Chuck's

As a boy one of my favorite books was “The Little House" by Virginia Lee Burton.  It’s about a little house in the country that gradually is incorporated into first a town, and eventually a city.  Finally one day when it is surrounded by skyscrapers and boarded up someone comes along, puts the house on a truck and takes it out into the country.  The little house is fixed up and appears happy again away from the crush of city life.  Burton wrote the book in the 1942 so my guess is that the fictitious house has been moved a couple times since then.  Good thing the little house wasn't in my neighborhood because it would have been scraped by now.

The Highlands/Berkeley section of northwest Denver is in the process of cataclysmic change. It was once a modest area of single story brick homes laid out like ribs with Tennyson Street as its spinal cord of commerce.  Now developers are tearing down those little houses and replacing them with what my friend Matt coined as Ikea houses and condos.  Tennyson is changing as well.  Gone are the hardware store, the dance hall, vintage toy store, and the convenience store/laundry mat.  In are brew pubs, gourmet burger places, and boutiques.  The news is full of talk that the bowling alley is going to make way for a natural food store.  It feels like the music store, transmission shop and diner are next.  One place I hope never goes is Chuck’s Barbershop.

In 1957 a young Chuck began working at the barbershop on Tennyson that he would eventually buy in ’63.  Fifty eight years later he is still there, reading a magazine in one of the barber chairs while he waits for our hair to grow.  The shop is long and narrow with three cutting chairs and just enough space for a row of waiting patrons.  The walls are covered with old pictures of Denver, an old TV plays Rockies games, and the magazine selection is excellent.  Chuck himself cuts hair on the first chair while two other long time staff man the others.  Across the street is a new hipster barbershop with its magazines and old pictures and sipping bourbon.  Chuck’s doesn't need to compete with the cool competition, it’s in that rarefied air above cool that comes with time.

This Saturday afternoon was in full lazy mode as I pushed open the glass door of the shop. As luck would have it, Chuck’s chair was emptying as I arrived, so I grabbed a Sports Illustrated and settled in.  I always feel honored to have the man himself trim my locks even though the task is arduous.  You see Chuck is ancient and his back is bent in such a dramatic curve that I don’t see how he sees the top of my head.  But I slouch as low as I can in the classic old barber chair and let the magic begin. The man can cut hair! 

Sometimes when I am around women I'll hear stories about going out to get a mani/pedi, massages, lunch and some shopping in on a Saturday.  Going to Chuck's on a Saturday is like that for a guy. Besides a quality haircut and good magazines how about a head, neck and shoulder massage with a machine straight out of the sixties that clacks and bangs but soothes away the weeks stress?  How about a neck shave with hot lather and a straight razor?  Followed by witch hazel and a vacuum that cleans you up nicely. Yes please!

I betrayed Chuck's recently, and for that I am sorry!  I cheated with a chain (rhymes with Coopers Nuts) cutter because I told myself it was convenient, fast, always open  and near the house.  I feel ashamed for getting those 5 minute rush jobs instead of taking the time walk the 6 blocks down to Chuck's for the real thing.  How could I have lived with myself had Chuck gone to that great barbershop in the sky while I was being unfaithful? Soon enough God is going to need his ears lowered and put in a call for Chuck. When he does go I hope its sitting in that chair with The Denver Post across his knees.  Until then I will look forward to my monthly slouch in that chair and the feel of a warm blade on the back of my neck.