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Gil and Ethel’s Barbershop and Beauty Salon
Gil and Ethel’s Barbershop and Beauty Salon
Hairstylist Ethel Gomez treats her customers
like family. Always has. Some of her earliest clients, the ones
that remember her salon
housed in the back half of a streamlined Moderne Style building
on Alameda Avenue in west Denver, bring their grandchildren to
her today. Some women recall getting their hair done while Ethel’s
husband Gil gave their spouses haircuts in his barbershop in the
front half of the building. Sometimes the women joined the men
up front to share news or tell jokes. Although Gil insisted that
the women’s jokes were just as colorful as the men’s,
he knew that the conversation—bawdy or otherwise—served
a purpose. Like a school, church, or city hall, Gil and Ethel’s
business united the community. And their building, with its distinctive
glass-block rounded corners, sleek aluminum window surrounds, and
big, cornice-mounted clock, served as a neighborhood touchstone
for nearly forty years.
Gil passed away in 1996. More than 1,000 friends and relatives
attended his funeral. They remembered that he served his country
in Korea and attended barber
school upon his return. They told the story about how he took second place
out of a field of sixty-five barbers representing four states at a hairstyling
competition held in Boulder in the 1970s. The memorial service reminded some
in attendance that a few of Gil and Ethel’s clients had passed away too.
On those sad occasions Ethel paid her respects by styling the deceased friend’s
hair one last time. Recently, a grieving gentleman told Ethel that she made
his wife’s hair look just like it did in life.
Barely a week after Gil died, the City of Denver informed Ethel that she would
have to vacate her building. Urban planners had targeted the structure for
demolition to facilitate an Alameda Avenue street-widening project. Already
mourning her husband, Ethel tried to cope with the impending loss of her place
of business too. During the following two years, her story circulated among
preservationists through newspaper articles and by word-of-mouth. They knew
only two options for the building existed: demolition or relocation.
In 1998 the City of Lakewood acquired Gil and Ethel’s place and moved
it to the Lakewood Heritage Center on Wadsworth Boulevard. Not wanting to destroy
one of Denver’s few examples of Moderne architecture, the City of Denver
pitched in $50,000 to save the building. The Lakewood Heritage Center, established
in 1976 as Belmar Village, interprets twentieth-century life through educational,
cultural, and professional programs held in historic venues. According to site
and exhibit curator Win Filipunos, the Heritage Center has benefited from many
rescued buildings. Also the city’s liaison to the Lakewood Preservation
Commission, Filipunos prefers to save buildings in their original locations.
However, she recognizes that moving a building to a place where it can be restored
and shared with the public is a much better option than watching bulldozers
crush its walls.
After the City of Lakewood designated the structure as a local landmark, the
Heritage Center sought financial assistance for a complete restoration. In
1999 the State Historical Fund awarded the city $95,000 toward the project.
Among other work, contractors restored the original terrazzo floor, fixed the
curved glass block walls, replaced the stolen clock, fixed exterior neon, and
replaced missing exterior ceramic tiles. The building’s future was assured.
Still, one dilemma remained. Because the building had been home to a dry cleaner
and variety store before Gil and Ethel moved there in 1963, curators had to
decide how to interpret the interior. Ethel made part of the decision easy
by contributing her memories, photographs, and some 1960s furniture and fixtures.
Today, tour guides lead visitors to her salon in the back of the building,
where they find three original styling stations and a manicure table. Up front,
kids and adults delight in a 1957 variety store complete with authentic toys,
games, and other products displayed on period tables and shelves.
Ethel, prohibited from retirement by a clientele that wouldn’t know what
to do without her, still styles hair in Lakewood. She indulges those who want
to talk about her old place, its restoration, and the days when Gil charged
$1.50 for a haircut. She is humble about her place in history. That humility,
that recognition that our everyday lives make the past significant, makes preserving
her salon worthwhile.
BY BEN FOGELBERG, Editor
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