8 February 6-12, 2025 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com New Times | music | cafe | culture | Night+Day | News | letters | coNteNts | 8 Month XX–Month XX, 2008 miaminewtimes.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | ART | STAGE | NIGHT+DAY | METRO | RIPTIDE | LETTERS | CONTENTS | 2. First Cut An only child, Rivera grew up moving in and out of efficiencies and duplexes in West Perrine. Both of his parents were undocu- mented immigrants: Gladys from El Salvador, José from Honduras. “My dad had a stable job, but it just didn’t, you know, pay enough for us to live a nice life growing up,” Rivera says. “I grew up, we call it nowadays, ‘free lunch in school.’ That’s what I would have to depend on when I went to elementary, middle, and high school: the free-lunch line. I would liter- ally be the first one there eating breakfast and lunch — and pray that I have dinner at home.” He recalls seeing people coming in and out of their home constantly. At first he didn’t understand why; he later learned that Gladys, who’d worked as a hairdresser in her home country, offered manicures, pedicures, and haircuts on the side to help the family make ends meet. To his dismay, she also cut Rive- ra’s hair. He recalls seeing his middle-school classmates sporting “fresh haircuts and fresh lineup” and asking them where they got their haircuts. “The barbershop,” they said. “I asked my mom, She’s like, ‘No, I’m cutting your hair. It’s too much money.’ And back then, haircuts weren’t that expensive. Like, what was like, $8, $10? But again, we couldn’t afford that, and I didn’t understand at the time.” So Rivera decided he’d teach himself to cut his own hair. He bought some cheap clip- pers and walked to a South Miami-Dade bar- bershop to observe. He was the only Hispanic kid in the Black-owned establishment. “Lit- erally, I would sit there and just be observant of the barbers and what exactly they used, what guards, what clippers,” he recounts. “And eventually, I was like, ‘Man, okay, I see what he’s doing. I’ma try that on my own.’” After he saved up enough money, he treated himself to a skin fade at the barbershop. Then, every three days, he’d touch it up himself at home with a razor. From there he honed his skills by cutting other neighborhood kids’ hair. His specialty was the “Even Steven,” in which the hair is cut to the same length all around. Apart from his growing interest in barber- ing, Rivera was a hardcore sports fan, the Mi- ami Hurricanes in particular. A friend fed his passion, inviting him to football games at the Orange Bowl. “I would hang up newspaper clippings — I loved the newspaper when I was little,” Rivera says. “I would always look forward to Sundays, or even Miami New Times — like, I’d look forward to seeing the photos in those articles.” In particular, he recalls coming across a New Times cover story that hit close to home, a pro- file of Hugo “Juice” Tandrón, the in-house bar- ber for the then-Florida Marlins (and the only team barber in Major League Baseball at the time). “When I saw him on that cover, it pushed me to be like, ‘One day that’s going to be me,’” Rivera says, adding that he kept the cover and had it framed — it’s now displayed at his house. “It just motivated me: You know what? One day I’m gonna meet him. I’m gonna follow his path.” (When asked who cuts the Canes Barber’s hair now that he’s a pro, Rivera says, “Hugo.”) 3. “You Think You Can Line Me Up?” But by tenth grade, Rivera was working to support his family, and soon after graduation in 2004, he enrolled at the police academy, drawn by the financial security of a career in law enforcement. In 2006, following his graduation from the academy, he got a job at the Dade Correctional Institution near Homestead as a correctional officer. A little less than two years later, however, after fail- ing to notify his superiors that he knew one of the inmates, he was terminated. Rivera describes it as the lowest moment of his life. He was evicted from his apartment and still had to help provide for his parents. Then a silver lining appeared, in the form of Javarris James. During his time working at the prison, Ri- vera had forged a friendship with the then- University of Miami running back (a cousin of former UM great and NFL Hall of Fame running back Edgerrin James), who paid reg- ular visits to his older brother, who was serv- ing a sentence on drug charges. “Javarris saw how I was struggling and I just wasn’t myself anymore,” Rivera says. “One day he asked, ‘Steve, who cuts your hair?’ I was like, ‘Oh I cut my own.’ He goes, ‘Oh, you think you can line me up before our game this week?’” Rivera thought nothing of doing a solid for a friend, but James had other ideas. After a few weekly dates for game-day tuneups, he intro- duced his personal barber to his UM team- mates. “It just shows there’s still good people out there,” Rivera says, still overcome with emotion at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that. He was lying to everybody, talking about how, ‘Steve knows how to cut hair! He cuts mine!’ Mind you, I didn’t really know how to cut hair. I only knew the most basic stuff.” A pair of UM students who shared a dorm room lent him the space to set up a makeshift barbershop. When their building fell to the wrecking ball, another loyal customer invited Rivera to relocate to the Mahoney dorm. Soon the line of students wanting Steven Ri- vera to cut their hair stretched down the hall. “I would literally be there from 4 p.m. all the way to one or two in the morning, cutting nonstop,” Rivera remembers. “I’m telling ev- erybody, ‘Yeah, I know how to cut hair.’ Little did they know I was practicing on them.” One semester led to another, and Rivera be- came a staple on campus. Every year new ath- letes would arrive knowing their go-to barber would be Rivera on the seventh floor of Ma- honey. He was the architect of former quarter- back Jacory Harris’ signature cuts, including the “U Swag.” Over the years, he cut the likes of Lance Leggett (‘04-’06), Mike James (‘09- ’12), Herb Waters (‘12-’15), Stephen Morris (‘10-’13), and Allen Hurns (‘10-’13). Before he knew it, he’d acquired a nick- name: “Canes Barber.” It was that same increasing popularity that proved to be Rivera’s downfall, brought on in 2012 courtesy of a rules-obsessed resident ad- visor. “I remember like it was yesterday,” Ri- vera says. “I was on the seventh floor and she came in there and gave me a warning. And then the following week she came with security and was like, ‘You gotta go. You don’t belong here.’” Rivera went home and cried. But the set- back was short-lived: Angel Rodriguez, point guard and captain of UM’s basketball team, gathered his teammates and approached UM’s Athletics Compliance Office and then-head hoops coach Jim Larrañaga about installing a barber’s chair in the locker room. Crew Cutter from p6 Rivera’s tattoos pay homage to the Miami Hurricanes and his upbringing in Miami-Dade County. >> p10 “Every time I get a cut, I score a touchdown on the weekend. Steve got the lucky hands.”
