The barber college was a long, narrow room with high ceilings, & bottles of aftershave, hair pomade, & jars of Brill Cream lined up on wooden shelves in front of mirrored walls. There were twelve or so student barbers swiveling caped customers around on their chairs. When Mom & I came through the front door they took a numbered card from the checkout counter & then found our place to sit. They waited for a barber to raise his hand & motion the next customer his way. I used to say, "Mom, when the man says 'next,' tell him, 'Excuse me sir, but we'll wait for a stool by the front door in case you don't mind.'" By sitting close to the front I could catch an occasional cold breeze blown in from the sidewalk outside. Other than that the only way to get cold in that hot barbershop was from overhead fans that hung from the ceilings by long black pipes. Those fans offered small relief in the sweltering summer heat of the city. There was no air conditioning in barber shops back then.
Back when I was a child growing up in Ohio in the late 1950's, I lived with my Mom & brothers in a small two-room upstairs apartment on Cleveland Avenue in Columbus. It was so small they had to share the only bathroom with our neighbor. They boys had a every month technique of taking turns going downtown with Mom to get haircuts. When it was time for my haircut, Mom & I would leave my older brother Doug to watch my more youthful brother Tony back at the apartment. Off they would go to the Ohio State Barber College on High Street. I enjoyed getting out with Mom but loathed going to the barber college, in the hot, sticky days of summer. What concerned me about going to a barber college was that the barbers were learning how to cut hair, & they were learning on me.
The elderly Ohio State Barber College has come a long way since the late 1950's. It is now called the Ohio State College of Barber & Styling. Thankfully it's air conditioning now.
While waiting my turn for a hair cut, I could watched through opened doors the giant tires of yellow electric city buses scrape the sidewalk curbs waiting to load & unload busy passengers. They then rolled away with a crackling of the sparks leaping from overhead wires. Mom & I sat on wooden benches along the wall. Clumps of colored hair from all shapes & sizes of heads fell to the floor & were stepped on. Haircuts were hot & sticky. I loathed the feel of all that loose hair falling on my sweaty neck. I would turn & watch my tortured face in the mirror while the barber scissored away at my dark blond hair. Wet beads rolled down my face, leaving vein-like trails. "Boy, you sweat like a horse," laughed the barber, "I'll bet you are glad to get it off a ya'." After they slid the steel razor down my neck a few times the ordeal would be over. Then came the cold swish, swish, swish of talcum powder brushed on my clean-shaven neck. I then slid down from the red padded board placed on the stool arms that held me high & hopped off the metal foot of the barber stool. My reward for sitting still for the barber & enduring the agonizing haircut was a trip with Mom next door to the Coney Island shop for a coney & a cold pop.
Back when I was a child growing up in Ohio in the late 1950's, I lived with my Mom & brothers in a small two-room upstairs apartment on Cleveland Avenue in Columbus. It was so small they had to share the only bathroom with our neighbor. They boys had a every month technique of taking turns going downtown with Mom to get haircuts. When it was time for my haircut, Mom & I would leave my older brother Doug to watch my more youthful brother Tony back at the apartment. Off they would go to the Ohio State Barber College on High Street. I enjoyed getting out with Mom but loathed going to the barber college, in the hot, sticky days of summer. What concerned me about going to a barber college was that the barbers were learning how to cut hair, & they were learning on me.
The elderly Ohio State Barber College has come a long way since the late 1950's. It is now called the Ohio State College of Barber & Styling. Thankfully it's air conditioning now.
While waiting my turn for a hair cut, I could watched through opened doors the giant tires of yellow electric city buses scrape the sidewalk curbs waiting to load & unload busy passengers. They then rolled away with a crackling of the sparks leaping from overhead wires. Mom & I sat on wooden benches along the wall. Clumps of colored hair from all shapes & sizes of heads fell to the floor & were stepped on. Haircuts were hot & sticky. I loathed the feel of all that loose hair falling on my sweaty neck. I would turn & watch my tortured face in the mirror while the barber scissored away at my dark blond hair. Wet beads rolled down my face, leaving vein-like trails. "Boy, you sweat like a horse," laughed the barber, "I'll bet you are glad to get it off a ya'." After they slid the steel razor down my neck a few times the ordeal would be over. Then came the cold swish, swish, swish of talcum powder brushed on my clean-shaven neck. I then slid down from the red padded board placed on the stool arms that held me high & hopped off the metal foot of the barber stool. My reward for sitting still for the barber & enduring the agonizing haircut was a trip with Mom next door to the Coney Island shop for a coney & a cold pop.
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