For those of you that watched Eddie Murphy’s funny movie ” Coming To America ” for me the scene’s that stole the show were the regulars in the barber shop. In my day wheather you lived in a small town or a large city the local barber shop was a favorite gathering place on Saturday. It did not matter if you needed a haircut or not, this was the You Tube connection of the fifties.
Azzie’s barber shop was the hot spot on Saturdays. Preachers, teachers, and ” candle stick makers” jockeyed for a sitting place at Azzie’s on Saturday. Azzie which we assumed was his Christian name met all the criteria physically and mentally for the local long time barber. He was a small man with full white hair around the ears and neck. However over the years mother nature had other ideas about the remainder of his head, slick as a cue ball. Azzie knew more about the comings and goings of the people than anyone in town. His mind was a mental file for business matters, personal matters, behind closed door matters, but his confidentiallty was never shared not even with his wife. On the other hand , Azzie’s clientele could not wait to share fact or fiction to who ever would listen.
All one needed to do was sit and wait for your haircut and take in the weeks happenings. If a reality show awarded emmy’s Azzie’s would have won hands down. All you had to do was walk down the street after a visit to hear all the rumor mills.
” I heard Troy laid out Friday night drunk as a skunk, losing all his mill wages gambling. Poor Mary and those children”. ” Where did you hear that”? ” At Azzie’s, Luther blared it out when was getting his trim”.
My small town had almost as many colorful characters as Damon Runyon’s short stories on the personalities of New York’s Broadway. One such personality was Mr. Joe B. He owned the textile mills and rich to the bone. He pretty much controlled the livelihoods of every one in town. Mr. Joe would double park his Cadillac to get a hair cut and the local sheriff would direct traffice around the Caddy until he returned. Tough luck if he had blocked you in, no one asked Mr. Joe to move his car. No matter how long you had been waiting for your haircut, when Mr. Joe walked in, he was next in line.
Another interesting character was Preston R. Every three months he would come to town for a gratuitous haircut. Why gratuitous, Azzie wanted him in and out as soon as possible since he had not bathed in weeks. Preston was our local Jeremiah Johnson ( Robert Redford’s character in the movie of the same name-Goggle it-good movie) Preston lived deep in the woods and was basically self-sustaining. If the town folks knew Preston was in town, they would peep in Azzie’s window to watch the shearing of the sheep so to speak. Word was Azzie used hedge clippers to cut the thick matted hair. Preston had no means of transportation. He hitch-hicked everywhere when he needed supplies. When he did make it to town, it was usually in the back of a pick up truck because no one wanted him in the cab.
One of the coolest characters, with no shame was Mr. Singletary. He was alway seeking an honest opportunity as long as it was cheap and to his advantage. He was notorious for canvassing the local churches to see which one was having dinner on the ground for Sunday’s service. When Mr. S. would enter Azzie’s the joke of the day was, “Mr. S. are you Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, or Pentecostal this week”? With a smile he would reply, ” Baptist this week. Ms. Cain’s chicken and dumplings are the best in the county”. Of course Mr. S. never left without his doggie bag.
Not that I considered myself a local character, but I to took my lumps over the years at Azzie’s. In those days high school athletics was treated with royality for bragging rites and such with the other small towns. Being a jock at the time, you were either a hero one week or a has been the next. For this particular time frame our local basketball team was fifteen and zero going into Friday’s night’s game. As fate would have it, we lost by one point and second , Saturday was the day I was to get my flat top crew cut at Azzie’s. Walking into Azzie’s I was greeted by an angry mob. Never knew the local preacher had those words in his vocabulary.
” What the hell was wrong with you guys last night, you could have not guarded my eighty year old grandpa. If I was the coach your butts would be running from the school to the mill”.
I had learned to handle the criticism. What I could not handle was Azzie leading the rat pack, knowing I was next for my haircut.
Be safe.
Joe's Bakers Dozen 