A simple man, a simple job. Remembering Sonny Decker

In 1999 I wrote a story for the newspaper I was working for about the barber in the town we now live in. He was my dad’s barber and twelve years later he was the only person my toddler (now my almost 17-year-old) would let cut his hair. The barber, Sonny Decker, passed away several years ago.

This is the article I wrote. The photos are of my son.

Decker’s Barbershop in Dushore is about more than just an inexpensive haircut. It is about a place and a feeling and a simple man who does a simple job in a small town. Most of all, it is about country life and country people. It defines what life should be – relaxed, laid back, friendly, and caring.

In Decker’s Barbershop they talk about the town, the school, the weather, politics, work, hunting, or whatever the topic might be for that day.

“We have solved quite a few problems in here,” Bill Faulkiner, Laporte, says from the barber’s chair. “If we could get paid for all the issues we have discussed we would be rich.”

The topic on one recent afternoon was school closings and school boards. Everyone has an opinion today, except the barber who nods and smiles and keeps cutting Faulkiner’s hair.

The barber’s first name is Andrew but no one here calls him by this given name. The 60-year-old barber is Sonny to all of his customers.

“I’ve been here 31 years,” Decker says. “I can’t even believe it. It doesn’t seem that long at all. I’ve met a lot of interesting people and we’ve talked about a lot of things.”

Residents and customers would tell you business has never waned for Decker, even though he doesn’t own a phone. (“No appointment books here,” he says), and the building where he started his business on Main Street in Dushore was demolished this past year (“I miss the old building and seeing the trucks go by but I have more room here and more window space.”).

Decker says he started his business in May of 1968 after attending the City Barber Institute in Wilkes-Barre. According to Decker, Dushore wasn’t the first place he worked.

“There used to be this man named Guy Miller in Benton, who took young guys in,” Decker says. “I worked as an apprentice there for a while. Soon after that I had to take the state board exam.”

Customers say life seems to slow down and catch up to people both when they walk into Decker’s shop.

“This is where I come to relax,” Faulkiner says. “I work from sunup to sundown so I like to come in here and talk to people. You can get different input from the people who are here.”

On this day, life is catching up to 4-year-old Seth Crane of Dushore. According to Seth’s dad, John Crane, Seth is getting his first haircut. It is a nerve-wracking prospect for the young man, whose head is covered with long blond curls, but Decker knows how to sooth the fears of an apprehensive child.

It is something that he has been doing for 31 years, after all.

“What are you worried about? This is going to be fun,” Decker says. “You’re going to feel so cool with all your hair gone. You won’t sweat anymore and when you’re done, I’ll give you a Mickey Mouse lollipop. Won’t that be nice?”

Seth is skeptical and doubtful and it takes sitting on his dad’s lap to get him to let Decker give him “his first professional haircut.”

Seth is getting what his father will get.

“High and tight, that is how I like it,” John Crane says. “This is the only place you can get a real military haircut.”

“Show me how you turn that on,” Decker says, and lets Seth hold the clippers, in an attempt to stop the tears.

The tears don’t stop until almost all the hair is gone and and Decker has changed the direction of the conversation.

“I’m going to give you a lollipop and then your sisters will be jealous and they’ll want a haircut,” Decker says. “What are your sisters’ names?”

“Samantha and Cathy-Jo,” says Seth, sniffling, but calm.

Decker says the best part of his job is listening to the conversations and meeting new people.

“We have pilots and businessmen and all kinds of people come in here,” Decker says. “You get a real education here.”

Decker’s thoughts are full of memories and his memories are full of people.

“I remember I used to talk to Elmer Robinson from New Albany a lot,” he says. “He was real interesting. He knew a lot. Yep.”

Customers say they’ve learned a lot at Decker’s shop too.

“Hey, Sonny, do you remember when Marty Behrend and Jim Gardner would talk about the old creamery?” John Crane asks. “It was great. They used to talk about how it used to be and tell us stories that would just have our sides splitting.”

Decker nods and smiles as he trims another layer from Faulkiner’s hair.

“I remember when Bill Sick’s brother Leo said to me, ‘Sonny, when I die, I want you to come over and cut my hair for the funeral.’” Decker pauses in mid-cut, and his gaze drifts out the front window. “Of course, I thought he was kidding but boy was I surprised when one morning I got a phone call and they said he had died. That was the first dead person’s hair I cut. After that, the first three people’s hair I cut felt dead. It was weird.”

Decker resumes his cutting. For a brief moment, silence falls over the shop and all that can be heard is the buzz of the clippers.

“You know I believe I am the only male barber in Sullivan County,” Decker says, interrupting the silence with another thought.

And that is what it is all about here at Decker’s shop. Thoughts and stories, memories and moments.