Nash Girls: Delivery Boy Haircut

The summer heat had settled over Kenosha, Wisconsin, and the employees of the Nash automobile factory were feeling every bit of it.
The factory operated around the clock, with employees working twelve-hour shifts from seven in the morning until seven at night, and another group working from seven at night until seven the following morning.
Across from the factory, Frank’s Barbershop was enjoying a steady business.
Frank occupied the first barber chair, Vivian worked at the middle station, and Eddie, the youngest barber, handled the third chair.
The shop had become especially popular with the women employed at Nash. Many of them had abandoned their long hairstyles in favor of shorter, more practical haircuts.
Vivian, who had previously owned a beauty salon inherited from her aunt, had developed quite a following among these women.
Next door to the barbershop was a small restaurant operated by a German-American fellow named Henry Heller.
The restaurant served breakfast, dinner, and supper, along with sandwiches, homemade soups, coffee, and pie.
It also offered something that had become particularly popular with the factory employees.
Food delivery.
Not the sort of delivery service that required an automobile. Most of the restaurant’s customers were located within a few blocks, and the meals were simply carried to their destinations.
The restaurant’s delivery boy was a twenty-three-year-old named Walter Bennett.
Walter had been working for Mr. Heller for nearly two years. Besides delivering food, he washed dishes, cleared tables, helped prepare orders, and occasionally waited on customers.
Most of his deliveries went to the Nash factory guard shack and Frank’s Barbershop.
He also carried meals to several other nearby businesses and private homes.
The Nash factory provided a particularly steady source of business.
When employees were preparing for their meal breaks, someone inside the factory would telephone the restaurant and place an order.
Sometimes the order was for only two or three workers.
Other times, a dozen employees might want sandwiches, soup, coffee, or a hot plate lunch.
Walter would carry the food over to the guard shack, where the individual employees could collect their meals during their breaks.
He wasn’t permitted to wander through the factory delivering meals directly to the assembly lines.
Everything went through the guard shack.
The restaurant also received considerable business when the shifts ended.
At seven in the morning, employees finishing the night shift were often hungry after twelve hours of work.
Some stopped at the restaurant before heading home.
Others telephoned their orders ahead of time and collected their meals at the guard shack as they left the factory.
The same thing happened at seven in the evening when the day shift ended.
For Walter, those shift changes could be particularly hectic.
There were also the women who visited Frank’s Barbershop.
Some of them would order their meals before leaving Nash and arrange for Walter to bring the food directly to the shop.
That allowed them to eat while waiting for a haircut or while visiting with the other women.
Frank didn’t object.
As long as nobody spilled coffee or gravy into his barber chairs, he was perfectly happy with the arrangement.
And because of those deliveries, Walter had become a familiar face around the barbershop.
He knew Frank, Eddie, and most of the regular customers.
But there was one person he particularly enjoyed seeing.
Vivian.
The Young Woman in the Middle Chair
Vivian was twenty-four years old, only a year older than Walter.
She was an attractive woman with a lively personality and a confidence that Walter found rather intimidating.
Before coming to Frank’s, she had inherited her aunt’s beauty salon.
Unfortunately, all four of her employees had eventually left for better-paying jobs at Nash, leaving Vivian unable to keep the salon operating.
When Frank’s middle-chair barber departed to work on a farm, Vivian had applied for the position.
Frank had given her an opportunity, and she had quickly proven herself capable of handling both male and female customers.
She was particularly popular among the factory women who wanted shorter haircuts.
Walter had watched her work on numerous occasions while delivering meals.
He had seen women enter the shop with hair reaching halfway down their backs and leave with short bobs that barely covered their ears.
He had also watched Vivian give men traditional haircuts, carefully working with scissors, combs, hand-operated clippers, and a straight razor.
She was very good at her trade.
Walter admired her.
But whenever she spoke directly to him, he had a tendency to become unusually quiet.
Vivian had noticed.
And she found it rather amusing.
Sometimes she would deliberately ask him questions simply to watch him struggle for an answer.
“Good afternoon, Walter. Bringing me something special today?”
“Just the sandwiches, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Walter, I’m only a year older than you!”
“Sorry, Vivian.”
She would laugh.
And Walter would turn bright red.
Frank had noticed the situation as well.
But he generally kept his observations to himself.
The Hottest Day of the Summer
One particularly hot afternoon in July, Walter had been running deliveries almost continuously.
The restaurant had received several large orders from the Nash factory.
A group of employees on their meal break had ordered roast beef sandwiches, vegetable soup, and coffee.
Walter had carried the order to the guard shack, returned to the restaurant, and immediately been sent back with another order.
Then he had delivered a hot meal to a nearby house.
By the time he returned, three women from Nash had telephoned the restaurant requesting their lunches be brought to Frank’s Barbershop.
Walter collected the order.
Two roast beef sandwiches on rye bread, a ham sandwich, three slices of apple pie, and a covered pot of coffee.
He arranged everything on a large tray and headed next door.
The heat was miserable.
His shirt was soaked with perspiration.
His thick brown hair, which hadn’t been cut since April, was plastered against his forehead.
The hair around his ears and collar was damp, and he repeatedly pushed the heavy waves away from his eyes.
When he opened the barbershop door, the familiar smell of shaving soap, hair tonic, tobacco smoke, and freshly brewed coffee greeted him.
Three women were waiting for their lunches.
Frank was cutting a gentleman’s hair in the first chair.
Eddie was sweeping around his station.
Vivian had just finished giving a young Nash employee a short bob and was brushing the loose clippings from her middle chair.
“Good heavens, Walter!” she exclaimed.
Walter set the tray on the counter.
“What?”
“Look at you!”
He looked down at his clothing.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re absolutely drenched!”
One of the women laughed.
“He’s been running back and forth to Nash all afternoon.”
Walter wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
“It’s hotter than blazes outside.”
Frank glanced over.
“How many deliveries have you made today?”
“I’ve lost count.”
“Well, you’re certainly earning your wages.”
Walter smiled.
“I suppose so.”
Vivian stepped closer.
She studied his thick, damp hair.
“Well, I can see one reason you’re so uncomfortable.”
Walter looked puzzled.
“What’s that?”
She pointed at his head.
“That enormous mop of hair you’re carrying around.”
Walter laughed.
“My hair?”
“Yes, your hair.”
She reached up and lifted a damp lock away from his forehead.
“Good heavens, Walter. When was the last time you had this cut?”
He thought for a moment.
“April, I believe.”
“April!”
“It’s only July.”
“Walter Bennett, that’s three months!”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Apparently too busy to visit a barber.”
Frank chuckled.
“She’s got you there, son.”
Vivian examined the hair hanging over Walter’s ears.
“It’s practically dripping onto your collar.”
Walter laughed.
“Well, it has been rather uncomfortable.”
“Then why don’t you do something about it?”
“What do you mean?”
Vivian turned toward her empty barber chair.
“Sit down.”
Walter blinked.
“What?”
“Sit down in my chair. I’m going to give you a haircut.”
An Unexpected Offer
Walter looked toward the restaurant.
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to be working.”
“Have you got another delivery waiting?”
“Not right now.”
“Then you’ve got time.”
He hesitated.
“I really hadn’t planned on getting a haircut today.”
Vivian smiled.
“Well, you work next door to a barbershop. You couldn’t ask for a more convenient arrangement.”
One of the women eating her sandwich laughed.
“Go ahead, Walter. Vivian cuts my hair, and I haven’t regretted it.”
Another woman added, “You might actually be able to walk across the street without soaking your shirt.”
Walter smiled nervously.
“I suppose I could use a trim.”
“A trim?” Vivian repeated.
She looked at his hair again.
“Walter, you need considerably more than a trim.”
Frank glanced over.
“Better take her up on it. She doesn’t usually have an empty chair this time of day.”
Walter looked at Vivian.
“All right. But nothing too drastic.”
She laughed.
“We’ll see what we can do.”
He settled into the middle barber chair.
Vivian took a clean white cotton barber cloth and fastened it around his neck.
She tucked a narrow strip of cloth beneath his collar to prevent loose hair from falling down his shirt.
Then she began combing through his thick brown hair.
“My goodness, Walter. You’ve certainly got a lot of hair.”
He looked at himself in the mirror.
“I suppose I do.”
She lifted the hair at the back of his head.
“It’s hanging well over your collar.”
“I know.”
“And it’s covering half your ears.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve got enough on top to make a horsehair mattress.”
Frank burst out laughing.
“Vivian, leave the poor fellow alone!”
“I’m only telling him the truth.”
Walter laughed too.
“Well, what would you suggest?”
Vivian studied his reflection.
“Something short.”
“How short?”
“Short enough that you won’t spend half your working day pushing wet hair out of your eyes.”
She picked up her scissors.
“Now, I can give you an ordinary trim if that’s what you really want. But if you’re asking what I think would suit you, I’d recommend a proper short summer haircut.”
Walter considered the suggestion.
He spent most of his working hours in a hot kitchen or walking outside carrying food.
His thick hair was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
“Would it be easier to keep clean?”
“Much easier.”
“And cooler?”
“Considerably.”
Walter smiled.
“Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
Vivian returned his smile.
“Then let’s get started.”
The Hair Begins to Fall
Vivian combed Walter’s hair straight back and lifted a large section between her fingers.
The scissors closed.
Snip.
A thick lock of brown hair dropped onto the white cloth.
Walter looked down.
“That’s quite a bit.”
Vivian continued cutting.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
More hair fell.
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” she assured him.
She worked around his head, shortening the heavy growth above his ears and removing the long hair at the back.
Within several minutes, Walter’s appearance had already changed considerably.
His ears were visible, and his collar was no longer buried beneath thick brown waves.
One of the factory women looked over from the waiting chairs.
“That’s already a tremendous improvement.”
Vivian smiled.
“And I’m not finished.”
Walter glanced at the pile of hair gathering on the cloth.
“I should hope there’s enough left to finish.”
Everyone laughed.
Vivian reached toward the shelf beside her station and picked up a pair of hand-operated hair clippers.
Walter watched her.
“Are those going to take it shorter?”
“Yes. These will give you a nice close finish around the sides and back.”
She showed him the clippers.
“Ever had your hair cut with a pair of these?”
“When I was younger.”
“Then you know what to expect.”
She placed the clippers against the back of his neck and began squeezing the handles.
Click-click-click-click.
The metal teeth moved steadily upward, removing the thick hair close to his scalp.
Walter felt the cool steel traveling along his neckline.
Vivian worked carefully around the back of his head.
Click-click-click-click.
Small tufts of brown hair dropped onto his shoulders.
She moved around to his right side, gently folding his ear forward.
“Hold still a moment.”
The clippers traveled upward again.
Walter watched in the mirror as the hair around his ear disappeared.
Then Vivian repeated the process on the other side.
Frank glanced over from his chair.
“You’re giving him quite a short one.”
“That’s what he needs,” Vivian replied.
Walter smiled nervously.
“I didn’t realize I needed quite this much taken off.”
Vivian stopped and turned his chair toward the mirror.
“Have a look.”
Walter studied his reflection.
His hair was neatly shortened, with the sides clipped close and the top still long enough to comb.
He looked considerably more mature.
“Well, that actually looks pretty good.”
“Of course it does.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“But I think we could do even better.”
Walter looked at her.
“Better?”
She nodded.
“With the heat we’ve been having, I think you’d be happier with the top shorter too.”
“How much shorter?”
She held her fingers apart.
“About half an inch.”
Walter looked at his reflection again.
He had never worn his hair quite that short.
“Wouldn’t that make me look like a soldier?”
Frank laughed.
“Nothing wrong with looking like a soldier these days.”
Vivian smiled.
“It would make you look neat and keep you comfortable. But it’s your decision.”
Walter thought about the heat in the restaurant kitchen, the endless walks to the Nash guard shack, and the perspiration constantly running down his forehead.
Finally, he nodded.
“All right. Let’s do it.”
Vivian grinned.
“Now you’re talking.”
A Proper Summer Haircut
Vivian dampened the remaining hair on top and combed it straight upward.
Then she began cutting it down to a short, even length.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
Brown hair fell steadily onto the cloth.
Walter watched the transformation in the mirror.
His forehead appeared larger. His ears stood out more prominently, and the thick waves that had always been part of his appearance were disappearing.
Vivian worked methodically, checking the length from every angle.
She used the clippers once more to shorten the sides and back, blending them neatly into the top.
Then she put down her tools and stepped back.
“There.”
Walter studied himself.
His hair was now extremely short compared with the heavy growth he’d walked in with.
He slowly smiled.
“Well, I’ll be.”
Frank looked over.
“That’s a good haircut, Walter.”
Eddie nodded.
“Looks like you lost about two pounds.”
Walter laughed.
“It certainly feels like it.”
Vivian ran her comb over the top one final time.
“Now, there’s one more thing.”
Walter looked at her suspiciously.
“What?”
“Your neckline.”
She picked up a shaving brush and a small bowl of warm lather.
“I’m going to clean that up properly.”
Walter relaxed.
“Oh. All right.”
Vivian brushed the warm shaving soap along the back of his neck and around the edges of his newly clipped hair.
Then she opened her straight razor.
Walter heard the familiar click as she prepared the blade.
“Keep your head forward.”
He obeyed.
Vivian carefully shaved the fine hairs below his neckline, leaving a clean, sharp edge.
She wiped away the remaining lather with a warm towel.
Then she rubbed a little hair tonic between her palms and smoothed it over his short hair.
“There. Finished.”
She removed the barber cloth and shook the clippings onto the floor.
Walter stood up and immediately ran his hand over his head.
The sensation surprised him.
Instead of thick, damp waves, his fingers encountered short, closely cropped hair.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Good heavens. I can actually feel the air.”
Vivian laughed.
“That’s what happens when you finally get rid of three months’ worth of hair.”
Walter turned toward the mirror again.
“I hardly recognize myself.”
“Well, I recognize you,” Frank said. “And you look a sight better.”
The Restaurant Owner Comes Looking
Just then, the barbershop door opened.
A stocky man wearing a white apron stepped inside.
It was Mr. Heller, the owner of the restaurant next door.
“Anybody seen Walter?”
Frank pointed toward the middle chair.
“Right there.”
Mr. Heller looked directly at Walter.
For a moment, he didn’t recognize him.
Then his eyes widened.
“Walter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened to your hair?”
Vivian burst out laughing.
“I happened to it.”
Mr. Heller stepped closer.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
He walked around Walter, examining the haircut.
“You look like an entirely different fellow.”
Walter smiled.
“Vivian said I’d be cooler with it short.”
Mr. Heller nodded approvingly.
“She’s right about that. You’ve been complaining about the heat all week.”
He looked toward Vivian.
“How much do I owe you for fixing him up?”
Walter immediately protested.
“I’ll pay for my own haircut.”
Vivian waved her hand.
“Don’t worry about it, Walter. Consider it a thank-you for all those lunches you’ve been carrying over here.”
Mr. Heller chuckled.
“Well, don’t let him get too comfortable. I’ve got another order waiting for the Nash guard shack.”
Walter reached for his cap.
Then he stopped.
For the first time in months, it fit comfortably over his head without a mass of hair pushing against it.
He laughed.
“Even my cap fits better.”
Vivian smiled.
“Imagine that.”
Back to the Guard Shack
Walter returned to the restaurant, where the other employees immediately noticed his haircut.
The cook looked up from the stove.
“Where’d all your hair go?”
“Next door.”
The waitress laughed.
“Vivian finally got hold of you, didn’t she?”
Walter grinned.
“She did.”
Mr. Heller handed him another tray.
“Two roast beef sandwiches, a bowl of vegetable soup, and coffee for the guards.”
Walter collected the order and headed across the street.
The afternoon sun was still beating down on Kenosha.
The pavement was hot, and the air carried the familiar smells of automobile exhaust, coal smoke, and factory machinery.
But something was different.
Walter could feel the breeze against the back of his neck.
There was no heavy hair hanging over his collar.
Nothing was falling across his forehead.
When he reached the Nash guard shack, one of the guards looked up.
“Good Lord, Walter! Did you join the Army?”
Walter laughed.
“No. I just got a haircut.”
“Looks like you got your money’s worth.”
“Vivian over at Frank’s did it.”
The guard nodded.
“That young woman knows how to handle a pair of clippers.”
Walter set down the food.
“She certainly does.”
A few minutes later, several factory employees came over during their break to collect lunches that had been ordered earlier.
One of the women recognized Walter immediately.
“Good heavens! What happened to you?”
Walter smiled.
“Got tired of sweating.”
She laughed.
“Well, that ought to help.”
Another woman examined his haircut.
“Did Frank do that?”
“No. Vivian.”
The woman smiled knowingly.
“Ah. Vivian.”
Walter looked puzzled.
“What?”
“Nothing, Walter. Nothing at all.”
The women collected their meals and headed back toward the factory.
Walter returned to the restaurant, feeling rather pleased with himself.
The Evening Shift Change
As seven o’clock approached, the restaurant became busy again.
The day shift at Nash was preparing to leave, and the night shift would soon be arriving.
Several workers had telephoned orders for meals they intended to collect at the guard shack on their way home.
Others planned to stop at the restaurant itself.
Walter made several more trips across the street.
He carried sandwiches, hot meals, coffee, and slices of pie.
Some of the workers recognized him immediately.
Others looked twice before realizing who he was.
By the time the evening rush began to settle down, Walter had heard nearly a dozen comments about his haircut.
Most were complimentary.
A few men joked that he looked ready to enlist.
But Walter didn’t mind.
For the first time in weeks, he had managed to work through the afternoon without constantly wiping perspiration-soaked hair away from his face.
He was beginning to think Vivian had been absolutely right.
One More Delivery
Later that evening, Walter returned to Frank’s Barbershop carrying a small paper bag.
The shop was still open to accommodate the workers coming and going from the Nash factory.
Vivian was between customers, cleaning her scissors and arranging her combs.
Walter approached her chair.
“Hello again.”
She looked up and smiled.
“Well, if it isn’t my handsome delivery boy.”
Walter blushed.
“I brought you something.”
He handed her the bag.
Inside was a generous slice of apple pie.
Vivian looked surprised.
“What’s this for?”
“For the haircut.”
“I told you that was on me.”
“I know. But I wanted to thank you.”
Vivian smiled warmly.
“That’s very thoughtful, Walter.”
Frank looked over from his chair.
“Where’s mine?”
Walter laughed.
“I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”
“You’d better.”
Vivian set the pie on the counter.
Then she looked at Walter’s closely cropped head.
“How does it feel?”
“Wonderful.”
“Really?”
“I made several more trips over to Nash, and for the first time all summer, I didn’t have hair sticking to my forehead.”
Vivian looked pleased.
“Then I suppose we made the right decision.”
Walter hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled.
“I think I’d like to keep it this way.”
Vivian leaned against her barber chair.
“Then you’ll have to come back regularly.”
“How regularly?”
“Every two or three weeks, if you want it kept nice and short.”
Walter nodded.
“I can manage that.”
She grinned.
“And next time, Walter, you don’t have to wait until you’re dripping with perspiration before you ask.”
He laughed.
“I’ll remember.”
Vivian looked at him for a moment.
Then she added, “And you don’t have to bring a food delivery every time you want to come in and say hello.”
Walter’s face reddened.
Frank, who had overheard the conversation, chuckled quietly.
Walter smiled.
“Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
Vivian returned his smile.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Walter headed back toward the restaurant.
As he stepped outside, he reached up and rubbed his freshly clipped head once more.
He had walked into Frank’s Barbershop that afternoon carrying three lunches and expecting nothing more than another ordinary delivery.
Instead, he had lost nearly all the hair he’d spent months growing.
And he had finally found a reason to visit Vivian that had nothing whatsoever to do with delivering sandwiches.
Inside the shop, Frank glanced toward the door.
“That boy’s going to be coming around here an awful lot.”
Vivian picked up her scissors.
“He already does, Frank.”
Frank smiled.
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s the sandwiches he’s interested in.”
Vivian laughed, lit a cigarette, and settled back beside her middle barber chair.
“No,” she replied. “I don’t suppose it is.”

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