Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
I graduated from High School in the Class of 69. Hippies were abundant in San Francisco about 80 miles away, but they were the freaky minority still in my circles. I ventured out from my parents’ house all the way to Chicago and got a taste of freedom as I was two thousand miles away and on my own, (kinda). I shared a flat with 3 other guys, and we were all students at the DeVry Institute of Technology studying electronics. It was the year of Woodstock, and the hippie life was starting to appeal to me. We asked the landlady if we could paint the apartment walls purple, and she told us we could as long as the last one of us to leave painted it white again. (It wasn’t me). We bought black lights and fluorescent posters, and even wrote sayings on the walls in fluorescent paint. (As I recall, one of them was “Jesus was the original, He had long hair, a beard, and wore sandals”). We played guitars and had a killer stereo system that would bounce the music from side to side across the room. Jimi Hendrix was particularly awesome for that. “Free Spirits” was a better term, as we drew the line at drugs. We had a roommate named Billy who would get high, but we threw him out. We weren’t ready to go that far yet. He got so high that he cut his face trying to shave and stopped, going to work with “one side of his face only” shaved. That was when we gave him the boot. I didn’t grow a beard yet, but was working on my mustache.
I was only there for 4 months when I moved back home, anticipating being drafted into the military. Sure enough, within six months I was standing at attention, waiting in line for the ultimate buzz cut. I was to get regular haircuts for the next 3 years, seven months, and 30 days. (That would be 10 days before I was processed back to civilian life). I was so miffed about that last haircut that I told myself I wouldn’t shave or get another haircut for 3 years 8 months and 9 days.
I got a job at the post office, where long hair and beards were no big deal. I started taking classes at Junior college and was free to live the hippie lifestyle, except for the fact that I was now married with two children and needed to be responsible. So, I was destined to never break the barrier from free spirit to a real social dropout.
I was taking a speech class in college, and I had a professor that sent out a challenge to the entire class. If anyone were to give a demonstration speech that she had never seen in her 30 years of teaching this class, she would give an A grade for the course. Now I like a good challenge, so I set my mind to take her up on it. I was a full-on long hair with a beard that was my pride and joy. Most people would tell me I looked like Dan Haggerty (Grizzly Adams) which was a huge compliment. Some joker popped up and said I looked like Charles Manson and spoiled the whole beard thing for me. The idea overcame me for a demonstration speech that would give me that A grade for the semester.
In preparation for my turn to give the speech, I loaded up my briefcase with scissors, a mirror, shaving cream, a countdown timer and a towel. I walked up to the podium and announced that I would demonstrate how to shave off a beard. I heard all the girls in the class gasping and muttering, “he’s not going to really do that, is he?”. I learned the hard way that you need much more time than 10 minutes to remove a beard that you had been growing for several years. But 10 minutes was all I had. It was a lousy shave, and I was bleeding all over the place, but I got it done. The whole class was mesmerized while I cleaned up the mess I had made. I glanced over at the professor, and she was smiling. She said, “well, I’ll be darned, I didn’t think anyone could beat my challenge. Mr. Stalnaker, you get the A.” Challenge accepted and accomplished.
