The Man Who Wasn't There

Yeah, I worked in a barber shop,

but I never considered myself a barber.

I stumbled into it. Well, married into it, more precisely.

They were trying to expand the empire.

It wasn't my establishment.

Like the fella says, I only work here.

They even had French explorers, which the French are not known for exploring.

The dump was 200 feet square,

with three chairs, or stations, as we call 'em,

even though there are only two of us working.

But this is my point.

My point is that these traders and trappers would come to this country

and get their pelts and their gold ingots...

Frank Raffo, my brother-in-law, was the principal barber.

Man, could he talk. There was a craze on beaver hats in Paris at the time.

Maybe if you're 11 or 12 years old, Frank's got an interesting point of view,

but sometimes it got on my nerves.

Not that I complained, mind you.

Like I said, he was the principal barber.

Frank's father August. They called him Guzzi.

Had worked the heads up in Santa Rosa for 35 years

until his ticker stopped in the middle of a junior flat top.

He left the shop to Frankie free and clear,

and that seemed to satisfy all of Frank's ambitions,

cutting the hair and chewing the fat.

Me, I don't talk much.

I just cut the hair.

It says here that the Russians exploded an A-bomb...

And there's not a damn thing we can do about it.

Uh-huh.

How do you like them apples?

Now, being a barber is a lot like being a bar man or a soda jerk.

There's not much to it once you've learned the basic moves.

For the kids, there's the Butch, or the Heinie,

the Flat Top, the Ivy,

the Crew, the Vanguard, the Junior Contour...

And occasionally the Executive Contour.

I lived in a little bungalow on Napa Street.

The place was okay, I guess.

Had an electric icebox, a gas hearth...

And a garbage grinder built into the sink.

You might say I had it made.

Oh, yeah, there was one other thing.

Doris kept the books at Nirdlinger's,

a small department store on Main Street.

Doris liked the work, accounting.

She liked knowing where everything stood.

And she got a 10% employee discount on whatever she wanted.

Nylon stockings, makeup and perfume.

Doris and I went to church once a week.

Usually Tuesday night.

B-9.

I-29.

Doris wasn't big on divine worship,

I-22. and I doubt if she believed in life everlasting.

She'd most likely tell you that our reward is on this earth,

and bingo is probably the extent of it.

Watch your card, honey. B-7.

I wasn't crazy about the game,

but, I don't know, it made her happy,

and I found the setting peaceful.

Jesus. Bingo.

Bingo!

Doris's boss, Big Dave Brewster,

was married to Ann Nirdlinger, the department store heiress.

Tonight, they were coming over for dinner.

As Doris said,

we were entertaining.

Me, I don't like entertaining.

-How you doin', Ed? -Okay.

Take your coat, Ann?

The Japs had us pinned down on Buna for somethin' like six weeks.

I gotta tell ya, I thought we had it tough, but we had supply.

The Japs were eatin' bugs and grubs and thistles.

Anyway, one day we bust off the beach...

And we find Arnie Bragg, this kid missin' on recon.

The Japs had eaten the son of a bitch.

If you'll pardon the, uh...

Anyway, he was a scrawny, pimply kid, nothin' to write home about.

I mean, I never woulda, you know.

So, what do I say, honey?

What do I say when I don't like dinner?

Come on. What do I say?

I say, "Arnie Bragg, again?"

"Arnie Bragg, again?"

Were you in the service, Ed?

No, Dave, I wasn't.

Ed was 4-F on account of his fallen arches.

Ah, man. That's tough. That's... That's tough.

Yeah, I guess Doris liked all that he-man stuff.

Sometimes I had the feeling that she and Big Dave were a lot closer than they let on.

The signs were all there, plain enough.

I said I don't drink in the office.

I've seen you take a drink or two.

You're not supposed to see nothin'.

(BIG DAVE CONTINUES TALKING)

Not that I was gonna prance about it, mind you.

It's a free country.

Holdin' down the porch area, Ed?

That's some wife you got there.

Yeah.

She's a rare one.

So, how's business, Dave?

Oh, uh, couldn't be better.

These are boom times in retailin', Ed.

We're openin' another store over there on Garson,

Big Dave's Annex.

Now, this is strictly haberdashery.

It's casual wear, pajamas, ladies' undergarments and foundations,

that type of thing.

As a matter of fact, I'm thinkin' of makin' Doris the comptroller.

Listen, when the Annex opens up, you gotta stop by.

Maybe we can update your suit a little bit, huh? (LAUGHING)

'Course, you're in the smock all day.

Where do you get those things, anyway?

Specialty store down in Sacramento.

Oh.

You tie your own flies.

I mean, if you're really serious, you tie your own flies.

You do, uh...

I know. It's meticulous. I know.

People say, "Hey, you can buy flies at the store."

The point is, there's a certain art to the process.

The point is not merely to provide.

Let me point out, these fish are not as dumb as you might think.

-Yeah? -Sure. Go to the store. Go there.

Describe to the man where you will be fishing and for what,

and then you might as well go ahead and have the man

sell you the goddamned fish, Ed.

My point is, this is a man who knows nothing, no matter how much you tell him.

So, sell him the goddamned fish, Ed.

Yeah.

Okay.

Who gets the privilege?

We're just closing, friend. Oh.

Happy days.

I wish I was doing well enough to turn away business.

What's the problem, friend?

This is a business establishment with posted hours.

More power to ya, brother.

The public be damned. Hey.

I'll take care of him. You go ahead, Frank. Have a seat, mister.

-You sure, Eddie? -Yeah, yeah, go ahead.

In your ear, mister.

Oh, those fiery Mediterraneans.

Uh, say, uh, not so fast there, brother.

Pretty good, eh?

Fools even the experts.

100% human hair...

Handcrafted by Jacques of San Francisco.

I'd hate to have to tell you what I paid for it. Mmm.

Yeah, it's a nice rug. I'm payin' it down on the installment plan.

A lot of folks live with the pate exposed.

They say the dames think it's sexy,

but for my money it's just not good groomin'.

And groomin', my friend, is probably the most important thing in business.

After personality, of course.

Creighton Tolliver. Pleased to know ya.

Ed Crane.

So, what brings you to Santa Rosa?

A goose, my friend. I was chasin' a wild goose.

Ed, have you ever heard of venture capital?

Risk money. Very speculative.

Except that in certain situations it's not, see.

I thought I had a prospect here.

Well, I make the haul up

and this lousy so-and-so tells me

that the situation has changed.

All of his capital's tied up in expansion plans of his own.

Thank you, mother. Pop goes another bubble.

It's only the biggest business opportunity since Henry Ford,

and I can't seem to interest a soul.

Is that right?

It's called dry cleaning.

You heard me right, brother. Dry cleaning.

Wash without water.

No suds. No tumble. No stress on the clothes.

It's all done with chemicals, friend.

And here's the capper... No shrinkage.

That's right.

Dry cleaning.

All I need is $10,000 to open up the first store.

Then I use its cash flow to finance another, and so on,

leapfrog, bootstrap myself to a whole chain.

Well, me and a partner.

Cleanliness, friend.

There's money in it. There's a future. There's room to grow.

Say, that looks pretty good.

Let's see it with the hairpiece on.

Dry cleaning.

Was I crazy to be thinking about it?

Was he a huckster or opportunity, the real McCoy?

My first instinct was, "No, no, the whole idea was nuts."

But maybe that was the instinct that kept me locked up in the barber shop,

nose against the exit, afraid to try turning the knob.

-Honey? -Hmm?

Shave my legs, will ya?

What if I could get the money?

It was clean.

No water.