Haircuts with Herb by Ed Belote Sr.

Herb Benjamin has been cutting hair in the town of North East, Maryland for more than forty-five years. His barbershop
(just off the side of his tackle shop) has become a landmark, and all who visit appreciate Herb’s affable, witty personality.
Getting a cut at Herb’s is like stepping back in time; almost like being in Mayberry — the friendship and laughter beckon you to come back for more. Push open that squeaky screen door — come on in and listen...

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March/April 2009: Cold Morning Musing

Mr. Bill Seaver

It was the middle of January 2009, and it was cold … I think I heard it was 18 degrees that morning. As I stepped into Herb’s shop he acknowledged me with a smile and his usual introduction; “Now here’s Ed Belote. He’s the one who runs Cecil Soil Magazine … have you ever seen it?”

Bill Seaver (in the chair of honor) from Elkton simply nodded his head in the affirmative, and Frank Crane from North East said, “Oh yes, I love that magazine.” Also waiting for a cut was Nick Demond from North East. I proceeded to take photos of everyone. After setting up my equipment, I started the tape recorder and announced that we were recording. Someone quickly injected, “I guess we better not curse.” I think I was trying to be profound when I shot back, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a curse word in this shop. Have you, Herb?” My profound moment was suddenly dashed to pieces when Herb quipped, with a big smile, “Why, yes … I … have.” Everyone burst out in laughter, and over the din I whined, “Herb, do you have to be so honest?”

Mr. Nick Demond

His cut done, Bill climbed out of the chair and headed for the door. I yelled, “Hey Bill, I’ll probably use your photo on my website.” Bill hesitated, turned around smiling and answered, “Ya know, I have a computer, but I don’t know how to turn it on.” Everyone laughed.

Herb told me that Nick was the mayor of North East back in the late 50s and early 60s.”

“Well, they called it ‘President’ back then,” replied Mr. Demond.

He had a bad cough and clearly was not feeling well. When I inquired as to whether he was being treated by a doctor, he explained he had seen one the day before. “He took x-rays and I’m waiting to find out if I have bronchitis or what. And my wife is not doing too well either,” he finished. After a bit he exited Herb’s and went home to check on his wife.

Frank Crane, age 72, had his haircut earlier but was lingering to enjoy the friendliness of Herb’s shop. Frank is a retired truck driver who grew up on a farm on Wheatley Road.

“We ran a dairy farm … milked about 35 head all by hand … my dad, me and my brothers. After the morning milking, Mom prepared us breakfast and then we walked a mile to catch the school bus. We did all our farming with horses— plowing, planting, mowing, everything. I loved it back then, in the fifties,” said Frank.

“I remember that time well,” said Herb, “you could get a job anywhere, any time.”

“I graduated in ‘55 from Rising Sun,” continued Frank.

“Who was the principal back then?” asked Herb.

Mr. Frank Crane

“I know George Prettyman was vice principal,” answered Frank. Everyone agreed George Prettyman was a good man, but nailing down who was the principal of Rising Sun High School took much debate. I don’t think a consensus was ever reached, but they decided it may have been Dr. Eugene Nuss and that they all had liked him very much.

“Did you know he was a glider pilot in World War II?” asked Herb. “One time he told us a story about gliding over France and he heard ziiiip, and later found machine-gun holes in the back of his glider.”

After a bit, Frank said, “I guess I’m going to get on home.” Herb quickly encouraged him to stay a while longer.

“You mean open another keg of nails?” Frank shot back.

Herb looked a little perplexed and repeated, “Open a keg of nails?”

Frank explained, “In the old days the farmers would gather at the hardware store and shoot the bull, and when one of them was about to leave they were implored to stay by ‘opening another keg of nails’ i.e. bring up a lot more topics to discuss.”

Settling back in, Frank continued, “The other day I was in the supermarket with my wife and this fellow said to me, ‘You know, you got a good looking wife.'" “And what did you say to this man?” asked Herb.

“I asked him how many beers he had been drinking,” replied Frank. The shop broke into laughter and someone said, “Frank, you’re in a lot of trouble if this gets published.”

In defense, Frank added, “Naw, she knows I’m just kidding her. The 18th of this month we will have been married 52 blissful years.”

“And never had an argument,” Herb slipped in with an ornery grin.

After a seemingly long pause, Frank answered, “Well, I never got any black eyes.” The little shop roared with laughter.

This triggered at least another half hour of serious discussion about women. (Now dear reader, you must understand, there were only good things being discussed about our better halves, and I can prove it … if I could only find that tape!) —CSM

POSTSCRIPT: On the 18th of January I phoned up the Demonds to find out how they were doing and had a delightful talk with Nick’s wife, Lucia. She had broken her ankle in three places and recovered with rehab at Calvert Manor Healthcare Center. “Calvert Manor did a great job … and they’re good people, very kind,” she reported. I also spoke to Nick, fully recovered and his cough completely gone. As a matter of fact, I did all of the coughing … thanks, Nick!