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After seven decades of barbering, a Collegetown stalwart passes away After seven decades of barbering, a Collegetown stalwart passes away In 1991, when Tony Petrillose was seventy-six, he declared to this magazine that he would not quit the barbering business "'til I start to shake." Petrillose, a Collegetown fixture who was a master of the […]

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After seven decades of barbering, a Collegetown stalwart passes away

After seven decades of barbering, a Collegetown stalwart passes away

In 1991, when Tony Petrillose was seventy-six, he declared to this magazine that he would not quit the barbering business "'til I start to shake."

Petrillose, a Collegetown fixture who was a master of the "high and tight" cut, kept going for another eighteen years. Last year, he finally retired at age ninety-four. In February, he passed away in an Ithaca hospice with his family at his side. "His hands were steady to the end," says seventy-one-year-old Joe Petrillose, who worked alongside his father for three decades. "He stopped because of his heart, but his hands never shook."

Tony Petrillose 

That means Petrillose Sr. cut hair for about seventy-three years. That's a lot of heads, a lot of hair. Most of his customers were Cornell students, but plenty of townies were treated to his scissors and combs. His most famous client? Jimmy Hoffa, who was in town to speak at the ILR school. But Tony— uncle to the late Bob Petrillose of Hot Truck fame—was as well known for his patter as for his handy barbering. The lucky customer who sat in his swivel chair was treated to lively commentary on everything from local history to university and world affairs.

The business started on College Avenue in 1909 as a combo smoke shop, newsstand, and barbershop. Tony's older brother James bought the place in 1927 and renamed it Petril-lose's. Tony came aboard in high school as an apprentice barber. He bought out his brother in 1939, employing as many as five barbers. But by 1970, when the business moved to Linden Avenue as Tony's Barber Shop, it was strictly a father-son operation. It stayed there until 2009, when Joe moved to his daughter's salon on North Cayuga Street downtown.

Tony's halcyon haircutting days came during the period of Cornell's mandatory ROTC training. That time passed into the Age of Aquarius, when the musical Hair celebrated unfettered locks, much to Tony's bemused chagrin. The mop-topped Fab Four hadn't helped matters much. "Those damn Beatles killed us," he said in 1991, in the good-natured way that was his hallmark, and with the wisdom that comes with watching trends come and go.

cash register 

The Beatles broke up. The Vietnam War ended. Reagan became president. Crew cuts were cool. Bill Clinton came and went; tight on the sides with a flip up at the peak was the hip style. Then came the 9/11 terrorist attacks and two wars; again, ROTC students looking for the perfect "high and tight" sought Tony's steady hand. "He was the only one in the region who knew how to do it just right," recalls Aaron "Rusty" Lloyd '92, who served in Cornell's Air Force ROTC. "It's not just a crew cut, it's a completely different style and feel. I went to barbers in Syracuse and Binghamton, and no one could do it. Then I found Tony's place. He seemed to be the last one anywhere."

On a day this past March, a young boy steps down from the swivel seat in Joe Petrillose's tidy new shop, sporting a fresh "short-short" cut. Joe shakes out his apron. A flat-screen TV displays a Yankees spring training game. A bulky old Remington cash register from his dad's shop is the only reminder of a bygone era. It is jammed shut, with a key stuck at $3. Joe makes the change from his pocket and says, "Next."

— Franklin Crawford

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