A September to Remember: What Finally Made Me Grow a Beard

by Bill Alley, Broadcast Host, Producer & Beard Advocate

The month of September holds big significances. Two anniversaries are celebrated which define personal achievements. The first goes back to this month in 1977 while a Sophomore pursuing a Broadcast and History major at Curry College—a small but important media learning institution just outside Boston, Massachusetts. That was the month this voice got to hit the airwaves on the campus facility known as WMLN-91.1FM. The 10-watt transmitter (yes, slightly more than Christmas Tree lights) got a chunk of audience potential in Boston and suburban Dedham, Randolph, Quincy and Milton; over 300,000 people could listen in. Small, but top-market—not too shabby.

There are photos in the Currier yearbook of the moustached man of that era, and my face got plenty of recognition. Two of the highlights at WMLN were the state elections which replaced Governor Michael Dukakis [D] with Bill Weld [R]; I ran coverage from Quincy City Hall where most of Boston’s elite news media reported details. We scooped the rest in announcing first the official results and declaration of Weld’s victory. As Station Manager, we also performed extensive and even life-saving coverage of the Big Blizzard in February 1978; a nor’easter (ocean based storm which creates huge waves, precipitation and winds) quickly crippled drivers on roads nearby during evening rush hour. For drivers along Boston’s famed ‘ring road’ Route 128, cars became frozen in place. Our reporters were on hand helping stranded motorists get to the nearest warm area (a Howard Johnson’s restaurant) while phoning in the best storm coverage in the area. A record 33 inches of snow fell in 1.5 days, and for over a week we were continually digging out. I had my own vehicle buried behind a dorm, and the meltdown finally exposed the roof of the car in April. The Moustache often was adorned with a warm scarf to keep the whiskers from forming an ice dam.

The radio career went commercial later in 1977 when a night shift opened at WRLM-FM Taunton, MA on an evening shift. A 50,000-watt signal allowed the station to be heard on the New Jersey shoreline, and that sobering thought had me working on every bit of polish and presentation to sound professional and relevant. WBET-AM / WCAV-FM, stations owned by the Brockton Enterprise newspaper, was my next stop. I sold management on an idea to have ‘mini-concerts’ played, a two or three song set done by the same artists with a bit of history about their bands. It allowed for a long-held bias to fall: minority artists were not featured back-to-back for mainstream radio in those days, and doing such would certainly cause dismissal for the DJ—an important step in ending discrimination. The song sets became a staple here, and everywhere my voice was heard. From there, Oldies were a favored mainstay at WGNG-AM Pawtucket RI. In 1980 and 1981 my mid-day show reached a #2 rating in the very competitive Providence market (WARA-AM Attleboro MA), and I was teaching high school students the art of broadcasting for a local Junior Achievement branch.

Morning shows as Program Director got the experience needed to manage WGFP-AM Webster MA and Martha’s Vineyard’s WMVY-FM. It was there that good connections were made with The Taylors (James, Kate and Livingston when he was around) and Carly Simon’s brother Peter (a phenomenal photographer of renown). Diversification of careers had me delivering mail by vehicle to the good folks of Chilmark and Aquinnah (formerly Gay Head), which included very notable names of the day—too many to list. Also was a broadcast engineer for a Pentecostal evangelist (Mae Jeffers) with programs produced for stations in Boston, Hartford and New York / New Jersey. During that time a hand at writing original spiritual music brought about organizing a project consultation with two very prominent musicians: Noel Paul Stookey (of Peter, Paul & Mary) and Kyu Sakamoto (his sister Miyako Hydeman is a friend and my postal customer). Sadly, Kyu passed away shortly after agreeing to work with us; it was a devastating sadness personally as I have been a big fan of his voice and singing since ‘Sukiyaki’ hit the airwaves in the early 60s. However, churches benefited from the songs and were singing some of what was written and shared, many years later.

All that was done with just a moustache!

The Summer of 1987 was a return to living around family, and by fall a nagging challenge was coming over me. There were occasional attempts to grow my beard, but after a few weeks of trying the bald areas were too prominent and gray hairs were noticed. On the television the first commercials were airing for a new product called Just For Men, which promised natural hair color for beards. The first box was purchased on September 25th and on September 27th I tossed the razor away—vowing to allow these whiskers time to mature.

Now that the whiskers were under no threat of cold steel, this story should be a cinch to tell. Well…here is where reality and dream states collided, often. Most men who cross over to the hairy side of their face get the scary side of their cranium pushing back, taking them back to the cold steely razor. The tossing in bed gets frantic, until...you bolt up from the blankets, feeling your face and hoping you didn’t undo things. A race to the nearest mirror and the lights blinding you for a moment before everything adjusts will confirm; for many, all is fine but for some who find out they are prone to sleepwalk, or (gasp!), sleep-shave!...the next moment might have you running to your all-night pharmacy to buy out the entire No-Doze counter.

Went through about three scary episodes, including one where I thought the moustache was gone. Virgin territory on that upper lip, never shorn, over 46 years. When the dream cycle was aiming for scare number four, I realized what was occurring and took swift action. Gazing at my face, concentrating on a vision of seeing how my face should look in just weeks, the fear video in the head was soundly replaced with photos of stately bearded men.

As the whiskers grew (with the help of ‘beard in a bottle’ turning back time) people would approach, at first inquisitive, but most, approving. Men in Sales were the most often impressed and would lament that their job would not allow facial hair, I would encourage them to defy and keep references polished for other careers that might be less discriminating.

A significant number of men who have grown facial hair say that the inspiration came from photographs of generational relatives. Some of them have elder men in life that became their inspiration. Elder whiskered men know the kind of bond that grows in the lives of their grandchildren.

Grand-dads: if you have grandkids, this experience should be embraced. You have been chasing hair growing out of odd places for some time now (most likely); put the whiskers to work and see a manly transformation take place. For the grandsons and granddaughters, teaching them about the importance of facial hair being a man's natural appearance will help them embrace whiskers as stately and a source of wise maturity (how older men were perceived over many centuries). With the liberation of tossing the razor, the joy of this transformation can add relevance and tradition to the whiskered men of old who adorned your family tree.

Sex and the Single Razor Blade

by Bill Alley, Broadcast Host, Producer & Beard Advocate

Messages, thoughts, suggestions, demands: they're all around us. Some are subtle, disguised in such a way that the mind may remember the surface message but something just below detection is whispering a “hook.” In the 1970s we read the groundbreaking book Subliminal Seduction whose premise was the message disguised in a straight-forward advert would raise our libido. The 70s bold, pop culture and Plus love attitude gave us ice cubes in a glass with a distorted naked woman “just visible enough.” Advertisers proudly proclaimed “sex sells!” Today’s very suggestive and open sexual overtones in music and visuals show no lack of sales. The trick works.

In the 60s we had the Noxema Girl, a steamy sensuous femme fatal who was the Swedish bombshell model Gunella Knutsson which was given 60 seconds to sing a sultry song (augmented from the instrumental tune The Stripper) about how a man could achieve his own piece of sexual chic, with a line of the lyrics belting out: “The closer you shave, the more you need Noxema!”...and the rest was sales gravy. Men could not resist her sly suggestion, and women had no sense to say “hey, wait...you will shave for me, or her?” nor suggest whiskers were sexier. The thought had been beaten into extinction long before this ad by many more ads, announcements and proclamations that beards were for dirty, disgusting types. Society went to bed at night thinking the shorn get the girl and the woman gets her man looking eternally youthful—that is, until the wrinkles multiply and the spare tire surrounds his middle. Both were guilty of tacit conformity while their children were up-ending the norm.

We’ve gained over ten plus years of pro-beard acceptance. Razors are long since out, beard lotions and whisker contests are the rage. Of late the sexy music and adverts are touting the hairy man and his manly mane, with one meme boldly suggesting that having sex with a bearded man will create “explosive” pleasure; the caption shows a lady, legs open, with a fire hose close to her gushing out water like it was Old Faithful.

The enemy, however, never sleeps. Creeping into their wiles are forged studies about how the beard collects all sorts of bacteria, even claiming “poop” ends up on whiskers. That study, conjured by the University of New South Wales (Australia) several years ago, was debunked by science and beard advocates—myself chief among the detractors. Scientists were issuing statements about how important beards were at fending off skin cancer; one of Australia’s own—Jimmy Niggles—shared a heart-tugging story about a friend who died of skin cancer which could have been prevented by better skin protection, and included in the study the words “having facial hair” very effective in warding off melanoma. Mr. Niggles is the world’s most outspoken bearded advocate to give men confidence that their beards are right for displaying manhood and smart for beating cancer.

Facts never matter to the razor gang. One glaring fact remains their greatly shrunken sales. Walking into a local Target store a few years ago, a rearranged mens’ section displayed bright, shiny shaving products while causing the beard care products to practically disappear. I visited that aisle every few months and notice the shine of that first day faded in deeper levels of dust, an aisle seeing very little activity. Meanwhile, sales of beard-related products are in nine digits and steadily climbing, with newly started companies finding buyers for their brand of beard product and the product segment becoming the leading personal care segment for male-oriented crowd. Take a look at Amazon, where Beardsley sells product along side dozens of other brands.

They have taken to the tactic of dictating the size of our whiskers will determine public acceptance. One site says “shorter whiskers, or reduction to a trim moustache” is the latest craze. What they don't understand, nor care to admit, is that men who are bearded did not grow facial hair for acceptance; we grew it because man’s natural maturity is uniquely pinnacled in facial hair. The photographs we look at and admire, and we cheer on our favorite beard in contests like the world cheers their soccer and baseball stars.

The cheering crowds are a phenomenon not known to men of yesteryear. That’s been a nice touch. But in 29 years of full-on whiskers I never looked for approval, seeking rather to know the real man which has grown on the outside (and the inside) that sees and knows who he is.

Andrew ‘Beef’ Johnston brings his beard and oversize personality to PGA Championship in Baltusro

by Kevin Armstrong New York Daily News

SPRINGFIELD, N.J. — Andrew Johnston, a bon vivant who sports a thick beard on his face and belly out over his white belt, walks the grounds at Baltusrol with the gait of a golfing Falstaff.

He lunches with friend John Daly, rides in a courtesy Benz and plays basketball off site. He notes that he “tricked the ball really well” at Royal Troon to finish eighth in the British Open despite hitting “the biggest shank you’ll ever see” on the par-5 fourth.

He also prefers a cooler climate than temperatures that climb to 90 degrees as they have already in the 98th PGA Championship’s practice rounds, but insists no trim will come as he pursues a Wanamaker Trophy. Johnston needs no adjusting.

“The beard’s the beard, man,” he says. “You’ve got to deal with it.”

Affectionately known as “Beef,” Johnston enjoys it all. During a summer when Rory McIlroy, an Irishman ranked No. 4 in the world, dismissed the task of growing the game beyond its current contours as a boutique sport at the Olympics, Johnston injects a common touch to the field that will contend for the year’s fourth and final major.

Johnston and McIlroy agree that there are no hidden secrets to discover in Baltusrol, only balls to drive and shots to make en route to a crowning at the end of four days of play. Given the hard sun overhead, Johnston, who stands 5-10 and weighs 220 pounds, elected to conserve his energy on Tuesday.

At 27, he paces himself accordingly, waking up early on Wednesday to get in the first nine holes.

“I’m not going to play 18 in the heat,” he says. “I’m just going to go and chill out after.”

There will be more heat to withstand moving forward. Johnston is slated to start in Group No. 39 at 12:35 p.m. Thursday. This is his first PGA Championship, but he is growing comfortable as a recurring surname on the top-10 leaderboards.

First there was the fourth place finish at Qatar Masters and then there was the win at the Open de Espana before finishing seventh at the BMW PGA Championship. He is reading the greens better and riding an up-and-down stretch that doubles as a learning curve.

His initial impression proved to be inimitable as fans donned ginger beards Tuesday to show their support for the North Londoner.

“I said to one of them, ‘Who got these beards?’” Johnston says. “And they all pointed at one guy. And I was like, ‘I hope he’s buying all the drinks for you!’”

Plenty of prize money lines Johnson’s pockets from this year. There is also a corporate sponsorship that he earned in the last week.

Arby’s, the fast food place long lampooned by Jon Stewart on “The Daily Show,” inked Johnston to an endorsement deal before Johnston ever bit into the company’s meat stateside. He is aware of his growing place in the game, an ear bent to the chants of “Beeeeef!” that came at the British Open. Still, he maintains that his mechanics remain the priority over all. He noted that he viewed one video of a kid hitting a cheeseburger with a club.

“I was like, ‘No, no, no, make him hit a golf ball, please!’” he says.

Johnston comes into Baltusrol with a bag full of irons and little corporate cautiousness. He stopped at Katz’s Deli in Manhattan on Sunday “because I can’t find a better place that does pastrami,” he says. He considers the sandwiches “unreal.”

“I’ve been two times before,” he says. “I’m a big fan of the city. I like it, man.”

Roars from the gallery at Royal Troon still echo in his ears. He remembers walking up to the first hole, absorbing cheers of his growing base and then walking toward the 18th hole. He considers what might lay ahead as Baltusrol beckons.

“I want to come away and look back in so many years and think, yeah, that’s been a great time on the golf course,” he says. “And not going, ‘Oh, yeah, well, it was good for that period of time, but we had a good laugh.’ No, it’s all about the golf.”

The Lion of Cricket

W.G. Grace (1848-1915) was perhaps the most famous all-round cricketer ever, scoring over 8,000 runs and taking more than 800 wickets from 1873-1886. He was also noted for his enormous beard.