The Last Crew Cut in America

Pete Rose and I might have stuck with the iconic haircut a bit too long.

I figure that I finally divested myself of the crew cut sometime in 1971, when I was eleven years old. I had sported that hairstyle throughout the 1960’s, from my birth in 1960, all the way to the end of the decade. I think I can argue that children don’t really have the keys to their hairstyle until around age six or seven; a child’s mother is pretty much calling the shots until that point.

But, I freely admit that my crew cut lingered longer than was fashionably responsible. Perhaps I simply didn’t care how I looked; maybe the prospect of making my own decisions overwhelmed me; or, and I think this theory has some merit, I was an obedient child, who did what his parents told him to do.

You know who else held on to his crew cut for too long? That’s right - Pete Rose (pictured above). And, Pete would have been thirty years old in 1971, well past the point at which he would have deferred to his mother regarding hairstyle choices (or, at least, I’d like to think so).

Now, in the village of Kenilworth, nestled in Chicago’s North Shore, where I spent my formative (both in terms of hairstyle and other things) years, the not-so-bustling business district included a local pharmacy (Blann’s); a tiny post office (zip code: 60043); an antique shop, and, curiously, two barber shops: Ray’s Barber Shop, located on Green Bay Road, and Jim’s Barber Shop, around the corner on Park Drive. There was also a guy who set up shop in the Kenilworth Train Station, and sold candy to kids attending Joseph Sears School, a few blocks away, but I’d be hard-pressed to count him as a member of Kenilworth’s business community, given the transient nature of his business (although, I do credit him for introducing me to the “Ice Cube,” a velvety-rich chocolate candy, which is absolutely delightful). (Ed. note: The award-winning columnist’s memory of Kenilworth’s business district from fifty-plus years ago might be waning - we welcome the input of Kenilworthians from that time, in the comments section below, to fill in the gaps - there must have been a few more businesses located in that strip, extending north on Green Bay Road, from Blann’s Pharmacy, and west along Park Drive, but we are unable to identify them).

Ray and Jim were a study in contrasts, which is why a community of roughly 3,000 people required two barbers, I suppose - in America you have a choice. My early haircuts were inflicted upon me by Ray, who may have attended only one day at the Barber College, inasmuch as he seemed capable of providing one and only one hairstyle: the crew cut.

Jim’s claim to fame, as I came to learn when I moved 100% of my follicular portfolio into his shop later on, was his ability to chatter nonstop about anything and everything. Jim could keep up his end of a (one-way) conversation about politics, the stock market, and the Cubs, all while clipping away at your hair, content with an occasional grunt, or “you’re right, Jim” from the customer ensconced in his barber chair.

By the way, you might suspect that I’ve created the concept of a “Barber College” as a satirical device, in order to poke fun at poor Ray. Let me assure you: the Barber College is (or, at least was) quite real - I regularly received haircuts at the Barber College, housed in expansive, second-floor warehouse space of a building on Massachusetts Street in Lawrence, Kansas, in the early 1980’s, while a student at the University of Kansas. The attraction for a penniless college student was its price-tag: $4.00. The downside to this experience was the time invested: a haircut regularly lasted about two hours, during which time the painstaking effort of the student-barber, following step-by-step instructions (similar to the “paint by numbers” approach to painting), was interrupted by shouts of “hair check!” at which the roving instructor would swoop by, and inspect the progress occurring atop your head, perhaps offering tweaks or suggestions for the student-barber in the next phase of the haircut. This “hair check” no doubt also entered into the final grade earned by the student-barber; I never did find out if my student-barbers made the Dean’s List, or if they were consistent C- students - but, what do you expect for four bucks?

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The term, “crew cut” appeared to originate with Ivy League crew (that’s rowing to you and me) members, a haircut designed to keep hair from blowing in the rower’s (crewer’s?) face as he rowed (crewed?) furiously toward the finish line. The hairstyle was popular in the 1920’s and 1930’s among college students, and was utilized by the military during World War II (I don’t remember seeing pictures of American G.I.’s furiously rowing their narrow racing shells along the Normandy coast during the D-Day invasion, but my grasp of historical events is sometimes quite loose). Many returning serviceman continued to sport that haircut, perhaps due to one of the three reasons cited above (i.e. “indifference to looks;” “avoiding decision-making;” or “obedience to parents”), and it remained popular during the 1950’s and early 1960’s.

For the sake of argument, let’s stipulate that I was not the haircut decision-maker until the age of six, which would have landed me in 1966. But, beginning that year, I should have been in charge of my own hair, and, more importantly, I should have noticed the winds of change occurring all around me, including the significant cultural shift away from the crew cut. Some of the more notable events which should have caught my eye, and influenced my haircut choice include:

• 1966 - by June, 1966, an estimated 15,000 hippies had moved into San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury neighborhood. And, these guys were not sporting crew cuts.

  

• 1967 - also centered in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, the “Summer of Love” unfolded in 1967 - its hallmarks were: hippie music, hallucinogenic drugs, antiwar sentiment, and the free-love movement. . .and no crew cuts.

  

• 1968 - 1968 was a tumultuous year throughout the U.S., but I think I’ve got to go with the Democratic National Convention, held right in my back yard (actually, Kenilworth is 21 miles north of Grant Park, where many protest activities unfolded) - some of the Chicago cops may have been sporting crew cuts, beneath those helmets, but none of the protesters were.

  

• 1969 - how could I not acknowledge Woodstock, right? Formally branded, “Woodstock Music and Art Fair,” it could also have been labeled, “A Tribute to the Demise of the Crew Cut.”

• 1970 - the killing of four students on the campus of Kent State University by the Ohio National Guard was another seminal event in the cultural (and hairstyle) shift occurring in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s.

  

• 1971 - perhaps the launch of All in the Family on TV was the last straw for me - I mean, I’m sure that Rob Reiner had a crew cut in his younger days, but his character on this show, Michael Stivic, put an end to the crew cut for me - even Archie Bunker wasn’t flying the crew cut flag.

  

Within a fairly short period of time, I over-corrected, and was rocking shoulder-length hair, like the rest of my youthful companions.

But, what of Pete Rose? Did he eventually “cross over?” I’ll let you be the judge. Pete has made some regrettable decisions over the years, and his hair was not immune.

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Addendum: Some of you have pointed out that I neglected to share an example of my own crew cut, in order that you may compare with Pete’s - you know, “Who wore it better?” In the interest of even-handed journalism, below is a photo of the columnist, sporting his crew cut, in 1971. .

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