Lakewood Ranch barber a cut above

With my father being a Marine, I was sentenced to the chair as a child.

The barber's chair.

I can still remember the day, more than a half century ago, when I plopped into that chair, sitting on the little, rectangular box they had to raise up kids, and then felt helpless as the barber snipped, and snipped, and snipped.

Tears began to fall as I pictured myself going to school the next day bald. The chair kept spinning to the right and left, and my hair floated to the floor like a steady rain. He turned me every way except toward the mirror, so I couldn't estimate the damage.

This barber was relentless.

When he was done, I had my first crew cut, the kind that would make a Marine proud. My dad stood in front of me, beaming.

Over the years, my outlook changed, and I actually didn't mind going to the barber. The men who came through the door, past the barber's pole, more than anything paid an admittance fee. Most of the shops had three or four barbers up front, and a waiting line of chairs, often full, directly in front of them.

It should have been called a "conversation shop," because the snipping took a secondary status to the discussion of current events. The patrons came for a flat top and sage advice because barbers were the wise men of the day. I enjoyed the banter, even though as a child, I knew better than to interject.

Whether the profession is the same today, I'm not so sure. Yes, you still get that conversation as the barber ... stylist ... beautician does your hair, but much of the feel of that old-time barber shop has been lost as our life's pace has kicked up to warp speed, forcing barbers to use electric clippers and sheers.

Last week, though, I was introduced to Pat Grillo, a 56-year veteran of the hair wars, working at the Barbary Shoppe on Lakewood Main Street in Lakewood Ranch.

After moving to Bradenton from New York six years ago, Pat and his wife, Francine, were attending a Music on Main event when his wife spotted the Barbary Shoppe. Pat had lived in the area for three months after putting away his combs and scissors in New York, and was playing golf every day. His wife knew he needed something to stay busy.

Being a barber here seemed out of the question, because Pat didn't want to practice the fast-food, assembly line form of cutting hair he believed was prevalent. Francine, though, said the Barbary Shoppe looked different.

So he walked through the door the following Tuesday. "Do you need any help? I'm a barber from New York," Grillo said. "None of that resume (expletive)."

He started his new job the next day, and the conversation became a lot more interesting at the Barbary Shoppe for those who have lived a little.

"One time I had a boss say, 'You talk a good haircut,'" said Grillo, who was born in Manhattan and lived and worked in various places in the New York City area over the years.

His story catalogue has increased over time. At a shop in Manhattan, he used to cut the hair of late James Cagney, "The Public Enemy" himself whose "You dirty rat" line at the time was equivalent to Clint Eastwood's "Make my day!" Alas, Cagney never actually said "You dirty rat" in any of his movies, so if you want to talk about it, Grillo has a chair for you.

Steve McQueen used to frequent Grillo's shop in Greenwich Village and, at times, he would bring along Ali MacGraw. "He was a nice guy," Grillo said of McQueen, who was kind of the Brad Pitt of his day. "He wanted a mod look, combed it straight down."

Boxing champ Hector "Macho' Camacho used to frequent Grillo's Bronx barber shop with his cousin. Camacho would go in a back room where Grillo had hung a heavy bag and work out while his cousin was getting his hair cut.

Donald Trump came into a shop where Grillo was working, but he chose another barber. "I'm starting to look like Donald Trump with my comb over," Grillo said. "Here, they want to buzz me."

The son of a longshoreman (Alex Grillo), he was a "bad kid" growing up and he decided to find an occupation when he was 16. Under those circumstances it might have been interesting he chose to become a beautician. The "bad kid" only lasted three months and switched over to barber school because it was easier.

In his 20s, he bought his first shop from a barber in his 80s who wanted out. It cost him $4,000.

After a few years, he picked up a chair in the Waldorf Astoria but he didn't care for the clientele. "I combed through one guy's hair and it was full of grease," he said. "I was done right there."

He bounced around from Greenwich Village to the Bronx and Manhattan. Compiling stories along the way.

Now his chair sits in Lakewood Ranch, and he has not intention of ever leaving. He loves his clientele, which includes older gentlemen who still prefer scissors over clippers.

While he uses both clippers and scissors these days, he can cut any style that has become popular over the last 50 years, including crew cuts, flat tops (he said the hardest to do), module cuts (made popular by the Beatles), Afros and Detroits. Grillo said Detroits are also known as DAs for a duck's bottom. It's the slicked back look Michael Douglas made popular in "Wall Street."

Just know what you want. It's good advice as I think back to my own childhood experience.

"It is different now," Grillo said. "Now they ask 'What number do you use?' I watched one woman ask a customer what number he wanted, and he didn't know what to say. She skinned him."

Been there.