Park Hill Character: Vance Johnson’s Tonsorial Talents
Catching Up With The Dean Of Barbers
By Jack Farrar
Vance Johnson could be forgiven for having a somewhat dim view of the world. He has been through the ringer financially and personally, and has been forced to reinvent himself at the age of 62.
But he has faced his demons and he’s moving on.
Considered by many as the dean of barbers in Northeast Denver, Vance currently employs his considerable tonsorial talents in a rented space in the back of Winning Coiffures, an iconic hair salon just west of Krameria and Colfax.
Not so long ago, Vance presided over a small empire of barbershops in Aurora and Park Hill, including in the Oneida Park Center at 23rd and Oneida. He rented space to a fleet of more than 80 stylists.
It was a franchise in which he took enormous pride. But things happened. Vance went through a divorce and, because his wife was his financial manager, his grip on the day-to-day details of the business loosened a might. Four offices shrunk to one. He tried to make a go of it at several different independent locations, but that didn’t work out and he now cuts, clips and snips in his current modest, spotless space.
Haircuts for a quarter
Throughout a recent interview, conducted while he landscaped longtime friend Larry Cherry’s head, I couldn’t help but admire Vance’s approach to life. He has an almost corny affability. Thin and effervescent, his wide, toothy smile is infectious.
Like any decent barber, he is full of stories. Like how he first came to cut people’s hair for profit.
“My Dad had a barbershop in Washington, D.C. I was the shoeshine boy,” Vance says. “He gave me some clippers. My first client was my brother. When I got pretty good at it, I started walking over to the projects and gave haircuts for 25 cents each. Word got around. I would walk around with a little red wagon, cut hair and do shoeshines, and sell candy. I sold gum by the stick. I was making $30 to $40 a week. To me that was big money.”
One of Vance’s cherished childhood memories was “meeting” John F. Kennedy.
“We lived at 9th and Constitution in downtown D.C.,” says Vance. “JFK’s limo came through our neighborhood from time to time. He would roll down the window and wave at us.”
From drumming to hair art
Vance came to Denver in 1972. After graduating from George Washington High School, he intended to become a professional drummer.
“I’ve been a drummer, here and there, on and off, for about 30 years. I used to practice when I was a kid on Kentucky Fried Chicken containers and stacks of old records.”
His musical career never took off, but he did play for groups that opened for such acts as War and Earth, Wind and Fire (three of whose members attended East High School). He still handles the sticks for a group called The Gospel Sons of Denver, which occasionally performs at his church, God’s Will Christian Fellowship, at 40th and Steele.
Vance loved drumming, and he was convinced it attracted the chicks. Nonetheless it didn’t bring in much income, which led him to concentrate more on his tonsorial talents.
“I got my license at Emily Griffith,” says Vance. “Great place. The course was free. It just cost me $200 for equipment. Then I learned more from a guy named Frank Smith. He showed me the tricks of the trade, how to do different cuts and different styles – African American, Hispanic, White, [Asian] – and how to cut women’s hair. He was my mentor and tutor.”
Renaissance man
Vance fervently believes that barbering involves far more than trimming people’s noggins. His job description includes amateur psychology, marriage counseling, dispute arbitration, improv humor, ministry, provider of pearls of wisdom and prognosticator of athletic events.
“Getting a haircut should be a very personal thing,” says Vance. “I want to talk to people about their life stories. I want to understand them. They tell you their victories and their defeats. Somehow they trust someone who’s messing with their hair.”
Cherry nods his head. “I want to know my barber,” he says.
Independent barbers appear to be a dying breed, what with the new chains that offer flat screen TVs the size of kitchen tables, massages and other “entertainment” amenities and options. But Vance is confident that the independent barbershop, particularly in the black community, will survive because it serves a cultural function.
“Barber shops are our city halls, our meeting places, where you can share concerns and opinions in a comfortable way,” says Vance. “We talk politics, religion, sports. Probably the most popular topic is men/women relationships.”
Living on faith
Faith is very important to Vance and he talks enthusiastically and unabashedly about his belief in Jesus and living a Christian life.
“A lot of people want God to do everything for them, to make life easy,” he says. “It doesn’t work that way. People need to study, not just read, the Bible – the Old Testament for the education and background, and the New Testament for how we should actually live day-to-day.”
Vance, who wears a baseball cap with a distinct white cross, believes mainstream Christians are getting spiritually soft.
“You know, I feel a kind of weakness among Christians. They need to be prouder, more willing to speak out.”
Vance’s faith does not prompt him to censure religious debate in his shop. To the contrary, he has moderated vociferous yet civil debates on religion. Muslims, Buddhists, Catholics and Jews have expressed themselves on or near Vance’s barber chair.
“I had a nice conversation with an atheist,” he says. “Very nice. We both expressed our views and appreciated the conversation.”
Jack Farrar is a longtime Park Hill resident and board member of the nonprofit Park Hill Community Bookstore, at 23rd and Dexter. This is an installment of a regular feature about people who help make the neighborhood great. Past Park Hill Character profiles can be read online at greaterparkhill.org.