Boyhood Haircuts

1925 to 1940

The first haircuts I can remember were in Morrowville KS. Dad had a pair of hand-operated hair cutters - - you'd squeeze the handles together and the cutter blades ground back and forth and the job got done. I remember lots of hair pulling and yowling from us boys, but nothing too serious. We never lost an ear. Mom took care of girls, I guess. The only thing I remember about that was the amount of loving time she spent on Shirley's curls to make them look like Shirley Temple's.

When the time came, up we'd climb onto a high stool. Dad would put an old sheet around our shoulders and neck to keep the hair from getting down inside our shirts. It probably took 15 or 20 minutes - - seemed more like an hour - with clippers, scissors, comb and brush. He really did not do such a poor job. Our pictures in family photos all look quite decent.

I did not get a "store-brought" haircut until I was in college. Barber haircuts were 25 cents each, and who could afford that luxury?

In Winfield, in college days, it was different. I had to look neat, so professional haircuts were in order. The only thing was I could not get one very often and I got to looking pretty shaggy toward the end of a month. I'd certainly have to get a fresh haircut before any official photos were taken.

In the Army, no problem: (Dad's song from WWI)

Our Army Company barber took care of it for us in about 3 minutes. Short hair. Short time in the chair...

So I carried the "Daddy haircut" tradition down to my own two sons. The difference: I had an electric set of clippers. Didn't take quite so long. AND I could fill special orders for particular haircuts. Davey wanted a Mohawk (Indian style) one summer. That was a strip of hair running from forehead across the top and down the back of the head. All else was clear-cut. He got some attention with that haircut; perhaps the wrong kind because I don't recall making it twice.

I think David approved of my cuts until he was in high school, when we started sending him to the barber who could do a much better job.

On the other, with Timothy, my haircuts failed to pass his acceptance by the time he was in the second grade. (Susan called him "Fuzzy" after these shearings.) Then he insisted on getting a professional job. Such a disrespectful child!! Tsk, tsk!