RIP, Jim Rocco.

This week I was saddened to hear that Jim "Vincenzo" Rocco had died last June. Jim was a huge influence on me, and some of the most important lessons I learned, things that literally shaped the course and direction of my career, were things I learned working in his salons.

I first met Jim as a new Pittsburgh Beauty Academy graduate (back in the day when being a PBA grad was a Big Deal and something to be proud of.) Jim hired me for my first post-school job, working as an assistant in his "Hairporte" salon in Century III Mall. He was also opening another location in the newly built One Oxford Center in downtown Pittsburgh. The building was so beautiful and elegant, and boasted some of the coolest shopping in the city; there was a Ralph Lauren, the fabulous K.Barchetti, (fantastic for designer shoes) and my favorite store of all time, Emphatics. I once quite happily spent an entire month's pay on a gorgeous eggshell-white Norma Kamali dress at Emphatics. *sigh*

Anyway, Jim opened a beautiful salon in the fabulous, brand-new building, with state-of-the-art furnishings and decor, and named it "James Rocco Hair Designs". I split my work week between the Oxford salon and the Century III location. I was a young hotshot, completely unaware of just how much there really was for me to learn. See, PBA had a way of impressing upon its students that once they graduated, all the world's best salons would be tripping over each other as they fought to be first at your door, each with a better offer in hand.

Reality is a harsh mo-fo, as my friend likes to say. Not that my job choices were bad or that there weren't plenty to choose from. But, as it turns out, most of the better salons had the infinite wisdom to resist my obvious charm and appeal, offering entry-level jobs where ongoing training would be part of my benefits package. I was, of course, highly offended by this. I went to PBA! Did they not recognize that I was destined to be the greatest hairstylist in the world?? What were they thinking? But, lacking any serious offers to become the styling director of a major salon, I chose to work with Jim Rocco at the Hairporte. Jim's trainee program included classes a few nights a week, during which senior stylists taught new assistants cutting and styling techniques, color theory and application skills, among other things. I wholeheartedly resisted this entire process. In my haze of youthful ego and ignorance, I resented the time I had to spend on the process, I resented being treated like a newbie, and I really resented being corrected. For anything. (yes, I was insufferably arrogant.) Finally, in exasperation, Jim sat down to talk to me about why I was resisting the training. I honestly do not remember what I said, but I will never forget what he said to me:

"Shari, I know you know what you know. Nobody is taking that away from you. I just want you to know what I know, too."

I don't know what it was about that sentence that finally got through to me, but it did. It completely changed my attitude about his program and about improving my technical skills. And not only has it stayed with me as part of my career-long thirst for learning new things, but it also helped me immensely, and often, as a trainer of hair colorists later in my career. 

Later on during my tenure with Jim's salons, I had another learning experience that has stayed with me throughout my career. I had been promoted to a stylist, finally, and was able to actually work on clients. One day a woman and her husband came to the Oxford salon. He explained that she spoke very little English, but she wanted platinum highlights in her naturally very dark brown hair. I thought it would be a big mistake, and tried to explain why, but he wouldn't listen; just do the highlights, please.

I will spare the arduous retelling of various technical and judgement errors I made that day, and just say  those details have also served me well when comforting a new stylist on my staff who, through her tears, sobbed that she would never understand hair color. I said yes, she would, and she sniffed and said "YOU never had a goof up like this." I laughed (a lot) and said "oh, yes... yes I have. Let me tell you about the highlight I did at Oxford Center."

The end result of the various poor decisions was that the woman's hair was, literally, smoking when I checked it. It was a disaster of legendary proportion, and she, lacking appropriate English skills, cursed me mightily in at least three other languages. I have never since, thankfully, seen hair actually have smoke rising from it (not steam, no- this was smoke). My more experienced coworkers stepped in to help, and did everything they could to repair the damage and soothe the furious client. After she left, with a bag of free products and follow up appointments for deep conditioner treatments, we decided as a team that we'd just sort of keep this quiet and not tell Jim. No sense upsetting him; he'd just be mad and it was handled and everything was fine. I was relieved.

Then the following week I happened to be at the desk at Century III when the phone rang. I answered it, and it was Jim, calling from Oxford. "Hi Shari, I just met your client from last week. Mrs. Smith?" (name changed, obviously) "Oh." (long pause, while my heart kind of fell into my feet.) "so.... yeah. Am I fired?" I responded.
"No, you're not fired. But let's talk about this for a bit. What did you learn from this?"

And so, we had a long conversation about the choices I had made in formulating and processing the color, the disastrous end result, and how the situation was handled. Everything, from the customer's experience to my coworkers' and mine- what was done correctly and how I could have made different choices. He never once berated me or made me feel stupid, never scolded me or expressed any anger. His entire conversation was about making sure that I took away something valuable and would be able to make better choices next time. And you know what? I did. And that compassion, that empathy, that passion for making me a better hairdresser has stayed with me my entire career. It not only made me a better colorist, it made me a better trainer, and gave me a role model to emulate when it was my turn to teach others. It gave me a template to use when dealing with young staff members of my own who made mistakes, and I hope I was able to show them the same degree of compassion and instill the same passion for hair that Jim Rocco gave me.

I ran into Jim a few years ago at a local supply store. It was nice to see him. I knew he opened a small salon in Pittsburgh's Oakland, and meant to stop in, but never managed to get there. I wish I had known of his passing; I would have paid my respects. I've been fortunate to have some terrific people in my career who helped to shape the adult I was becoming. I never fully expressed to Jim how important the things I learned from him were, or how much his influence changed my life, and for this I am profoundly sad.

Rest well, Jim. You were a great hairdresser, and an even greater mentor. You helped me become the professional I am today. You gave me a wonderful example to follow, and I am forever grateful. Thank you.