Paul
At approximately 1:30 on a Saturday morning, an automobile approached Frank’s Barbershop near the Nash automobile factory in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
The street was nearly deserted.
Frank had closed his barbershop at ten o’clock the previous evening. Vivian and Eddie had gone home, and the neighboring shoemaker and restaurant had closed for the night.
Two men occupied the approaching automobile.
One was driving. The other sat in the passenger seat holding an old liquor bottle containing flammable liquid, with a burning cloth protruding from its neck.
As the automobile passed Frank’s Barbershop, the passenger hurled the burning bottle through the large front window.
Glass shattered.
The bottle broke inside the shop, and flames spread across the wooden floor.
The automobile accelerated away into the darkness.
Within moments, it had disappeared.
Nobody got a clear look at the occupants.
And nobody knew why they had chosen Frank’s Barbershop.
THE FIRE SPREADS
The first person to notice the fire was a man walking home who heard the crash of breaking glass.
He turned and saw flames spreading through the front of the barbershop.
“Fire! Somebody get the fire department!”
By the time the Kenosha firefighters arrived, the blaze had already spread through much of Frank’s building.
The wooden barber chairs were burning.
The cabinets, shelving, towels, and other equipment were engulfed.
Flames climbed into the ceiling and spread through the roof.
The fire soon reached the adjoining shoemaker’s shop.
The shoemaker had spent years building his business, accumulating tools and equipment and developing a regular clientele among the factory workers.
Now his entire livelihood was burning.
The flames continued spreading along the commercial row.
Next was the restaurant.
Its owner had closed for the evening, leaving the dining room empty and the kitchen cleaned for the following morning.
The fire reached the restaurant’s roof and quickly spread through the building.
By the time additional firefighters arrived, the entire row of commercial buildings was involved.
The fire department faced a serious problem.
There were houses farther along the street, and an alley ran behind the commercial buildings, separating them from another row of houses.
If the fire crossed the alley or spread beyond the commercial block, the destruction could become considerably worse.
Firefighters concentrated on protecting the nearby residences.
They directed water toward the exposed sides of the houses and worked to prevent burning debris from igniting roofs.
Residents came outside in their nightclothes.
Some carried blankets and personal belongings.
Others stood watching the flames, wondering whether they would have homes by morning.
The heat from the burning commercial buildings was intense.
The alley behind them helped provide a separation between the burning businesses and the houses beyond it.
Firefighters maintained their positions along that boundary.
Eventually, they succeeded in containing the blaze.
The flames never reached the residential buildings.
But the commercial row was lost.
Frank’s Barbershop was destroyed.
The shoemaker’s business was destroyed.
The restaurant was destroyed.
The buildings were reduced to blackened walls, collapsed roofs, and piles of burned debris.
By the time the fire was extinguished, there was nothing left of the businesses that had occupied that stretch of the street.
SATURDAY MORNING
Frank arrived shortly after sunrise.
Someone had come to his home during the night to tell him that his barbershop was burning.
He had expected damage.
Perhaps a ruined chair or a burned section of the building.
Instead, he found the entire commercial row destroyed.
He stopped across the street.
Where his barbershop had stood, there were only blackened walls and burned debris.
The front window was gone.
The barber chairs had been destroyed.
The mirrors, cabinets, shelves, and equipment were ruined.
The roof had collapsed.
And the destruction didn’t stop at his property.
The shoemaker’s shop was gone.
So was the restaurant.
Frank slowly crossed the street.
A police officer approached.
“Are you Frank?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your business.”
Frank stared at what remained.
“What happened?”
“We’re investigating.”
Frank turned toward him.
“Investigating what?”
The officer hesitated.
“We don’t believe this was an accidental fire.”
Frank looked back at the ruins.
“What do you mean?”
“We have reason to believe somebody threw a burning bottle through your front window.”
Frank stared at him.
“Somebody did what?”
“A witness heard glass breaking shortly before the fire was discovered. There was also a report of an automobile leaving the area.”
Frank shook his head.
“You’re telling me somebody deliberately burned my barbershop down?”
“That’s what we’re looking into.”
Frank looked toward the remains of the neighboring businesses.
“And the whole damn block went with it.”
The officer nodded.
“Fortunately, the fire department managed to keep it from spreading to the houses.”
Frank looked across the alley.
Several residents were standing outside examining their homes.
“Did anybody get hurt?”
“No serious injuries have been reported.”
Frank nodded slowly.
“At least there’s that.”
TWO POSSIBLE MOTIVES
The officer opened his notebook.
“Frank, have you had trouble with anybody lately?”
Frank gave a tired laugh.
“I’ve been in business a long time. I’ve had disagreements with plenty of people.”
“Anybody who might want to do something like this?”
Frank hesitated.
“There’s two possibilities that come to mind.”
The officer waited.
“The first goes back to 1917.”
“What happened?”
“The barbers’ strike.”
Frank explained that during the labor dispute, other barbers had wanted him to close his establishment in support of their efforts.
He had refused.
He owned his shop, employed his own people, and believed he had every right to continue operating.
His decision had angered several men affiliated with the union.
“They called me a scab,” Frank explained. “Said I was undermining everything they were trying to accomplish.”
“Did they threaten you?”
“Some of them said I’d regret not standing with them.”
“Any specific threats?”
“Nothing about burning the place down.”
The officer wrote down the information.
“And the second possibility?”
Frank looked toward the street.
“A soldier who came home from the war.”
“What about him?”
“His wife came in here after he returned and had Vivian cut her hair short.”
Frank explained that the soldier had been furious when he discovered that his wife had gotten a bob haircut.
He wanted her to keep her long hair.
Instead, she had visited Frank’s Barbershop and had it cut off.
“He came in here raising hell,” Frank continued. “Said Vivian never should’ve cut his wife’s hair.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That his wife asked for the haircut and paid for it.”
“How did he respond?”
“He said I’d regret what happened.”
The officer made another note.
“Do you know his name?”
Frank gave him the man’s name.
“We’ll speak with him. And we’ll look into the men involved in the strike.”
Frank looked back at the ruins.
“That’s the trouble. I don’t know which one it could’ve been.”
“Could’ve been somebody else entirely.”
Frank nodded.
“I suppose it could.”
THE SHOEMAKER LOSES EVERYTHING
The shoemaker arrived while Frank was still speaking with the officer.
He had spent much of the night watching the fire consume his business.
Now, in daylight, the destruction was even worse than he had imagined.
He approached Frank.
“Well, there isn’t much left, is there?”
Frank shook his head.
“No.”
The shoemaker looked toward the ruins of his own establishment.
“All my tools. Everything.”
Frank looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
The shoemaker turned sharply.
“Sorry doesn’t do much good now, does it?”
Frank didn’t answer.
The shoemaker pointed toward the burned buildings.
“Look at this mess. Three businesses gone because somebody decided to throw a burning bottle through your window.”
Frank looked down.
“I didn’t ask anybody to do that.”
“I know you didn’t. But it started in your place.”
The officer interrupted.
“We’re still investigating the cause and who may be responsible.”
The shoemaker shook his head.
“Well, whoever did it ought to be locked up.”
He looked toward the ruined restaurant.
“That fellow lost everything too.”
Frank nodded.
“Yes.”
The shoemaker stood quietly for a moment.
Then he said something Frank hadn’t expected.
“These buildings are going to have to come down.”
Frank looked at him.
“What?”
“All of them. What’s left of them.”
Frank stared toward the ruins.
“The fire just happened.”
“I know when it happened. I stood here half the night watching my business burn.”
Frank said nothing.
The shoemaker continued.
“Look at those walls. Half of them are barely standing. The roofs are gone. There’s broken glass and burned lumber everywhere.”
The officer nodded.
“The city building inspector will need to examine the structures.”
The shoemaker pointed toward the remains of the commercial row.
“Well, I can tell you what ought to happen. The whole thing ought to be demolished.”
Frank looked at him.
“That’s my property you’re talking about.”
“And mine is right beside it. And the restaurant owner has property here too.”
The shoemaker folded his arms.
“We can’t leave these burned-out buildings standing here. They’re a nuisance.”
Frank shook his head.
“I haven’t even had time to think about what I’m going to do.”
“Well, somebody had better start thinking about it.”
The officer stepped between them.
“Nothing should be disturbed until the fire investigation is completed.”
The shoemaker nodded.
“Fine. Let them investigate. But after they’re finished, I want the city to make sure these ruins come down.”
He looked toward the houses across the alley.
“Those people were lucky last night. Next time, somebody might not be.”
Frank stared at the destruction.
He understood what the shoemaker was saying.
But hearing another man demand that the remains of his business be demolished was almost more than he could bear.
VIVIAN AND EDDIE
Vivian arrived around eight o’clock.
She stopped on the sidewalk when she saw the destruction.
“Oh, my God.”
Frank turned.
“Morning, Vivian.”
She stared at the ruins.
“There’s nothing left.”
“No.”
She looked toward the place where her middle chair had once stood.
Her scissors, combs, equipment, and personal belongings were gone.
She had worked there for years.
Now she could barely recognize the property.
“What happened?”
“Somebody burned it down.”
Vivian looked at him.
“What?”
“Police think somebody threw a burning bottle through the front window.”
She stared at him.
“Who would do something like that?”
Frank looked toward the street.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”
Eddie arrived a few minutes later.
He stopped beside Vivian.
“Good Lord.”
He looked toward the destroyed commercial row.
“All three buildings?”
Frank nodded.
“Everything.”
Eddie shook his head.
“That’s unbelievable.”
Vivian looked toward the ruins of the shoemaker’s business.
“Poor man. He lost everything too.”
Frank nodded.
“And he’s already demanding that the whole block be torn down.”
Eddie looked surprised.
“Torn down?”
“That’s what he said.”
Vivian looked toward the blackened walls.
“Well, Frank, I don’t know what else they could do with it.”
Frank sighed.
“Neither do I.”
THE INVESTIGATION CONTINUES
Over the following days, the police questioned several people.
They spoke with the returning soldier whose wife had received the short haircut.
They also questioned men who had been involved in the 1917 barbers’ strike.
But there was no clear evidence connecting either dispute to the fire.
The witness who had reported seeing the automobile couldn’t identify its occupants.
Nobody had seen who threw the burning bottle.
And no one came forward to admit responsibility.
Frank found himself replaying both incidents in his mind.
The soldier had been furious about his wife’s haircut.
But would he really burn down a business over it?
The union men had been angry because Frank refused to support the strike.
But would somebody wait two years to take revenge?
Frank didn’t know.
And the more he thought about it, the less certain he became.
The destruction of the neighboring businesses made the whole situation even more troubling.
Whoever had thrown the bottle might have intended only to destroy Frank’s Barbershop.
But the fire had taken the shoemaker’s business and the restaurant with it.
And it had nearly spread into the residential neighborhood.
THE SHOEMAKER GOES TO THE CITY
Several days after the fire, Frank returned to the property.
The shoemaker was waiting on the sidewalk.
“Frank, have you talked to anybody about getting these buildings torn down?”
Frank shook his head.
“The police haven’t even finished their investigation.”
“Well, when they do, something needs to happen.”
Frank looked at him.
“You’ve made that pretty clear.”
The shoemaker folded his arms.
“I’ve already been down to the city offices.”
Frank stared at him.
“You did what?”
“I went down and told them about the condition of these properties.”
Frank looked toward the ruins.
“They already know about the fire.”
“Knowing about the fire and getting these buildings demolished are two different things.”
Frank shook his head.
“You couldn’t give me a little time?”
“Frank, look at this place. Those walls could come down at any time. There’s debris everywhere. What happens when some children decide to go exploring in there?”
Frank didn’t answer.
The shoemaker continued.
“And what about the people living across the alley? You think they want to look at this burned-out mess for the next year?”
Frank sighed.
“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”
“Well, you’d better figure it out.”
The shoemaker looked toward the remains of his own building.
