Cecil Soil Magazine

Haircuts with Herb by Ed Belote Sr.

Herb Benjamin has been cutting hair in the town of North East, Maryland for more than forty-five years. His barbershop (just off the side of his tackle shop) has become a landmark, and all who visit appreciate Herb’s affable, witty personality. Getting a cut at Herb’s is like stepping back in time; almost like being in Mayberry – the friendship and laughter beckon you to come back for more. Push open that squeaky screen door – come on in and listen…

Autumn 2006: A lesson about Florida hogs...

“Hair Cuts with Herb,” I announced as I stepped into Herb’s shop, and before I found a seat, Herb introduced me to the elderly gentleman he was working on.

“Ed, I want you to meet Snuffy Foreacre here… he served in the National Guard and Regular Army for 27 years and he’s big into baseball. When he was young and he’d come home from work, there would be a big meal on the table for him and many a time he would say, ‘Mom, I can’t eat now, I gotta go and play baseball.’ And let me add this, I have seen him play and he’s a very good player.”

Seventy-nine year old Mr. Foreacre is such a soft-spoken man I needed to lean in a bit to hear him when he talked.

He replied to me, “Oh, I do love baseball… played all positions, but mostly third-base. I liked to catch… catchers saw most of the action… got banged up a lot, catching.”

His cut done, Mr. Foreacre climbed out of the chair and remarked, “Maybe I can catch the rest of the game when I get home.”

Herb chuckled and quipped, “The Orioles could be down 27 to 0 in the bottom of the ninth inning and ole Snuffy wouldn’t leave the game until the final call.”

Nineteen-year-old, Justin Futty climbed into the chair next, and Herb introduced him as a premier bass fisherman and deer hunter. I asked him about his bass fishing.

“The biggest bass I caught weighed a little over seven pounds,” said Justin. “I caught him in the North East River, right in front of the Nauti Goose.”

“Well I guess the Nauti Goose Restaurant is going to be flooded with fishermen after Ed gets this story out,” chuckled Herb.

Changing the subject a bit, Herb asked, “How did you make out last year, deer hunting?”

“I didn’t get a deer last year,” replied Justin.

“You didn’t get a deer!” exclaimed Herb.

“No I didn’t…I saw a lot of does and small bucks…passed them up…I like to hunt big bucks.”

“You know, Justin,” I offered, “You have your young head screwed on right…a lot of times I’ve seen that young hunters tend to shoot at every deer they see.”

“Amen,” concluded Herb.

At this point a family walked in with children, and their little boy immediately pointed to a high shelf and said, “Mommy, I want a piece of bubble gum.”

“How did he know it was there? Get that boy some bubble gum!” ordered Herb.

The boy’s father, Robert Manning, replied with a pronounced southern accent, “I don’t know how he knew; we’ve never been in here before…it must be a kid’s natural instinct, I guess.”

Switching from bubble gum back to our deer conversation, Robert continued: “Yeah, we like to hunt deer, but it’s tough ‘cause they hide in the palmettos and you can’t get them out.”

“Palmettos?” I asked. “Robert, where do you live?”

“Florida… Myakka City, Florida,” he answered. “We have a lot of deer in Florida…a lot of wild hog and deer.”

With Robert doing most of the talking the room started to hum.

“Ya’ll got any hogs up here?” asked Robert.

All heads shook no.

“If you don’t, I’d like to ship a bunch of them up to you,” vowed Robert. “We have so many, they’re a nuisance.”

“What’s the bag limit on them?” asked Herb.

“All… you… can… kill,” said Robert, emphasizing each word in his slow southern drawl, which brought forth a burst of laughter from the room.

“Are they any good to eat?” someone asked. But before he could reply, a few others cut in and agreed they are delicious.

“How big do they get?” Herb asked.

“Oh, they average 70 to 80 pounds,” answered Robert, “but your barr [boar] hogs can get up to 200-300 pounds…but those old boys are hardly fit to eat.”

Someone added, “So I guess young tender hogs are better for eating?”

“Exactly,” responded Robert.

“I have traps set for them now,” he continued.

“Oh, you trap them too?” I asked.

“Yes, what we do is trap them and cut [fix] them and pen them up…these are called barrow hogs…more fit to eat,” continued Robert.

“I’ll tell you what,” injected Herb.

“It’s surely no fun being a hog in Myakka City, Florida.”

Everybody laughed. We had a very enjoyable get-together that day at Herb’s. Robert’s deep southern accent was a delight to hear, and you could tell he enjoyed himself also. His parting words were, “Herb, I want to visit your shop every time I need a haircut, but it would sure be a long drive.”