Kip Carr, Hair Saint of 1970's Berkeley

To honor Hairstyle Appreciation Day, I thought I'd yank these 37 year-old snapshots out of my box. That came off dirty, but this small collection spotlights my first haircut by a gay hairdresser. So perhaps some ribald humor is in order.

These pics were taken at a hair salon called The Hair Saint that was located somewhere on College Avenue in Berkeley, California. Kip Carr was the owner, operator, and hair saint in residence.

The Fox Photo stamp on the back says they were developed in January 1979.

I can't find much info about Kip Carr, the Hair Saint of Berkeley. I know he was a Gemini (b. June 17, 1936) and around 46-ish years old in these snapshots.

Kip was our neighbor, and lived at 4523 Pleasant Valley Court N in Oakland, California. In the early 1980's, he closed The Hair Saint and built an all-service salon in his backyard. I remember his contractors yelling at me because I was "making too much noise" playing in my sprinkler. But I'm not bitter.

For years, my friends and I would ding dong ditch Kip because we liked to see him enraged. We thought he was a kinda bitchy, ill-tempered man—and, thus, super-fun to annoy. I remember hearing that he died of HIV/AIDS complications at some point in the mid-to-late 1980's. Oh, well. We'll always have Paris—or rather, College Avenue in Berkeley.

And here we are—post-haircut—in front of The Hair Saint. Information about the late Hair Saint business is virtually non-existent, but I did find this interesting clipping in the Berkeley Barb, dated the week of May 10, 1979. Apparently The Hair Saint was also a performance venue?

The only thing I knew about the Berkeley Barb was that the blind guy in Butterflies are Free (1972) liked to read it. But according to Wikipedia, the Berkeley Barb was also a weekly underground newspaper and "one of the first and most influential of the counterculture newspapers ... covering such subjects as the anti-war and civil-rights movements as well as the social changes advocated by the youth culture." This particular issue advertised an upcoming show at The Hair Saint.

"Back on College by popular demand — Gershon. Performing at The Hair Saint. What's inside his shows outside yours."

Gershon? Who was this mysterious 'Gershon,' and what does "what's inside his shows outside yours" mean? That sounds like it could be dirtier than my "box" comment. I can't stop picturing some drag queen decked out as Cristal Connors from Showgirls, doing Goddess for a bunch of queens getting haircuts—although I know that'd be historically inaccurate, as well as anachronistic as hell.

If you'd like to share a story about The Hair Saint, Berkeley in the 1970's, the mysterious Gershon, or you are, in fact, Gershon—drop us a line. We'd love to hear from you! :)

Fast Times at Lowell High: San Francisco in 1959

The third week in April is Organize Your Files Week. Since I'm not a big fan of organization, I peeked into my overflowing box of eclectic snapshots to see if any had organized themselves—and I was lucky to find this small collection, dated February 1959. I love it when photo developers from 57 years ago do the work for me.

Since it's also National Zucchini Bread Day, I thought I'd start today's post off with some vintage cheesecake. Now, that may be what Hannibal Lector would call a ham-handed segue, but they're both made from eggs and sugar. So they're sort of vaguely related. Anyway, this is the youngest of the Seoul Sisters, Lena—the one who later became a model. Here she is on vacation in Beautiful Downtown Burbank.

The rest appear to have been taken at the old campus of Lowell High School in San Francisco, California. Before it was re-established on the "outer dunes" of Lake Merced in 1962, Lowell High was located at 1860 Hayes Street in the Panhandle. The move was ostensibly prompted by the building being seismically unsafe, yet it somehow survived—and is now known as the John Adams Center, part of the extended City College of San Francisco campus.

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Although the precise year is never mentioned in the musical and film Grease, its polarizing sequel Grease 2 retcons events to about 1959. That seems about right. These girls don't look like Pink Ladies or paper shakers, though. More like studious background dancers. I suppose, at a school like Lowell, you'd have to be.

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Lowell is one of the two public schools in the San Francisco Unified School District (along with Ruth Asawa San Francisco School of the Arts) that only enrolls students who meet special admission requirements. The admission process is based on test scores, GPA, extracurricular activities, and a writing sample. In other words, these were some smart-ass kids.

As Dana Carvey's classic "Grumpy Old Man" character on SNL might say: "In my day, we didn't have fancy camera phones! We didn't have Instagram, and the Facebook! When we wanted to take pictures, we saved our allowance, and bought Brownie Hawkeyes! Then we had to buy film! And we didn't get to see how we looked right away, oh no! We took that film to get developed, and we waited and waited! And when the pictures came back, it was a month later—and we didn't even remember who we posed with! We didn't get to 'tag' and 'share' our photos! You know what we did? We took one look, and then put them away in an album for 57 years! And we only got to see them again half a century later, if some blogger put them on the internet! That's the way it was, and we liked it!"

There Goes the Neighborhood: Oakland, California in 1980

A bunch of my Icelandic friends are talking about Barnamenning, which is some festival celebrating children's culture. Or something. So to honor that, I thought I'd post some truly anxiety inducing childhood snapshots. Kidding. They're actually quite pleasant. For me, anyway.

They were taken in and around 19 Ramona Avenue in Oakland, California—and, according to the stamp on the back, they were developed in March 1980. Since it's also National Stress Awareness Day, I'll try to remember something stressful about each snapshot.

This was my babysitter, Jessica Butz. She always seemed like such a big ol' grown-up. One time, she put on Eight Days a Week by The Beatles and forced me to lipsync with a hairbrush mic. I remember being really confused because I thought a week only had seven days.

This was our neighbor, Yoorah Lee. Her brother, Laju, was my BFF and partner-in-crime. They lived in the Pleasant Valley Court behind our house. Perhaps influenced by the 1962 British sci-fi classic Day of the Triffids, Laju and I thought we'd "scare" Yoorah by ripping a bunch of Canna plants out of a neighbor's yard and stashing them in her bed. Yoorah did scream when she pulled her blankets back to discover a rotting pile of cannas, but I wouldn't say she was scared. We thought it was hilarious; Yoorah, not so much.

This was Laju. Not sure what's stressful about this photo. Probably his pants.

This was another of our neighbors, Heather Horne. She actually lived in Corte Madera, but would visit her grandparents on our block for the weekend. I remember she would stage these elaborate pranks—like faking a Southern accent for an entire day, insisting she wasn't Heather, but rather her look-alike cousin from Georgia. I was definitely jealous of her flair for the dramatic.

Not to be outdone, my babysitter Jessica poses with the cat on her ass. This is actually a little-known stress management technique, and quite effective.

Not everyone in our neighborhood was a kid. We also had old guys in cowboy hats. These gentlemen were named Alex Brooks and Frank Russell. They lived up the street on Ramona Avenue, closer to Moraga. Alex is the one with his pants hiked up to his ribcage. That seems rather stressful, honestly.

Eating soup in bed can also be a stressful experience. This was our next-door neighbor, Alberta "Maggie" Blatt. This snapshot fascinated me as a kid because I thought the cat was passed out with a cartoon bump on the head.

Long before the hipsters invaded Oakland, we were definitely the coolest neighborhood gang.

I'm not sure whose idea it was to buy me a plastic shopping cart. It seems like a weird toy for a kid, right? It's, like, "Here, pretend you're grocery shopping and/or homeless."

But whatever. Happy Barnamenning and National Stress Awareness Day to you and yours!

Johnny Handsome: Actor John F. Kearney in the 1970's

This was an interesting find in my seemingly endless stash of forgotten family photos: my father, the actor John F. Kearney. I thought I'd post these snapshots in honor of National Sibling Day. I'm an only child, and he's a man-child, so it's close enough.

These photos were taken at 1776 Sweetwood Drive in Broadmoor, California, sometime around 1976. John definitely belongs in what Jack Donaghy on 30 Rock referred to as the "Smiling Irish Bastard Hall Of Fame." But in a good way, of course.

My dad has told me, time and again, that he thinks smoking is a dirty habit—and yet, here he is, with a big ol' pipe in his mouth! Oh well, it was the 1970's, after all. My mom was obsessed with how "tall" my dad was, and she probably took this photo to show how big he was as compared to that large-ass tapestry on the wall.

Speaking of the 1970's. That couch. His collar. Those Erté prints. A few years later, my dad would co-star as "Professor Atkinson" in one of the weirdest, tackiest, and most curiously grim 70's horror films ever: the karate-torture-porn "classic" Dr. Jekyll's Dungeon of Death (1979). It's a scary flick, let me tell you. Even scarier than this Herculon couch.

If you're interested, check out this interview with John F. Kearney, courtesy of The Eerie Midnight Detective Agency.