A few days ago, my 12 year-old poked his head into my office to let me know that he needed a haircut—with his ears and eyes disappearing, I concurred. That meant a trip to the local barber shop that we’ve been frequenting for years. Thomas Barber shop has been cutting Buckhead boys’ hair for decades, with stickers from almost every local school plastered on the door. I can always expect to see someone I know there; and “Tommy” the barber knows everybody.
By “everybody,” I mean every every big-wig—the CEO’s, athletes, and especially the politicians. Every candidate who wants to win Republican votes makes a point to stop in and pay homage to Tommy. A few years back, as I waited on my boys’ haircuts, a campaigning Brian Kemp strolled in—boots, jeans and all. He’s widely lamented around here now, having cratered local efforts to form Buckhead City, but back then his country gentleman vibe was right on brand with this beloved gathering spot. This barber shop is Trump country, but all are welcome to stop in; Tommy is friendly to everyone—even democrats.
As a result, the walls are crowded with political lore, sports paraphernalia and other signage bearing testimony to Tommy’s brand of celebrity—the ones that appeal to his conservative instincts, which are shared by those of the old-school Atlantans who form his customer base. There are autographed pictures of coaches, model trucks with corporate logos, and college football helmets lining the walls. A giant Coke sign still hangs there, and you can buy those perfectly cold and fizzy, bottled Cokes (“Co-Colas” if you’re an old Southerner) from a fridge by the door. Regardless of Coke’s woke political offenses, it is historically venerated in Tommy’s shop.
The famous owner and his autographed pictures aren’t the only stars of this show. A long-running cast of barber-chair characters form part of the experience as well. The black shoe-shine man works quietly in his favorite bitcoin-themed shirt; a tiny and chattering Asian lady cuts regulars while perched in her platform shoes; the country-girl stylist grabs a cigarette on breaks; and a popular police officer, until recently, hung out by Tommy’s chair, reading the paper while ostensibly keeping us safe. One employee is particularly legendary for my family; “Swift” always spiffs up my sons’ fast-growing mops, enabling them to see teachers’ faces and baseball pitches again. His station is decked out with an “I love Jesus” needlepoint, a Semper Fi sticker and family photos—the secrets behind his great heart.
Things at the shop can get dramatic, indeed; on one occasion, the Asian stylist got into a loud and nasty argument with the country girl working at the neighboring chair. The gist of it was that the country girl was a Southern Baptist, and on that day, she wasn’t keen on the Asian lady’s religious opinions. As it turns out, country girl’s faith wasn’t of the turn-the-cheek variety; she answered her petite coworker with, ”I’ll kick your #$$” if you keep it up”—an interesting twist on the Southern Baptist vibe. Nobody seemed to notice or care, and haircuts continued uninterrupted.
My most recent visit featured a gathering of older men—a retired judge, plus someone who’s friends with the old judge’s mom; a smaller-town politician; and a man whose Bible-teacher mom likes to gamble (“we all have our sins,” he explained). Somehow, all of these men knew each other and showed up just in time to entertain me as my son occupied his barber’s chair. One man got a shave, another got a haircut, and another just lingered to shoot the breeze in business attire; but all bent Tommy’s ear with folksy political predictions.
On Saturday mornings, there are free donuts available in a back room; very few young customers turn them down. Reluctant little boys thereby learn that a trip to Tommy’s is a good thing. If you don’t want donuts, you can still grab a blow-pop from the big container on top of a cabinet displaying nearly-extinct hair and skin products. You can grab a few extras if your little sisters want blow-pops, too. My oldest son loved topping this off with a bottled coke on his way out, an old-fashioned pleasure I was happy to indulge. Moms who can’t deal with sugary treats and red state politics shouldn’t come here.
Don’t plan on pulling out the fancy Amex here; true to form, Tommy only takes checks and cash. He keeps a stack of paper receipts and lists prices on a simple sign over the Blow-Pop jar. An “I Did This!” sticker reminds us that his rising prices are due to Bidenflation—a statement that wins agreement from all his loyal customers. Rising prices or not, Tommy’s faithful will flock to his famous shears.
Thank you for this delightful story. Your writing and descriptions made me feel I was there, enjoying a view of times gone by - a welcoming barber shop where people are friendly and engage with one another. Nowadays, in many salons, no one talks to each other. Your son is lucky to have these experiences of a place uncommon in the world today and a mother who can so well capture the essence of the place to commemorate it.
Great story. Thanks! America.