Mark Will Leave The Pole Spinning Final

Link to Audio Visual:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTzS36FVMtY


Final Piece:

Mark Will Leave The Pole Spinning
Woody Tauke

1132 Words

Intended Publication:  Kalamazoo Gazette

Two women pass by the large front window of Mark’s Hair Shop’s on Vine Street in Kalamazoo, Michigan.  One is walking a dog and doesn’t notice Mark’s place situated in the small row of businesses in the commercial section of the largely residential Vine Neighborhood.  The other glances in briefly and stops, pondering the simple wood paneling and traditional two-chair barbershop aesthetic on the interior of Mark’s, she sticks her head in the door.

“Can you shave this up for me?” She asks with no greeting, pointing to the left side of her head.

 Without hesitation Mark responds that he can.

“Great, I’ve got to go get some beer, then go get my wallet, and I’ll be right back,” she says.

She leaves and Mark goes back to busily flitting around a costumer who sits attentively, cashing in on the free “clean up” that Mark offers one week after a haircut.  Mark is surprisingly agile for a man that is well over six feet tall, and his giant hands are nimble with scissors, comb, and clippers. 

Today he dons all blue: straight-legged blue jeans, a huge blue t-shirt, and an even larger open blue short-sleeved button down.  His clothes drape off of his thin frame and float around him as he moves rapidly around his costumers.  Though Mark is a barber, he has long mahogany hair that, when not hidden beneath his signature blue baseball cap, hangs around his shoulders.  He has a wide smile and bright eyes that rarely dim down. Mark is a deep listener, but when he speaks, his lips fly around the words pausing only, to let out one of his trademark machine gun chuckles.

 His shop is clean and although sparsely decorated, is somehow comforting.  Sunlight floods the shop’s front window nearly all day and it smells of incense.  Next to each other on the windowsill are piles of books, speakers, and potted spider plants.  A stack of “Save Historic East Campus” signs lean in a corner facing the elaborate sound system that is almost never quiet.  The small space is aesthetically open but Mark fills it in both in size and presence.

The environment he’s created as well as Mark’s infectious smile make Mark’s Hair Shop a destination said Kalamazoo College Junior Jack Massion, who has been getting his hair cut at Mark’s since March.

“I’ve never seen him frown.  He’s kind of crazy but a real happy guy and he gives great haircuts.  At this point I’d consider him more of a friend than a barber.  Sometimes I just hangout at the shop.”

   

This is Mark’s business plan: to provide a place where people from a close-knit community can come and feel at home.  This plan has lead to the business’s fledgling success and leaves him in a perpetually good mood.  He has good music; today it’s Atoms For Peace and Black Moth Super Rainbow (both soft electric indie rock), and a good business in a place he truly loves.

 But Mark, like most small business owners, hasn’t always had a happy story.  Prior to Mark’s Hair Shop, Mark co-owned and ran a barbershop with his sister near Western Michigan University’s main campus.  Several years ago, Mark’s sister went through a messy divorce and both she and Mark took a massive financial hit and were forced to foreclose on their business.  Mark is a third generation barber though, and he refused to let that be the end of his career.  Eight months ago he discovered his current Vine Street location and said, “I’ve landed.” 

            Since finding a home on Vine St, Mark and his apprentice Andrew Shagene have worked together building back and restoring integrity to the Vine Neighborhood community.

 Centrally located in Kalamazoo the Vine Neighborhood, also known as the Student Ghetto, is comprised largely of low-income families and students from both Western Michigan University and Kalamazoo College.  Its business sector is made up entirely of local businesses, including Mark’s, that are supported by the neighborhood itself.  With the two colleges setting the tone for the neighborhood, it’s not uncommon to see a group of men and women with multicolored Mohawks or dreadlocks (known in Mark’s as “Indies”) walking down the street, laughing.  This community’s residents are linked in their Vine Neighborhood and local Kalamazoo pride.  Mark’s Hair Shop is no exception.

“We live in the community, and that’s what we’re all about,” Andrew said.

 Before he could finish speaking, another young woman entered the shop dragging a sullen little boy in an army vest behind her.  She gave Andrew a nod, and greeted Mark.

“This guy needs a trim.  I tried to do it myself but I just can’t get the lines matched up!” she said.

“Of course my dear,” Mark said, and motioned for the unhappy looking little boy to take his seat.  He then looked at Andrew and said,  “I need music.”

            Andrew pressed play, the boy in the army vest folded his arms over his chest, and jutted out his lower lip a little farther from his mouth.  Mark, clippers in hand, face contorting in concentration, spun around the boy, feverishly, like a conductor in front of a symphony, minutes later he shook out the barbers bib and the boy got up.  The woman hugged Mark goodbye. 

She left in much better spirits than when she came in and no money was ever exchanged; Mark merely explained that he had known the woman for a month and that they were close friends. 

Andrew then continued with what he was saying before the woman and the boy had entered the shop, “We want our costumers to have some identity at a local place, not ostracized like at those corporate barbershops.”

            This local identity is what keeps the walk-ins coming and keeps Mark busy day in and day out: people stop in to ask if Mark can cut a fade or women’s hair almost constantly.  Community is truly the lifeblood of Mark’s Hair Shop, the tiny two-room barbershop on Vine Street. 

It was five o’clock that Friday evening and business had finally slowed, Mark and Andrew began shutting down for the day (Mark’s closes at six).  They spoke quietly together; talking about that evening as they swept up hair and count the small bills, Mark paused for a moment and stared passed the barber pole out into the busy street.

           
“A beacon in the night,” he said “That’ll be it.  We’ll leave the pole spinning.”

            As he said this, the woman who needed beer and her head shaved crossed Mark’s front window once again and entered the shop.  Mark clicked on the clippers, their electric hum mixed with the light bass of the music and filled the shop around us, he paused for a moment, and then moved in on another client.

Mark Will Leave the Pole Spinning process writing

First and foremost, I had a great time writing this piece and I am really happy with how it turned out.  I listened to what Marin said about deeper reportage and really tried to include a lot of sources in this draft.  I also really avoiding the "summary" style of profile (see my first draft of Jerry Vincent in Kalamazoo for an example of this).  Using many sources and observing more human interaction between my subject and others really gave this piece more depth.

That being said, there were a few issues.  Namely, once I got there Mark insisted that he not be recorded.  Initially I thought my piece was tanked and that I would have to start over but in the end it wound up being ok.  I just had to take very careful notes and make sure I got quotes directly from pen to paper.

Having all these notes made the writing of the individual sections of this piece very easy, and I knew what the lede was but I just had a hard time linking them, in proces.  I also had a difficult tome closing the piece.  Like I said though, I am happy with it, especially for a first draft.

As far as the next step of this project is concerned, I am going to interview Mark's apprentice Andrew and use his voice instead.  Both Mark and Andrew have agreed to this and are happy.

Over and out,

Woody

Mark Will Leave the Pole Spinning Draft 1

Mark Will Leave the Pole Spinning
by Woody Tauke
1007 word
IP: The Kalamazoo Gazette

Two women pass by the large front window of Mark’s Hair Shop’s on Vine Street in Kalamazoo, Michigan.  One is walking a dog and doesn’t notice Mark’s place situated in the small row of businesses in the commercial section of the largely residential Vine Neighborhood.  The other glances in briefly and stops, pondering the simple wood paneling and traditional two-chair barbershop aesthetic on the interior of Mark’s, she sticks her head in the door and asks with no greeting,

“Can you shave this up for me?”

Referencing the left side of her head.  Without hesitation Mark responds that he can and the woman continues,

“Great, I’ve got to go get some beer, then go get my wallet, and I’ll be right back.”

She leaves and Mark goes back to busily flitting around a costumer who sits attentively, cashing in on the free “clean up” that Mark offers one week after your haircut.  Mark is surprisingly agile for a man that is well over six feet tall, and his giant hands are nimble with scissors, comb, and clippers.  Walking down the street you probably wouldn’t realize that Mark is a barber, he has long mahogany hair that, when not hidden beneath his signature blue baseball cap, hangs around his shoulders.  He has a wide smile and bright eyes that rarely dim down.  You can talk to Mark and he will listen, but when he speaks to you his lips fly around the words only pausing, albeit frequently, to let out one of his trademark machine gun chuckles. 

Mark, like always, is in a good mood today.  He has good music and a good business in a place he truly loves.  But Mark, like most small business owners, hasn’t always had a happy story.  Prior to Mark’s Hair Shop, Mark co-owned and ran a barbershop with his sister near Western Michigan University’s main campus.  Several years ago, Mark’s sister went through a messy divorce and both she and Mark took a massive financial hit and we forced to foreclose on their business.  Mark is a third generation barber though, and refused to let that be the end of his career.  Eight months ago he discovered his current Vine Street location and said, “I’ve landed.” 
            Today Mark and his apprentice Andrew Shagene work together building back and restoring integrity to the community which has received them so well.   Andrew explained,

“We live in the community, and that’s what we’re all about. —”

 This explanation was cut short as another young woman entered the shop dragging a sullen little boy in an army vest behind her; she gave Andrew a nod, and greeted Mark with an exasperated,

“This guy needs a trim, I tried to do it myself but I just can’t get the lines matched up!”

She slumped as she said this and Mark was quick with a smile,

“Of course my dear” and motioned for the unhappy looking little boy to take his seat, he then looked at Andrew and said,

“I need music.”

  Andrew pressed play and the boy in the army vest didn’t cheer up much as Mark feverishly set in to work, his mother did though and in a moments notice was all smiles.  Mark, clippers in hand, face contorting in concentration, spun around the boy like a conductor in front of a symphony, minutes later he shook out the barbers bib and the boy got up.  The woman hugged Mark goodbye, and he quietly said,

“Alright, I love you”

She left in much better spirits than when she came in and no money was ever exchanged; Mark merely explained that he had known the woman for a month and that they were close friends. 

Andrew then continued,

“—We want our costumers to have some identity at a local place, not ostracized like at those corporate barbershops.”

            This is their business plan to an extent: to provide a place where people from a close nit community can come and feel at home.  Their efforts have truly paid off and are immediate upon stepping into Mark’s music filled Hair Shop.  The level of intimacy that Mark interacts with his clients at is almost staggering at first, and it is hard to comprehend.  Quickly though you realize that it is not contrived and this kind of relationship is far from uncommon for Mark. Junior at Kalamazoo College, Jack Masion, has been getting his haircut at Mark’s once or twice a month since March.

“—I’ve never seen him frown.  He’s kind of crazy but a real happy guy and he gives great haircuts.  At this point I’d consider him more of a friend than a barber.  Sometimes I just hangout at the shop.” 

            The sense of community that Mark has worked to establish in his shop is infectious, people stop to ask if Mark can cut a fade or women’s hair almost constantly, and there is no of ere of formality.  People are simply comfortable around Mark and while his haircuts are excellent (I’ve had one or two myself), Mark is the product.

            For this locally owned and operated barbershop, the neighborhood is everything. When the place quieted down, and the last patron had left the shop Andrew turned and said,

“The community is dedicated to us.  They’ve been very supportive.”

            Community is truly the lifeblood of Mark’s Hair Shop, the tiny two-room barbershop on Vine Street.  So, if your hair is ever getting a little out of control or you just want some good conversation, stop by Mark’s.  He and Andrew will be in there, laughing and listening to Black Moth Super Rainbow or Atoms For Peace.  They’re open from ten till six, seven days a weak and clearly love all their costumers, especially their walk-ins.  They spoke quietly together talking about that evening as they swept up hair and counted the small bills, Mark paused for a moment and stared passed the barber pole out into the busy street and said,

“A beacon in the night.  That’ll be it.  We’ll leave the pole spinning.”

NYT Profile. 9th week.

Hello friends,


http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/25/fashion/25Snooki.html?pagewanted=all


This isn't necessarily the best profile I found or have read, in fact, I think some of the profiles I have read in this class are better than this one.  That being said though, I think there is a lot to be discussed about this profile.  It uses many different sources, that vary in relationships to Snooki (personal, business  etc), which is something that helped me because I was struggling with that idea prior to this article.  I also think the author's presence in this profile is incredibly interesting.  She inserts herself in a way that says one thing, while writing a piece with a tone that says something else.  It is tough to describe and I hope more people read this one so we can discuss.  In any event it's not very long and we can read it in class.

Jerry Vincent in Kalamazoo Final Draft in Process writing

            So, I use the term “Final Draft” in its loosest sense.  Writing this piece has been a struggle for me since day one, and I don’t think that I am the only one.  Initially I struggled with defining the genre I was writing in, then when I finally thought I had captured it, we get our first drafts back and I find out I was way off.  I once again grappled with what defining what I was writing, and right when I needed help most, DOGL happened (no regrets, just a little frustrating).  Now I am left with something I am not necessarily comfortable handing in but with no other options.  I think with one more workshop (in class, not online) I could push this piece to the next level. 

            All of this is of course also on top of all of the access and time issues I had with writing this profile.  My subject was unwilling to discuss many aspects of his life and despite our prior relationship I did not feel comfortable publishing information I learned a year ago.  Many others were either unresponsive or fully declined being interviewed. 
            I know these issues are all par for the course in Journalism, they just became very frustrating when coupled with the time and scheduling conflicts we faced.  In one more revision I would be happy and I know this piece could be, but unfortunately the piece goes on print tonight at five so whatever is there is there despite what a whiny writer has to say about it.  

Jerry Vincent in Kalamazoo 3rd and (I guess if it has to be [but hopefully doesn't]) final draft

Jerry Vincent in Kalamazoo

Woody Tauke

1296 words

New York Times Magazine

            Jerry sits in his office, a crowded painter’s supply closet, surrounded on four sides by ceiling high shelves, covered with years and years worth of paint cans, on the campus of a tiny liberal arts college in Kalamazoo, Michigan.   Today, like most days, he’s flecked with paint and dust and is wearing white painters pants and a grey “FacMan” t-shirt.  He isn’t tall but he isn’t short, he hasn’t kept his crew cut from his years in the service, and he doesn’t have greying greasy shoulder length hair, like so many Hollywood archetypes would have us believe.  Jerry smokes almost constantly, is quiet, and looks like he likes to read a lot.  Jerry likes to read a lot.  His skin is tanned from the sun and his hands are broad and calloused, he works with his hands.  He uses them to wrench open paint cans, to light cigarettes, to trim ceiling tiles, and to rip up carpet.  Jerry is always clean-shaven.  He carries himself with the wisdom of his years, smiles often, speaks very slowly, and closes his eyes to tell me the stories of his life.   One marked by a medium sized city in southwestern Michigan: Kalamazoo. 

In 1970, at 19, as the reality of the Vietnam War was just beginning to permeate US culture, Jerry Vincent enlisted in the Air Force and left his home: that medium sized city known as Kalamazoo.  The idea of enlisting in the Vietnam War, in retrospect, seems reckless, foolish, some might even say suicidal, yet Jerry spoke coolly of the decision:

“I was on the verge of being drafted, I’d received a notification and at that point you can either be drafted, or you can join and I said ‘Well, I really don’t want to be cannon fodder at this time because if you were drafted at that time you were in the army.  You were a bush beater.  You were canon fodder.  So I joined the Air Force.”

 After his enlistment, Jerry was packed up and shipped off to Texas for basic training.  After four months of being taught to obey commands and having to

“learn all these forms and requirements and regulations regarding the process and the means to do the shipping of people and things” he graduated and, in May of 1971, was shipped away.  Jerry was sent to war.  Maybe war is a stretch, but he was sent to the “tropical paradise” of Thailand, where he spent his service “—moving people and their personal household goods around the world.” 

Four years later the war was drawing to a close and the Air Force did not need Jerry Vincent anymore.

Jerry reflects on and speaks of his time abroad with little fondness.  He smiles occasionally, laughing to himself over old friends he once had, but there is a sense of bitterness in his voice.  Not a deep resentment like we associate with the Vietnam War, but almost an annoyance, as if the war and his deployment were an inconvenience.    He didn’t have to wade through the jungle swamps in Vietnam, but he did have to pack up and leave his home in Kalamazoo. 

After a short lifetime of moving people and moving things, Jerry was happy to finally find himself stateside in California, just outside of San Francisco. He spent his time wandering up and down the state, going in and out of the cities—decompressing from his formative years in the Air Force, Thailand, and the Vietnam War.  He had time to himself, and the opportunity to live with little responsibility, freely, like most young men in their twenties do.  Instead though, Jerry returned to the place he truly belongs, a place he calls home, a place that many of us find ourselves away from in that time of life, but a place robbed of him. 

Later that year, shortly after his reunion with Kalamazoo, Jerry met Hans, a German immigrant and hairdresser, and his now partner of 38 year.   Having just spent the past five years shipping people and things around the world, Jerry found himself a job in the, then booming, travel industry as a travel agent.  For another four years Jerry packed people up and shipped them to places like San Francisco, Texas, and Thailand.  Eventually he found himself exhausted by the frustrations and tedium’s of the industry,

“I said fuck this.”

and Jerry quit in 1979.  Out of work and with Hans breathing down his neck, Jerry begrudgingly went to look for work once again.

            At a cocktail party one night, after a month of floating around, and Hans getting madder and madder, Jerry met a member of the, in his words: “Foreign Study Program, ya know? Which is CIP now,” and was promised a secretarial position at Kalamazoo College.  Jerry came to K College and settled, but not with either the Foreign Study Program or with the CIP.  Instead, Jerry found a niche with Facilities Management as a dorm painter.  Jerry’s father was a professional painter, and Jerry spent his childhood working on and off, with him.  At FacMan, in the summer of 1990, Jerry developed the student worker program and took twelve student employs with him to renovate Harmon Hall. 

           Jerry still employs students and keeps that tiny campus in Kalamazoo looking fresh, and Hans now owns his salon just up the street.  They smoke a lot of cigarettes and live happily together. 

Jerry left the place he grew up around the same time that most young people do, and had his share of adventures.  He served in the Vietnam War, found love in himself and with a German named Hans. He traversed his country north, south, east, and west and could have settled anywhere, but he didn’t.  He settled here, in Southwest Michigan.   It’s rare to find someone, like Jerry, who is born where they belong, someone whose narrative is dotted with places and things but is consistently marked by the place they call home.  You can deem this uninteresting or boring, but it’s a beautiful thing in life; when you find someone who truly belongs.