A barber's pole hasn't marked the place in 15 years. Years ago, one, then another, were vandalized. There's no signage, either.

Yet a series of old men pull up to the small squat building on 23rd Street in Granite City. They've come here for decades, for generations even.

They park in front, one at a time. It's appointment only. They like that. They keep appointments.

They want a haircut — eyebrows included. Frank Komoromi, 63, of Collinsville, has worked here since 1987. Prior to that he cut hair for 17 years two blocks away.

It's a two-chair shop but Frank uses only one.

"It's an old man's barber shop," Frank says. "That's all it is."

In 1993 his partner, Mel Havron, suffered a heart attack here.

"He almost died in my arms," Frank says. "He died a week later."

Frank pauses. "It seems like yesterday sometimes."

The carpet has been worn bare in the half-circle where Frank makes a living. The furnishings — the two chairs, the cabinets, the sinks — are even older than the 42 years that Frank has cut hair in Granite City. They were bought used.

A ceiling fan labors, its shaft wobbling like an overmatched drill. Three of four light bulbs at the hub have gone dark. In the corner the ceiling has brown water stains. Newspaper clippings taped to the paneled walls resemble Dead Sea Scrolls.

There's a poster of the "Men of Mayberry"; photos of people long gone; a fly swatter hangs from a nail; and near the unused chair is an ancient container of Vaseline with an orange substance inside that presumably once was Vaseline.

A few weeks ago Frank doled out $5 for new, blue drapes.

"Those drapes were a shock," says customer Clarence Degonia, 74, of Granite City.

Frank knows his shop, which he rents, could use a face lift.

"But if I fixed the place up I'm afraid people wouldn't come here," he says.

Degonia has been coming for 25 years. Years ago, Frank also cut his father's hair.

"He has a lot of good stories to tell you," Degonia says.

In addition, he says, "He can sing. He can barbecue."

Frank the singer is "Frankie K." He has sung in bands since high school.

He's now in an oldies group called Mister T and the House Shakers. They often play at the Collinsville American Legion.

"It's old folks night," Frank says. "We tell them they can be home for the 10 o'clock news."

Every Labor Day in Granite City Frank sings the national anthem at Wilson Park during the holiday picnic.

On the wall of his shop is a United Food and Commercial Workers International certificate. He proudly proclaims he's the only union barber in the city. He charges $18 a haircut.

Frank has a barbecue business. The back of his shop is stocked not with styling gel but barbecue sauce. In summer he often cooks outside the shop.

He grew up in East Saint Louis and his first job was in a barber shop. He swept up fallen hair. He shined shoes.

On his first day he buffed the Florsheims of a dapper lieutenant of local gangster Frank "Buster" Wortman. When Frank finished, the man stepped from the barber's chair right into a bucket of mop water.

"He still tipped me $5," Frank says.

Frank is in good health and says 84 seems as good an age as any to retire. He looks younger than his 63 years. He has a lush head of silver hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.

Over the years he's had a few female customers. But they've passed away. He makes house calls, as well as hospital and nursing-home calls.

In 1987 Frank was called by the widow of Christ Costoff, a former chairman of the Madison County Democratic Party. Costoff had just died and lay in his coffin. But he didn't look like himself because his hair wasn't right, according to the widow.

So Frank rushed over to comb it into place.

Tim Lueckerath, of Granite City, is only 41. He was a boy when Frank first cut his hair.

"I'd come here with grandma and grandpa," Lueckerath says. "I've been with Frank for a long time. He's a buddy. He's a friend. He knows my family. He knows me."

The Rev. Del Miller once pastored a church in Granite City but now lives near Sunset Hills, Mo. He makes the 25-minute drive to Frank's shop for several reasons.

Miller, 71, is a World War II re-enactor and prefers an older look to his cut; he prefers union shops; and the price is reasonable.

"And it's just pleasant to meet with him," Miller says.

Frank has never regretted his decision to attend Metro Barber College after graduating from East St. Louis High School in 1967.

"It has been a good ride," he says. "I think most people don't like their jobs these days. But I love my job. I have interesting people to talk to.

"The barber shop is good. My life has been good."

POKIN AROUND Steve Pokin is a columnist for the Suburban Journals. He can be reached at spokin@yourjournal.com or by phone at 618-344-0264, ext. 126. His column is on Facebook at www.facebook.com/PokinAround.