Nash Girls: It is Coming

By December of 1918, Frank’s Barbershop had become a very different establishment from the one Frank had opened years earlier.
The three barber chairs were still there. The photographs of Frank’s Navy boxing days still decorated the walls. The large mirrors, porcelain sinks, and familiar smell of shaving soap hadn’t changed.
But the customers certainly had.
The Nash automobile factory across the street was employing large numbers of women, and those women had discovered that Frank’s Barbershop offered something the traditional beauty parlors generally didn’t.
Freedom to get their hair cut however they pleased.
At first, they had come for chin-length bobs. Then came the shorter bobs with closely clipped necklines. Before long, women were requesting complete haircuts performed with hand-operated clippers.
And lately, an even more surprising fashion had begun appearing.
Women were asking to have their heads shaved completely smooth with a straight razor.
It certainly wasn’t a fashion sweeping Wisconsin. But among a growing group of Frank’s regular customers, it had become something of a competition to see who could wear the shortest haircut.
The atmosphere had changed along with the hairstyles.
Cigarette smoke frequently hung beneath the ceiling. Women passed silver flasks between themselves while waiting for haircuts. Some arrived wearing their factory clothes, while others had changed into their evening outfits.
Frank had never intended to operate anything resembling a social club.
Nevertheless, that was precisely what his barbershop was becoming.
And on one particularly cold December evening, the conversation turned toward something that had been troubling Frank for more than a year.
Prohibition.
THE NEWS FROM WASHINGTON
It was shortly after seven o’clock when five women from the evening factory crowd came through the door.
“Evening, Frank!”
“Evening, ladies. Come on in.”
Mabel was the first through the door, followed by Agnes, Florence, Ruth, and a younger woman named Dorothy.
Mabel had been one of the first women to request a complete clipper haircut. Her hair had grown out considerably since her last visit, although it was still shorter than what most Kenosha women would have considered respectable.
She removed her coat, settled into a waiting chair, and immediately reached into her handbag.
Out came a small metal flask.
“Anybody want a drink?”
Agnes laughed.
“Good heavens, Mabel. We haven’t even taken our coats off.”
“That’s why I’m offering.”
Mabel unscrewed the cap and took a swallow.
Frank looked over from his chair.
“What’ve you got there?”
“Whiskey.”
“Good whiskey?”
“Good enough that I’m not complaining.”
Frank smiled.
“That’s becoming harder to find.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Mabel offered the flask to Agnes, who took a small drink before passing it to Florence.
Meanwhile, Dorothy pulled a cigarette case from her purse.
“Anybody got a match?”
Eddie, working at the third chair, pointed toward the counter.
“There’s a box beside the shaving mugs.”
Dorothy struck a match and lit her cigarette.
Within minutes, several women were smoking.
Frank had grown accustomed to it.
What he hadn’t grown accustomed to was the increasingly serious talk about the government’s plans to prohibit alcoholic beverages.
Ruth unfolded a newspaper she had brought from the factory.
“Did anybody read what they’re saying about this Prohibition business?”
Mabel groaned.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m serious. They’re talking like it’s practically certain.”
Frank stopped working his clippers.
“Well, Congress proposed that amendment a year ago. Now the states are deciding whether to approve it.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Ruth answered. “If enough states approve it, they’re going to make liquor illegal everywhere.”
Agnes shook her head.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Doesn’t matter whether it’s ridiculous,” Frank said. “If enough states ratify it, it’ll become part of the Constitution.”
Mabel took another drink.
“Well, they can put whatever they want in the Constitution. I’m not giving up my whiskey.”
Several women laughed.
Vivian, who was preparing her middle chair for the next customer, looked over.
“Maybe you ought to be careful saying that so loudly.”
“Why?”
“Because someday somebody might take you seriously.”
Mabel raised her flask.
“Then they can arrest half the women working at Nash.”
THE HAND CLIPPERS GET A WORKOUT
Frank finished cutting the hair of a woman named Edith.
She had requested a short, even clipper cut, with the sides and back taken down almost to the scalp.
Frank had used his hand-operated clippers over practically her entire head, leaving only a little extra length on top.
He brushed the loose hair from her neck.
“How’s that?”
Edith examined herself in the mirror.
“Perfect.”
“Want the neckline shaved?”
“Go ahead.”
Frank applied a little warm lather to the back of her neck, opened his straight razor, and carefully cleaned the hairline.
Edith smiled.
“You know, Frank, I think next time I’ll just have you shave the whole thing.”
Mabel overheard her.
“Why wait?”
Edith laughed.
“Because I haven’t quite worked up the nerve.”
“Well, I’ve already decided that’s what I’m doing tonight.”
Frank turned toward Mabel.
“You’re getting your head shaved?”
“That’s right.”
“Completely?”
“Completely.”
Frank raised his eyebrows.
“You were complaining about the cold weather last time.”
“I’ve got a hat.”
“And you’ll probably need it.”
Mabel laughed.
“Frank, if I wanted somebody to talk me out of a haircut, I’d go to one of those beauty parlors.”
Vivian smiled.
“She’s got a point.”
Frank removed Edith’s cape.
“All right, Mabel. You’re next.”
MABEL GOES BALD
Mabel settled into Frank’s chair and placed her flask on the counter beside his shaving mug.
“Don’t drink all that while I’m under the cape,” she warned.
Frank laughed.
“I wouldn’t touch your whiskey.”
He fastened the white cape around her neck.
“Now, let’s be clear. You want everything shaved off?”
“Every last hair.”
Frank picked up his hand clippers.
“Well, we’ll take it down close first.”
Mabel looked toward the other women.
“Anybody else going to join me?”
Florence shook her head.
“Not tonight.”
Dorothy grinned.
“I might.”
Agnes took another cigarette from her case.
“You’ll freeze walking home.”
“Then I’ll walk faster,” Mabel answered.
Frank positioned the clippers against the front of her hairline.
Click-click-click-click.
The hand-operated machine worked steadily as he squeezed and released its handles.
A broad strip of hair disappeared from the front of Mabel’s head.
Brown clippings tumbled down the cape.
Frank worked backward over the crown, then began another strip.
Click-click-click-click.
Mabel watched the mirror.
“That looks better already.”
“There’s not much left,” Frank said.
“That’s the idea.”
Vivian glanced over from her chair.
“You’re going to be keeping Frank busy with the razor.”
Mabel smiled.
“He’s got plenty of practice shaving men.”
Frank continued around the sides and back, carefully removing the remaining hair.
By the time he finished, Mabel’s head was covered with very short stubble.
Frank put down the clippers.
“Last chance to change your mind.”
Mabel laughed.
“Frank, you’ve already clipped practically everything off. What exactly am I supposed to change my mind about?”
“There’s a difference between clipped and shaved.”
“I know. That’s why I’m paying you to shave it.”
Frank reached for a clean towel.
“All right, then.”
He dampened her scalp with warm water and softened the remaining stubble with a hot towel.
Then he worked shaving lather over her head with a brush.
The women gathered closer.
Dorothy watched with particular interest.
“I’ve never seen a woman get her whole head shaved before.”
“You have now,” Mabel answered.
Frank opened his straight razor.
“Hold still.”
He began at the front, drawing the blade carefully across the lathered scalp in short, controlled strokes.
After each pass, he wiped the razor clean.
The remaining stubble disappeared.
Frank worked across the top, then around the sides, carefully adjusting the angle of the blade around the ears.
Mabel sat unusually quiet.
Finally, Frank finished the back and wiped away the remaining lather.
He examined his work, touched up a few places, and applied a cool towel.
“There.”
Mabel opened her eyes.
Frank turned the chair toward the mirror.
Her head was completely smooth.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she raised both hands and rubbed her scalp.
“Oh, my goodness.”
Agnes burst out laughing.
“Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about fixing your hair tomorrow.”
Mabel smiled broadly.
“I love it.”
Dorothy leaned forward.
“Let me feel.”
Mabel lowered her head.
Dorothy ran her fingertips lightly over the smooth scalp.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Frank laughed.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
Mabel reached for her flask.
“Now that deserves a drink.”
NOBODY BELIEVES PROHIBITION WILL WORK
While Frank cleaned his razor, the conversation returned to Prohibition.
Mabel took a swallow from her flask.
“You know what I think?”
Frank smiled.
“You’re going to tell us whether we ask or not.”
“I think this whole Prohibition business is going to be the biggest mistake the government ever makes.”
Ruth nodded.
“They say it’ll stop drunkenness.”
“People aren’t going to stop drinking,” Mabel answered. “They’re just going to find somewhere else to buy it.”
Agnes leaned forward.
“Exactly. You can’t tell people who’ve been drinking all their lives that suddenly they aren’t allowed to anymore.”
Vivian folded a towel.
“Well, some people do drink too much.”
“Of course they do,” Mabel answered. “Some people eat too much, too. Are they going to outlaw supper?”
Eddie laughed.
“Don’t give Congress any ideas.”
Frank listened without saying much.
He knew considerably more about the subject than anyone in the room realized.
For some time, he had been preparing for precisely this possibility.
He had purchased property outside Kenosha, including an old barn that was far enough from town to provide some privacy.
With the help of his former middle-chair barber, who knew something about making liquor, Frank had established a small operation there.
The equipment was already installed.
And liquor was already being produced.
Frank hadn’t been foolish enough to tell his customers.
But he had been thinking about the possibilities for months.
If Prohibition became law, the demand for liquor wouldn’t simply disappear.
It might increase the value of what he was already making.
Mabel looked toward him.
“Frank, you’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Have I?”
“Yes. What do you think about all this?”
Frank wiped down his counter.
“I think people will find ways to get what they want.”
“Exactly!”
“And I think there’ll be money to be made by the people who figure out how to supply it.”
Vivian looked at him.
“That sounds like something you’ve given considerable thought to.”
Frank smiled.
“I’ve given it some thought.”
THE FARM OUTSIDE KENOSHA
Eddie had heard Frank mention the farm before.
He knew Frank had bought property outside town, and he knew there was an old barn on it.
What Eddie didn’t know was just how far Frank had gone with his plans.
“Frank,” he asked, “whatever happened with that property you bought?”
Frank looked at him.
“What about it?”
“You ever do anything with the barn?”
“A few things.”
“Like what?”
Frank shrugged.
“Fixed it up. Made it useful.”
Mabel laughed.
“Don’t tell me you’re becoming a farmer.”
Frank smiled.
“Not exactly.”
Agnes took a drag from her cigarette.
“You growing potatoes?”
“No.”
“Corn?”
“Some.”
“What are you going to do with corn?”
Frank looked at her.
“There’s more than one use for corn.”
Mabel suddenly laughed.
“Oh, I see where this is going.”
Frank said nothing.
“Frank, are you telling us you’re planning to make whiskey?”
“I didn’t tell you anything of the sort.”
“Well, you didn’t deny it.”
Frank smiled.
“I don’t have to deny every foolish thing somebody says in my shop.”
The women laughed.
But Vivian was watching him closely.
She had worked beside Frank long enough to recognize when he was deliberately avoiding a question.
And she had noticed something else.
Frank had been spending an unusual amount of time outside town.
Sometimes he left immediately after closing.
Other times he arrived at the barbershop looking tired, as though he had already put in several hours of work.
She suspected there was more to the farm than he was admitting.
DOROTHY MAKES A DECISION
By nine o’clock, Dorothy had made up her mind.
She wanted her head shaved, too.
Vivian looked at her.
“Are you certain?”
Dorothy nodded.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since Mabel got hers done.”
“You don’t have to do it just because she did.”
“I’m not. I want to.”
Vivian smiled.
“Well, come on, then.”
Dorothy settled into the middle chair.
Her hair was already short, with a closely clipped back and sides and perhaps an inch remaining on top.
Vivian fastened the cape.
“Same as Mabel?”
“Exactly.”
Vivian picked up her hand clippers.
Click-click-click-click.
She began removing the remaining hair, working across the top before clipping the sides and back down as close as the machine would comfortably cut.
Dorothy watched the clippings fall.
Mabel stood nearby, occasionally rubbing her freshly shaved head.
“You’re going to love it.”
Vivian finished with the clippers.
“All right. Now for the razor.”
She prepared Dorothy’s scalp with warm towels and shaving lather.
Frank glanced over.
“Make sure you take your time around the ears.”
Vivian looked at him.
“I’ve shaved plenty of necks, Frank.”
“A whole head’s a little different.”
“I know.”
She worked carefully, using short strokes and checking her progress in the mirror.
The other women continued talking while Dorothy sat quietly.
By the time Vivian finished, Dorothy’s scalp was smooth.
Vivian wiped away the remaining lather and turned the chair toward the mirror.
Dorothy stared at herself.
Then she smiled.
“Well, there’s something I never thought I’d do.”
Mabel laughed.
“Now there’s two of us.”
Agnes shook her head.
“Pretty soon half the women at Nash are going to be bald.”
Frank chuckled.
“Then I’d better buy more shaving soap.”
FRANK’S PRIVATE PLANS
After the last customers left, the shop grew quiet.
Eddie swept the floor while Vivian cleaned her station.
There were piles of short hair scattered around all three chairs, although much less than there would have been a year earlier.
Frank stood at his counter, examining the edge of his straight razor.
Vivian finally spoke.
“Frank.”
“Yes?”
“What’s really going on at that farm?”
Frank looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Eddie stopped sweeping.
Frank sighed.
“Well, I’ve been doing a little work out there.”
“What kind of work?”
Frank glanced toward the front door.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Making liquor.”
Eddie stared.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
Vivian put down her towel.
“Frank, you realize what could happen if Prohibition goes through?”
“That’s precisely why I’m doing it.”
“You’re preparing to break the law.”
Frank shook his head.
“Right now, I’m preparing for something that might become the law.”
“That’s not much of a distinction.”
“It’s a very important distinction.”
Eddie leaned against his broom.
“How much liquor are you making?”
“Enough to learn what I’m doing.”
“And who’s helping you?”
Frank smiled.
“Somebody who knows a little more about it than I do.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“The fellow who used to work in the middle chair?”
Frank didn’t answer immediately.
“He’s been helpful.”
Eddie looked impressed.
“So you’ve actually got the equipment running?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s making liquor?”
“Yes.”
“Is it any good?”
Frank grinned.
“Better than some of the whiskey people are paying good money for.”
Vivian shook her head.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Frank leaned against his counter.
“Vivian, listen to me. If enough states ratify this amendment, people aren’t suddenly going to stop drinking.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be the one supplying them.”
“No. But somebody will.”
“And you think you’re going to make a fortune?”
“I think there’s an opportunity.”
Vivian looked unconvinced.
“There’s also an opportunity to end up in jail.”
Frank nodded.
“That’s something I’ll have to consider.”
Eddie looked toward the window.
“Do you really think Prohibition is going to happen?”
Frank’s expression grew serious.
“A year ago, I thought there was a good chance. Now I think it’s very likely.”
Vivian frowned.
“Some people still say the states will never approve it.”
“Some people said Congress would never propose it, either.”
Nobody answered.
Frank continued.
“The country has changed. The war has changed things. People are talking about sacrifice, morality, conservation, and making everybody behave the way they think they ought to.”
He gestured toward the empty chairs.
“Look at the women who were in here tonight. Half of them had cigarettes. Several had flasks. Two had their heads shaved completely bald.”
Vivian smiled faintly.
“What does that have to do with Prohibition?”
“Everything.”
Frank picked up his hand clippers.
“Ten years ago, people would have told you those women would never walk into a barbershop and have their hair clipped off. Now they’re doing it every evening.”
“Times change,” Eddie said.
“Exactly. And when people decide they want something, they’re not always going to listen to somebody telling them they can’t have it.”
Vivian looked at him.
“Haircuts aren’t illegal.”
“No,” Frank answered. “And liquor isn’t nationally prohibited yet, either.”
He set the clippers down.
“But if it becomes illegal, I don’t believe the customers are going to disappear.”
ONE LAST DRINK
Frank reached beneath the counter and brought out a small bottle.
Eddie stared.
“Is that from the farm?”
Frank nodded.
“One of the better batches.”
Vivian looked horrified.
“You’re keeping it here?”
“Just this bottle.”
Frank poured a little into three small glasses.
Vivian hesitated.
Then she picked hers up.
“Well, if I’m going to be working beside a future bootlegger, I suppose I ought to know whether he makes decent liquor.”
Eddie laughed.
Frank raised his glass.
“To the end of the war.”
Vivian raised hers.
“And to the hope that the government comes to its senses.”
Eddie added, “And to keeping this barbershop open.”
They drank.
Vivian set down her glass.
She looked surprised.
“That’s actually rather good.”
Frank smiled.
“I told you.”
Eddie examined his empty glass.
“Frank, you might really have something here.”
Frank corked the bottle.
“I think so.”
Vivian pointed a finger at him.
“But I want you to promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever you decide to do with this liquor business, don’t bring trouble into this shop.”
Frank looked around the familiar room.
The three barber chairs. The mirrors. The shaving mugs. The photographs of his boxing days in the Navy.
He had spent years building the business.
He wasn’t about to throw it away carelessly.
“I’ll do my best,” he answered.
Vivian shook her head.
“That’s not quite the promise I wanted.”
Frank smiled.
“It’s the one I’m giving you.”
THE COMING STORM
A few minutes before ten, Eddie finished cleaning his station.
Vivian put away her scissors and clippers.
Frank walked to the front window.
Across the street, the Nash factory stood dark except for a few lights.
The women who had filled his shop earlier were on their way home, carrying their cigarettes, their flasks, and their freshly clipped or shaved heads.
Some believed Prohibition would never happen.
Others believed it would happen but could never be enforced.
Frank believed something different.
He believed it would happen.
And he believed that when it did, an enormous number of Americans would continue drinking anyway.
That was why he had bought the farm.
That was why he had repaired the barn.
And that was why, while other men argued about whether Prohibition would ever become law, Frank already had liquor being made outside Kenosha.
He wasn’t waiting for the politicians to make up their minds.
He was preparing for the day they did.
Eddie reached for the light switch.
“Ready, Frank?”
Frank turned away from the window.
“Just about.”
Vivian pulled on her coat.
“You know, Frank, there’s something rather strange about all this.”
“What’s that?”
“When I started working here, I never imagined I’d spend my evenings shaving women’s heads while they sat around drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes.”
Frank laughed.
“Neither did I.”
“And now you’re planning to become a liquor dealer.”
Frank smiled.
“Maybe.”
Vivian shook her head.
“I wonder what this place is going to look like in another five years.”
Frank glanced at the barber chairs one last time.
“Well, Vivian, if things keep going the way they have been, I wouldn’t dare guess.”
He switched off the lights.
Outside, the December wind swept through the streets of Kenosha.
The war in Europe had ended only weeks earlier, but another great change was approaching.
On December 18, 1917, Congress had proposed the Eighteenth Amendment. Throughout 1918, state legislatures had been considering it, and the number of ratifications was growing.
The required approval had not yet been reached.
But it was getting closer.
And somewhere outside Kenosha, in an old barn on Frank’s property, his private preparations were already underway.
The government might soon tell Americans they could no longer buy their liquor.
Frank intended to be ready for the customers who refused to listen.

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