Close shaves a memory at tonsorial establishment

July 10, 2009 10:56 am

— Perhaps the least satisfying shave in history was administered to Albert Anastasia, lord high executioner of the Mafia’s Murder Incorporated, who was blown away by rival gangsters while lounging in the reclining chair of a New York City barber shop in 1957.
But there have been other close shaves.
In 1979, while undergoing schooling for her barber’s license in Ohio, Marsha Diller prepped a customer for the straight razor with steam towels and what she thought was a moisturizing cream.
“But I reached in the wrong container,” she said with a sigh. “I got butch wax instead.”
No such accidents can occur at Diller’s Barber Shop at 202 E. Chambers St.
This is partly because Marsha, the proprietor, no longer offers straight-razor shaves.
“I did them up until about two years ago, and they tied up my chair for too long,” she said. “But when I had a shop in Fort Worth [Ridglea Barber Shop], we had six barbers, so we did shaves pretty regularly.”
A straight-razor shave in no way resembles a safety-razor shave. Straight razors aren’t remotely safe in untrained hands.
“We didn’t start barber school in Ohio with [shaving] balloons,” Diller said. “We started working on real people. We shaved the other students, but mostly we shaved people who came in. We didn’t get business people at the school. We got street people. We’d give them a free shave in exchange for coming in.
“There was one customer whose mind was really bad. The student who punched in last at the start of the day had to shave that person. That made everybody hurry up to punch the clock.”
Diller was a natural with the straight razor, meaning she had steady hands.
“It came easy to me,” she said. “I didn’t have a problem with it.”
That didn’t keep her from being nervous the first time she shaved a fellow student, she said.
“You don’t want to cut somebody you go to school with every day. Funny thing was, I liked giving shaves. I thought it was relaxing. It was something different. You’d put the steam towels on and hold the skin real taut.”
Diller was born to barber.
“My grandmother and mother cut hair,” she said. “They weren’t barbers. They did it at home. I’d watch my grandmother do shaves with a straight razor. I thought it was something I’d like to do. But in barber school, you have to give a shave in so many steps. And we learned to give a variety of haircuts.”
Cutting hair professionally is more complicated than snipping away with a scissor. A real barber uses a portable lawn mower called a clipper.
“We do clipper cuts here,” Diller said. “That’s what we’re experienced in. Using a clipper takes a lot of experience. You want to make it look smooth and even. You don’t want to hold the clippers at the wrong angle. I went to barber school for 10 and a half months, and we probably spent nine of those learning to pick up and use the clippers.
“You think you know how when you get out of school, but then you get put besides the old-time barbers who would pick up the clippers, give a haircut in five or 10 minutes and make it look so easy.”
Diller, who considers herself an old-time barber, misses the old-time barbering community.
“When I started out in Fort Worth, I worked with old-time barbers, all older men,” she said. “I was usually the only female barber, and we were like family. All the barbers in Fort Worth knew each other. If one had a problem, the others would help. I got used to them taking care of me. I miss that.”
There’s always something happening at Diller’s Barber Shop, even if it’s just customers sitting around in the morning, talking about what they think is going to happen.
“My customers are mostly older men,” Diller said. “The majority are very easy-going. I like the people here. Cleburne is a good place.”
If a customer is having a tough day, “I’ll tease him,” Diller said. “Sometimes, they’ll ask for advice. What’s sad is when the oldtimers get depressed. You get to know them. You try to help them. You worry about them.”
On any given day, Diller and fellow barber Angel York, Diller’s daughter, will give regular haircuts, burrs and the occasional flat-top.
“The flat-top is the hardest haircut to give,” Diller said. “It’s all done free hand. You have to look at it, angle it, and get the hair to stand straight up.”
She’s never had a female customer ask for a flat-top. In fact, she has no female customers.
“I’m not trained to do women’s hair,” Diller said. “I’m trained to do men’s hair. Besides, you get a woman in the chair, and she’s like ‘Do this, do that,’ and the other customers are looking at you like ‘Hurry up and get her out of here.’ I’ve got three daughters. I don’t cut their hair. No. 1, I don’t feel secure cutting it. No. 2, I don’t want to hear them complain if they don’t like it.”
Business is good at Diller’s Barber Shop.
“People always need haircuts,” Diller said. “No matter how broke you are, you can only go so long without a haircut. I like it. It’s a good job.”

Photos

Marsha Diller runs a full-service establishment with two exceptions. She doesn’t give straight-razor shaves, and she doesn’t cut women’s hair, even that of her daughters.