Latino, working class and proud

Daniel Trujillo and Paul Madrid took over the Eastside Cutters barbershop more than 20 years ago, just a few miles from the Las Vegas Strip casinos where they both once worked.

With their profits, they bought spacious ranch homes in subdivisions near their children's public schools. They put away enough money to take their family on vacation every now and then. They survived several boom-and-bust cycles – a defining characteristic of Nevada's economy.

The store's walls are covered with Mr. Madrid's paintings of Mexican folk heroes, including Emiliano Zapata and Frida Kahlo, a show of enduring ethnic pride.

A painting in the shop window advertises another important aspect of their lives. Over the swirl of a barber's pole, in elegant cursive, is the text: 'The working class.'

“That's who we are, man, and we'll never forget that,” said Mr. Trujillo, 51. “We want to work. We want money. We want freedom. That is it.”

“No one here has ever been given a great inheritance,” the 54-year-old Madrid added.

That identity, a badge of honor for Mr. Madrid and Mr. Trujillo, is a source of intense interest for two other men: Donald J. Trump and Joseph R. Biden Jr. Democrats' support among Latino men, especially those without college, has eroded in recent years as Trump's Republican Party has tried to remake itself as the party of the working class. President Biden's reelection could hinge on his campaign's ability to reverse this trend in several battleground states, including Nevada.

Mr. Madrid and Mr. Trujillo are an investigation into President Biden's challenge. Although the two have largely similar backgrounds — both grew up in Las Vegas, learned a trade, briefly belonged to a union and earned a stable income — they are now divided over who should become president.

Mr. Madrid has remained a loyal Democrat who supports Mr. Biden despite misgivings. Mr Trujillo is a staunch supporter of Mr Trump, who he says gives a voice to people like him.

It's a divide that is often messy and emotional as it cuts through families or social media feeds. But for these two men, friends who spend their days joking in an outdated Las Vegas strip mall, conversations about the divide are more revealing than heartbreaking.

There is much they agree on: both find it difficult to see how the government is improving their lives. Both worry about whether their children will be able to achieve the same kind of economic success they have. Both lament that no president has been able to fix a deeply flawed immigration system.

Yet they disagree on basic principles: Mr. Madrid is convinced that politicians can and should do good. Mr. Trujillo believes the government should stay out of his way — or perhaps even fall apart.

Nothing has done more to sharpen those divisions than nearly a decade of politics shaped by Mr. Trump. Politics has become part of the daily chatter at their barbershop, with more and more customers praising the former president and expressing deep frustration with both major parties. Yet the two friends' disagreements rarely culminate in orderly dogmatic debates, but rather in the provocative ribbing and friendly antagonism of men who focus more on their similarities than their differences.

Mr. Madrid and Mr. Trujillo grew up parallel: the children of rural New Mexicans who moved to Las Vegas during the boom of the late 1960s and early 1970s. They spoke Spanish with their grandparents, played soccer and rode around in lowriders.

After graduating from high school, Mr. Madrid joined the U.S. Army and was stationed in Alaska during the Gulf War. His friends' struggles with PTSD made him grateful he never saw combat. Mr. Trujillo briefly worked as a busboy and in casinos on the Strip. When he tired of cigarette smoke, he apprenticed with his brother, a barber.

For years, Mr. Madrid was the one much more interested in politics; he considered voting a civic duty. Mr. Trujillo largely tuned it out, except when the news became entertaining fodder for holding court at the store. (He fondly remembers the impeachment of President Bill Clinton.)

“Politics talks to me. “I don't talk to it,” he said.

He remembers once voting for Barack Obama – maybe in 2012, or maybe during the 2008 hype? Either way, it was Mr. Madrid who sold him on the idea that supporting the first black president was important and exciting and a chance to be part of a change.

A few years later, when Mr. Trump arrived on the scene, politics found Mr. Trujillo again. Trump's burn-down-the-house ethos matched Trujillo's nagging sense that the country needed a wake-up call. His press conferences made him laugh. Like many other Trump voters, Mr. Trujillo started paying more attention and voting.

“Trump has brought the Jerry Springer drama to all of us,” he said.

Mr. Trujillo was undeterred by Mr. Trump's crude rhetoric. He enjoyed it. He still sees Trump's taped comment about grabbing women by the genitals as some kind of call to grab America in the same spot. “I mean no disrespect,” he said. “It's him who says, 'Stop being a wuss.'”

Mr. Madrid smiles and rolls his eyes at the roar. He rarely argues with Mr. Trujillo or his customers. He finds calm ways to get his point across. Shortly after Mr. Biden won in 2020, Mr. Madrid hung a large American flag in the back of the store, his attempt to show that patriotism did not belong to just one party.

Mr. Madrid views Mr. Trump as a master manipulator who has taken advantage of Christians like him, the working class and anyone who believes the American political system needs to be fixed. He does not always keep his complaints to himself. A few years ago, at his weekly Bible study meeting, he became concerned about how Trump's attacks on immigrants were hurting his community, and a friend begged him to stop talking about politics.

His own optimism waxes and wanes, but he does not share the dim view of government that Mr. Trujillo and many of their clients have. Still, he wishes there was a leader younger than Mr. Biden ready to take over, and he cringes every time the president makes a misstep.

Even minor blunders can take on a life of their own in the store, where many customers join Mr. Trujillo in mocking the president.

“I'm a compassionate man,” Mr. Trujillo said. 'I would hate to see my grandfather there, all tired. I would say, 'Come and sit down, abuelito, you know, relax a little. You've done enough.' But he's up there and he wants to keep going.”

As much as he might wish otherwise, Mr. Madrid has accepted that Mr. Biden will be his party's nominee. He is already looking ahead to the next generation of Democrats.

“I'm trying to hold on,” he said, “and hope someone better comes along soon.”

What will influence me?

Since the store reopened after closing during the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, the mood among its largely Latino clientele has been somber.

Men air their grievances and ask each other: when will they move on? These men – and they are all men (Mr. Trujillo politely turns away any women wandering around looking for a sleek haircut) – describe a vague but persistent feeling that they are missing out on the benefits that others have received.

“There are a lot of people who seek help from someone else and have things handed to them,” Mr. Trujillo said. “I want my taxes to be fair. I want my gas prices to be low. I want my interest rate low. If you could give me those three things as an American, that's fine, you're doing your job.

For Mr. Trujillo, Mr. Trump's image as a successful businessman is as pristine as the former president's name glittering in gold at his Las Vegas resort. For months he raged as grocery and gasoline prices rose, ignoring all the analysts talking about the strength of the economy.

But both he and Mr. Madrid are more hopeful than they were two years or even six months ago. Some days they see the world as on the edge of chaos. Other days they are more focused on the relative safety of their lives: Mr. Madrid has traveled to Qatar and New York City with his family in recent years. Both of Mr. Trujillo's children recently purchased their first homes. The store is doing good business; customers pack the chairs several days a week at all hours of the day.

These days, Mr. Trujillo likes to rail against what he calls “a very woke world” that has forced him to watch his words. He doesn't believe Trump's verbal attacks on Mexicans have hurt him personally. “People just want to be insulted,” he said.

A few seats away, Mr. Madrid offered his simple approach.

“You know what I care about: What's going to affect me personally?” he said one recent morning. “What will affect my barbershop? What's going to affect my house out there?'

Immigrants from Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras and Colombia make up much of the store's customer base. And despite everything they disagree on, Mr. Trujillo and Mr. Madrid agree on this: Both sides have taken advantage of undocumented immigrants who have worked and paid taxes for years.

Mr. Madrid cringes when he talks about the Democratic Party's record on immigration. He would never describe himself as an activist, but he knocked on the door of the Obama campaign, the first and only time he did so. And later he handed out water bottles during immigration protests. He sees the failure to overhaul the immigration system — while millions of people continue to be deported — as a stain on President Obama's legacy.

He is equally disappointed that Biden has not fixed the system either.

“People will say, 'Well, he didn't have enough time or it wasn't a priority,'” Madrid said, referring to both Democratic presidents. “If something is not a priority, you will never make time for it.”

Mr. Trujillo regards Mr. Madrid with a kind of brotherly respect and even occasionally turns to him for political guidance. “He will always know more than I do,” Mr. Trujillo said gravely.

Mr. Madrid still struggles to understand exactly how and why Mr. Trujillo and others turned to Mr. Trump. Maybe it's a kind of rebellion, he muses. But he is more bewildered than concerned. He believes he is part of a silent and solid majority.

In his view, Mr. Trujillo and his political allies are like “big, loud football players, looking for attention.”

“They're the Billy Badasses,” he said. “But that doesn't mean they're going to win.”