Ike And Lou's Barbershop Every morning before he would open his barbershop, Isaac Harris would sit on his main barber chair, embed himself in the comfort of the plush seating and lose himself in memory. He had been there for so long that everything and every square inch had a story to it. The 10 wooden waiting chairs with green polyeurethane covering were given to him as an opening present by the baptist church a half a block down the street. The white main table in the middle of where the chairs were arranged had over 2,000 Jet magazines beneath it, which he had collected over 40 years. Right under the television atop the shops northwest corner was a furnished oak table with a painted checkerboard in the middle of it, in which he and Melvin Williams, his longtime checkers adversary, would do battle when Isaac wasn�t cutting anyone�s hair. In the closet where he kept the hair care products, his uncle Herman used to create and sell bootleg rotgut liquor; running it out of a keg that had a sign in white letters saying " afro-sheen" (Which worked except for one time in 1977 where he mixed the two up; resulting in an awful drinking experience for uncle Herman and the county commissioners son having an afro that was 90/90 proof) Isaac turned to the floor and remembered how he lectured every barber that worked there on the science of black hair while they were sweeping and mopping well enough for him to " See his reflection." The wooden paneling of the walls he had put in with the help of Lou Watkins, his childhood running partner, WWII buddy, and co owner of the barbershop until he died in 1969. In his memory, Ike and Lou's barbershop is still on a sign above the front door, repainted by Isaac himself every year in the same gold letters with white trim. The four swivel barber chairs, all blue leather with extensive padding, were akin to the doors of separate transparent offices, where every barber gave their own special imprint. The latest group of barbers he had was a contentious bunch. On the end chair was Jabari Asim Muhammad, or, what everybody called him to his consternation, Kenny Jenkins. He was an overweight member of the five percent nation who had his barbershop jacket customized in African garb (But don�t ask him what tribe it came from, for he dropped out of school in the 11th grade). He often bragged that his people were going to get five states in order to get a separate black nation. Most of the old folk were scared of him because he had a habit of talking more than cutting, and deep down the only reason that Isaac had him there was that he was the only one in the shop that could cut high top fades and insignia's in hair. Insignia�s on which Isaac swore on a stack of bibles he would never do. " Gawd dammit I ain�t gonna cut no black man's head like it's a gawd damm piece of cheese" he would often say, " The black man�s head is far too complex for that sh!t" To his right was pretty Kenny; a tall, handsome cream colored lothario with perfect cornrows, 500 dollar sneakers, sonic starter gear and ice on his wrist and neck that cost over four figures. Which was puzzling to the employees and proprietors of the shop because Kenny couldn�t cut hair to save his life. More often than not the brave souls that sat on his chair came out with hair looking like the result of a groundskeeper's crack binge. About the only thing that saved him was that the neighborhood baby mama's would visit and bring their son's for him to cut their hair, give him some money and catch a glimpse of his youthful beauty. Next to him was big Willie, the only mainstay from the barbershop�s inception (which was about 40 years and 125 less of his pounds ago). He used to be a svelte professional boxer, but that was before a pork chop/rib shack opened down the street in 1965. From a carnivorous standpoint, Willie could mess a cow up. � I hear they got wanted posters in India with a picture of your big a$$ smilin� Isaac liked to say to him. . But he could make the best s-curl in the state of Washington, would tell you the funniest dirty jokes while you were sitting in the chair and when he was finished, give you a big bear hug that made you feel like that you were in the presence of a loved one. And on the end chair sat Issac, owner, mediator, and conductor of the beautifully cacophonous symphony that was daily life there. He was the barbershops renaissance man, a combination of King Solomon, Fred Sanford and Howard Cosell (as well as his assumed title as the best black barber in the state of Washington). He embodied the term of artisan, knowing every single solitary nuance of his trade. He didn't just know about hair, he knew the different follicles, shades, growth patterns styles. He knew how different scalps reacted to pain and how hair would look on them two, four and six weeks after they would get cut. He didn�t suffer fools gladly, In his seat you had to know what you wanted and it had to be classy, for he cut hair for men and would throw your a$$ out of his chair if he had the slightest inkling that you were playing around with him. He took a comb and patted his straightened hair as he looked at the reflection of himself in the mirror. The smooth brown skin and picture perfect conked hair on his 1962 barbers certificate taped on the bottom left hand side of his mirror was now eroded tile cracked and gray. He looked at the pictures that he posted around his window on the wall: him with a drunk Dale Ellis, him with Seattle mayor Norm Rice (who left a generous tip), him with Leo Randolph right after he won his gold medal in Montreal in 76 and his favorite, a picture of him in braiding Steve Wonder's in his dressing room backstage before a concert he had at the Tacoma dome; and if you look hard enough you could swear that both men�s smiles were so wide that their cheeks nearly touched their ears. He was in the process of making sure his conk in perfect order when, in the reflection of the mirror, he saw a heavy set man wearing a plaid blue suit and bow tie berate a chubby young kid wearing the same get up across the street. � I�ll be dammed if folks acting ignorant round my place of business� he thought, " It�s too hot for all that dammed foolishness.� He ignored them for a while until the man started to shake him, causing Isaac to get out of his chair and run outside. � Gawd d@mmit take that sh!t else where. You'sa a really big man messing with a boy in the middle of the street.� � N!gga don�t tell me how to raise my kid� � listen boy, this is a business district. Folk trying to make money here. Take your drama someplace else.� He ran off with the boy and Isaac went back to the shop, convinced that he would never see the two again. Around five minutes before closing time, the boy came in with a 3 by 3 foot plastic cart filled with bean pies. The barbers were all hunkered around the air conditioner and Isaac was playing another round of the eternal game of checkers he had with Melvin when he came in the door and it was so hot that Kenny and Willie Let out a smile at the ever so faint breeze of cold air that came from the doors movement. Beads of sweat ran down the boy�s forehead, as he pushed his shoulder�s up lifted his head and mustered enough courage to say � B..bb..bbean pie my brothers?� The wide, anxious and almost paralyzed look on his face showed that he was deeply frightened. He turned to Jabari and asked the same question. � Asalamalaikum, brotha Jabari. I know your down for me.� � I would help you my brother, but me and my moms been fighting over money this week� he said � Maybe some other time.� � I thought you nation boys was supposed to be men� Isaac interrupted � Why cant you find your own damm place.� � I might have a place if you paid me better, Isaac, instead of these capitalist slave wages you are paying me now.� � You might be paid better if you knew how to cut hair instead of all those tacky a$$ insignias you do.� � Anyway� Jabari said � I cant help you today brotha. I�m sorry.� The boy lowered his head and turned towards pretty Kenny. � Hell naw playa. I ain�t paying no 9 dollars for no quarter size flavorless pie.� he told him. � But you will be a beacon to the community and help the black nation rise itself out of its plight and fight the oppressive white devil.� he said, delivering the lines that his father literally and figuratively drilled into him with a perfectly monotone pitch. � Naw pimp, not my style.� �But.� � I said it ain�t my style.� He looked towards big Willie but was interrupted before he could say anything. � Boy, do you know I could swallow all them pies before you could blink.� He said � But you a nice looking young man though. Want a hair cut? I�ll give you a good perm.� He looked toward Isaac who looked down at him with his glasses. � Now boy, you know we don�t allow no soliciting here,� he said calmly but sternly. � Git on.� � But.� � I said git on.� � Hold up Isaac,� said Melvin � now I ain�t gonna buy no pies from the boy, but lets have him sit down and rest. Boy, you look like a fine young man. Ain�t you hot in that suit?� � Nnnn�nnno.� he responded � I�m sorry I gotta go.� � Kenny, you ain�t cutting nobody�s hair right now? Here, go get this kid a soda. Sit down and play checkers with me, son� �I gotta go.� � son, don�t be low, play checkers with an old man, Don�tcha know how to play. Sit down, why you cryin boy I�ll teach ya.� As he ran out of the shop, dropping a bean pie in the process, Melvin looked at Isaac puzzled. �Lord, what�s wrong with that boy.� �I�ll tell you what�s wrong with that boy,� Willie blurted �He ain�t laughing and playing on a Saturday afternoon like 99.9999 percent of normal children do. Instead you got him on selling expensive a$$ foul tasting pies, burning up in a blue suit and a blue bow tie in 100-degree weather. Did you see his face!? The boy looked like he was fixing to die from heat stroke! I tell you what them nation people do ain�t right!� �You see my brotha,� Jabari responded� That is what�s wrong with your colonial slave mentality. He is training young to be a strong black king, a revolutionary free from the mindset of the oppressors and the trapping of a racist society. He is preparing himself to be a giant, a community leader. A�.� �He�s preparing to live at his momma�s house and work at for barely above minimum wage with conspiracy theories all in his head just exactly like your a$$, Kenny Jenkins� Willie responded, causing the shop to burst with laughter. �My name is Jabari Asim Muhammad� �Boy Im�a do a logic problem for you,� Melvin interrupted �You live with your momma. Your momma call you Kenny Jenkins. Your name is Kenny Jenkins.� �That is my slave name brotha, you are defiling me.� �Boys I don�t care about anybody�s slave name, go look outside.� Isaac said pointing to the window where the heavy set man was beating the boy with a closed fist. He had failed to meet quota with his goods sales that week, a historical no no in nation guidelines which was punishable by violence even at times death. Isaac, Willie, Kenny and Melvin rushed out of the wooden door across the street and circled him. Startled, the man took out a little 22 and pointed at Isaac �You n!ggas ain�t gonna teach me how to raise my child� he said. But as his eyes contracted from the adrenaline that came from the surprise of being circled, he saw he saw 4 guns being pointed right at him: Isaac with the 38 he kept in a holster beneath his barbershop coat and Willie, Melvin and Kenny with little 22�s they kept in their pockets. Stunned, he ran off leaving the boy on the ground with a badly swollen face. With his eye swelling to the size of a grapefruit, Kenny and Willie rushed the boy inside the shop and sat him on Isaac�s main chair. � Melvin get my medical kit that I used on Willie when I used to box.� Isaac said while grabbing bags in the top chest of drawers under his window. �I don�t know where the hell that is, the last time he fought was 1964.� � Quit talking and find that gawd dayum kit, his eye is swelling up in a bad place. � � I got it, what�s the hell can you use all this stuff is 40 years old.� � I said quit talking and give me the kit! Dammit the compressor still works, now go give me some vasoline. Willie go to the ice machine and fill up two of these bags ! Kenny go to miss Cleotha�s and get 2 large orders of ribs, some mashed potatoes and 2 strawberry lemonades, I�m hungry.� �Two?� �One for the boy too.� � But your defiling his purity as a member of the nation.� said Jabari, who sat sulking in his chair the entire time. �He is not supposed to eat pork.� �And look where that�s got him!� snapped Isaac � The boy�s eating some pork chops today.� �But his purity as a member of the nation.� � SHUT UP !� the rest of the barbershop said in unison 20 minutes later, Kenny came back with the rib order, and sat it on the table next to the checker board � You allright little playa.� He said. �Yes sir.� he said holding an ice pack to his left eye. � Sir my a$$, cuz. My name is Kenny. But the ladies call me pretty Kenny.� which evoked sarcastic groans from the shop. � Take your coat off.� said Isaac as he put a compressor over his right eye. �You took some shots today, what�s your name.� �Musi..mus..musi..� � Boy what�s the name your momma call you.� � Albert.� � Well Albert, you allright with me.� he said as he led him out of the chair and into the seat right next to the chess table �Freddie, get the fan out of the back and put it on Albert here. This boy sho is sweatin.� As Albert and Melvin were playing checkers, Willie started to rhapsodize about his career. � I was a boxer once,� he said � Really good too. Coulda been the middle weight champ.� � Yeah, ya could have been the middleweight champ if you didn�t eat your last opponent.� Blurted Isaac � Shut up man.� � Yeah, Ike,� said Melvin standing up next to Willie and putting his arm around his neck.� Don�t lie on my man Willie here, everybody knows that he didn�t eat his last opponent, wouldn�t eat his last opponent and couldn�t have possibly ate his last opponent.� �Yeah!� said Willie with a big grin on his face. � My man Willie had superior pugilistic skills, and to say that he lost a fight because he mistook his opponent for a side order of ribs damages his character. � Preach, brother Melvin.� said Willie with his shoulders held high � Besides, everybody knows he ate the referee.� He said causing Willie to slap him upside his head. � Y�all need Jesus,� he said trying hard not to smile amid the shops laughter �All y�all need Jesus.� As the shadows of the sunset and the shifting sun gave the shop a much needed drop in temperature, his mother came to pick him up. And as Albert was walking out the door, Isaac put a five dollar bill in his hand. �Son consider this your hiring bonus. If you come in here every and sweep up, I�ll teach you the ropes around here.� � Yep.� said Willie with a smile � That would be really nice.� � Sho you right.� aid Melvin. �You look like good people, Albert. Gooood people.�
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