The Usual, Please!
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Jake Stout
Team Eisert
Bryan Lemons, 66, owner of Downing’s Barber Shop in Maryville, Mo., maintains a community while grappling with a changing barbershop culture and contemplating retirement. Since taking over Downing’s in 2001, Bryan regularly serves around 500 Maryville residents.
In the 1960s, Maryville had 17 barber shops and 33 barbers. Today, there are three shops and only a handful of barbers.
Over time, the culture of people coming in just to sit and chat, whether they need a trim or not, has faded. What has not changed is the sense of community Bryan brings to his customers. He knows them, and they know him. It is a system built on loyalty, and Bryan would not have it any other way. “They’re more like friends than customers,” Bryan said.
After nearly 48 years as a barber, Bryan has chronic shoulder pain from lifting his arms for extended periods every day. “I know very few barbers who rode into the sunset,” Bryan said. “Most just work till they drop.”
Cheyenne, 25, is the only other barber in the shop. After starting with Bryan four years ago, she has built a considerable customer base of her own. She drives an hour to work each day and has earned the respect of many customers, though not all of them. “It may really hurt the business if he retires,” she said. “Not all customers are comfortable with a woman cutting their hair.”
Whatever happens to the shop, Bryan and Cheyenne have made an impact on their community that will last long after the hair is swept from the floor.
Bryan Lemons, 66, owner of Downing’s Barber shop, cleans up the remaining hair on a client’s head once the trim is done. Bryan has a clientele that includes nearly 500 of the town's residents.
Customers sit at the barber shop while they wait for a cut. As barber shop culture has shifted away from a communal meeting place, Bryan still brings a sense of togetherness as many other shops in Maryville have closed down. “My customers are loyal to me and I’m loyal to them,” said Bryan.
Bryan requires many tools to cut people's hair. The scissors, left, cost close to $500 and were made in Germany, only the finest for Maryville’s residents.
After his barber pole stops spinning, Bryan fixes it so that customers know the shop is open. Bryan purchased the Maryville barber shop in 2001 and has kept it almost entirely the same, inside and out.
Bryan trims a customer's hair with care and precision. He considers himself a psuedo-therapist without the training, going through a “joke” of a crash course in psychology when he learned to be a barber. “It's an intimate profession” said Bryan, “you’re touching people’s face, ears, neck, and they trust you.”
Bryan and Cheyenne rest in their respective chairs while waiting for customers. “No day is the same,” said Cheyenne. “We get a rush, then it’s nothing, no in between.” Bryan hopes that one day Cheyenne will take over the shop and he can retire fully.
Bryan sits across the street at the City Hall of Maryville where a smoking bench has a familiar feel to it. Smoke breaks are a must throughout the day for Bryan, who after 48 years as a barber can feel the years in his bones.
Bryan uses a trimmer to clean up his stubbly beard before customers arrive at his barber shop. He likes to call it “self service”.
Clumps of hair litter the floor of the barber shop. “Back in the day, when there were more shops, barbers used to put out extra hair to make it seem busy,” said Bryan.
Bryan rests for an hour and a half each day to give his shoulder a break. He leaves the shop in Cheyenne’s hands, as, after almost 50 years of cutting hair, he has shoulder problems from raising his arms all day. “I know very few barbers who rode into the sunset, most just work till they drop” said Bryan, who has begun to contemplate retirement to avoid that fate.
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