The famous old-time New York barber, Huggins, was a remarkable character, and had a rather remarkable history. His full name was John Desborus Huggins, and he was a full-blooded Englishman, but took a tremendous fancy to America in general and New York in particular.
And New York seemed to return the compliment, for it took a tremendous fancy to Huggins. For a good many years he was the boss barber of New York. And he was hairdresser for the ladies as well as barber and shaver for the gentleman. The ladies liked him immensely, too, not only for the tip-top way in which he did his special work, but for the glib tongue he had, and for the gossip which he retailed. He beat any “society paper” in that line, and was equal to at least a “full hand” of old maids.
Huggins’s shop was a low wooden buildin’ on Broadway, right opposite the old City Hotel, and here all the swells of the period came to get shaved, and get posted in all the scandals.
Huggins was very fond of literary characters, and used to tell everybody about havin’ cut Washington Irving’s hair, havin’ once shaved Thomas Moore, and twice shaved Joel Barlow.
Huggins had a theory that talent, like disease, could be transmitted through the hair. Acordin’ to him the capillary tissue was a conductor of genius, and as Huggins was always handlin’ the hair of smart people he gradually became smart himself.
One day the idea occurred to him to write out an advertisement for his shop which should not be confined to hairdressin’ matters merely, but should take in a wide range of social and political subjects. So in the evenin’ he took pen in hand, and stayin’ up all night concocted an extraordinary affair in the way of “a business card”–bringing in national politics, alluding to Giles, Randolph and other prominent public men of the time, and written in a tremendous style–hifautin’ and poetical in the extreme.
The next day he took the “business card” over to Coleman, who was editor of the Evening Post then. Coleman had often been shaved by Huggins, and had had many a talk with him about his theory of transmission of talent by the hair. Coleman read this card of Huggins, and remarked that accordin’ to his own theory, Huggins must lately have been handlin’ the hair of a good many authors, for one part of the business card reminded him of one author’s style, and another part of another author’s, a third part of a third author’s, and so on.
Still, it was pretty clever on the whole, this card, and Coleman, havin’ touched it up, and rewritten part of it, published it, as Huggins’s advertisement.
It took immensely. It was somethin’ brand new of it sort, and anythin’ brand new always takes in New York. Everybody talked about it, and Huggins’s shop became the rage. People came to New York from Philadelphia and Boston even to see Huggins. The country newspapers copied the advertisement; the political papers copied it with remarks for and against. Huggins was a made man, and his head was nearly turned.
Then he tried his hand at another advertisement, and took it to Coleman, who once more touched and fixed it up. This second advertisement made almost as big a hit as the first. Coleman was tickled at the advertisement attractin’ so much attention, and encouraged Huggins in the idea that he was a great man.
But after a while Coleman, who had a good many other things to do besides touchin’ up a barber’s advertisements, wearied of his task, and then Huggins got acquainted with old Anthony Bleecker, and asked him to help him get up his advertisements. This Anthony Bleecker was an odd sort of a character; a rich, aristocratic gentleman, and yet very kind and courteous to all the impecunious; without any ambition, but full of ability, and always willin’ to give the full benefit of his ability to anybody who asked him.
Well, Huggins asked him, not only to touch up his advertisements, but to write ‘em himself for him; for Huggins by this time had completely played himself out in the writin’ line, and was only too glad to get somebody else to write his business cards for him, especially when, as in the case of Anthony Bleecker, they wrote ‘em for nothing.
People admired Bleecker’s advertisements, and wondered how the deuce Huggins could keep up his steam so long, and all the time Huggins’s barber patronage was increasin’, and might have kept on increasin’ had not Huggins really got so conceited on top of Coleman’s and Bleecker’s kindness to him that he fancied himself a great author.
Nothin’ would do then but that the works of this great author must forthwith be published, and so Huggins collected all his advertisements together, and tried to get a publisher for ‘em. He anticipated no difficulty, but somehow or other there was difficulty. The regular publishers fought shy of the book, and so at last Huggins was compelled to get out his own book at his own expense. Still, he solaced himself with the idea that there would be an enormous sale for the volume, which would give him a big profit over expenses. But there wasn’t a sale at all worth speaking of. Somehow or other people didn’t care for payin’ to read Huggins’s advertisements. Then the critics got hold of the work, and some of ‘em made fun of it.
Poor Huggins! From the day the critics laughed at him he never smiled. He took the ridicule to heart. He seemed to think that everybody was laughin’ at him. He became nervous, which interfered with his shavin’ his customers, and so his customers complained and gradually left him. Of course he fell behindhand in his business, and after a while got to be positively poor.
Yet poverty didn’t kill him, but his poor luck as an author did. This drove the last nail into his coffin.
He took to bed, and finally died of sheer vexation, furnishin’ the only instance I ever heard of a barber dyin’ of disappointed literary ambition.
[Editor’s notes: The above column was adapted, with few changes, from The Centennial History of New York City, from the Discovery to the Present Day By William Leete Stone, 1876.
Huggins’s book is online: Hugginiana: Or, Huggins’Fantasy, Being a Collection of … Literary Productions, by John Richard Desborus Huggins, 1808.]
