Tradition can take many forms. It resides in high school pep rallies, a favorite campsite or a tailgating ritual and abounds in family holiday celebrations. But in our increasingly disposable society, there are fewer and fewer businesses that can legitimately call themselves a tradition for its clientele.
Leroy’s Barber Shop in Fort Smith is the rare exception to this trend. Its namesake, owner Leroy Casalman, has been at his post for five of his six decades in barbering, withstanding changing eras and fickle hairstyle trends throughout. He’s been here so long that for many, getting one’s hair cut here is as much a family tradition as calling the Hogs or enjoying Mom’s banana pudding.
“I’ve got several fourth-generation customers,” Leroy says. “I had a five-generation, but the little boy couldn’t come in. He was here in town, and they were gonna bring him in, but they couldn’t make it work. I missed out on that one.”
Leroy hasn’t missed much of anything else during his time in business, in part due to the work ethic he developed early in life.
“I grew up in Cecil, Arkansas, forty miles east of here out in the country. As the crows fly, it’s halfway between Ozark and Charleston,” he says. “We had cows that we hand-milked. We had a Grade A milk barn. The man next door to us had chickens and I worked for him so I could have a little spending money and buy my clothes for school and stuff like that.”
The young farm hand approached high school graduation with little in mind for what would come next. His employer, chicken farmer Lew Shaw, doubled as a barber at Fort Chaffee and it seemed to Leroy as good a trade to learn as any.
“I didn’t have anything that I wanted to do, so I graduated in May and started barber school in September 1962 and graduated May 18, 1963,” he says. “I had gone to Kansas that summer and worked on a farm there and made enough money to pay for my schooling. Barber school was in Little Rock; I went down there and rented a boarding house and that’s where I stayed until graduation.”
The coursework – 1,500 hours in nine months which worked out to eight hours a day, five days a week – was coupled with working at a local restaurant to help supplement his going-to-school money. Leroy didn’t mind the rigorous schedule as it hardly held a candle to farm work, not to mention he’d stumbled onto something he truly loved!
“I took to it like a dog eating dog food. I loved it,” he said. “And I’ve never had to go to work a day in my life. I look forward to going to work.”
Leroy came home from barber’s school and quickly became an in-demand sub for barbers looking to go on vacation. A two-week stint in Alma led to a similar stint in Van Buren which led to a month’s service in Fort Smith.
“I worked about a month at Skinner’s Barber Shop across from the old St. Edward’s Hospital on Rogers Avenue,” he said. “Ralph Grace, who owned Rogers Avenue Barber Shop up on the corner of Greenwood and Rogers, called me and wanted me to come to work for him, so I went and ended up there nine years.
“Your pay was considered on how much business you brought in. You got seventy-five percent of what you brought in, and the shop owner got twenty-five percent. He paid unemployment, social security out of that.”
With just under a decade of professional experience – and clientele – under his belt, Leroy bought the Grand Plaza Barber Shop in February 1972, and with it, the last place he’d hang his smock. A natural conversationalist and jokester, Leroy’s customers came for his cut and stayed for his commentary, some for decades.
“You have to give a halfway decent haircut, but to be honest with you, the more bull you put out there, the more customers you get, for some reason,” he said, his chuckle lighting up the room. “It’s not just how you cut hair it’s how you get along with your customer.
“I’ve got customers that have gone back fifty-three years, several of them came with me from over on Rogers Avenue. Yes, I’m still cutting for them today.”
Leroy’s customer-first mentality presented itself in other ways, such as adjusting to the latest hairstyle trends and fashion that have come and gone and come back over sixty years.
“When I started barber college, flattops were in,” he says. “Then the Army-style haircut never did come in ‘til about eight years ago; it’s just a regular haircut. Of course, we went through that phase that time when everybody had long hair and you had to adjust to taking off whatever they wanted. You’ve got to please the customer or he ain’t gonna come back.”
Barber shops are one of the last true bastions of males gathering in society and Leroy has loved such camaraderie and being a hub of community news, information and gossip.
“If anything is going on in town, if anybody’s going to know it, the barber shop is going to know it,” he says. “You’ve got all kinds of people coming in here and they’ve been all over town and they’ve seen everything, and they tell you what’s happening.”
There were limits to this, of course. Even though he’s served exclusively men over his career, Leroy never let testosterone-fueled political incorrectness turn his shop into a blue den where anything goes.
“I was saved on May 15, 1966, and God took away all the cussing from me. I’ve been fortunate enough to work in shops where that has not been a factor,” Leroy says. “Now, every once in a while, you’ll have an old Army vet come in and he might let out a few words, but cussing in our barber shop has never been an ordeal. We just don’t let it happen.
“Some kids were in the other day, and I guess they were gonna be smart and show off. I had to get onto them and tell them this shop is not that kind of shop.”
There’s only one thing that rivals his barbering career in love and longevity and that’s his family. This summer he’ll mark sixty years of marriage to Sharon, his high school sweetheart. Together they’ve raised two children and welcomed four grandchildren and soon-to-be five great-grandchildren. All in all, he’s learned a few things about the secret to a long and happy life.
“Tell the truth is the main thing,” he said. “And be what you are; don’t try to be somebody that you’re not. Be honest with people. Don’t try to snowball them or smoke ‘em. Just be honest with them.
“And it would help you if you find a good church somewhere to get into. There is no peace like Jesus can give you. I can lay down at night and not have to worry about a thing. That’s one thing about that job; when you lock the door, you’re done. You don’t have worries, no deadlines to meet. You come home, go back the next morning, unlock the door, it starts over. You get that rest with your mind and with no interference.”
At age seventy-eight Leroy still works the four-and-a-half days a week the shop is open, usually arriving by 7am and locking up at 5pm. Time has been good to him health-wise which the devout Christian sees as both a gift from above and a sign to keep going.
“I’ve never had problem with my legs, my arms, no shakes. Health is great. Went to the doctor today and my blood pressure is one-twenty-four over sixty-eight,” he says. “I’ll keep finding myself where I’m supposed to be, until my health gives way. Now, I’ve slowed down some. Mowing my yard and all that stuff, I can’t get it done as fast as I used to, but I can get it done and that’s what counts.”
Another warm chuckle. “I’m livin’ the dream, brother.”
Leroy’s Barber Shop
922 N. 32nd Street, Fort Smith, Arkansas
479.769.2462
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