The Scoop: O.C.’s barbershop was a county gem
There aren’t a lot of good barbers left in this world. Some would say there aren’t a lot of good men left either. O.C. Panter was both, and his death this week has snatched away another cherished part of local history.
I always thought O.C.’s barbershop on Spring Street was one of Warren County’s unique gems. The barbershop didn’t have a phone. You didn’t make an appointment. You stopped by, grabbed a seat, and then hopped in the chair when O.C. looked your way.
O.C. didn’t mind telling you he only paid $125 a month in rent. That included his water. Just a few months back, he had his barber’s chair re-upholstered and was fairly well proud of it.
When I stopped by O.C.’s for a haircut about three weeks ago, I didn’t figure it would be for the last time. I knew O.C. had recently reduced his hours from five days to three days a week, but I never saw any signs he was slowing down. He’d cut three heads of hair in a row and never break stride.
O.C.’s barbershop emitted a down-home feel, the same feeling you got when walking in Hubert Hillis’ Grocery. You’d stop by Hubert’s store as much for the gossip as you would for the bologna and crackers. It was like a step back 20 years in time. Everyone ate around one big table and told most everything they knew.
Hubert’s death brought an end to his store. That’s what happens when you’re a one-man operation.
I imagine the same fate awaits O.C.’s barbershop, a place where you didn’t have to worry about fancy hairstyles or getting your hair washed and blow dried. I remember the first time I walked into O.C.’s shop, he asked me how I wanted it cut. I told him I needed a good haircut. That’s all I ever said and he always got it right.
O.C. was a proud Democrat and he didn’t mind telling you. Said he hadn’t voted for a Republican yet and spoke with conviction that he never would.
When it came to the Vols, you’d be hard pressed to find a bigger fan. I got the impression O.C. didn’t have much use for Vanderbilt. He liked baseball but said he didn’t much care for any other pro sport.
O.C. had a hard time accepting the theft of his barbershop pole about a year ago. It was an antique and worth far more to him than what he paid. O.C. said he had worked since he was 12 and never took a dishonest dime from any man. He couldn’t understand why someone would want to steal his pole.
He was a gardener and if you asked him about his flowers he would tell you to grab a shovel and stop by his house. He’d even give directions. “They need to be divided anyway,” he’d say. “You might as well come get ’em.”
I never did, but I wish I had.
I wish I had done a lot of things while O.C. was still around. I wish I had picked his mind for more of those one-of-a-kind stories he always told. I wish I asked him how a man with one kidney could cut hair at age 80 – after heart bypass surgery too.
I wish places like O.C. Panter’s barbershop could stay open forever. The truly sad part is you probably won’t see a shop like O.C.’s, or a store like Hubert Hillis’ Grocery, opening any time soon. Warren County is moving forward and growing. We’re making a steady dash toward “progress.”
That means we want giant chain stores, just like Murfreesboro and Nashville. These retail monsters light up an entire block and stay open every hour of the day. We’re moving away from the unique nooks that give Warren County its own flavor and separate us from the rest of the country.
There won’t be another man like O.C. Panter and another place like his barbershop. Thanks O.C. for all the memories.
James Clark is editor of the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at standard@blomand.net.