The history of Assembly Barbershop spans decades and half a continent. It starts in a small town called Spooner, Wisconsin. My great grandfather, John “Shorty” Essick, was an orphan who moved from Pennsylvania to Spooner as a young man. The timeline is blurry, but Shorty married a woman by the name of Mary and they had 7 children together. He was the town barber until the large fire of 1910 burned down his shop. Money was scarce, and unable to rebuild his barbershop, he took a job as a train dispatcher for the railroad. 

Shorty’s son, John (my grandpa), was a troublemaker to say the least. The stories are numerous, but my favorite is when John was shot while stealing watermelons out of a farmer’s field. Shorty was more than worried about his son John, and pushed him to go into barbering after John repeatedly failed out of high school. John cut hair in Spooner, living with his wife and daughter Jacque. His marriage didn’t last; as a result, he fell in love with a local teacher. The teacher moved to Seattle for a job. John (without telling anyone but his daughter Jacque) drove out west chasing after his beloved teacher on dirt roads in his 1939 V8 convertible all the way from Spooner to Seattle. 

The teacher’s parents weren’t too fond of John and forbid her from seeing him. He was jobless and homeless in a town where he knew no one. World War II was in full swing, and—being too old to join the fight—he stayed in a boarding house in Kirkland, working at the Houghton shipyard and for the Milwaukee railroad to make ends meet. I recall my Grandpa John telling me stories about killing pigeons for dinner when money was tight. Then one night at the Trianon Ballroom (a building which still stands today in Belltown on 3rd and Wall) he met my grandma, and my dad was born. 

Living on the decommissioned passenger ferryboat “Atlanta” on Lake Union, combined with the long hours and days away on the railroad were not ideal for having a family. Back to barbering he went when my grandma’s folks loaned him the money to start a shop on the Seattle waterfront at the Port of Embarkation (it is now Pier 36). He worked there for years until the port was shut down in 1957, a few years after the Korean War ended. 

Being the sole source of income for his family, finding a new shop was critical. He found a small space in the Asssembly Hotel, next to Vito’s on Madison. This was the start of the Assembly Barbershop. My dad remembers countless days of sliding barbershop handbills under doorways in the hotels, doctor’s offices, and office buildings with his mother. If you drive by today, my grandpa’s barber pole is still visible and the barbershop sign my dad made in high school shop class is still hanging above the front door. 

I took after my grandpa in more ways than just barbering. School and I didn’t mix, and I found myself getting into a great deal of trouble in my early adult life. My dad, worried about me, offered to pay for me to go to technical school. He gave me a choice—I could become an electrician, a plumber, or a barber. I knew I could never swing being an electrician because I was horrible at math. Being a plumber sounded less than ideal because of my limited experience fixing toilets and drains at the house with my dad. But barber school seemed doable. I barely made it through barber school because I barely showed up to class. After school I jumped around a couple shops until I made it to Clean Cut on James Street, where I worked for a few years before my long stint at Squire Barbershop. 

Barbering has truly saved my life. I look forward to going to work because I love my clients, and I love what I do. Starting my own shop has been a dream of mine for years. The barbers that I have chosen to join me are incredible barbers, and even better people. Our history here runs deep, and we invite you to come in and experience the rich history of Seattle barbering.