Editor’s note: Today’s Springdale community column is a glimpse into the past at one of the most influential institutions in a small town — the local barber shop. Do you have an idea for a Springdale community column? Send submissions of 700 words or less to [email protected].
According to Wikipedia, institutions are structures and mechanisms of social order and cooperation governing the behavior of a set of individuals within a given human collectivity.
A business does not become an institution overnight. It takes a lot of years and many loyal customers to lift a small-town business to institution status. Three Springdale firms, in my opinion, reached that lofty pinnacle: The Famous Hardware, Penrod’s Cafe and the Palace Barber Shop. “Palace,” however, was a misnomer.
Located on the south side of Emma Avenue, the Palace was about as near mid-town as was possible at the time. Penrod’s was two doors east, the Famous about one block west, and directly across the street from the First National Bank and Wilson’s Department Store.
The four-chair barber shop’s decor is best described as “early garage sale.” Seating for those waiting for a shave or haircut — or those with nothing better to do than visit with friends — was a mixture of cast-off cane bottom chairs, a well worn bench, and an old arm chair or two. Very often something unusual, unexpected or downright hilarious happened — something those gathered would remember and recount often if given the slightest encouragement. True stories, like the one told here, are what lifted this typical 1930s barber shop to “institution” level.
The Palace had customers and visitors it could depend on regardless of the weather — visitors like the small boy who sold Grit, the weekly newspaper, and Carl Hewitt who always came by for his early morning shave.
On the morning I recall, Springdale had received its first snowstorm of the season overnight. It had been unusually mild, but temperatures this morning dropped into the low 20s. As expected, Carl showed up about 8 a.m. for his shave. Sam Bryant, owner of the Palace at the time, did the honors. Carl got up from the World War I-era barber chair and walked to the front window, watching the early risers wade through 6 inches of snow.
“Look over there,” he said, to no one in particular. “There’s that Grit kid out in this snow trying to sell a paper. You have to give him one thing, he never gives up.”
Sam came up to the window. “Looks to me like he would freeze the way he’s dressed. I know his feet are wet — he’s still wearing those old tennis shoes he wore all summer.”
Carl never answered. He turned around, put on his hat and overcoat, and walked across the street toward the paper boy. “Guess Carl got sorry for the kid and is gonna buy a Grit,” Sam said.
No one in the shop seemed very interested in Carl and his reading habits. They continued their conversations and heavy reading of the sports page and some well worn copies of the Police Gazette.
Sam, however, watched the scene across the street. “Look at that,” he said. “Carl is taking that kid into Wilson’s. I’ll bet he is going to put the pressure on Autry Wilson to buy a paper. Let’s wait and see if he has any luck.”
Now Sam had the attention of the Palace group. Three or four got up from their chairs and joined Sam at the window. Quite some time went by and a discussion started as to what had happened to Carl and the kid. There was a side door to Wilson’s but they could see it from the barber shop window. No one had emerged — Carl was still inside with the paper boy.
Suddenly the conversation stopped. “There he is,” said Sam. “Look at that kid. He is all dressed up with new boots, new pants, a nice warm coat and a stocking cap. He even has on a pair of gloves. You know what, Carl has bought that kid a whole new winter outfit. When he comes in don’t anyone mention we saw what happened. It might embarrass Carl.”
They had no need to worry. Carl walked to his car and went his way. The incident was never mentioned the following days when Carl came in for his shave.
True stories like this is what lifts a small-town barber shop like the Palace up to the level of a city institution.
Bruce Vaughan is a retired business owner who loves to write. He’s a long-time Springdale resident.