The Folkston Barbershops of Pete Stroup and O. W. Layton in the 30s and 40s Had Charm, Character…and Gossip. Composite photograph shows two early Folkston barbers, Pete Stroup on the left, and O. W. Layton, right. The two barbers turned their Main Street shops into the heartbeat of the community during the depression years and into the years of World War Two.

By Jack Mays

In the 1930s and 1940s, if you wanted to learn what was going on, you went to one of Folkston's two barbershops, both on Main Street. Pete Stroup operated his shop in the Rodgers Building (Now Folkston Pharmacy), and O. W. Layton's shop was next door to Mrs. Bank's Restaurant.

Stroup, in the depression years of the late 1930s charged a quarter for his haircuts, and Layton got the same thing. There was sort of an agreement between the two that they would charge the same price. Layton had something Stroup's shop didn't have…a hot water bath for 50 cents. Few used the bath, but when they did, Layton would start a fire with wood and warm up his water heater.

Stroup was extremely involved in community activities. He managed the local semi-pro baseball team and was a deacon in Folkston's First Baptist Church. His duties also included, on Sunday mornings to walk down to the church and ring the church bell. A job he filled faithfully.

Layton was more withdrawn. Layton drove his Plymouth automobile from his home to his shop every morning, his dog, Tuesday, running behind. At noontime, Layton's wife brought his meal to him. No matter who was in the chair, Layton stopped cutting his hair, sat in a chair beside his wife, and ate the meal she had brought him. His customers learned not to visit Layton's shop at noontime or they could encounter a delay while the barber finished off his plate.        

However, it was not the personalities of the two barbers that took center stage. It was what went on inside the two barbershops, the heartbeat of the community.

Saturday nights in Stroup's shop was where most of the locals whiled away their hours. Many had no jobs during the depression years and would compare stories of hunting and fishing to entertain themselves. The smell of cigar smoke hung heavily over Stroup's shop; Otis Nobles was usually there with his ever-present cigar. Nobles had a favorite seat in the shop, an elevated shoeshine stand. Few could afford to have their shoes shined by the shine boy. The shoeshine chair gave Nobles a higher vantage point than the other street level chairs spread around the walls of the shop.

Things were not always quiet inside the shops, depending upon who was running for office and what scandal was making its rounds through the county. Stroup had two other barbers working chairs in his shop on Saturday nights, Fitzhugh Murray and Mike Michaels. Both were opinionated and weren't shy about letting their feeling on every issue be known.

Sometimes the debate got out of hand and Stroup had to call the shop to order. The loud arguments usually quieted down. Stroup had a temper of his own, and when pushed it came to the front. The men in the shop respected Stroup, who in later years, developed palsy, or disease that caused his hands to shake. Nevertheless, when Stroup's straight razor hit the face, the blade glided through the shaving cream with an unmatched smoothness.

Across the street in Layton's barbershop, a different crowd filled the chairs on Saturday nights; maybe they were just a little less vocal than those in Stroup's shop. Layton's wife often came in to visit her husband and the men waiting in the shop knew to act like gentlemen in her presence, or she would quickly put them in their place.

 In the days of World War Two, both barbers brought radios to their shops, to hear the war news. Gabriel Heater, a famed radio commentator of the time, usually took top billing at Stroup's shop. Heater would open his wartime broadcasts with the words

"There's good news tonight", or adversely, "There's no good news tonight."  In either case the men in the barbershop hushed their chatter until Heater's 15-minute broadcast was over. They would spend the next several hours talking about Heater's comments.

Barbershops today don't seem to have the same charm and character as those of Stroup and Layton. Men today are in too much of a hurry; it's into the chair and out of the shop. Not like the several hours many whiled away in Stroup and Layton's barbershop in the 1930s and 1940s.