Cecil Soil Magazine

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…

Winter 2006: WWII Veterans remember...

As Herb was cutting an elderly gentlemen’s hair he remarked, “You know, I forget your first name.”

“Bob,” came the quick response.

“Bob,” Herb repeated. “I remember your brother…what was his name?”

“Blain,” said Bob.

“What’s your last name, Bob?” I asked.

“Burchett,” he replied in his easy-going way.

“Mind spelling that for me?” I asked.

“B-U-R-C-H-E-T-T,” he spelled.

Not catching this clearly, I asked Bob if his last name ended with an “E”.

He replied, “I don’t use an “E” at the end of my name, but Blain does.

The shop burst into laughter and through all the mirth I told Herb we have another ‘name game’ going on here! Wiping happy tears from my eyes I tried to finalize this discourse we were enjoying.

“So your full name is Robert Burchett?”

“No, actually it’s Howard Burchett.”

The room started rocking again and Herb jumped in real quick.

“Let me get this straight,” laughed Herb, “What do your friends call you?”

“Everybody calls me Bob,” replied Howard. “I got a tattoo on my arm when I was in the service…1943, and it said ‘Bob’ ... and since that time everybody called me Bob.”

“Why did they put ‘Bob’ as your name on that tattoo?” I asked.

“I don’t know…the fellow who put that tattoo on me said I reminded him of a buddy he had whose name was Bob. He asked me if he could put it on and I said, ‘I don’t care.’”

Through the laughter Herb asked, “Were you drinking at the time?”

Suddenly looking a bit sheepish, Howard replied, “Aaa…well…yeah.”

After this admission everyone roared, including Howard and “Bob.”

When things settled down we had a friendly conversation and I found out that 78-year-old Howard (or Bob) Burchett from Elkton, has eight children, the oldest, a daughter, is 58. He enlisted in the Army at 16 years of age (he fibbed about his age to get in) and remains very patriotic.

“I joined the Army to fight for my country…things were different back then,” said Howard before leaving.

Ralph McKnight, 81, and a veteran of WWII, climbed into the chair of honor for his cut. Mr. McKnight talked about is service as an Airborne where he made many parachute jumps, “Because it paid more money.” He served in the south Pacific in 1944. Herb mentioned that Ralph’s son is the Mayor of North East.

Later, 54-year-old Bobby Laird from North East climbed into the chair and Herb asked him how many brothers he had … Bobby said he had five brothers, one sister.

“Ed, let me tell you about these Laird boys,” said Herb. “I gave all of them their first haircuts and not one of them cried. Believe me, this is very unusual.”

After a pleasant conversation with Bobby Laird, 88-year-old Jess Phillips gingerly climbed into the chair. When I commented how well he moved for his age, Jess replied it was because of his ‘good Polish blood’.

“I started as a wood pattern maker back in 1936,” Jess said. “I worked at General Steel Castings in Eddystone, Pennsylvania. Then in 1940 I was drafted and sent to Fort Riley, Kansas into the 104th Calvary.”

“Is this the ‘horse’ Calvary, you’re talking about?” asked Herb in amazement.

“Yes,” replied Jess. “Then later they took the horses away from us and issued us light tanks…I guessed they figured tanks couldn’t be shot out from under us as easily,” joked Jess.

“After a little better than a year there, I was reclassified and given orders to report back to General Steel Castings in Eddystone…said I would be of better use to the war effort there. I went back to my wood pattern maker job where I worked on the design of the Army’s largest tank at the time…our model was one inch to the foot. Then in 1946 I became an industrial arts teacher in a middle school in Chester, Pennsylvania,” he continued.

Jess unknowingly hit a nerve with me. I immediately interrupted and told him my mother, Lillian Petryk, went to a middle school in Chester, called Dewey Mann School.

“That’s where I taught!” exclaimed Jess. “When was your Mom there?”

“I think she graduated around 1936 at the age of fifteen,” I answered.

“Well, she was in there before I started teaching…is your Mom still alive?”

“No she is not, Jess,” I replied. “She died in 2001, just before 9-11.”

“My wife, Shirley, died just a few years ago,” offered Jess.

Not everything said in Herb’s shop garners a laugh – nor should it. Sometimes a connection is made…a connection to reality. At these sober times you can see how much we are all alike and how important we all are.

Autumn 2005: Red toads and foxes...

Herb just finished up on 76 year-old Ed Guest from Red Toad Road, and like a lot of Herb’s customers he simply did not pay and leave – he paid and stayed. You just don’t walk out in the middle of an interesting conversation at Herb’s.

Herb continued their conversation, “Course you know why they call it Red Toad Road? They call it Red Toad Road because many years ago there were a lot of brick factories along it…and an uncured brick is called a Toad,” said Herb.

“There is such a gadget as a red toad,” Ed shot back, “I’ll never forget the first year we moved down there – in 1979. We had a little pond on the side yard, about 18 feet across. They invaded that pond – there must have been five hundred of them.”

“You’re saying Red Toads invaded that pond?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Ed.

“On Red Toad Road?” I continued.

“Five hundred of em,” declared Ed.

Everyone started to laugh – you had to see the seriousness on Ed Guest’s face to fully appreciate this little story.

During all the mirth, Ed wound it up, “Never saw them again – just that one summer.”

Herb asked Ed if he does any hunting and Ed replied, “Oh yeah…I like to hunt groundhogs and deer.”

“Well that’s what I call a mixed bag, Ed,” replied Herb. The little room burst into laughter – with his dry sense of humor, Ed didn’t crack a smile.

“A lady over on Leeds Road asked me to come over and help her out with a fox problem she was having. She said they’re killing her chickens. I can’t seem to get over there the same time they’re out,” explained Ed.

An older fellow who had remained quiet during this exchange suddenly came alive and offered his vast knowledge of foxes and chickens. “Let me tell you how to get rid of those foxes,” he began. “What you gotta do is urinate up the side of the chicken house every so often – I guarantee they’ll never come around again.”

You could tell Ed appreciated this wisdom because he took it all in with a serious countenance on his face. The other fellows were strangely quiet also – I guess they too were caught up in the profoundness of it all.

But ole Herb busted them out of this mood by injecting, “Yeah Ed, I bet that will work, but you better do it at night; your neighbors will get you locked up if they see you doing that during day time.”

The room exploded in laughter and as I watched Ed closely I could see a bit of a smile play across his face. You could tell Herb was enjoying it too.

“I watch those foxes out in my back yard. I have one of those dusk to dawn lights that light up the whole back yard. I put birdseed under a cherry tree for the ground feeder birds and the foxes come in and eat the birdseed,” said Ed.

“I have a 275 gallon tank out there that I had gas in. During the daytime that tank heats up and expands with a loud boom, then at night it contracts and booms again.

“I just happened to be looking out the back window one evening and I saw that fox eating sunflower seeds. And that tank booms! I mean that fox came six foot off the ground and landed ten foot away. He stared at that tank and couldn’t figure out what happened – boy did he entertain me.”

“Speaking of entertainment, I love this shop of yours, Herb,” I offered. “I find it fascinating every time I walk in here – you make everybody feel accepted.

“Ed, I think I told you before, when you go into a strange place you may feel a bit uncomfortable; I try to make people feel relaxed,” said Herb. “And it doesn’t take a whole lot, just a good feeling towards your fellow man.”

Topics open for serious discussion are endless in Herb’s shop. You may be surprised how many of the worlds problems are solved in that tiny room.

When all the chairs are full and you get the right mixture of elderly brainpower, anything is possible…I get goose bumps just thinking about it.