A Regular Haircut in 1971 by Jason

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A Regular Haircut in 1971

Dad was a guard at the local jail. Being a veteran, it was an easy job for him to get. He had looked for other work for months after being laid off at the assembly plant. When he saw the ad they were looking to hire new guards, he thought "What the hell; I'll give it a shot." His interview went well, but he was worried that it just would not happen like so many other interviews. He was thrilled when he got the call the next day offering him a job.

He had been on the job for a month and love it. He took great pride in his work. He always arrived early, always looked professional, and believed he was making a difference for his family, the community, and the men he was hired to guard. He became a stickler for making a good impression with his appearance. Always pressed clean clothes, spit shined shoes, clean shaven, and a fresh haircut. Nothing severe, but a well-kept modern 1970s 'dry look' haircut that just covered the top half of the ear.

It was around this time I was going thru some tough times at school. I wanted to fit in, but had a hard time making friends at the school my parents had sent me. The teachers were under pressure to churn out successful test scores, not educate. I found it boring and very little challenge academically. I plead with my parents to send me to a different school, but they saw nothing wrong with the school where I was going. My mind would wander. Soon, I started to hang around others who some would say were 'rebellious'. I did not see that. I saw people, like me, who just wanted more than the cookie-cutter life we saw others fall into. It was 1971, and long before the 'grunge', 'punk', 'emo' eras would even be dreamt of, but we felt we were trend setters in our own right. Locals would call some of my friends 'unwashed hippies'. That description really peeved me off. We were not unwashed. Yes, some of us were wearing longer hair than many in the town, but I would not say we were 'hippies'. The moniker of 'hippie' stuck though.

Vince, my best friend, got the idea 'if they're going to call us hippies, we should go out of our way to look like real hippies and play the part. Vince convinced us all into doing just that. We agreed we would let our hair grow, not shave, wear leather fringe jackets and torn jeans. It had to be done gradually because we knew our parents would throw a gasket if we sprung it all at once. So, we began the transformation.

Weeks went by.

Not shaving was the first thing that got the parent's attention. Dad would comment on it, but not too much. I did make sure I kept the beginning of the beard trimmed and neat and showered every day.

I said I was experimenting. He left it at that.

Months went by.

"Lookin kind of scruffy there son", dad would say. 'About time for a haircut, don't you think?"

My hair had grown well over my ears and down the collar. I had no real 'style' per se. Just a long mop with it pushed out of my face.

"I'm just experimenting dad," I would reply. He would leave it at that.


Months went by.

"Are you ever going to get a haircut? It's gotten as long as your sister." He caught me off guard. "You could at least comb it."

He left it at that.

I looked in the mirror, and thought: "Yea, I could do something to make this look even more cool". I had admired other guys who were sporting the center parted hair style, so I took out a comb and did it. I managed to, rather surprisingly, get a perfect 'curtain hair style'. "Damn. This looks good" I thought. I went downstairs and not saying a word, I presented my new visage to the world. Dad stared with a 'who is this?' look on his face.

Mom didn't really say anything until "Dear, are you sure you don't want to get a haircut? Doesn't that bother you?"

"Not really. I'm kind of liking it." I replied.

"Well, just keep it clean. Eventually, you'll decide to get it cut when you can't see and trip over it." dad quipped.

He left it at that.

Months past.

"I need you to cut the grass this afternoon", dad blurted. I was wearing headphone and didn't hear him too clearly. Looking pissed, he came over and pulled the headphones off.

"I said, I expect the grass to be cut this afternoon".

"Ok." I said. "I hear you."

Later that day, I got out the mower and began to perform my labors. I guess it was stupid of me to wear headphones while mowing, but I didn't hear him. I soon saw a hand come from nowhere throw the emergency lever that shutdown the mower. I soon felt a hand on my shoulder and feel my headphones being ripped off.

"You could have killed yourself!" Dad yelled. "Didn't you see that?"

"See what?" I said.

"That knife in the grass. I could see if from over there and was yelling to warn you." he said angerly.

"No, I didn't see the F###ing knife" I blurted out, feeling both stupid that I would not have seen it and scared that I really could have hurt myself or someone else.

"What did you say?" said my dad who had this look of apocalypse.

I started to open my mouth as I desperately tried to think how to smooth this over. Before I could even inhale, he said "Don't even try."

"You've been very careless lately. You've changed and not for the better. It's those thugs - that Vince - you've been hanging out with. You don't listen. You're F###ing absorbed into your own F###ing world. You don't listen. You don't F###ing see. And no wonder with all this F###ing long hair. Well, that all changes today mister. Get cleaned up and meet me in the truck. Now go."

"Dad, I made a mistake. It doesn't have anything to do with my hair" I tried to reason.

"You heard me mister."

He left it at that.

A half hour later

I sundered to the truck where he was waiting at the wheel. I got in. Not a word was said.

We drove down the dirt road that led into town. 30 minutes later we were heading down main street when dad pulled into on street parking. Ahead - dread. A Red & white striped rotating pole spun before us. He parked and turned off the truck.

"I'm saying this only once. You will not make a scene. You will shut your mouth and leave the talking to me. Is that understood mister?"

"Yes sir" I replied, knowing I better abide.

"Now get out of the F###ing truck!" he commanded.

He walked behind me as we approached the door to "Ken's Barbershop".

A bell signaled me opening the door. In we went. Two barber chairs stood before us, and a row of waiting chairs along the wall were empty.

A voice came from the back: "I'll be right with you. Have a seat."

"No problem" dad said. We sat in one of the waiting chairs.

Five minutes passed.

"Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting. I had to take a call in back." said the man dressed in white. I assumed the barber, Ken.

The man walked behind one of the barber chairs, pulled a fresh striped barber cloth off the counter, and said "Ok, who'll be next?"

Dad looked at me and said, "You're up mister."

I got up. Weak knees made the walk to the chair like I was making my last.

The barber brushed off the seat and invited me to take a seat. I nearly collapsed as a I sat.

I felt the white and blue striped cape drape around me. Then a tissue wrapped around my neck, and then tighten with the cape, secured with a metal clip like a lock.

I soon felt the chair elevate.

"So, what are we doing today son?" the barber said as he tried to look into my eyes obscured by hair that had become disheveled.

"I think we'll do a Regular haircut" dad interjected.

The barber looked over to dad.

"You sure?"

"Yup. A Regular."

"What the heck was a 'Regular' haircut?", I thought.

While the barber fidgeted behind me at the counter, I looked around as if trying to find an escape route. I was quickly met with Dad's glowering stern look. Ok, escape wasn't going to happen. I continued to look around for some help - not sure what that would be. I soon caught sight of a poster on the wall that had pictures of men with different haircuts. The poster read "OFFICIAL HAIRSTYLES". There was CREWCUT, BRUSHCUT, FLATTOP, POMPODOUR, BANGS, SLICK BACK, REGULAR, and 'MODERN Drylook'. 'REGULAR' had 2 different men both with hair parted on the left side & off the ears. One had a tapered back and slick, while the other a blocked back, longer on the sides but off the ear, and not slick. The MODERN had hair kind of brushed to the side but no definite parting, was just over the ear and the back just over the collar. Dad had his hair ‘MODERN'.

Oh shhhhooot. Dad was going to make me have a REGULAR men's haircut. At least it wouldn't be a crewcut. But, after I had perfected the Curtain hairstyle I had really come to like, to go that short? It didn't seem fair.

The barber took out a comb from the blue liquid jar and began to comb my hair. First straight down. Then, very meticulously parted it on the left side. He stood back to scope out the work ahead.

"You want the back tapered or blocked?" the barber inquired of dad.

"Let's go tapered so the hair is kept well off the collar" he said with a smile.

The barber took the Oster Clippers off a hook and approached. "Ok, one Regular haircut coming up." he said.

I felt the barber place his hand on my head and force it down, so my chin was near my chest. I jumped when I heard the clippers turned on. Dang, they sound like some kind of industrial machinery. With that, I felt the clippers run up the back. I could see the barber work behind me as I watched in the mirror. One by one I saw him flick chunks of hair off the clippers and onto the cape. Soon I had a pile of hair on my shoulders. Then his hand pushed my head to the side and saw the clippers run up the sides. In no time, my ear was exposed. He did the same on the other side. He turned off the Oster clippers and returned them to their hook. Then he grabbed a shiny chrome clippers and approached. He very meticulously used them to round my ear, trimming completely off any hairs that egresses on to them. Then down behind the ear and neck making a very sharp line. He did the same on the other side. It felt weird feeling air currents round my ears. He then used the comb to lift the hair on the sides and used the clippers over comb to trim off more to taper the sides. Then he moved to the back repeating the tapering process. He then began to lift sections of hair on the top and clippered that off too. He was careful to recomb the parting as needed to get the hair clippered evenly. Inches of hair would be clippered off from the top and add to the pile collecting.

The hair had really piled up on the shoulder and lap. I had a lot of hair. 'Had' being the operative word. As I looked into the mirror, I could not recognize the man staring back seated in the barber chair.

The barber then went to work with thinning shears. I thought he was removing more hair than he had already removed. As he cut, he'd pull a huge section of hair and hit the scissors against the comb so the hair would fall from the scissors. Again, he took to work at the back and sides.

He put down the thinning scissors and recombed. He paused taking a close look at his work. A few more snips around the ears with the regular scissors. Then the clipppers came back out and there was more clipper over comb action.

He paused. Took another look as he combed the hair making sure the side part on the left was perfectly straight.

"Well dad, what do you think?" he looked to dad for approval.

"Looks fantastic. I have a son under all that hair." he said proudly.

"Just one more thing and we're done. Do you want this wet or dry?" looking dad in the eye. "We did change the part, so it might be wise to make it wet. Up to you."

"Do what you think best" dad replied.

With that the barber turned to the counter and opened a metal tin that said Royal something. He scooped out a wod of shiny Vaseline looking goo.

"I think a little pomade will give him a nice wet look and train the hair to conform to the side parted men's style" the barber said as he rubbed the pomade into his hands and then into my hair.

"Now son, this is meant to stay in the hair, so don't worry if it doesn't all wash out when you shower. Just reapply the same amount I'm adding today after showering and recomb, ok?" the barber said as he started to recomb.

My hair was glistening and appeared darker than ever. The part he put in at the left side was super straight and was made even more defined by the pomade having been put into my hair. He made the front form a quiff. A look I never had in my life. As I looked at myself, I couldn't believe it. I actually liked it. To imagine I came in a disgruntled long-haired hippie and I was leaving with a Regular Man's Haircut.

The barber dusted me off and removed the cape. So much hair was falling to the floor.

I got up, took another look in the mirror, and walked over to dad.

"Thanks dad." I said.

He seemed shocked as a smile came to his face. "You like it son?"

"Absolutely dad. Sorry I was such a pain earlier. You were right."

"Right about?" he said.

"Everything. Just thanks."

Dad looked over to the barber. "Do you have time for one more haircut?"

"I'm not going anywhere sir", he replied.

Dad walked over and sat in the chair and said "I want the same haircut as my son here."

20 minutes later

We left the shop with identical haircuts. Tapered backs. Tapered off the ears. Sharply parted on the left side. A quiff in front. And a royal pomade in our glistening hair with its aroma surrounding us. We left men - Dad & I. Each with new haircuts, our own tin of pomade, a new pocket comb, and a new attitude.

Years later

Ken is gone now, but his shop remains. His son now runs the place. I stopped in recently and had to get a Regular. The first barbershop haircut since COVID. How times change. Many of the men leaving the shop that day sported Regular Haircuts with pomade. And they still use that Royal pomade as well as dozens of other brands.

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