Hard Work Is Old-Fashioned

Not that this is a bad thing.

Case Study #1

Pete Kithas – Detroit barber since 1962.

“It’s an old-fashioned barber shop — no kids, no woman, just man,” the boisterous 79-year-old Kithas says in his still-thick Greek accent. “Lots of policemens.”

What probably reads as impolite will likely be forgiven as you learn more about him.

His personality, his life really, is best summed up by a story from his early days.In the mid-‘60s, the three floors above his shop were a flophouse hotel. One day, a man walked upstairs looking for a room but was so drunk the clerk at the front desk wouldn’t rent him one. The furious boozer stomped downstairs and threw a temper tantrum on the sidewalk that ended with him kicking in the barber shop’s glass door, shattering it.

Kithas was cutting a Detroit Police sergeant’s hair when this happened. As the cop heard the crashing glass he leaped out of the chair and ran outside to confront the large man, who took one swing and knocked the officer out cold on the pavement. Kithas saw this, put down his scissors and stormed outside. Then the drunk took a swing at him, too.

Big mistake.

Click through to Detroitblog to read the rest.

Case Study #2

[image via A Life Worth Eating]

Dom DeMarco – Crafts (arguably) the best pizza in New York.  Still works 12 hour days.

“The best pizza in New York is Di Fara and not only is it the best pizza in New York, I think it’s the best pizza in the world. It’s the best pizza I’ve ever had and I’d go as far as to say it’s the best thing that I’ve ever eaten.”

[via Kottke]

Advertisements

November 8, 2010. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Reading, Video. Leave a comment.

Detroit – Club Thunderbolt

Detroit.

Then he leaned into the open doorway of his bedroom and emerged holding a double-barreled shotgun. “I’ve always got this ready to go,” he said. “I sleep with numerous weapons.” […]

It’s not exactly anarchy, but the place doesn’t operate by the rules of a normal American city.

Epic recounting of an experience one can only have in Detroit.

The cover was twenty dollars, another ten for a lap dance (with G-string on), or twenty (G-string off.) Jay, who also collected ten percent of the girls’ tips, insisted the place was not a brothel, which sounded dubious to me; he also booked larger parties for labor unions (iron workers, tree cutters, carpenters) and bachelors. Before opening Club Thunderbolt, Jay had worked as a bodyguard for a crooked cop and was the owner of a porn theater.

He led us inside. Club Thunderbolt still looked very much like the home of someone’s elderly parents, the decor frozen in time circa the Nixon Administration. The dimly lit family room in the back of the house, where the girls performed, had no stage or stripper pole, just thick blue-and-gray shag carpeting, wood-paneled walls, a sloped drop-ceiling with water-stained tiles, an old stuffed couch of the grandmother variety, and a dining room table decorated with a pair of candles. A white towel was draped over the center of the table, covering a mysterious lump.

Great read, but you may need a shower afterwards.

[Mark Binelli @ n+1 via the Browser]

[Image and raw source material from Detroitblog]

September 8, 2010. Tags: , , , , , , , . Reading. Leave a comment.