Shave of the brave
Eat your heart out, Louis Winthorpe III!
The results of No-Shave November through February
Sam is up for the challenge.
This actually felt pretty good.
It had been since October for a haircut.
It burns a bit, but that's the way it should be.
The key is keeping your mouth shut while the barber does his thing.
Holy smokes!
Smooth as a ... well, you know what I mean.
A job exceptionally well done!
So, just how loaded is Louis Winthorpe III?
A montage near the beginning of John Landis’ “Trading Places” shows that the dashing young commodities trader is well enough off to afford his own butler, Coleman, who tends to Winthorpe’s every need. That includes administering a morning shave with a straight razor.
Now, my guess is that while the camera was rolling, Denholm Elliott didn’t really drag a super-sharp piece of metal across Dan Aykroyd’s countenance. But when I first saw that scene way back in 1983, I thought that if I ever had a ton of money, I might muster enough courage for a straight-razor shave, myself.
While that get-rich thing never came through, I still have wanted to give the Coleman treatment a try. And so when I wound up with a considerable mass of white whiskers – my No-Shave November extended through December and January, and into February – I thought of Sam Rauch.
Sam is following in the footsteps of his grandfather and great-grandfather at House of Ferruzza, family-owned in Bethel Park since 1947. Among the services he offers as a licensed barber involves the good ol’ straight razor, for which he keeps a sharpener at arm’s length.
And it’s kind of daunting to see him use it.
But, hey, I really don’t like to shave, so we set up an appointment for him to give me “the works,” including a haircut that started with a shampoo that supposedly contains bits of diamond, for premium exfoliation — another first for me.
While Sam worked on my hair, we talked about a variety of topics, including one of my favorite sources of speculation: the assassination of John F. Kennedy.
Now, I’ve read so many different theories on what happened Nov. 22, 1963, in Dallas that I have no idea what to believe anymore, except that it probably wasn’t really the Cancer Man from “The X-Files.” Good episode, though!
Sam, though, provided an explanation I’d never heard before. One of the Secret Service agents on or near the JFK limousine may have accidentally discharged his firearm, making everything a bit easier for Lee Oswald, I guess.
OK, enough conspiracy theories. It’s time for that straight razor.
Honestly, by the time Sam sheared off most of the beard, lathered up my face and started using the blade, I was so relaxed that I didn’t even think about its proximity to my jugular. Plus, he reassured me:
“I could do this in my sleep.”
He did advise me not to speak, which always is kind of tough for me. But being quiet beats bleeding out any day.
Sam did encounter a tricky spot where I have a scar I acquired in 1966 by not listening to my mother’s warnings about running through the house with a laundry basket on top of my head. But he navigated it without incident, and next thing I knew, he was finished with the razor.
Then came a really hot towel to the face, followed by a really cold one, followed by me stifling a “Home Alone”-type holler. But the temporary discomfort was worth it, as the chilled towel helps close the pores to keep various microscopic flotsam and jetsam out of there.
And then turned the chair so that I was facing the mirror and asked:
“How does it look?”
Whoa!
Along with all the hair, Sam trimmed what appeared to be several years off my appearance, what with me not looking like Santa Claus and/or latter-day Jerry Garcia anymore. Plus, my chin hadn’t felt that smooth in decades.
The tough part now is getting motivated to keep it that way by using whatever disposable razor happens to be handy at home.
Yeah. I foresee No-Shave March.
But when I’m really in need of a whisker-free face, I know a guy who can make me look like Louis Winthorpe III, without me having to trade places with Eddie Murphy.