The Barber Shop

Editor note:  A third Lowry remembrance from Sid Stivland.  Lee & Lucille's place.

By Sid Stivland

Shoehorned between the Lowry State Bank and Sig's Hatchery was a small building occupied by Leland Thompson’s Barber Shop.  Actually it was Leland’s Barber Shop and Lucille’s Beauty Shop.  Leland and Lucille were long time residents of Lowry who were in charge of local tonsorial matters for years.  The Barber Shop was located at the front of the building while Lucille’s Beauty Shop occupied the back of the shop.  At the time, I never considered that might signify a sort of sexist thing – men in front and women in the back – that was just the way it was. 

The barber shop held an interesting niche in the cultural life of the town.  It always seemed to me that haircuts were almost secondary to the real reason for entering – it was the closest thing to a “Men’s Club” in Lowry.  Usually, there were 2 to 4 men lined up along the wall awaiting their turn in the chair.  Conversations ranged from mundane to, shall we say, lively. Commodity prices, weather, and other farm issues topped the list.  But close behind were topics like fishing, hunting, and trapping.  Sometimes they told jokes.  These were usually told with a sensitivity to whoever else was waiting. Some jokes were marginal.  It was always interesting to see who laughed – and who was trying hard not to laugh.  Most conversations were congenial but, occasionally, more controversial topics cropped up.  School consolidation and closing the rural schools was sure to get someone fired up, as was the perennial topic of liquor sales, the wet/dry controversy.  It was definitely a man’s domain, though.  If the conversations did not convince you, then the sight of a spittoon by the door should have.  I won’t go into any detail on that but, suffice to say, I have had many nightmares over the years involving that spittoon.  I always wondered if the sound of hair dryers from Lucille’s beauty shop were for drying hair or for drowning out the men’s conversation.

Leland seemed the king of diplomacy.  Although he was always involved in the conversation, I do not recall he took any controversial positions.  I suppose he had to remain neutral if he had any chance of keeping his clientele – there was, after all, competition in Starbuck, Farwell, Glenwood and most other towns around.  No sense making your customers mad.

There was a sort of ebb and flow to the haircut business.  Farmers could not bother with haircuts during busy seasons.  During spring planting, haying, harvest, and silo filling there was no time for haircuts. Therefore, it was important to get in before things got busy because who knew when the next opportunity would come along.  No one drove to town just to get a haircut. If you were already in town on some other errand like getting parts for the baler, picking up fence materials at the hardware store, or bringing a tractor in for service, it made sense to poke your head into the barber shop to see how long the line was.  The procedure usually went something like this:  poke your head in the door, see how many were waiting, and get a time estimate from Leland – 1 in the chair almost finished, 2 waiting, half hour – 45 minutes at the most.  OK, go in, sit down, join the conversation and get caught up on the latest local news – this was better than the newspaper! We preferred to call it news – not gossip.

Even though it was more than 60 years ago, I still remember my first haircut. I was 6 or 7 years old and my mom did not want to cut hair any more. I guess there was too much pressure once I started school.  Many a kid showed up at school wearing what was known as “White Side Walls”.  White Side Walls was a condition usually perpetrated by someone’s mom.  It occurred when the haircut giver, usually an amateur, took too much off one side of the head.  So, to even it up, she had to take some off the other side.  Then back to the other side.  And so on.  The longer this went on, the worse it got.  Hence, the term, “White Side Walls”, when you had virtually no hair on either side of your head.  This condition was almost enough to justify staying home from school because your so-called buddies never got tired of reminding you of it.  As if you could forget it, anyway. I was thankful that my mom was willing to admit to her limitations.  And haircuts were expensive!  I think the haircuts cost my dad a quarter.  That was big bucks!  Why, for a quarter I could get a candy bar, a double dip cone, AND a cherry coke at the Dahl House on Saturday night.  Sometimes I would get asked why I did not go to the barber in Farwell.  After all, I attended school in Farwell and could easily have obtained a haircut during recess. But the barber shop in Farwell was co-located in the pool hall and we were prohibited from ever entering the pool hall, that was that.  So – off we went to Leland’s shop in Lowry.

Getting my first real haircut was a big deal.  It must have been because I still remember it.  Leland was great with kids.  Since I was just a little kid, the barber chair would not raise high enough even if Leland pumped it all the way up.  But he was prepared.  From behind the stove he whipped out a short shelf, just the right size to fit across the arms of the barber chair.  We sat on that little shelf while he cut our hair.  Leland was a pro.  As I said, he was great with kids.  He made a big deal of turning over my collar, threading the little piece of crepe paper around my neck, and whipping out the cloth that kept hair clippings off our clothes.  I didn’t have much hair and he probably could have finished my haircut in under 5 minutes but he made a production of cutting, combing, and applying some kind of sweet smelling liquid to the remaining hair.  I do remember I was a bit put off by the razor.  I do not recall if he actually used it on me but I remember the flourish with which he honed it on the strop; whap, whap, whap.  and I do remember watching as he gave some of the men a shave.  That thing was a marvel to behold.

Eventually, we all got big enough that we no longer required the extra lift provided by the little shelf.  That was just one more milestone – when we could sit up in the barber chair just like the men. 

S.S.