.

"I would sit in a nearby booth doing the crosswords in the newspaper and one day offered help to some club members working the same puzzle," she says.

And that's pretty much all it takes to become a member. An individual can just come over and stay awhile. But be careful about the seat selection.

"We get dirty looks from each other when we sit in someone else's seat," says Shirley Haggard with a smirk.