Farewell Old Friend
I am sad today. A place from my childhood is up for sale and more than likely will be demolished. Mitchell’s Barbershop sits on approximately an 1800 square foot lot at 4909 Millertown Pike. It's right on the side of the road, just below the new Lowe’s store. It is a tiny little building but it sure holds a huge amount of memories for me.
I don’t know exactly when Mitchell’s was built. My dad said that the original owner, Ben Mitchell, used to have a shop off of Washington Pike, just down from Belle Morris school, and remembers getting haircuts there as a small boy. Eventually he relocated to the present location on Millertown, I believe it was around 1964. The barbershop was right beside of my papaw, Rev. Ed Spencer’s, church, North Acres Baptist, where I attended from the time I was born in 1966, until shortly after papaw died in 1972. Ben Mitchell cut hair and so did his son (and current owner) Charles, whom everyone called “Cub.” Also Ben’s son-in-law, Charlie Bowman cut hair too. There may have been other barbers there but I don’t remember them.
Charlie Bowman gave me my very first haircut. I was 2-years old and had a head full of long curly red hair. My mother took me to get it cut. Poor old Charlie didn’t know what he was getting into when I walked through the door. I don’t remember any of this but my mother tells me that I was madder than a hornet. Apparently I was opposed to getting a haircut and did everything in my power to put a stop to it. According to mom I led everyone in a chase around the barbershop. I was yelling and screaming like a wild Indian while several adults ran after me. I was finally caught and was physically restrained in the barber chair for the entire haircut. Charlie was at his wits end by the time it was all over and probably wishing that he’d called in sick that day. Mom says that we went to the laundry mat afterwards and I refused to come in the building or talk to anyone. I just sat outside with a mad look on my face and my arms crossed in anger.
I eventually warmed up to the barbershop and papaw Spencer used to take me with him to Mitchell’s. I cherish those times with him and wish that I could just close my eyes and be transported back to those days. All of the neighborhood men would gather at Mitchell’s and they would sit in chairs that lined the walls of the small building. When I would walk through the door with papaw (Preacher Spencer) it was like walking in with a celebrity. Everyone loved him and would compete for his attention. “How’s it going preacher Spencer?” someone would say. “What do you think about this weather preacher?” “Enjoyed that sermon last Sunday preacher!” Papaw would small talk with everyone in the shop. I would sit in the extra barber chair and stare at the Coke machine with a lustful look. Every now and then papaw would have an extra quarter and would buy me one. Those little 10 oz. Cokes were the best things you’ve ever tasted in your life.
I continued getting my haircuts at Mitchell’s up until I was in my mid-twenties. Charlie Bowman was always the one that cut my hair. As a young boy I would have to sit on a booster seat that Charlie would put over the arms of the barber’s chair. I can remember the experience just like it was yesterday. I would climb up in the seat and he would raise the chair to a good cutting level. Then he would drape a huge cape around me and button it in the back. He often reminded me of how he had to chase me around the barbershop on my first haircut and would tell anyone else in the shop all about it. He always made sure to tell everyone that I was preacher Spencer’s grandson. I would always giggle and squirm when he would use the electric trimmers around my ears. He would tell me to be still but it was all I could do to keep from shivering. I always loved it when he would squirt out a handful of shaving cream and lather the back of my neck down. He would then pull out a straight razor and shave my neck. Afterwards he would throw a hot towel on my neck and clean up the excess shaving cream. Then he would spin the chair around, dip a brush into a cup of talcum powder 
and then brush all of the excess hair from my face. I would hold my breath and close my eyes while he did that. After that he would point me toward the large mirror that ran the length of the back wall and ask me if it looked all right…it always did.
Charlie never once nicked my ears when giving me a haircut. I often wondered why there were packages of Methylade hanging from the wall. I guess others weren’t as lucky… Also hanging on the wall were displays of unbreakable combs and some fishing lures. Of course there was a real Barber’s pole in the shop too. Standing beside the door was a gumball machine which I deposited many a nickel and dime in. The old timey Coke machine that stood in the corner was one of those that you would deposit your money and open the glass door, reach your hand into the hole and pull out the 10 oz. bottle of Coke.
In my mid-twenties, my friend Bill’s wife, Melissa, started cutting my hair. Bill and I both wore Mullets at the time and I’m sure Charlie Bowman wouldn’t have approved of that style of haircut. After the Mullet craze wore off, my wife began cutting my hair and she still cuts it to this day. She does an excellent job, but the experience isn’t quite like going to Mitchell’s Barbershop. I miss that place. Farewell old friend.
I don’t know exactly when Mitchell’s was built. My dad said that the original owner, Ben Mitchell, used to have a shop off of Washington Pike, just down from Belle Morris school, and remembers getting haircuts there as a small boy. Eventually he relocated to the present location on Millertown, I believe it was around 1964. The barbershop was right beside of my papaw, Rev. Ed Spencer’s, church, North Acres Baptist, where I attended from the time I was born in 1966, until shortly after papaw died in 1972. Ben Mitchell cut hair and so did his son (and current owner) Charles, whom everyone called “Cub.” Also Ben’s son-in-law, Charlie Bowman cut hair too. There may have been other barbers there but I don’t remember them.
Charlie Bowman gave me my very first haircut. I was 2-years old and had a head full of long curly red hair. My mother took me to get it cut. Poor old Charlie didn’t know what he was getting into when I walked through the door. I don’t remember any of this but my mother tells me that I was madder than a hornet. Apparently I was opposed to getting a haircut and did everything in my power to put a stop to it. According to mom I led everyone in a chase around the barbershop. I was yelling and screaming like a wild Indian while several adults ran after me. I was finally caught and was physically restrained in the barber chair for the entire haircut. Charlie was at his wits end by the time it was all over and probably wishing that he’d called in sick that day. Mom says that we went to the laundry mat afterwards and I refused to come in the building or talk to anyone. I just sat outside with a mad look on my face and my arms crossed in anger.
I eventually warmed up to the barbershop and papaw Spencer used to take me with him to Mitchell’s. I cherish those times with him and wish that I could just close my eyes and be transported back to those days. All of the neighborhood men would gather at Mitchell’s and they would sit in chairs that lined the walls of the small building. When I would walk through the door with papaw (Preacher Spencer) it was like walking in with a celebrity. Everyone loved him and would compete for his attention. “How’s it going preacher Spencer?” someone would say. “What do you think about this weather preacher?” “Enjoyed that sermon last Sunday preacher!” Papaw would small talk with everyone in the shop. I would sit in the extra barber chair and stare at the Coke machine with a lustful look. Every now and then papaw would have an extra quarter and would buy me one. Those little 10 oz. Cokes were the best things you’ve ever tasted in your life.
I continued getting my haircuts at Mitchell’s up until I was in my mid-twenties. Charlie Bowman was always the one that cut my hair. As a young boy I would have to sit on a booster seat that Charlie would put over the arms of the barber’s chair. I can remember the experience just like it was yesterday. I would climb up in the seat and he would raise the chair to a good cutting level. Then he would drape a huge cape around me and button it in the back. He often reminded me of how he had to chase me around the barbershop on my first haircut and would tell anyone else in the shop all about it. He always made sure to tell everyone that I was preacher Spencer’s grandson. I would always giggle and squirm when he would use the electric trimmers around my ears. He would tell me to be still but it was all I could do to keep from shivering. I always loved it when he would squirt out a handful of shaving cream and lather the back of my neck down. He would then pull out a straight razor and shave my neck. Afterwards he would throw a hot towel on my neck and clean up the excess shaving cream. Then he would spin the chair around, dip a brush into a cup of talcum powder 
and then brush all of the excess hair from my face. I would hold my breath and close my eyes while he did that. After that he would point me toward the large mirror that ran the length of the back wall and ask me if it looked all right…it always did.Charlie never once nicked my ears when giving me a haircut. I often wondered why there were packages of Methylade hanging from the wall. I guess others weren’t as lucky… Also hanging on the wall were displays of unbreakable combs and some fishing lures. Of course there was a real Barber’s pole in the shop too. Standing beside the door was a gumball machine which I deposited many a nickel and dime in. The old timey Coke machine that stood in the corner was one of those that you would deposit your money and open the glass door, reach your hand into the hole and pull out the 10 oz. bottle of Coke.
In my mid-twenties, my friend Bill’s wife, Melissa, started cutting my hair. Bill and I both wore Mullets at the time and I’m sure Charlie Bowman wouldn’t have approved of that style of haircut. After the Mullet craze wore off, my wife began cutting my hair and she still cuts it to this day. She does an excellent job, but the experience isn’t quite like going to Mitchell’s Barbershop. I miss that place. Farewell old friend.
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