Words and photos by Tom Price

Other than the glowing neon OPEN sign outside, there is little that is inviting about Gabe’s Tavern and Barber Shop. Metal bars cover the windows of the tattered wood building and the man reclining behind the counter hasn’t smiled in four decades.

Stacked on the solid oak shelf behind him are old relics of another time. A large cash register straight out of Deadwood rests below a low-hanging American flag with John Wayne’s face on it. The only semblance of modern technology is the large flat-screen Panasonic television mounted in the corner of the room playing an old episode of the Gene Autry show.

Gabe Mayorga has pretty much stayed the same while the world outside his little bunker on the south side of downtown has changed. He opened his bar and barber shop 50 years ago. Now “80 something” Mayorga is thinking about closing. And if you ask him, this was never his calling anyway.

“I never wanted to do this, I just kind of fell into it,” says Mayorga, who moved to Merced from Fresno with his ex-wife after WWII and bought the business from a couple of her cousins. “When I started this thing a keg of beer was $8. Now, the god damn thing is $189.”

He only has one beer on tap — Budweiser. And he serves it in a large frozen mug pulled straight from his household Frigidair refrigerator that is turning yellow with age. After serving a couple guys in their mid-20s Gabe sits back down in his chair, crosses his arms and stares out his widow out to Martin Luther King Street.

Yup, a lot has changed.

"Used to be you could say hi to somebody,” says Mayorga. “Now, you say hi, and somebody wants to kick your ass.”

A magnet on the fridge says, “There’s a time and place for foul language, and this isn’t the time or the place.” It’s an obvious joke about Mayorga’s penchant for profanity.

His regular customers warn newcomers before they go in that Gabe isn’t your average bartender. They tell you there are basically two rules if you want to get a hold of one of his tall frosty mugs. He has to like you and you better not be looking for trouble.

“I’ve never called the police here once in 50 years,” says Mayorga. “I choose my customers … If you’re an asshole, you’re out of here. You can’t let people come in an run you over, if you do, you aren’t a bartender.”

Sitting down for the first time at Gabe’s can be like the stranger walking into an old Western saloon for the first time in one of his favorite cowboy flicks. The regulars staring bullets at you and Mayorga standing behind the bar with his finger on the trigger below the counter, ready to blow you out the door.

But Mayorga isn’t as tough as his scowl or reputation might lead on. He talks fondly of his daughter who helps around the shop and he almost cracks a smile talking about the man whose hair he has been cutting for almost five decades. His eyes light up a little when he talks about selling everything, buying a Winabego and taking a drive to Montana.

It seems, after 50 years, Mayorga is ready for something else. He says both the bar and barber shop, which are connected by a single door, are losing their luster. It’s obvious by his tone that he feels he doesn’t fit in that little shop anymore. He says maybe young kids don’t want their hair cut by an old man and he says most of his friends and best customers have died.

Mayorga too, has had his brushes with death over the years. He says he’s had gangrene six times, has had large chucks of his intestines removed, his gall blader burst and he was in a coma for 90 days.

“I should be dead I tell you,” Mayorga says. “I feel lucky. I shouldn’t even be living right now.”

He credits his bar with keeping him alive. He says waking up at 4 a.m. and keeping the doors open into the early night gives him a purpose, something to do.

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