MONTANA AVENUE Victor Barone flashes a big smile, his voice booming excitedly at a fond memory of when his boss cut the hair of a four generational family, from great-grandfather all the way down to the man’s great-grandson.
For an eight-year veteran of the barbering industry, it was quite a sight — something Barone said he’ll never forget.
Cutting the family tree is one example of the lingering differences between the world of barbershops and beauty salons — the former offering a kick-back-and-relax atmosphere, a place where everyone knows your name and a place for cutters and clients to commiserate about their lives.
“I bet there aren’t that many hair salons where that would happen,” Barone said on Wednesday, taking a break in the middle of the day from work at Esquire Barber Shop on Montana Avenue.
In a world where people seek the fashionable hairstyles, and demanding coloring and permanents, some barbers say that barbershops are a dying breed, surviving off the loyal clients that have been returning for decades for the simple cut and shave.
“Barbershops used to be for the man of the house and the girls used to go to the beauty salons, now most of the (men) go to Super Cuts,” said Henry Banuelos, owner of Henry Banuelos Barber Shop on Olympic Boulevard.
“It’s changed quite a bit.” In the face of popular perception, the number of licensed barbers in recent years has actually gone up, numbering 235,000 nationwide in 2006, according to the National Barber Boards of America, an organization representing the country’s hair cutters a0nd shavers.
Barbershops date as far back as 6,000 years, when what was then called “barber-surgeons” not only cut hair, but performed dentistry, surgery and medicine, according to the National Barber Boards of America.
In fact, it is from their surgical roots that the indelible barber pole was designed. The barber would use a white cloth to absorb the blood, washing it out and hanging it outside with the crimson stains. From that practice came the traditional barber pole — the red representing blood, the white symbolizing the bandage and the blue for the veins in the hand.
BLAME IT ON THE KING The decline in the demand for barbers coincides with the popularity of Elvis Presley and The Beatles, pop icons that forever changed men’s hairstyles, according to Charles Kirkpatrick, the executive officer of the barber association.
At their height, licensed barbers numbered around 300,000. By the 1980s, that figure had dropped to 190,000.
But the demand is back and has been since 1986, with the release of the popular navy pilot film “Top Gun,” starring Tom Cruise.
The current war in the Middle East has also fueled the demand for barbers, Kirkpatrick said. No matter how popular beauty salons might be, the barbershop will never go away, said Kirkpatrick, calling it the “oldest honorable profession in town.”
In Santa Monica, the 85 beauty salons and 15 barbershops seem to coexist peacefully, each attracting a different type of clientele.
One of the largest of the crop is Berkeley Barbers on Santa Monica Boulevard, owned and operated by Ed Caldwell since 1997, when original owner John Rodriguez died.
Rodriguez opened Berkeley-Wilshire Barber Shop in 1955 on the corner of the two streets. The shop moved to its current location just a few blocks away on Santa Monica Boulevard in 1990 after Rodriguez erected a new structure, which also houses Sylvan Learning Center. Caldwell came on board in 1962.
Berkeley Barbers pays homage to the old-time barbershops of yore. A fan of traditional barbershops, Caldwell has poured his obsession for collecting barbershop memorabilia into the business, setting up a small museum in the entryway of the shop. The museum consists of authentic velvet and leather barber chairs from the 1800s, black-and-white photos from barbershops shot in the earlier part of the 20th century and, of course, a collection of old barber poles.
“I don’t know if we compete with beauty salons, but I do a lot of their repair work,” — Barone said
Caldwell tries to keep it traditional in the services he offers, one of the few shops in the city that still provide the old-style shave with the straight-edge blade and hot towel.
“We’re a family-oriented type of place,” Caldwell said. “The newest (client) has been here for two years.”
There are several benefits that a customer can receive at a barbershop that they can’t get at a beauty salon, Caldwell said, including inexpensive and personalized service. Hair cuts at Berkeley cost $17, while they could run as high as $200 in some of the city’s high-end salons.
“We don’t rush them in and we don’t rush them out,” he said.
Licensing-wise, the main difference between the cosmetologists who generally work in salons and the barbers is that the latter has the authority to perform the razor blade shave.
Still, many barbers have stopped offering the shave since the 1980s, when the fear of HIV and AIDS first gripped the nation.
One such barbershop is Henry Banuelos Barber Shop.
“That’s kind of a thing of the past,” Banuelos said.“The HIV scare was the culprit.”
With its checkered floors and old-fashioned chairs, the barbershop opened on the 1400 block of Olympic Boulevard in the 1950s. Banuelos took over in 1970.
His barbershop has always remained a masculine environment, discussion of sports and politics filling the air, National Geographic and The Sporting News magazines stacked by the entrance.
Banuelos said he isn’t even familiar with women’s hairstyles.
ON THE CUTTING EDGE Some barbershops, like Esquire, have tried to keep up with the latest trend in hairstyles. A cosmetologist cuts women’s hair at Esquire several days a week.
On a street which, at its peak, housed three or four barbershops, Montana Avenue’s only surviving one is Esquire.
Current owner Leonel Cacares began work there in the 1960s, taking over in the 1970s.
From the collection of razor blades to the barber pole hanging outside, Esquire prides itself on following the old-school barber mentality.
The walls of the shop are covered in personal photographs — pictures of Cacares and Barone and their families. In the front is a photo of Cacares’ father as a barber in a central California town. Cacares is a third-generation barber.
Barone became a barber after spending some of his professional career as a bartender next door at Father’s Office and working in a gas station nearby. He grew up on 10th Street, getting his hair cut at Esquire.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on July 20, 2007. Read the original PDF.