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Classified Chestnut Hill Local Don't Miss an Issue, Tell us what you see or |
Still just $9 for a haircut at 50-year-old shop Part two
Don Murphy has cut the hair of five generations in one family, and four generations is not at all uncommon for him. He’s seen a lot of history march past his shop at 7149 Germantown Ave. — Christmas parades, Halloween parades, kids going to the Saturday matinees at the Sedgwick, even Revolutionary War reenactors. He cut the hair of the last member of the Chew family to live in the historic Cliveden mansion, and just a few months ago, he saw Caroline Kennedy speak next door at North By Northwest. “I’ve seen a lot of changes, but it’s always been a nice neighborhood,” he said. Attesting to that fact, he says that in all of his years at the shop, he’s never been robbed, although in the ‘80s, someone did steal his barber pole. “When my friend Louie the barber in Manayunk put his pole inside his store to protect it, I called him a wuss,” said Don. “Then I come back from vacation and find that my pole is gone. Is that ironic? I think I know who did it, but if I told you his name, he’d shoot me. I’m not kidding.” Like old Fred MacFarland before him, Don loves to survey the scene on the Avenue. The shop’s big bay windows serve up a daily dose of reality better than anything offered on TV, and Don knows every plot and every character. “Oh looky here,” he’ll say, without missing a snip of the scissors. “Look who’s back in town. Now that guy is a real piece of work.” Of course, not all of Don’s banter can be documented in a family newspaper — using as he occasionally does, words picked up in the Army — but it is always appropriate to the audience and age-group at hand, and always very funny. I asked Don if he still gives cuts to very young children. “Oh yeah, all the time,” he said. “I can handle the kids if the parents stay out of it. I have ways of calming them down.” He recounted a story of one particularly recalcitrant youngster who hid behind a potted fern and wouldn’t come out. “What are you doing back there, partner?” Don asked, “I’m pooping!” said the boy. Don asked the boy’s mom, “Is he wearing a diaper? Yes? Okay, then put him in the chair, and let’s go.” One of Don’s best customers, and a good friend, is Lior Leibling, a Mount Airy lad with Down syndrome who was recently the subject of a beautiful, award-winning movie entitled Praying with Lior, which traces the boy’s journey into manhood. Don only appears for a few minutes in the film, bantering with Lior, but in those few minutes, Don’s humor and humanity come shining through. A true story: One day a customer came running into the shop yelling, “Don, I just figured out how you can make twice as much money.” “I know,” said Don, “double my rates.” “No,” said the man, “just shut the [bleep] up. You’ll cut twice as much hair.” Don freely admits that he’s not nearly as fast as he used to be, although his cuts are still the best in town. There are some days, mostly Saturdays, he says, when the volume is just too much for one barber, but he will still not consider either shutting up or hiring a helper. “If I hired someone else, then folks wouldn’t be able to talk to me. They come here to enjoy the banter. Sometimes they don’t even get a haircut. If the wait is too long, they just leave and come back another time.” Neither will he consider raising his $9 rate for a haircut. When I asked him when he last raised his prices, he couldn’t remember and didn’t seem to care. Don presently has a cat, “Charlie,” 10 months old, with whom he shares his abode. “Let me tell you,” Don says. “People train dogs, but cats train people. She’s a little bugger.” He says he plans to keep cutting hair until he is 85. “As long as my health stays reasonable, I’m going to work. Sitting home is not for me.” After what seemed to be about 14 hours of interviewing, most of which was Don talking, I could see that he was getting tired and needed to go home, so I bid him adieu. “I’ll see you soon,” I said. “I’m in desperate need of a haircut.” “Yeah, good,” he replied. “Just don’t come in on Monday, I’ll be too busy.” I’m going to go in on Monday, anyway, just for the banter.
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