The Barbershop: The Last Living Home Of American Manhood

A handful of things are meant to be held sacred in this life. A man’s relationship with his God, his wife, and of course — his barber. When I heard word that our resident mop chopper Kirby plans on moving to snowier pastures in California at the end of the month, I knew it was time to thank him for his years of service the only way I know how.

My introduction to the barber world came in the form of the regionally renowned shop called Spanky’s when they first opened in 2015. It was my first year attending NKU, and to call me green to any form of life outside of my suburban Alexandria experience would be an understatment. Even a trip to Newport was a step outside of my comfort zone. At least, until I made my way into the shop.

After being greeted by Spanky and thrusted into a LeBron vs Jordan debate, I forever forgot the word “Supercuts” existed. It was like Henry Hill in Goodfellas at the cab stand. For the first time, I felt that I belonged to something bigger than myself. I knew right away I would be a Spanky’s guy for a good long while.

Not two blocks south was ‘Ken’s Barbershop’. Ken, I came to find out, was my Grandpa’s barber. Pap, as I call him, is 92 years young. For the better part of his adult life, he paid Ken a visit at the same shop in the same chair for the same haircut every month like clockwork. The men would talk Kentucky basketball, fire off the occasional political debate, or discuss how they don’t make Ford trucks the way they used to in true Norman Rockwell fashion.

This was a cool realization and something fun to joke about with Pap, but I never realized the gravity of their relationship until the day Ken retired. He had gotten up there in years and after 55 years on West 11th in Newport, it became harder every day to cut a head of hair to his standard. Instead of closing the shop altogether however, he opted to keep on cutting for a handful of his greatest friends. Grandpa was one of the few. He continued his monthly visits for several more years until Ken finally rode off into the Newport sunset. Their friendship has spanned over half a century and represents all that is beautiful about American small businesses.

Cut back to Spanky’s; one barber relationship was just beginning to take shape as another was reaching it’s longstanding conclusion. Spanky expanded his business by building out his space and adding three barbers chairs. Filling one of those chairs was Konner. We took an immediate shine to each other with the help of our mutual distain for The Lakers.

He made a move to a new shop opening in Bellevue and I joined him. The Bellevue Barbershop had a slightly different take on the barbershop atmosphere, and its character made me a lifelong member within the first couple visits. Konner had (and has) ‘Ken’ potential, but after a year in Bellevue he decided to move to Lexington to marry the love of his life and start a family. Can’t fault a guy for that. All the same though, we were left barber-less and eagerly waited the arrival of Konner’s next in line. A dude named Kirby with a finely coiffed mullet and a Monster Energy in hand.

Kirby brought a whole new energy to the shop. Between his sports betting stories to his van life travels and his willingness to compete in any and every competitive sport (down to professional wiffleball — yes, we did that), his off-the-wall nature gave us the greenlight to be our own weird selves. He has been my main cut man for as long as I can remember, and it is unanimous that Bellevue Barbershop will not be the same without him. That said, he has lifelong friends in all of us no matter where he parks his travel van.

The relationships that used to make America so special are often in short supply. The last butcher shop in the area closed earlier this year, hardware stores are being replaced left and right with AutoZones, and neighborhood bars are few and far between. The barbershop is one of the last true remnants of the America we never got to live firsthand, and that sentiment is not lost on me. Long live Bellevue Barbershop and long life the last living home of American manhood.