“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.”
Albert Einstein
Time travel exists. There may not be a doctor with a booth nearby as a clue, but the evidence is here--right in Ayden. You can leave 2014 by entering the City Barber Shop on 3rd Street. Here, years seem to have become intertwined.
The circa 1959 barber chairs are imported from Chicago. All three are a rich burgundy with chrome trim. The worn footrests say, “Emil J. Paidar”. The bases are painted sea foam green. Behind the chairs are matching pedestal basins, and behind them is a large cabinet with mirrors. The cabinet is a blonde wood, typical of the 1960’s, with lights that remind you of the trim on a 1957 Oldsmobile. The words “Antiseptic Sanitizer” are stenciled on the glass doors. A television on a faux brass metal stand sits at the back wall, the rabbit ears askew. A western with Barbara Stanwyck is playing.
The proprietor is Douglas “Doug” Williams. Even at 72 years old his hands are steady and sure. With a comb in one hand and scissors in the other, he lifts locks, then with lightning fast flashes of the scissors, he snips. Hair is lifted, then you hear the “shweet, shweet” of the scissor’s blades. A small tumbleweed of hair rolls to the floor. This is repeated dozens and dozens of times. He cuts hair with the confidence that comes with 50 years of barbering. After the essential hair cutting is completed, the sides and back of the neck are shaped with the electric clippers. “Do you want me to taper the back or block it,” Doug asks one customer. “Are you going to keep the beard or shave it off when you get home…if you’re keeping it I can blend it,” he tells another. This is styling, this is barbering. It has been a tradition at City Barber Shop for decades.
Doug entered the Army in 1964. He served two years and returned to what he had been doing before--cutting hair in Goldsboro at the Sunrise Mall. In 1966 he decided to return home to Ayden. He worked for Lyman Baldree, the original owner of City Barber Shop. Mr. Baldree had cut Doug’s hair when he was a little boy. Now, Doug was working for him and continued to for years before taking over the business. “Mr. Lyman,” as Doug called him, was getting on in years and wanted to take a step back. Doug bought him out and the employee became the boss. A photo on one wall shows Lyman Baldree with a large group of barbers at a 1960 convention of Associated Master Barbers in Goldsboro. When Doug talks about this time, you can hear and see the admiration he had for Mr. Baldree.
“He was a better boss than me,” says Doug. “My boss now won’t even give me a day off.” He chuckles at his joke.
You might say that time travel first happened in 1984. Everything in the barbershop was moved here from the building next door. This 1930 era building has been City Barber Shop’s home since.
Now in 2014, I’m taking photos and talking to Doug between customers. He stays busy. It seems as soon as he tells someone in the chair they are almost done, someone new walks in. There are no appointments—everyone just ambles in and sees if there is time for a haircut. I myself didn’t come in expecting to get a trim. Not having much hair, I haven’t seen the need for a barber for many years now. But, after watching Doug at work for several hours, I began to get the feeling that not getting a haircut would be like watching Wolfgang Puck prepare a dish and not give it a taste. After cutting my hair at home for almost two decades, I can say that for now on Doug will be doing the honors--I’ve retired.
Doug gives me a tour of the shop when it slows down. We look over the chairs and admire the quality. Doug isn’t impressed with the modern chairs he has seen at other shops. He shows me his new clippers. Someone kicked in the glass front door one night not long ago and stole all Doug’s clippers and tools. He takes me into the back storeroom. There, like an apparition from a past life is a shoe shine stand. Doug wants to display it up front since it is a part of the shop’s history. Unfortunately, he would have to pay for a privilege license to do so. This is because a shoe shine stand is considered a separate business from the barber shop.
Before I leave, I ask Doug for some timeline dates: When did City Barber Shop first open? When did he buy out Lyman Baldree? What year did Mr. Baldree pass away?
“Well, if you hadn’t asked…” he says, his voicing trailing off. The dates escape him for the moment.
What do dates matter anyway? It is only time, and, at this barber shop, years seem to run together—to be happening all at once.
Update: This piece and accompanying photos were picked up by a local magazine. You can check it out at http://www.downhomemagazine.com/