Remembering the private realm of an Italian American barber shop
The skyrocketing costs of a man's haircut (stylist) is getting higher each year in today's fashion conscious world, with some costing as high as $300 to $400 a clip! (John Edwards?) With that in mind, I couldn't help but look back to a simpler time when Dad could get his hair fashionably trimmed, styled and spritzed for a mere 75 cents, plus tip. During the 1940's my dad and his pals were regular patrons of Tony and Joe’s busy "Cerone’s" barber shop on old San Carlos Street in the city.
The shop was more than just a place to get your hair cut. Like "Floyd's Barber Shop" on the old Andy Griffith show, the barber shop was a gathering spot where friendly banter took place in a man’s private realm, where everything from politics and sports to food prices were discussed and argued: where men could meet and visit daily, whether or not they needed a hair cut.
Like most first generation Italian American men, local barber shop owners belonged to several Italian American clubs that encouraged members to patronize their members’ shops. The barbershop soon became the gathering spot for local men who, for the most part, were all Italian farmers, ranchers and small business owners. Tony and Joe's barber shop was thriving in the 1940s.
In fact, it got so busy they took on a third barber by the name of John, who was also Italian American and a member of his bosses Italian club. It wasn't long before John could afford to open his own busy shop on the other side of town. His new shop was in the heart of the established community of Willow Glen. Other Italian Americans also opened shops in this area, which was located in a large community of ranchers and farmers.
My dad, Rocci, was one of those Italian American men who owned a business in this growing community. Dad, and his customers, didn't have to walk far to Joe's new barber shop, it was right next door, which made it really convenient for dad to drop by any time of day to see his pal and share in all the business talk that went on there.
Joe's customers did more than just visit, it was more like a meeting for the farmers and local ranchers to exchange the latest ideas and innovations in growing and harvesting their crops or deciding which cannery was offering the best prices for their produce that season. The farmers exchanged knowledge about the latest insecticides they were using on their crops and the ranchers talked of the cost of using smudge pots to produce warm smoke that kept their crops from freezing in cold weather.
As for the small business owner, like my dad, he talked about the economy, and wondered if it was time to raise prices by a nickel or a dime to make ends meet. If more money was going out then coming in, that was reason enough to hike up the prices. They didn't need an executive accountant to figure it out, just some good, old fashioned, common sense. In those days a barbershop was a man's private realm, with stacks of old newspapers cluttering up the room, sports and girly magazines scattered on tabletops or stashed in corners.
Most of the men smoked cigarette after cigarette, and puffed away on white owl and panatela cigars. The ashtrays were usually filled to capacity with cigarette butts and old stogie stubs. But no one seemed to notice or care. In the corner of the room was a small round table where the elderly Italian men sat for hours playing checkers, poker or solitaire while taking big drags on their old stogies, sipping black coffee and reminiscing of life in the old country.
The barber shop was a place were a hardworking man could relax in one of those big, comfortable, barber chairs while having his scalp massaged, his hair slowly and neatly trimmed and sprinkled with rosewater while the problems of the world, the community and the economy were discussed… but never solved. When a man left John's barber shop he often made a new friend and took with him a bit of news or knowledge that helped him run his business or farm.
By 1950, the price of a haircut had climbed to $2, but dad and the rest of the crowd were happy to pay their dues, it was well worth it for a hair cut and to meet with old cronies and share the latest gossip, news and opinions. The barber shop customers met like clockwork to discuss their work and money problems. They also argued over trivial facts like Joe Dimaggio's batting average, or Yogi Berra' MVP award, or Phil Rizzuto's best catch.
In the corner of the shop a dingy percolator pot of coffee was forever steaming, with its effervescent spout always in motion. The aroma gave the small room an ingrained smell of coffee. When the men got hungry they didn’t call out for pizza delivery (few of these places even existed back then), they simply walked a couple of feet out the front door and ducked their head into my dad’s diner (The Pronto Pup Creamery) and shouted out an order. As a young girl I was working part time for dad and was thrilled when I was asked to deliver the order to the barber shop.
Few women, if any, entered that private man’s realm of noisy laughter and clattering sounds of talking. It was always loud and spontaneous and always fun and exciting for a kid to witness. I don't know if these old fashioned kinds of barbershops can still be found today. I haven't personally seen any in my neighborhood, not since I was a kid. The farms and ranches are all gone now and most men have to punch a time clock, many work for huge Silicon Valley High Tech firms, leaving them little time to sit around a barber shop and discuss the weather.
The time pace has changed, we're all in a big hurry now, got to get somewhere, do something and get back again, fast! All in record time, faster and faster. Demands on our time are greater, not to mention few men smoke anymore and sitting around reminiscing about the Old Country belongs now to another generation and another time, as does smoking. It’s a new and modern world we live in today.
But like my Nonno used to say regarding new improvements and changes, "Progress is someone trying to make things as good as they used to be." So, who knows, maybe the old fashioned men's club barbershop, with its own special camaraderie and talking points, will return in some form, or other.
Until then, we can only read about these exclusive old shops and people in nostalgia columns such as mine.
10631 Vinedale Street, Sun Valley, CA 91352 - Phone (818) 767-3413 - Fax: (818) 767-1410
