Бороды становятся нормой: от бунтарей 20-х до банковских менеджеров

The first beard I remember was on O.B. Joyful Tyler back in the 1920s.  O.B., in his ancient stripped-down Ford, delivered cider and vegetables door-to-door. His feet were bare. His beard blew in the breeze. His long hair was held back with a big spike. He publicly objected to society's restrictions.  We viewed him with fascinated awe. He decorated the Ford and drove it in parades. He waved at the crowd. We waved back, sure that he was looking right at us. By the time O.B. died in 1961 at the age of 89, his appearance wasn't much of a curiosity any more. Young people were wearing beards and going barefoot and protesting life's restrictions.  Now beards are becoming more common, neater (sometimes) and more acceptable. They are being worn by bankers, businessmen, bartenders, building workers, but not by barbers.  I viewed with some of the old awe a young lad who came into the North Street Friendly recently.  With hat, chin whiskers and compassionate-appearing eyes, he looked like a Samaritan — the good type, of course.  On impulse, I introduced myself and asked him about his beard.  He was John Smith III, son of the owner of Smith's Car Wash and liquor store. He works in the Norwich, Conn., area on estates as a gardener and carpenter.  "People with beards are friendlier, more willing to help you," he gave as a reason for growing a beard. He didn't explain what he had needed help on.  "If you're interested in beards, there's a fellow at the City Saving Bank with a handsome red one," a fellow Eagle staff member remarked.  He turned out to be Philip Bukowski, 33, manager of the life insurance department. He has had the beard since 1962. Having worn a moustache since he was 18, he decided to go the whole way and grew the beard when he was discharged from the Navy, "just for fun, to see what it would look like." He lived in St. Paul, Minn., at the time. "My wife protested at first, but she has become accustomed to it," he said.  Children shouted at him on the street, dowagers looked down their noses at him. "Being a stubborn Polack, I decided to keep it." Bukowski admires City Savings for its tolerance. "They hired me better than four years ago as I was." "I've tried two or three times to do without it, but I just don't feel right." It's hard to believe that the kid I watched grow up, become a ski instructor at Bousquet's and finally establish his own business, Ski Industries of America, is behind the bush that Barry Hollister is wearing these days.  His beard is sort of on-again, off-again. "When my beard gets long, I start trimming," he said. "It ends up full of holes. I have to shave it off and start over. I've had a beard almost continually since 1966." Padraig Spence, 30, former Eagle reporter now with the Community Action Council, has had a beard since he got out of the Army in 1966. He grew it while vacationing in the Adirondacks. On the subject of cigarette smoking as a possible forest fire danger, he reports that his beard "never caught on fire, but now and again it did flare a little from the lighter."