My Dad - "The Barber"

My Dad did not abide the hippie philosophy or styles. If anything, my Dad was the poster child for the "Un-Hippie." And he intended for his boys to be the milk carton face of clean-cut American youth. When we left the barber shop, we had "whitewalls" above our ears, a blinding white "taper cut" on our necks and a "part" with a comb-over that Donald Trump would envy!

In the mid 1960's, when haircuts went up two bits from $1.50 to $1.75*, my Dad had had enough. With two growing sons and himself to keep sheared, it was more economically advantageous to buy a pair of electric hair clippers and just "Do it yourself!"

In the southwest corner of the basement of the new farm house at County Line, my Dad set up shop. And for a couple of years, every few weeks (when we started looking shaggy) we would trudge downstairs and Dad would "lower our ears."

Sometimes, even the trip back up the stairs was memorable...such as the time I "fell up" the stairs, hit the metal strip on the top step and had to get six stitches to mend my chinny chin chin!

After a couple of years, Dad must have tired of hair cutting because the clippers were put away and we went back to Squires Barber Shop on Washington Avenue. It was quite a few years before they were brought (however briefly) out of retirement...

It was a hot summer day at the Farley House when they came out for one more meteoric flash of duty...

Our old dog, Sandy, was really miserable in the summer heat. She was a German Shepherd, Collie mix and had a heavy coat of hair. Dad decided to remedy this situation and rousted out the old electric hair clippers from days gone by.

Dad put a bench to sit on out in the driveway in front of the shop and ran an extension cord for the clippers. After testing them out to see if they would still work, he told us boys to "bring her on over." Sandy was a pretty docile old dog, and she didn't really put up a fuss when we led her up to Dad. She had NO idea what the result of the the next few minutes would be...

Dad started at her neck, right behind her ears, and began the shearing. He must have had a gauge on the clippers because from what I remember, it was a pretty even, smooth cut. He proceeded down her neck to her withers, down her chest and front legs and then started shaving down her back, sides, and belly. Ever so often, we would have to turn Sandy around so Dad could make sure he was getting both sides evenly.

When Dad had worked his way back to Sandy's loins, right in front of her thighs, the unthinkable happened... THE CLIPPERS QUIT WORKING!!

Try as he might, Dad could not get them to working again. And, when you think about it, they had just done the equivalent of about seventy-five men's haircuts in the space of about thirty minutes! No wonder they quit.

But now, Ole Sandy was an interesting spectacle. She was shaved from her head down to her "waist line" and the long hair from there on down made it look like she had a little pair of pants on!!

Now us boys thought this was just about the most hilarious thing in the world! But Mom...not so much so... Mom felt so sorry for Old Sandy that she even pleaded with Dad to "cut the rest of it off." I believe Dad would have if he could have but the clippers were shot.

To Ole Sandy's credit, it didn't seem to bother her too much. In fact she seemed quite pleased with herself. I don't know if it was the stylish trousers she now had or just that she was much cooler. Anyway, the image is firmly etched into my mind and I'll never forget the "Summer of Short-Britches Sandy!!"

*From my limited research, this is about what a haircut cost in 1966.