At Thee Barber Shop, a guy briskly shines the shoes of the customer sitting in the chair. A seated customer nervously leafs through magazines as he waits for barber Pete Lira to squeeze him in.



The barber himself, attired in his gray suit, spins a yarn about his fighting days; he’s a barber storyteller of the old school. “I made money doing that,” he explains to me, “this is a lot easier, and my nose is still intact,” he chuckles.



“Barbers of my era are like doctors, bartenders: you got a problem, you talk to them,” he tells me. I’m the invisible chick in the corner of the barbershop observing as unobtrusively as possible. What I’m watching is a manly ritual as old as the ritual of sitting by the bar ordering a foamy one.



The ritual as it occurs in this barbershop includes a meticulous attention to detail achieved through 40 years of refinement that garnered Lira awards and World Cup competition invitations, which only happen after three National competitions are won.

“Nobody has ever beaten me in a competition, ever,” he explains, pointing to one of many photos on his wall, “except her, and I trained her, so it’s OK.”



He’s been at his current location on Pacific Avenue for three years, prior to which he was in Lakewood for 15 until there was a glut of non-union competition. “In one square mile there were 15 barbers charging five dollars.”



“I’ve spent too much of my time honing my skill to charge that,” he declares.

Lira charges $21 for a cut. “That’s bottom dollar.” If he’s called out to a hospital for a potential last shave or last cut, the going rate is $200.



Unless you’re a loyal customer of his, in which case, “There’s no fee.”



In the case of John Cameron, Weekly Volcano tipster and “disciple” (per Lira) of Lira’s barber skills, whose father was suddenly ill, Lira adjusted the no-fee rule; “A 10-year bottle of CC ought to work,” he recalls telling Cameron, who came through with the requested bottle. “I’m saving that one till next year,” Lira says with a chuckle.



“Most of my clients, I’ve had since 1982,” Lira says. In the case of the two happy customers I’ve witnessed Lira cutting, it’s been a shorter timeframe. But the third who walks in the door is a commuter client sold on Lira’s skill.



As Lira shows me how he finesses the hair, changing buzzers and other implements like his razor, straight blade and scissors, he works the head like a Michelangelo with blades.

“It’s sculpting the hair,” he tells me.



And as he works, I see it — the man is an old-school barbering Michelangelo.



I feel privy to a man’s world, and it’s been illuminating.



[Thee Barber Shop, 903 Pacific Ave., Tacoma, 253.272.2663.]