The shave is vital. If you can’t do the shave, you’re not a barber, simple as that. That’s what Tony Carbone says, and he’s so good at the cut and shave that some of his customers are considering flying him back up from Florida to maintain their heads.

Carbone and his wife, Deborah, are driving to Florida in just nine days. He has sold his beautiful house in Rehoboth and his salon in Providence. He is 65 and heading for the sun. He is also writing the final chapter of a wonderful Rhode Island story.

It began in 1961 when he arrived with his parents and the tools of his trade — scissors, comb and razor — in his pocket.

“I came to this country with nothing, with the clothes on my back — and my talent.”

He was 17, but he had been developing that talent for 10 years. When he started, he stood on a box in a shop in his village of Pietramelara, north of Naples. A barber named Rocco Regna, who worked until he was 83, taught him. Regna taught him not just the haircut. He taught him what does and doesn’t go with the haircut.

“He told me to avoid politics, nationality and religion. He told me, ‘open your eyes, listen well and talk less.’ ”

Since 1961, Carbone has carried the wisdom of Rocco Regna with him, from his first chair in a shop in the lobby of the Biltmore to his Salon One in the Regency Plaza. And some of the first customers are still customers. Some of the latest are fourth generation in the chair.

“Some go back to ’61,” he says. “I love people. They treat me good, and I spoil them.”

He also believes in loyalty and punctuality.

“I haven’t been late in 48 years,” he says.

He’s a holdout. He’s not giving up on the idea that the 95th time should be just like the first time when a familiar head comes under his practiced hands.

“I believe in scissor and comb. The machines? They’re to groom dogs, not people.”

It’s an art, he says. It’s an art to cut and comb and turn that seldom perfect human surface into something that a customer can carry with confidence.

And there’s the shave. The shave, done well, is something Carbone considers part of a fading tradition.

“It’s about preparation,” he says. “When it’s well prepared, you’re half done.”

It starts with hot towels. Then there’s pre-shave cream. Then there’s more hot towels. Then there’s shaving cream and the straight razor. Then there’s the feeling that a tired old mug has had a tune-up.

There have been times in these last few days of his long run in Providence when he thinks it might be best to just leave in the middle of the night. That would avoid all this sentimental spill at Salon One. Old customers are hugging their barber, even getting a little misty-eyed at the thought that this man who has long presided over so much well-styled warmth will soon be gone.

He has sold Salon One. He had some really good offers, but he says he sold it for a little less money to Everett Bianco because Bianco understands. He understands that there are no shortcuts when a person settles into the chair.

When he gets to Florida, Carbone is not going to chuck scissors, comb and razor. He can’t just stop doing something that has been such a part of him, connected him with so many people. He’s working on some things. He can’t imagine going too many days without cutting some hair.

And there really are some customers considering flying him up every few weeks to give them what they have grown used to for a whole lot of years. They consider the airfare a small price to pay for what Tony Carbone provides.

bkerr@projo.com