Paul Bass Photos
As Mike Balcombe sat in George Reeves’ Dixwell Avenue barber’s chair, a generational change was in the offing.
Balcombe asked for a “shape-up,” including a trim of the sides and the goatee.
Behind him, a sign on the mirror announced news: After 61 years giving haircuts, the last 57 of them on Dixwell Avenue, Reaves plans to give his last haircut this Saturday.
In the next chair, Clyde Thompson (pictured at left), Reaves’ protégé, was working on the hair of another regular customer, Bishop Theodore Brooks of Beulah Heights Pentecostal Church. Thompson said he was giving Brooks the “gentleman’s cut.” (The meaning of that title, unclear at first, would become apparent by the time Balcombe got his cut.)
Reaves is passing down his clippers to Thompson, who will take over the shop at 51 Dixwell. Thompson will keep alive one of the neighborhood’s longest-lasting businesses, a place not just to get hair trimmed but also to engage in civil discourse.
Since his graduation in 1954 from Bull City Barber College in Durham and his first gig the same year at 7‑chair Mat’s Barber Shop in Fayetteville, Reaves has never lost his touch, or his enjoyment of the job.
“I love to cut hair. I love to meet peoples. I love to talk to them; I learn a lot,” Reaves said between customers Thursday, as CNN news flashes about the unrest in Baltimore blared from a television in the rear of the shop. “I’ve changed a few people’s lives by talking to them, by inviting them to church, inviting them to God.
“I really hate to give it up. But it’s that time now.”
Reaves has had a sense for the past six months that the time had arrived. By the time he turned 80, his legs hurt from standing all day. The arthritis in his hands worsened. Finally, “on a Tuesday morning, God told me it was time to make up your mind.”
On Wednesday, he had this sign made. He attached it to one of the mirrors.
Reaves decided to move north in late 1957. His brother-in-law, also a barber, invited him to join his shop in New York City; Reaves declined. “New York was too fast for me. I was a young man, a country boy. I didn’t want no part of New York.”
He said yes to a similar offer from Paul Worthy. The two had worked together at Mat’s in Fayetteville. Worthy had opened his own shop at 73 Dixwell Ave. in New Haven. The shop was in the then-bustling commercial district in the heart of the city’s African-American community. His wife Clara had given birth to the first of their eventual four children; New Haven seemed like a more manageable size. Like many other African-Americans from North and South Carolina at the time, Reaves believed his kids would find better schools and job opportunities in the Elm City.
In late 1959 Reaves put out his own shingle nearby on Dixwell. New Haven was in the midst of its “Model City” urban renewal experiment then. It was a time during which the city received the most federal government and philanthropic dollars per capita in the country to try to eradicate poverty and rebuild areas like Dixwell.
Reaves back in the day.
In 1969, Reaves bought the building up the block at 51 Dixwell. It was a dispiriting time in New Haven. The “Model City” dream had turned into a nightmare for Dixwell’s commercial core. Reaves invested nevertheless, because “you just have to hope and pray,” he said.
His prayers were answered. His business remained steady. He continues to rent out the building’s upper floors; the rent money will now help support him in retirement.
His formula for success was a mix of hair expertise and people expertise.
He passed a lesson to younger barbers who joined him in the business, including one of his sons: “Be kind. Be friendly. Learn who you can talk to. Some people don’t want you to say a word. It’s their quiet time. If you say a couple of things to a person, and they don’t respond, then you supposed to shut up.”
Most people, it turns out, do want to talk.
Over those years, Reaves saw styles change. First, he said, the “covadis” cut was in: a close cut, but not a total shave. Black power ushered in the afro look by the time he made the 1969 move. These days many customers go in for “the bald head,” Reaves observed.
“I’m a little overwhelmed. But I’m honored. They’re big shoes to fill,” Clyde Thompson, who’s 32, said of the ownership transition occurring this Saturday.
Thompson plans to celebrate Reaves’ career with some cake and ice cream Saturday, then with a larger celebration for the community at a later date.
“He’s a man for integrity,” said Thompson, who cut hair at New Haven’s Headz Up shop, among other spots, before coming to work for Reaves a few years ago. “I learned a lot from him. I learned the importance of being on time. He’s 80 years old; he has a lot of wisdom. He taught me about business — the value of a dollar. How to treat people with respect. I’ve shared my deepest secrets with him; I never felt judged.”
Thompson will undoubtedly put his own stamp on the shop, as well. He will change the name to “Barbershop Inc., — The Gentleman’s Grooming Shop.”
About that “gentlemen’s cut” he was giving Brooks — what does the cut involve?
“It has to fit his lifestyle,” Thompson responded while proceeding with Brooks’ trim. “He’s a well-respected man of the community. He wears suits. He’s sophisticated. It has to fit his grade of hair, his personality.”
So how specifically does he do a “gentleman’s cut”?
Thompson smiled, hesitated.
“It’s not one standard cut,” he continued. “Every individual’s different. You want a person to feel better about himself when he leaves the chair.”
Listening in, Reaves had a sense of what Thompson might have been avoiding saying. Brooks, a senior citizen, has a receding hairline.
“You still haven’t caught me yet bishop!” Reaves said, noting his own bald pate.
“I’m getting there,” Brooks responded. Even if Reaves is home enjoying his retirement, Brooks will still have Reaves’ shop to take care of what’s left.