Frank and Frank: The Bob Haircut

The ongoing trouble with the barbers’ union had forced numerous shops to close. Men who simply wanted to earn a living found themselves threatened, intimidated, and sometimes attacked for continuing to work.
For sixty-five-year-old Frank, who operated a modest two-chair barbershop on Twenty-Second Avenue across from the technical school, the situation had become almost unbearable.
His business partner, Alex Savaglio, had been attacked outside the shop one morning as he arrived to open for business.
Frank could still picture the scene.
Alex lying injured on the sidewalk. The men responsible disappearing before anyone could stop them. The realization that the same thing could happen to him the very next morning.
He had spent most of his life cutting hair. He wasn’t a wealthy man, and the little income the barbershop provided was what kept food on his table.
At sixty-five, he couldn’t afford to retire without some source of income.
But he was becoming increasingly frightened of going to work.
Then, quite unexpectedly, two people entered his life.
The first was another barber named Frank.
The younger Frank had recently lost his own barbershop in a fire. Nearly penniless, he had spent days walking around Kenosha looking for employment, only to discover that many shops were closed because of the union troubles.
He had been considering leaving the city altogether when he noticed the little barbershop on Twenty-Second Avenue was still open.
The older Frank had reluctantly given him an opportunity to demonstrate his skills.
One haircut had been enough to convince him that the younger man knew his trade.
Now, with Alex recovering from his injuries, the younger Frank was working in the vacant chair.
But the second unexpected arrival was considerably more complicated.
Alex’s daughter wanted to become a barber.
And she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
A Woman in a Men’s Barbershop
“I’ve already told you,” the older Frank said, standing beside his barber chair. “This is a men’s barbershop. It isn’t a beauty parlor.”
Alex’s daughter stood before him, determined not to be dismissed.
“My father thought you might be willing to give me a chance.”
“Your father meant well. But with everything that’s going on around here, the last thing I need is another reason for those union fellows to come knocking.”
“I know about what happened to Dad.”
“Then you ought to understand why I’m concerned.”
She glanced toward the younger Frank, who was cleaning his tools.
“Didn’t you give him a chance when he came looking for work?”
The older Frank sighed.
“That’s different. He’s an experienced barber.”
“But you didn’t know that until you watched him cut somebody’s hair.”
The younger Frank smiled.
“She’s got you there, Frank.”
The older man gave him a stern look.
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m just saying she makes a fair point.”
Alex’s daughter continued.
“I’ve been studying hair cutting. I know how to use scissors, combs, and clippers. I can give a proper haircut if somebody will just let me demonstrate.”
“Women’s haircuts, perhaps.”
“Men’s haircuts too, if you’ll teach me.”
The older Frank folded his arms.
“Do you have any idea what happens when a man comes into a barbershop expecting a haircut and discovers a woman standing behind the chair?”
“He gets a haircut?”
The younger Frank burst out laughing.
Even the older barber couldn’t entirely suppress a smile.
“You’re certainly your father’s daughter.”
“Then give me the same opportunity you gave Frank.”
The older man looked toward his new employee.
“What do you think?”
The younger Frank shrugged.
“I think we ought to see what she can do.”
The older barber looked at the empty chair that had belonged to Alex.
He had already been struggling to find someone willing to work there. And although he would never admit it aloud, he was beginning to wonder whether he could keep the shop operating much longer.
Finally, he nodded.
“All right. One haircut. That’s all I’m promising.”
Alex’s daughter smiled.
“Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve still got to find somebody willing to sit in that chair.”
As though someone had been listening outside, the front door opened.
A young woman stepped into the barbershop carrying several schoolbooks beneath her arm.
She appeared to be about nineteen years old, with thick brown hair hanging nearly to her waist.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you gentlemen taking customers?”
The younger Frank looked toward the older barber.
The older man slowly smiled.
“Well, miss, you might have arrived at just the right time.”
The First Customer
The young woman explained that she attended classes across the street at the technical school.
She had been thinking about cutting her hair for several months.
Her long hair had become inconvenient, particularly when working on projects in the classrooms. She was tired of pinning it up and constantly worrying about it falling forward.
“I’ve been thinking about getting one of those new bobbed hairstyles,” she explained.
The older Frank raised his eyebrows.
“A bob?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s an awful lot of hair to lose.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve been putting it off.”
The older barber gestured toward Alex’s daughter.
“Well, we’ve got a young lady here who wants to become a barber. She’s looking for someone willing to let her demonstrate her abilities.”
The customer looked surprised.
“A woman barber?”
“That’s what she tells me.”
Alex’s daughter stepped forward.
“I’ve been trained in hair cutting. If you’d like a short bob, I’d be happy to do it.”
The customer studied her for a moment.
“How short could you cut it?”
The apprentice gestured toward her own ears.
“I could cut it just below the ears, with the back tapered neatly off your collar.”
The customer reached behind her and pulled her long brown hair over her shoulder.
“That would certainly be different.”
The younger Frank smiled.
“Well, if you’re going to cut it, you might as well get the style you really want.”
The customer looked toward the mirror.
Then she nodded.
“All right. Let’s do it.”
The older Frank pointed toward the vacant chair.
“Very well. Let’s see what you can do.”
The First Cut
Alex’s daughter carefully fastened a clean white barber cape around the customer’s neck.
The two Franks stood nearby.
The older man was particularly interested in how she handled the tools.
“First thing,” he instructed, “make certain the customer understands exactly what you’re going to do.”
The apprentice nodded.
She turned the chair toward the mirror.
“Now, you’re certain you want all this length removed?”
The customer smiled nervously.
“Yes.”
“And you understand that once it’s cut, there’s no putting it back?”
The customer laughed.
“You’re beginning to sound like my mother.”
“Well, your mother isn’t the one holding the scissors.”
That brought a chuckle from both barbers.
The apprentice picked up her comb and began carefully separating the customer’s thick brown hair into sections.
She combed the first section straight down the back.
Then she gathered it between her fingers.
“Ready?”
The customer took a deep breath.
“Go ahead.”
SNIP. SNIP. SNIP.
The scissors worked through the heavy brown hair.
A long section separated from the customer’s head and fell into the apprentice’s hand.
“Oh, goodness!” the customer exclaimed.
The younger Frank laughed.
“Little late to change your mind now.”
“I’m not changing my mind. It’s just strange knowing that much hair is gone.”
The apprentice placed the severed length on the counter and returned to her work.
She moved around the chair, carefully removing the remaining long sections.
More brown hair fell across the white cape.
Within several minutes, the customer’s waist-length hair had been reduced to an uneven preliminary cut hanging around her shoulders.
The older Frank stepped closer.
“Now comes the important part.”
The apprentice looked up.
“Anybody can cut long hair off,” he explained. “Making it look right afterward is what separates a barber from somebody holding scissors.”
She smiled.
“That’s what I intend to show you.”
Two Franks Watching
She began shaping the bob.
Working from the back toward the sides, she combed each section carefully, trimming it shorter and checking the line against the previous section.
The younger Frank noticed how confidently she handled the scissors.
“Where did you learn to work like that?”
“At school. We practiced on each other quite a bit.”
“Did you ever work with men’s hair?”
“A little. Not nearly as much as I’d like.”
The older Frank shook his head.
“That’s what concerns me. Men come in here expecting a proper haircut. They don’t want somebody experimenting on them.”
“Then I’ll have to learn to give them exactly what they expect.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
She continued cutting.
Soon the customer’s ears were beginning to emerge from beneath the shortening hair.
The apprentice carefully combed the sides downward and trimmed them into a neat line.
Then she turned her attention to the back.
“I’d like to taper the neckline,” she explained. “It’ll make the bob sit better and keep the hair from looking too heavy.”
The older Frank nodded toward the tools.
“Go ahead.”
She picked up the hand-operated clippers.
The younger Frank raised his eyebrows.
“You’re comfortable using those?”
“I’ve practiced.”
“On somebody’s head?”
“Yes.”
The older Frank chuckled.
“Well, that’s encouraging.”
She positioned herself behind the chair and gently guided the customer’s chin downward.
“Just keep your head tipped forward for me.”
The customer obeyed.
The apprentice placed the clippers against the lower neckline and began working upward in short, controlled strokes.
Click-click-click. Click-click-click.
Small clippings fell onto the white cape.
The older Frank moved closer.
“Don’t take that taper too high.”
“I won’t.”
“And keep your pressure even.”
“Yes, sir.”
The younger Frank watched the line develop.
“She’s doing fine, Frank.”
“I can see that.”
The apprentice continued until the back had a clean, closely tapered finish beneath the fuller hair of the bob.
Then she exchanged the clippers for her scissors and comb, blending the upper portion into the shorter neckline.
Finally, she brushed away the loose hair and stepped back.
“How does that look?”
The younger Frank examined the cut from both sides.
“That’s a mighty respectable haircut.”
The older Frank walked around the chair, studying the outline.
He checked the neckline, the hair around the ears, and the balance of the bob.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“Not bad.”
The apprentice smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve still got to finish.”
The Final Inspection
The apprentice took a clean towel and brushed the customer’s neck.
She checked the hairline one last time, trimmed several stray hairs, and turned the chair toward the mirror.
“There you are.”
The customer stared at her reflection.
Her long brown hair was gone.
In its place was a neat, short bob that exposed her ears and left the back of her neck completely uncovered.
She slowly reached up and touched the back of her head.
“Oh, my goodness.”
The apprentice looked worried.
“Is something wrong?”
“No!”
The customer turned her head from side to side.
“It’s wonderful!”
She ran her fingers along the closely tapered neckline.
“I’ve never had my hair this short in my life.”
The younger Frank grinned.
“Well, I reckon you’ll have a few people looking twice when you go back across the street.”
“I imagine I will.”
She looked at the apprentice.
“Thank you. I absolutely love it.”
The apprentice removed the cape, carefully keeping the loose hair from falling onto the customer’s clothes.
The customer stood and examined herself in the larger wall mirror.
Then she reached for her purse.
“How much do I owe you?”
Before the apprentice could answer, the older Frank spoke.
“Nothing.”
The customer turned.
“Nothing?”
“You’re our demonstration customer. You did us a favor.”
“But she did a wonderful job.”
“Then tell your friends.”
The customer smiled.
“Oh, I certainly will.”
She collected her books, thanked the three of them, and walked out into the cold Kenosha afternoon.
For a moment, the shop was silent.
The Miracle Frank Had Prayed For
The older Frank remained beside the front window, watching the young woman cross Twenty-Second Avenue.
The younger Frank began putting the scissors and clippers away.
Alex’s daughter started sweeping the long brown hair from the floor.
Neither noticed that the older barber had become unusually quiet.
Finally, the younger Frank spoke.
“Well, Frank, what do you think?”
The old man didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked around the little shop.
Two barber chairs.
Two large mirrors.
A counter filled with shaving mugs, brushes, scissors, and razors.
The waiting benches along the wall.
Everything he had worked for over so many years.
He was sixty-five years old.
He had spent most of his adult life standing behind a barber chair, earning his living one haircut and one shave at a time.
And now, because of the union troubles, he was frightened to walk through his own front door.
“Frank?” the younger barber asked again.
The older man turned.
“How old did I tell you I was?”
“Sixty-five.”
“That’s right. Sixty-five years old.”
He walked slowly toward Alex’s vacant chair.
“Do you know something? I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d be afraid to open my own barbershop.”
The younger Frank understood.
“You’re thinking about Alex.”
The old man nodded.
“I can’t get that morning out of my mind.”
Alex’s daughter stopped sweeping.
The older Frank rested his hand on the back of the chair.
“Your father came here that morning just like he’d done hundreds of times before. He wasn’t looking for trouble. He was coming to work.”
He paused.
“And those union fellows were waiting for him.”
Alex’s daughter lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
“I keep seeing him lying there on the sidewalk. I keep thinking about what they did to him.”
The old barber’s voice grew quieter.
“And every morning when I come here, I wonder whether they’re going to be waiting for me next.”
The younger Frank said nothing.
“I’m sixty-five years old,” the older man continued. “I’m not going to get into a fistfight with a bunch of younger men. And I certainly don’t want to end up the way Alex did.”
He lowered himself into one of the waiting chairs.
“But I can’t close the shop either.”
“Why not?” the younger Frank asked.
“Because this is my income! What am I supposed to live on? I haven’t got enough money put away to sit home for the rest of my life.”
He gestured toward the barber chairs.
“This place pays my bills. If I close it, I lose everything I’ve worked for.”
Alex’s daughter approached him.
“My father is getting better.”
“I know he is, sweetheart. But I don’t know whether he’ll ever want to come back here after what happened.”
She nodded.
“I don’t think he does.”
The older man looked at her.
“Can’t say I blame him.”
He sat quietly for another moment.
Then he looked toward the younger Frank.
And suddenly, an idea began forming.
An Unexpected Proposal
“You know something, Frank?”
“What?”
“I’ve been praying every night for a miracle.”
The younger barber smiled slightly.
“A miracle?”
“That’s right. I’ve been asking the Lord to show me some way of keeping this place open without having to put myself in danger every morning.”
He looked toward Alex’s daughter.
“And I think He may have just answered my prayers.”
She looked puzzled.
“What do you mean?”
The older barber stood.
“How would the two of you like to run this barbershop?”
The younger Frank straightened.
“Run it?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You mean work here?”
“No. I mean operate it. Together.”
He gestured around the room.
“The chairs, the mirrors, the equipment, the waiting benches. Everything is already here.”
Alex’s daughter looked toward her father’s chair.
“But what about you?”
“I’d become your landlord.”
The younger Frank raised his eyebrows.
“Your landlord?”
“Exactly. You two rent the shop from me. You pay me an agreed amount every month, and whatever money you make beyond the rent and expenses belongs to you.”
The younger Frank considered the proposal.
“You’d retire?”
“More or less.”
The older barber smiled.
“I might stop in occasionally. Maybe cut an old customer’s hair if I feel like it. But I wouldn’t have to come here every morning.”
He looked toward the front door.
“And I wouldn’t have to wonder whether some union fellow was waiting outside with a club.”
Alex’s daughter was beginning to understand.
“So Frank and I would be running the business?”
“That’s right.”
“And we’d be responsible for the customers?”
“Yes.”
“And the money?”
“That too.”
She looked at the younger Frank.
He looked back at her.
Neither had expected anything like this.
The Union Question
“There’s one problem,” the younger Frank said.
The older man chuckled.
“Only one?”
“The union.”
The older barber’s smile faded.
“Yes. The union.”
“If those men were willing to attack Alex, what makes you think they won’t come after us?”
The older Frank sighed.
“That’s the part that worries me.”
He looked toward Alex’s daughter.
“And having a woman cutting hair in a men’s barbershop might give them another reason to complain.”
She folded her arms.
“But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Neither did your father.”
That silenced her.
The older Frank continued.
“I don’t want either of you thinking this is going to be easy. Those fellows have already shown what they’re capable of.”
The younger Frank nodded.
“But closing the shop gives them exactly what they want.”
“That’s true.”
“And if we’re going to work here anyway, we might as well have an opportunity to make something for ourselves.”
The old man smiled.
“That’s precisely what I was thinking.”
He looked at Alex’s daughter.
“Your father helped me keep this place going for years. Maybe now you can help keep it going.”
She smiled.
“I’d certainly like to try.”
A Question About Alex
“But there’s something else,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“My father. He’s your business partner. What happens to his share?”
The older Frank nodded.
“That’s something we’ll have to discuss with him.”
He walked behind the counter and took out the shop’s ledger.
“I’m not going to make an agreement without talking to Alex first. He’s been my partner too long for that.”
He opened the book.
“We’ll work out something fair. Maybe he can keep an interest in the business while he’s recovering. Maybe he’ll decide he’d rather step away entirely.”
He looked at her.
“But whatever happens, I want him treated properly.”
She smiled.
“Thank you.”
The younger Frank studied the ledger.
“And how much rent would you want?”
The older man considered the question.
“Enough to give me a modest income. I don’t need to get rich anymore.”
He glanced around the shop.
“I just want enough money coming in every month to live comfortably.”
Then he added quietly:
“And I’d like to live long enough to enjoy it.”
A Second Chance for Everyone
The younger Frank leaned against the counter.
“There’s something you ought to know, Frank.”
“What’s that?”
“When my own barbershop burned down, I thought I’d lost everything.”
The older barber nodded.
“I remember you telling me.”
“I had almost no money left. I walked around Kenosha looking for work, and every place I went seemed to be closed because of the union trouble.”
He looked toward the front window.
“I was getting ready to leave town. I figured there wasn’t any future here for me.”
“And then you found my shop.”
“That’s right.”
The younger Frank smiled.
“You gave me a chance when nobody else would.”
The older barber shrugged.
“I needed somebody to fill Alex’s chair.”
“Maybe so. But you didn’t have to give me the opportunity.”
He looked toward Alex’s daughter.
“And now you’re doing the same thing for her.”
The older Frank shook his head.
“I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about that part.”
She laughed.
“No, you certainly weren’t.”
“But you proved you could cut hair.”
He pointed toward the pile of brown hair on the floor.
“That young lady walked out of here with a fine haircut. I can’t argue with that.”
The apprentice smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Now, don’t get carried away. One good haircut doesn’t make you an experienced barber.”
“I understand.”
“You’ve still got a great deal to learn.”
“And I’m willing to learn it.”
The younger Frank nodded.
“I can help teach her.”
The older barber looked at him.
“That’s another reason I think this arrangement might work.”
He gestured toward the two chairs.
“You’ve got years of experience. She’s got training and enthusiasm. Between the two of you, you might make a pretty good business.”
The Old Barber’s Decision
The older Frank returned to the front window.
Outside, students hurried along Twenty-Second Avenue, their coats pulled tightly against the winter wind.
He thought again about Alex.
About the attack.
About the fear that had followed him every morning since.
He remembered lying awake at night, wondering how much longer he could keep the shop open.
He had prayed for the union troubles to end.
He had prayed for Alex to recover.
He had prayed for some way to keep earning a living without risking his safety.
And now, standing behind him, were two young people who might be able to accomplish what he no longer felt capable of doing himself.
He turned around.
“All right. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
The younger Frank and Alex’s daughter listened.
“Tomorrow, we’ll continue operating as usual. We’ll let her practice under our supervision, and we’ll see how the customers respond.”
He looked at the younger Frank.
“In the meantime, I’ll speak with Alex about the possibility of leasing the shop to the two of you.”
The younger barber nodded.
“That sounds fair.”
“If Alex agrees, we’ll work out the rent and put everything in writing.”
The old man smiled.
“And then maybe this sixty-five-year-old barber can finally spend a few mornings at home without worrying about getting his head cracked open.”
Alex’s daughter stepped forward.
“Mr. Frank?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thank you for giving me a chance.”
He looked at her for a moment.
Then he smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
She reached out and hugged him.
The older man appeared surprised but gently patted her shoulder.
“Now, now. Don’t go getting sentimental on me.”
The younger Frank laughed.
“You’re getting soft in your old age.”
“Watch yourself, young fellow. I haven’t retired yet.”
The Miracle on Twenty-Second Avenue
As the afternoon drew to a close, the younger Frank began cleaning his station.
Alex’s daughter finished sweeping the floor, gathering the long brown hair that had been removed during her first haircut.
The older Frank stood beside his chair, watching them.
He thought about how strange life could be.
Only a short time earlier, he had been wondering whether he’d have to close his doors permanently.
Now he was considering turning the entire operation over to a man who had lost his own business in a fire and a young woman who had practically argued her way into the shop.
He chuckled to himself.
The younger Frank looked up.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About what?”
The older barber smiled.
“Two weeks ago, I had a perfectly respectable men’s barbershop. Now I’ve got another barber named Frank and a young woman who wants to cut men’s hair.”
“Could be worse,” the younger Frank replied.
“How?”
“You could have an empty chair and nobody willing to work in it.”
The old man considered that.
“Suppose you’ve got a point.”
He looked toward Alex’s daughter.
“And I’ll tell you something else. When that girl walked out of here smiling about her new haircut, I realized something.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Maybe this old shop doesn’t have to be exactly the same kind of place it’s always been.”
The younger Frank laughed.
“Now that’s something I never expected to hear you say.”
“Don’t get carried away. I’m not putting lace curtains in the windows.”
All three laughed.
Then the older Frank grew serious.
“You know, I’ve spent weeks asking the Lord for a miracle.”
He looked at the younger barber.
“First He sent me a fellow who’d lost everything in a fire.”
Then he looked toward Alex’s daughter.
“And then He sent me a young woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
He shook his head.
“Neither one was what I expected.”
The younger Frank smiled.
“But maybe exactly what you needed.”
The old barber nodded.
“Yes, son. Maybe exactly what I needed.”
He walked to the front door and turned the sign to CLOSED.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about whether the barbershop would survive another month.
He was thinking about the possibility of receiving a little rent every month, having enough money to live on, and finally enjoying some of the years he had left.
He still feared the union.
He still remembered Alex lying injured on the sidewalk.
And he knew that nothing had been settled yet.
But for the first time since the attack, he could imagine a future in which he no longer had to face that danger every morning.
He turned toward the two young people.
“Well, we’d better get this place ready for tomorrow.”
Alex’s daughter smiled.
“Do you think there’ll be any more girls coming in for haircuts?”
The older Frank looked toward the technical school across the street.
“After that young lady shows off her new bob?”
He chuckled.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if half the girls in that school came knocking.”
The younger Frank laughed.
“Then we’d better make sure we’ve got plenty of clean capes.”
“And sharp scissors,” Alex’s daughter added.
The older barber shook his head, smiling.
“Lord help me. I’m turning a men’s barbershop into something I never imagined.”
Then he glanced upward for a moment.
“Thank you, Lord,” he whispered.
For sixty-five-year-old Frank, the miracle wasn’t simply finding two people willing to work in his barbershop.
It was discovering that he might finally be able to stop working himself—and still have enough income to live.
And for the younger Frank and Alex’s daughter, it was the beginning of something neither had imagined when they first walked through that door.
A second chance.
A new partnership.
And perhaps, someday, a barbershop of their own.

+1