When Frank Weiland walks into a barbershop, he’s typically not looking for a trim. “I look for the shop license,” he explains. “Then I look for the individual licenses.” For the last eleven years, Frank Weiland has served as Minnesota’s only barber inspector. He’s in rare and elite company. Weiland’s predecessor held the job for twenty-five years.
“Eighteen-ninety-seven!” Weiland exclaims, his voice rising in a suburban bagel shop. “That’s how long Minnesota has had a barber law.” He leans forward intently. “The first barber law in the union!”
Inspector Weiland is an intense man with a passion for barbering (he asked that he be described as having “a face better suited to radio”). He points out that in medieval times, barbers were surgeons, “And it was barber-surgeons, not surgeon-barbers.” Today, Minnesota’s four-member Board of Barber Examiners operates in much the same manner as our Board of Medical Practice. It licenses practitioners and oversees professional education. It also responds to consumer complaints. In other words, “Sanitation.” Weiland says it with finality, authority. “It is what I do.”
According to Weiland, most barbers look to the health and safety of their customers just fine. “But if you don’t care…” He raises his right hand in a kind of traffic-stopping gesture. “Hi!” Of particular interest is the upkeep of the blue sanitizer in which barber tools are dipped after use. It’s known as barbicide. “There’ve been guys who use blue food coloring instead of sanitizer,” he sighs. “But I have a way to check for that.”
Weiland is one of only two employees of the board (the other is an administrative aide), making him a significant part of what he jokingly describes as “the big bureaucracy.” Officially, he is known as a “legal compliance officer,” but what gives him real standing in the barbering community is the fact that he’s a licensed barber, too. In fact, when Weiland works in outstate Minnesota, he’s been known to help handle overflow customers at small-town shops. “If the barber looks busy, like he’s not going to get home in time, I offer to help him out.” Often, the shop owner expresses reluctance. “So I say, ‘What? The inspector gonna get us?’” Weiland never accepts payment, “But I’ll fight for my tips.” Though he is a modest man, in regard to his barbering skills, he admits, “I’m good, damned good.”
So who cuts Frank Weiland’s hair? “Lawn Boy.” Lawn Boy is Kenny Kirkpatrick, chair of Minnesota’s Barber Board. He is an affable white-haired man with soft hands and a warm laugh. And, as chair of the National Association of Barber Boards of America, Kirkpatrick might exceed Horst Rechelbacher as the most influential Minnesotan in American hair. “We try to standardize regulations between states,” he says, while cutting the hair of a National Guard officer in his Capitol Barbershop, located beneath the State Office Building. “And if a state needs help in setting up its own barber board, we consult on that.”
Like Weiland, Kirkpatrick exhibits a real love for the culture and traditions of barbering. “Where else can you go into work, BS, and watch TV?”
Unfortunately, all is not well at the Barber Board. This year, Minnesota legislators in pursuit of fiscal excellence expropriated $53,000 from the board’s $191,000 budget. This galls Weiland, in particular, who points out that the board is self-sufficient; its revenues derive entirely from industry fees, not taxpayers. The reduction in funding affects the Barber Board’s oversight of the profession, though Weiland is reluctant to go into specifics.
Nevertheless, Weiland’s passion for barbering transcends any momentary displeasure with current circumstances. “Look, I could make more money and have more family time in a different job,” Weiland concedes. “But I like the barbers.” He smiles as he recounts the practical jokes that frequently punctuate the profession, including the pickles and goldfish that have appeared in the barbicide, just for an inspector’s benefit. “Barbers like to have fun. There isn’t
a better job.”—Adam Minter
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