Griffin Cleveland worked as an actor from 14 months old through high school, appearing in national commercials, television shows, and feature films. That early exposure to the industry sparked an enduring interest in storytelling and on work behind the camera.
He moved to Baltimore from Sherman Oaks, California to attend Johns Hopkins University, where he was a member of the football team and recently graduated with a major in economics and a minor in film and media studies. For a senior thesis, he produced a documentary about Pete’s Grille, a popular Waverly eatery that is a breakfast spot for folks fueling up for the day ahead or recovering from a night of excess.
“Living in Baltimore for four years really shaped the way I think about community, and this film was a way of saying thank you to a place that gave me a lot,” Griffin told Baltimore Fishbowl. “It showed me that storytelling starts with paying attention. Not by looking far, but by looking closer.”
Baltimore Fishbowl is showcasing that documentary, called “Breakfast Runs in the Family,” and Executive Editor David Nitkin collected answers from Griffin via email to learn more about the film.
Baltimore Fishbowl: How did you decide on Pete’s Grill as the focus of your film?
Griffin Cleveland: The concept of the film was born out of a routine that grounded me during college. Every Sunday morning after our games, my roommates and I would head to Pete’s. I played football at Hopkins for four years, and that post-game breakfast became something we all looked forward to. Over time, it stopped being just about the food. We started talking more with the ladies behind the counter, and little by little, we got to know each other. We’d tell them about our games and classes, and they’d tell us bits and pieces about their lives. We started to learn more about their family dynamic, which we had no idea about at first. As we slowly became regulars, it came time to choose a subject for my film, and it just seemed to click. Before I started filming, I began going in nearly every day to build an even better rapport with the ladies and get them to open up a little more in preparation for being on camera. Those Sunday pancake runs slowly turned into a story I felt needed to be told.
BFB: What did you learn through the process? What was most unexpected? Any challenges?
GC: I came in looking for some big story or perfect soundbite, but what I found instead were all these small, human moments. A nod across the counter, a refill without asking, someone walking in and sitting down without needing to order because the staff already knew. That’s where the real story was. It made me realize how much of a place’s meaning is built through quiet consistency—the stuff that doesn’t ask for attention but earns it over time. I let that idea inform the camera work as well. Instead of trying to highlight the fast-moving nature of a diner, I leaned into close-ups and steady shots. Placing the viewer in the cup of sugar packets or right next to a syrup bottle helped create the sense of intimacy I was going for.
In terms of the most unexpected part, I would say the immense history tied to the diner. I had no idea the old Baltimore Colts’ Memorial Stadium used to be just a few blocks away. It became clear that the Colts leaving hit Waverly hard. The impact wasn’t just economic, it left something behind. A kind of absence you can still feel in the neighborhood’s energy, its memory, and in what could have been. Even small details, like the photos of Michael Phelps on the wall (their most famous regular), hint at how much the place has meant to people over the years. Discovering pieces of history like that mid-interview and finding ways to fold them into the story made the process feel dynamic and real, like the place itself was helping shape the narrative. I’m also a huge fan of using archival footage, so once I found out about the stadium, I was eager to integrate that material into the film. It gave the project a sense of historical texture that added another layer to the present-day story.
The biggest challenge was figuring out how to structure the film without narration. I came into the process without a set direction. I just knew I wanted to tell the Crum family’s story, and I let their answers steer the direction of the film from there. I wanted the rhythm of the space and the voices of the people in it to guide the story, which meant trusting that the smaller moments would be enough. It pushed me to listen more carefully, not just as a filmmaker but as someone trying to understand the people and space around me.
BFB: What’s ideally next for you — immediately and in a few years?
GC: Right now, I’ve just graduated from Johns Hopkins and moved back home to Los Angeles. I’m looking to start my career at a talent agency as a first step toward working in development and creative production for film and television. I’m especially drawn to stories that find meaning in the everyday, the ones that don’t ask for attention but hold it anyway. Whether scripted or nonfiction, I’m interested in projects that capture the quiet rhythms of people and places that often go overlooked.
In the long term, I’d love to be part of a work that treats the ordinary with care. Whether I’m helping shape stories behind the scenes or eventually directing, I want to create work that leaves audiences with something they didn’t have before. Maybe it’s a feeling, a specific image, or a quiet lesson that settles in without them realizing it. I’m not aiming for spectacle. I’m aiming for stories that stay with people, even if they can’t quite explain why.
