For over a century a barbershop went hand-in-hand with the Pioneer Saloon. Times change, the old fashioned barbershop is bordering upon extinction.
In Susanville, there is still Fred’s Barbershop at 20 North Lassen Street. It is a place that I not only patronize, but also stopped by from time to time to discuss the weather and any other topic that suits our fancy. Fred Borghi, has been doing business there since October 1958, a local institution.
I REALLY ENJOY THESE STORIES. WE MUST NOT THAT BEFORE FREDDIE OWNED THE BARBER SHOP IT WAS TONY FARANO’S FOR MANY YEARS. I REMEMBER WHEN FREDDIE WENT TO WORK THERE. I WENT TO HIGH SCHOOL WITH HIM. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. I LOVE SUSANVILLE AND ITS HISTORY.
Tony gave me my first haircut i can still remember dad taking me to tonys for a hair cut and listening to the men talk
Anyone remember the barbershop at the corner of Gay and Main, part of the “State Bar”, adjunct to the Grand Cafe, in the early ’70’s?
Well, Marvin owned and ran the place, and when not literally clipping someone in his chair, would enter the bar from his side door, and in doing so, would make us pool table weasels shudder at the thought of him even watching us. He was the king. It cost you a minimum of five dollar wager–if you wanted to find out–and to make it worse, he would let you take any five of your own balls of the table. That’s right, to beat him, you only had to sink two balls, opposed to his seven.
Over the years I heard stories of how someone had beat Marvin, but it was always “someone”, no one specific.
Oh, and speaking of the State Bar, one night, me and this other fool were in there by ourselves, along with the bartendress, whose name, for purposes of this story, will be Jennifer. Let it also be said Jennifer had a one-in-a-million face, just gorgeous, but sigh, from the neck down, too fat for me. Anyway, it was late, and quiet. But lo, in through the door silently walks Pokey Joe, a relatively young but infamous local sheepherder, so named by others who claim Joe did in fact poke those of his own herd having four legs. He walked to the bar and ordered a drink.
We didn’t give him no mind and were busy at the pool table, when, in the lush and late quiet, we hear this “CHINK”, and in turning toward the noise, we now see Joe at the bar, his trousers dropped; his belt-buckle having loudly hit the large brass footrail on the way down. He next turned his back to the bar; we stopped our game. He sat down on the footrail; we looked at each other kind of like, are you thinking what I’m thinking? About thirty seconds later a smell gripped our noses.
Sometimes you don’t know what to say, so we just gestured at Jennifer who, upon leaning over the bar, gave out a shreik. At this, Joe’s head gave a start from where it was hanging down among his ankles, and upon getting to his feet, departed our company without further incident to Jennifer emotional well being. Mind you, this was the beautiful Susanville of the past, not the beautiful prison town of today. These days, home here in Texas, there is now, close by, a bar called Pokey Joes. Don’t know anyone who goes there, as sheepherders, by trade, are of a different nature.
Can’t say I remember Pokey Joe but I sure do recall Pisces Paul who made it a regular habit of stopping by The State to get himself knocked senseless…lol. Far too many days/nights /early mornings spent in that joint. Bring the wash to town, order a bowl of chili and eat it in the bar with a 25 cent draft beer while waiting for Marvin to call me for a haircut, throw the wash in the dryer, have another 2-3 beers, throw the wash in a bag, have another 2-3 beers and maybe go back to the ranch.