Capital Barbershop header.jpg
 Steve Boldizar, right, cuts Dick Ramberg's hair recently in the Capital Barber Shop on Main Street. Ramberg has been coming to Boldizar to get his hair cut for nearly 57 years. "Use to get a hayin' season haircut," he recalls.

Steve Boldizar, right, cuts Dick Ramberg's hair recently in the Capital Barber Shop on Main Street. Ramberg has been coming to Boldizar to get his hair cut for nearly 57 years. "Use to get a hayin' season haircut," he recalls.

 During business hours the sign reads closed. The regulars know to walk in and every now and then someone new will wander through the door asking if he is open.

During business hours the sign reads closed. The regulars know to walk in and every now and then someone new will wander through the door asking if he is open.

 Boldizar looks up from the sports section to watch someone walk by the shop. Between customers he reads the paper or watches sports on the old TV in the corner. Equating owning a barber shop to fishing, “You just gotta wait for em’ to come along” he says.

Boldizar looks up from the sports section to watch someone walk by the shop. Between customers he reads the paper or watches sports on the old TV in the corner. Equating owning a barber shop to fishing, “You just gotta wait for em’ to come along” he says.

 Pennants line the walls of the little shop, each of them brought in by a patron. The tradition started when a customer brought in a pennant from Detroit’s World Series in 1968.

Pennants line the walls of the little shop, each of them brought in by a patron. The tradition started when a customer brought in a pennant from Detroit’s World Series in 1968.

 Boldizar sifts through a pile of old papers and other items on his counter. Everything in the shop has a story, from the Secret Service hat to the KGB badges.

Boldizar sifts through a pile of old papers and other items on his counter. Everything in the shop has a story, from the Secret Service hat to the KGB badges.

 Boldizar sweeps up his shop at the end of the day. While his chairs aren’t constantly filled anymore, he likes it like that. The bills get paid, the people he likes come in and that is what matters.

Boldizar sweeps up his shop at the end of the day. While his chairs aren’t constantly filled anymore, he likes it like that. The bills get paid, the people he likes come in and that is what matters.

Capital Barbershop header.jpg
 Steve Boldizar, right, cuts Dick Ramberg's hair recently in the Capital Barber Shop on Main Street. Ramberg has been coming to Boldizar to get his hair cut for nearly 57 years. "Use to get a hayin' season haircut," he recalls.
 During business hours the sign reads closed. The regulars know to walk in and every now and then someone new will wander through the door asking if he is open.
 Boldizar looks up from the sports section to watch someone walk by the shop. Between customers he reads the paper or watches sports on the old TV in the corner. Equating owning a barber shop to fishing, “You just gotta wait for em’ to come along” he says.
 Pennants line the walls of the little shop, each of them brought in by a patron. The tradition started when a customer brought in a pennant from Detroit’s World Series in 1968.
 Boldizar sifts through a pile of old papers and other items on his counter. Everything in the shop has a story, from the Secret Service hat to the KGB badges.
 Boldizar sweeps up his shop at the end of the day. While his chairs aren’t constantly filled anymore, he likes it like that. The bills get paid, the people he likes come in and that is what matters.

Steve Boldizar, right, cuts Dick Ramberg's hair recently in the Capital Barber Shop on Main Street. Ramberg has been coming to Boldizar to get his hair cut for nearly 57 years. "Use to get a hayin' season haircut," he recalls.

During business hours the sign reads closed. The regulars know to walk in and every now and then someone new will wander through the door asking if he is open.

Boldizar looks up from the sports section to watch someone walk by the shop. Between customers he reads the paper or watches sports on the old TV in the corner. Equating owning a barber shop to fishing, “You just gotta wait for em’ to come along” he says.

Pennants line the walls of the little shop, each of them brought in by a patron. The tradition started when a customer brought in a pennant from Detroit’s World Series in 1968.

Boldizar sifts through a pile of old papers and other items on his counter. Everything in the shop has a story, from the Secret Service hat to the KGB badges.

Boldizar sweeps up his shop at the end of the day. While his chairs aren’t constantly filled anymore, he likes it like that. The bills get paid, the people he likes come in and that is what matters.

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