I park and gaze at the shop. It's a challenge, but also a promise--a five-dollar haircut! Three NBA-jersey-clad high-schoolers appear to be guarding the entrance. Their blackness, coupled with the motor home's Central District location, makes the place look rather black, whereas I am rather white. With shades on, I self-consciously strut in and take a seat at Universal Cutz. I soon find out that I am actually in need of an appointment at this mobile haircutting unit. Arthur Dunlap, the young proprietor, is slammin' these days. In fact, his cousin Ronald from St. Louis is coming up any day now to help out on the overflow. Dunlap recently busted up the carpeted thing his Xbox was sitting on, put in another barber chair, and added a new sink and shampoo bowl.
I am not the only person whose interest has been piqued by Dunlap's entrepreneurial vision. As my eyes scan a poster of the predominant hair options for African American males, which is affixed to the fake wood-grain interior, in walks a Japanese woman equipped with a camera and a pad of paper. She's from an Asian community newspaper and from her determined interview I learn a few things: Dunlap painted the motor home himself; his investment in the vehicle and all the business essentials was eight to 10 thousand dollars; he estimates the number of cuts he performs per day to be a staggering 35 to 40. She asks him if he ever cuts women's hair.
"I'll even cut your dog if you pay me right," he says.
It's hot. Dunlap is finishing up the head of a stoic young basketballer. He's going to get to me after all. The dry-erase board lists the cuts and the prices. The "Movie Style Fade" costs $13, the "Regular Fade," $10. The "3-D" will put you back $15. If I want a cut for five dollars, I'm going to have to order up the "Prison Cut." I'm not sure if I'm that cheap. At the bottom of the list of cuts someone has written, "God Loves U!"
Twenty-one-year-old Arthur Dunlap has been cutting hair nearly his whole life, beginning with his six little brothers back in St. Louis, Missouri. After migrating to Seattle nearly 10 years ago, Arthur continued to cut hair. But it wasn't until a few months ago that he opened Universal Cutz. When asked about his inspiration for cutting hair in a graffiti-painted motor home, Dunlap tells me, "God gave me the idea."
Dunlap was "saved" in August 2001. He was undergoing a transformation in thought and deed during the construction of his shop, and there were some personal obstacles to overcome that required God's assistance. In recalling one instance, Dunlap says, "I used to smoke the weed. I was craving some weed when I felt something powerful come over me and the craving stopped." In November of that same year Dunlap had a vision in which God told him, "Send me all the people that are breaking my heart." Confused, Dunlap wondered how he could send God these people. "All of a sudden, I've got this shop," he says, and the question seemed to have answered itself.
"What do you think the words 'strategic conduct' mean?"
Dunlap is cutting my hair when he asks me this question. This startles me somewhat, as I am busy wondering how much dandruff I am shedding. I tell Dunlap that I suppose it means doing things in a calculated, well-thought-out way. Dunlap tells me that soon after he was saved, God sent him a package in a dream. Written on this package were two words: STRATEGIC CONDUCT. We are silent. What, I wonder, does this have to do with cutting hair in a motor home?
I ask Dunlap if he looks on Universal Cutz as a way to spread his faith. Refreshingly, Dunlap is hesitant to proselytize. "I'm living by His will," he says. "I just open the door and let God be." When I mention that having a successful business would allow him to share the "good news" at the same time that he makes money, Dunlap seems to like the idea that money and Christianity are not mutually exclusive. He continues to cut my hair and we talk about the possibility of multiple mobile haircutting units, maybe even expansion into other cities. Why not?
It hasn't gotten any less busy. A professional man drives up in a black BMW and wants a 10-minute cleanup cut before he goes to the gym. A young man who didn't call ahead to make an appointment sticks his head in the entry. He looks at the white guy in the chair (me) with anguish and tells Dunlap that a few extra dollars are in it for him if he can get his haircut tonight. He's got a graduation to attend. Dunlap tells him to come back in 25 minutes. A couple kids enter the shop and turn on the Xbox. Soon they begin playing head-to-head basketball.
Art Dunlap owns a second motor home and is currently customizing what will be Universal Cutz mobile unit #2. "I'm going to corner the whole C.D.," he says. He wants to hire a woman who can do braids, and is interested in someday selling clothes. In the more immediate future, look for the Universal Cutz motor home at upcoming events such as Seafair, the Torchlight Parade, the Black Festival, and, if Art Dunlap has his way, the Bite of Seattle and select Mariners games.
When I was waiting for my haircut, the Japanese interviewer asked Dunlap why his shop was called Universal Cutz. "Because at Universal Cutz," Dunlap told her, "anyone can get a haircut." Art Dunlap's "strategic conduct" seems to be all about basic human decency. Spread the gospel.
Universal Cutz is located on MLK Jr Way, about two blocks south of S Jackson St. It is open from roughly 9 a.m. until midnight, seven days a week, 579-7644.
