Nash Girls: Homecoming

Kenosha, Wisconsin — Spring 1919
Sergeant Russell Callahan had been looking forward to returning home to Kenosha for nearly two years.
At twenty-eight years old, Russell had survived the war in Europe and returned in excellent physical condition. He stood just over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and the disciplined appearance of a man who had spent considerable time in the United States Army.
He had missed many things while serving overseas.
His home.
His Buick touring car with its smooth-running six-cylinder engine.
The familiar streets of Kenosha.
But most of all, he had missed his wife, Bernice.
When Russell left for military service, Bernice had beautiful, thick brown hair that reached well below her shoulders. He remembered how she would brush it every evening and how she would sometimes leave it hanging loose around the house.
He had always admired her hair.
And throughout his time overseas, he had imagined returning home to find her looking exactly as she had when he left.
But the world had changed during the war.
And Bernice had changed with it.
THE HOMECOMING
Russell arrived at the railroad station on a cool spring afternoon.
Bernice was waiting for him, wearing a dark blue coat and a small fashionable hat.
When she saw him, she hurried forward.
“Russell!”
He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Russell stepped back and looked at his wife.
“Good Lord, it’s wonderful to see you.”
Bernice smiled.
“I’m so glad you’re home.”
He kissed her again.
Then he noticed something unusual.
There was no hair showing beneath her hat.
Russell looked puzzled.
“Did you cut your hair?”
Bernice hesitated.
“Yes.”
“How short?”
“Quite a bit shorter than when you left.”
Russell smiled.
“Well, I suppose that’s all right. Let me see.”
Bernice slowly removed her hat.
Russell stared.
Her head was completely smooth.
There wasn’t even enough hair remaining to make a noticeable shadow.
She had visited Frank’s Barbershop the previous evening and received a fresh straight razor head shave.
Russell looked at her in disbelief.
“Bernice?”
She gave him a nervous smile.
“I know. It’s a big change.”
“Where’s your hair?”
“I had it shaved.”
“Shaved?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
Bernice nodded.
Russell looked around the railroad station.
He almost expected somebody to laugh and tell him it was a joke.
Nobody did.
“Why in the world would you do that?”
Bernice explained that she had started working at the Nash automobile factory while he was overseas.
Many of the women there had begun wearing shorter hairstyles.
At first, they had gotten chin-length bobs.
Then came shorter cuts with the backs and sides clipped.
Eventually, a growing number of women began requesting complete clipper cuts and straight razor head shaves.
Bernice had tried it herself several months earlier.
And she loved it.
Russell listened in disbelief.
“You mean other women are doing this?”
“Yes. Quite a few.”
“Walking around with their heads shaved completely bald?”
Bernice nodded.
“Especially some of the women at Nash.”
Russell shook his head.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it’s true.”
He looked at her again.
“When I left, your hair was halfway down your back.”
“I know.”
“And now you’re bald.”
Bernice smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
Russell said nothing more.
He was delighted to be home.
But he was deeply disappointed by what he had discovered.
THREE DAYS OF ADJUSTMENT
Over the next several days, Russell tried to understand what had happened while he was overseas.
Bernice told him about her work at Nash.
She explained how the war had created opportunities for women to earn good wages in factories.
She talked about the friends she had made and the long hours they worked.
She also told him about the influenza epidemic the previous autumn.
Schools had closed.
Church services had been suspended.
Theaters had shut their doors.
People had become frightened of gathering together.
But the factory had continued operating, and Frank’s Barbershop had remained open.
Russell listened with interest.
He had missed so much.
Then Bernice told him something that bothered him all over again.
She intended to return to Frank’s Barbershop in a few days.
“For what?” Russell asked.
“To have my head shaved again.”
He stared.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“Bernice, you haven’t got any hair.”
She laughed.
“It’s already starting to grow back.”
Russell looked closely.
He could barely see any stubble.
“You’re going to pay somebody to shave that?”
“Yes.”
“How often have you been doing this?”
“Sometimes every two or three days.”
Russell shook his head.
“Good heavens.”
Bernice smiled.
“I like keeping it smooth.”
He sat down.
“I don’t understand any of this.”
Bernice joined him.
“Russell, I know you don’t like it.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“But nobody made me do it.”
“Somebody must have talked you into it.”
“No.”
“Then who started all this?”
Bernice shrugged.
“I don’t know who was first. It just became popular with some of the women.”
Russell looked at her.
“Where do you get it done?”
“Frank’s Barbershop, near the factory.”
“Frank?”
“Yes.”
Russell’s expression hardened.
“I think I’d like to meet this fellow.”
Bernice looked concerned.
“Russell, please don’t go over there looking for trouble.”
He didn’t answer.
THE BUICK SIX
The following evening, Russell climbed into his Buick touring car.
The automobile was equipped with Buick’s six-cylinder engine, a motor Russell had always appreciated for its smooth running and dependable power.
Bernice had arranged for the car to be maintained during his absence.
Russell checked the controls, started the engine, and listened as it settled into a steady rhythm.
He pulled away from the house and headed toward the Nash factory.
As he drove through Kenosha, he noticed how much had changed.
There were more women working in industrial jobs.
Women were wearing shorter skirts and more practical clothing.
And he began noticing something else.
Short hair.
Lots of it.
Some women wore chin-length bobs.
Others had their hair clipped closely around the ears.
A few had such short hair that Russell wondered whether they had been shaved recently.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
He had gone overseas to fight for his country.
He had endured military training, difficult conditions, and the uncertainty of war.
And now he had returned to discover that the woman he loved had changed in a way he could barely understand.
He was angry.
He wasn’t simply disappointed.
He was furious.
And he intended to confront the man who had shaved his wife’s head.
THE BARBERSHOP
It was shortly after seven o’clock when Russell pulled his Buick to the curb outside Frank’s Barbershop.
He shut off the engine and stepped out.
He was wearing his Army service jacket, and his posture was straight and rigid.
He walked toward the entrance.
Through the front window, he could see three barber chairs.
Every chair was occupied.
And every customer appeared to be a woman.
Russell opened the door.
The bell rang.
Frank looked up.
“Evening.”
Russell didn’t answer immediately.
He was too busy looking around.
What he saw astonished him.
Vivian was working at the middle chair, carefully shaving the head of a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties.
The woman’s scalp was covered with shaving lather, and Vivian was drawing a straight razor across the top of her head.
At Eddie’s chair, another young woman was having the remaining hair removed with hand-operated clippers.
Click-click-click-click.
Short pieces of hair fell onto the cape.
Frank himself was finishing a closely clipped haircut on a woman whose hair was barely longer than the stubble on Russell’s own head.
And in the waiting area sat several more women.
Two had completely smooth heads.
Another had a very short clipper cut.
One was smoking a cigarette while talking with her friends.
Russell stood motionless.
His wife hadn’t exaggerated.
This really was happening.
And Bernice certainly wasn’t the only woman doing it.
THE CONFRONTATION
Frank noticed Russell’s expression.
“Can I help you, soldier?”
Russell stepped forward.
“Are you Frank?”
“That’s right.”
“You own this place?”
“Yes, sir.”
Russell took another step.
“My name is Sergeant Russell Callahan.”
Frank nodded.
“Welcome home, Sergeant.”
Russell ignored the greeting.
“My wife comes here.”
Frank waited.
“Bernice Callahan.”
Frank thought for a moment.
“Yes. I know Bernice.”
Russell’s expression hardened.
“You shaved her head.”
Frank nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Completely bald.”
“That’s right.”
Russell pointed toward Vivian’s chair.
“Just like you’re doing to that young woman over there.”
Frank glanced toward Vivian.
“Yes.”
Russell shook his head.
“I went overseas to fight a war. I left behind a wife with beautiful hair that hung halfway down her back.”
Frank listened.
“And when I came home, I found a woman standing at the railroad station with her head shaved like a billiard ball.”
Several women stopped talking.
Russell continued.
“Do you have any idea how disappointing that was?”
Frank said nothing.
“I spent months thinking about coming home. Thinking about seeing my wife again. And when I finally got back, I could hardly believe what I was looking at.”
He gestured toward the women.
“And now I come in here and see that you’ve been doing it to practically every woman who walks through the door!”
Frank remained calm.
“Not every woman in Kenosha, Sergeant.”
Russell looked around.
“Well, it certainly looks that way!”
THE WOMEN SPEAK UP
The young woman in Vivian’s chair looked toward Russell.
“Nobody’s making us do this.”
Russell turned.
She continued.
“I asked Vivian to shave my head.”
Another woman in the waiting area nodded.
“And I asked Frank to shave mine.”
Russell looked frustrated.
“That’s what my wife keeps telling me.”
Vivian set down her razor.
“Then perhaps you ought to believe her.”
Russell looked toward Vivian.
She continued.
“Your wife is a grown woman. She made her own decision.”
Russell shook his head.
“I understand that. But I still don’t understand why she’d want to do it.”
Frank raised his hand.
“Vivian, let me talk to the Sergeant.”
Vivian nodded and returned her attention to her customer.
Frank removed the cape from the woman in his chair.
“Sergeant, why don’t you come over here?”
Russell approached.
Frank gestured toward an empty waiting chair.
“Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Suit yourself.”
FRANK EXPLAINS WHAT HAPPENED
Frank leaned against his barber counter.
“Sergeant, I want you to understand something.”
Russell folded his arms.
“I’m listening.”
“I didn’t start this fashion.”
Russell looked skeptical.
Frank continued.
“When the women first started coming in here from Nash, most of them wanted their hair bobbed.”
He gestured toward Vivian.
“Then they started asking for shorter bobs. Some wanted the backs clipped. Then they wanted the sides clipped.”
Russell looked toward Eddie’s chair.
Frank continued.
“Eventually, some started asking for complete haircuts with the hand clippers.”
He paused.
“And then a few began asking for straight razor head shaves.”
Russell shook his head.
“And you went along with it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what they wanted.”
Russell looked toward the women.
Frank continued.
“I never promoted any of this. I didn’t go across the street to Nash telling women they ought to shave their heads.”
He gestured toward the shop.
“I’ve been here. I’ve watched the whole thing happen. And I’ve facilitated it.”
Russell frowned.
“Facilitated it?”
“Yes. I provided the haircuts they asked for.”
Frank paused.
“Your wife wasn’t the first woman to have her head shaved in this shop. She wasn’t even among the first dozen.”
Russell looked surprised.
Frank continued.
“By the time Bernice decided to do it, she had already seen plenty of other women wearing the same haircut.”
Russell glanced toward the waiting area.
“I can see that now.”
Frank nodded.
“She wasn’t lying to you, Sergeant.”
THE WAR CHANGED EVERYTHING
Russell looked down.
“When I left, things were different.”
Frank nodded.
“I know.”
Russell continued.
“My wife didn’t work at Nash. She didn’t spend her evenings in barbershops. And she certainly didn’t shave her head.”
Frank listened.
“Now she’s earning money, she’s got all these new friends, and she’s talking about going back every couple of days to have her head shaved again.”
Russell shook his head.
“I don’t even recognize the life I came home to.”
Frank’s expression softened.
“Sergeant, I think that’s what’s really bothering you.”
Russell looked up.
“What?”
“Not just the haircut.”
Russell didn’t answer.
Frank continued.
“You left home expecting things to stay the way they were.”
“Yes.”
“And while you were away, life kept moving.”
Russell looked toward the floor.
Frank spoke quietly.
“Your wife had to find ways to get through the war. She went to work. She made friends. She became more independent.”
He gestured toward the women.
“And she started doing some things that probably would’ve surprised both of you before you left.”
Russell nodded slowly.
“That’s true.”
Frank continued.
“But she still waited for you.”
Russell looked up.
“Yes.”
“And she was there when you came home.”
Russell swallowed.
“Yes.”
Frank nodded.
“That’s something worth remembering.”
FRANK’S NAVY YEARS
Russell looked toward the photographs on the wall.
Several showed a younger Frank wearing Navy boxing clothes.
He studied them for a moment.
“Are those pictures of you?”
Frank nodded.
“Yes.”
“You were in the Navy?”
“That’s right.”
Russell looked surprised.
“I didn’t know that.”
Frank smiled faintly.
“Most people don’t.”
Russell stepped closer to the photographs.
“You boxed?”
“Quite a bit.”
Frank continued.
“I spent plenty of time training, fighting, and learning how to take orders.”
Russell smiled slightly.
“Sounds familiar.”
Frank nodded.
“And when I came home, things weren’t quite the way I’d remembered them, either.”
Russell looked toward him.
Frank continued.
“That’s something people don’t always understand about military service.”
“What?”
“You leave home with a picture in your mind of what you’re coming back to.”
Russell nodded.
“Exactly.”
“And then you come home and discover that life didn’t stop while you were away.”
Frank gestured toward the shop.
“People kept working. They kept making decisions. They kept changing.”
Russell looked toward the women.
Frank continued.
“And sometimes those changes are difficult to accept.”
Russell sighed.
“I suppose they are.”
FRANK TAKES THE HIGH ROAD
Frank studied Russell for a moment.
He could tell the young man was still struggling with his emotions.
He also knew Russell had come into the shop prepared for a fight.
“Sergeant,” Frank said quietly, “can I ask you something?”
Russell nodded.
“Go ahead.”
“Did you come here intending to hit me?”
Russell hesitated.
Then he answered honestly.
“Yes.”
Vivian looked up immediately.
“Frank—”
Frank raised his hand.
“It’s all right, Vivian.”
Russell continued.
“I was angry. I still am, to some extent.”
Frank nodded.
“I understand.”
Russell looked at him.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Frank stepped closer.
“Sergeant, you’ve been through a great deal already.”
Russell said nothing.
“You’ve been overseas. You’ve been away from your wife. You’ve lived through things most people here will never experience.”
Frank paused.
“And now you’ve come home to find that things are dramatically different from when you left.”
Russell lowered his eyes.
Frank continued.
“I know something about that because I’ve been in the military myself.”
He gestured toward the Navy photographs.
“And I know how difficult it can be to adjust.”
Russell nodded slowly.
Frank took a breath.
“So if you want to hit me for what I’ve done to your wife, I understand.”
Vivian immediately protested.
“Frank, don’t be ridiculous!”
Frank looked toward her.
“It’s all right.”
Then he turned back to Russell.
“I’m not going to fight you.”
Russell stared.
Frank continued.
“You’ve already been through enough fighting.”
He paused.
“If you feel like you need to take a swing at me, I’m not going to swing back.”
The room fell silent.
Russell looked at Frank for several seconds.
“You’d really let me hit you?”
Frank nodded.
“I’d rather take a punch than see a man who’s just come home from war get himself into another fight.”
Russell’s expression began to change.
Frank continued.
“And I don’t believe hitting me is going to make you feel any better about Bernice’s haircut.”
Russell looked away.
“No.”
Frank waited.
Russell finally shook his head.
“No, I don’t suppose it would.”
TWO MEN WHO UNDERSTOOD
For several moments, neither man spoke.
Then Russell looked toward the photographs again.
“You know, Frank, I didn’t realize you were a veteran.”
Frank smiled faintly.
“That was quite a few years ago.”
Russell nodded.
“I suppose it was.”
Frank continued.
“But I remember what it felt like coming home.”
Russell looked toward him.
Frank spoke quietly.
“Everybody expects you to be happy. And you are happy. But sometimes you don’t quite know where you belong anymore.”
Russell swallowed.
“That’s exactly how I feel.”
Frank nodded.
“I figured.”
Russell looked toward the floor.
“Over there, everything was different. You knew what your orders were. You knew what you were supposed to do.”
He paused.
“Then you come home and find that everybody’s been getting along without you.”
Frank listened.
Russell continued.
“I don’t even know where I fit anymore.”
Frank stepped closer.
“You fit right where you always did, Sergeant.”
Russell looked up.
“You’re home.”
Russell’s eyes began to water.
Frank continued.
“And you’ve got a wife who waited for you.”
Russell nodded.
“Yes.”
“She worked hard while you were gone. She kept things going. And she was standing at that railroad station waiting for you to come back.”
Russell swallowed.
Frank smiled gently.
“That’s worth a whole lot more than a head of hair.”
THE EMBRACE
Russell stood quietly for several moments.
Then he extended his hand.
“Frank, I’m sorry.”
Frank took it.
“Nothing to apologize for, Sergeant.”
Russell shook his head.
“No. I came in here looking for a fight.”
Frank smiled.
“I noticed.”
Russell gave a small laugh.
“I was ready to knock you through that front window.”
“Well, I’m glad you changed your mind. Glass is expensive.”
A few women laughed softly.
Russell looked at Frank for another moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he stepped forward and embraced him.
Frank returned the hug.
It wasn’t a long embrace.
But it was genuine.
Two men who had served their country, separated by years and different experiences, understood something that didn’t need further explanation.
When Russell stepped back, his eyes were wet.
“Thank you, Frank.”
Frank nodded.
“Welcome home, Sergeant.”
THE DEPARTURE
Russell turned toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked around the shop one more time.
Vivian was still standing beside the young woman whose head she had been shaving.
Eddie had returned to his clippers.
The waiting chairs were occupied by women with closely clipped or completely shaved heads.
Russell shook his head with a faint smile.
“I still don’t understand why all these women want to be bald.”
One of the women laughed.
“Neither do our husbands.”
Russell smiled.
“Well, at least Bernice wasn’t lying when she said she wasn’t the only one.”
Frank nodded.
“No, Sergeant. She certainly wasn’t.”
Russell reached for the door.
“Good night, Frank.”
“Good night, Russell.”
Russell paused.
“And Frank?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell Bernice I came here ready to fight you.”
Frank smiled.
“That’s between us.”
Russell nodded.
Then he stepped outside.
A moment later, the Buick’s six-cylinder engine started.
Frank watched through the window as Russell pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.
AFTER THE SOLDIER LEFT
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vivian looked toward Frank.
“That could have ended very badly.”
Frank nodded.
“Yes, it could have.”
Eddie shook his head.
“That fellow looked like he could’ve knocked you clear across the shop.”
Frank smiled.
“He probably could have.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“And you told him he could hit you?”
Frank shrugged.
“I didn’t think he really wanted to.”
“You couldn’t have known that.”
“No,” Frank admitted. “I couldn’t.”
One of the women in the waiting area looked toward the door.
“Poor fellow.”
Vivian nodded.
“He came home expecting everything to be the way it was.”
Frank returned to his chair.
“That’s what a lot of these men are going to discover.”
Eddie looked up.
“What?”
“That the world didn’t stand still while they were gone.”
Frank glanced toward the women.
“These ladies have been working at Nash. They’ve been earning their own money. They’ve been making their own decisions.”
He picked up his hand clippers.
“And they’ve certainly been making their own decisions about their hair.”
Vivian smiled.
“That’s true.”
Frank continued.
“Some of these returning soldiers are going to have a hard time accepting how much has changed.”
One of the women rubbed her shaved head.
“Well, they’re going to have to get used to it.”
Frank smiled.
“Maybe. But we ought to give them a little time.”
He looked toward the door where Russell had disappeared.
“Some of those men have seen things the rest of us can hardly imagine.”
Vivian nodded.
“And some of them are going to need somebody to talk to.”
Frank looked toward his old Navy photographs.
“That’s right.”
He gave the clippers a few squeezes.
Click. Click.
Then he turned toward his next customer.
“All right, who’s next?”
A young woman stepped forward and removed her hat.
Her head was already shaved, with only a little stubble beginning to show.
She smiled.
“Just a touch-up, Frank.”
Frank laughed.
“Well, after everything that just happened, I suppose I should’ve expected that.”
Vivian shook her head, smiling.
Outside, Kenosha was welcoming its soldiers home.
Inside Frank’s Barbershop, the women of Nash were continuing to live the lives they had built while those soldiers were away.
And Frank was beginning to understand that the greatest challenge facing some returning veterans wouldn’t be finding their way home.
It would be learning to accept that home itself had changed.

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