Reflections: A cut above the rest

(Originally posted June 1, 2016)

There are certain professions in our society that are afforded the privilege of knowing what's going on. They have daily contact with a number of residents within the community and more than just a few minutes to listen to their concerns. In the cities, it's the taxi cab drivers who seemed to have their thumb on the temperament of the populace. Today, Uber drivers could be added to that list.

In the less populated areas--the rural byways like New Madrid--the beauticians and barbers fill those shoes. Their shops of business are a wonderful place for information, rumors, stories and general mish-mash about nearly everything.

New Madrid has had its share of barbers who have filled this need: Ross Hill and the Cruchons. Currently there is Dub's barbershop on Main Street.

Besides mastering the skills of cutting hair, trimming beards and washing hair, it takes a while to learn to run a "real" community barbershop.

Back around 1968, Dub Prince returned from barber school in St. Louis and set up shop on Main Street. He'd been there about six months when one morning in walked the local banker, Sam Hunter Jr. Sam told Dub that the two needed to take a ride.

Dub agreed to go, but he had no idea of what was in store. "What did Sam Hunter have to talk to me about?" he recalls thinking.

Sam didn't waste any time. "Dub," he began, "we have a new doctor coming to town and we need your building for an office for him."

"Where will I go with my shop?"

"Well," continued Hunter, "Ralph Higgerson has a shop and needs a partner."

"Yes sir, I could go talk to him."

"I've already done that," concluded Hunter, "and he's anxious for you to become his partner."

Dub moved in with Ralph Higgerson who ran a seasoned barbershop across the street from the Claire Hotel. There Dub got a good tutoring in gathering information and today runs a world class barber shop.

I also knew Ralph Higgerson. He was a great listener and had a dry, cynical sense of humor.

Ralph related the story about walking to and from work every day down Main Street. His journey took him past a local bar. It was the same establishment that local concrete finisher Alton "Wacker" Jackson would frequent. Ralph had heard Jackson's story about a fight that broke out in the bar one night (probably instigated by Jackson) during which two burly guys picked up Jackson and threw him through the front plate-glass window onto the sidewalk. Jackson was still lying on the sidewalk, half dazed and fully drunk, when the same pair came out the door, picked him up and threw him back into the bar through the now shattered window.

Jackson bragged for years that anyone could be thrown out of bar, but he was the only one he ever heard about being thrown into a bar.

Higgerson recalled one morning on his way to his barber shop when he walked past the bar and there were a number of "human teeth" on the sidewalk. "I didn't know if they were Wacker's or not, but they certainly could have been."

He would chuckle, "there were teeth everywhere."

But taxi cab drivers and barbers aren't the only know-it-alls. Another profession, now nearly extinct, could also quality: elevator operators.

Before electronics and automation took over the industry, elevators had operators who conveyed patrons up and down. Making conversation with the operator was automatic, and, depending on the length of the ride, could disclose a lot of information.

Such was the case of a friend of mine who was engaged in the private bank examining industry when the mortgage crisis swept through the country in 2009. She and her team flew out from the East Coast on Monday to a bank on the West Coast and back east to their homes on Friday. They were at this schedule for a number of weeks trying to help a very large but troubled bank.

The bank occupied a large, tall building with many, many floors. It various departments, sub-departments, divisions, subdivisions and administration were scattered throughout. Besides being a very large building, it was also quite old, and its elevator was so old it required an operator.

Mary, who was directing the group of auditors and advisors, spent a lot of time traveling from one floor to the next to meet with different bank personnel and members of her team. By the second week she was on a first name basis with the operator.

"Then came this week when we could sense that something was going on in the bank, but we couldn't figure out just what it was. We would quiz different bank employees and executives but the bank was so large and complex that none of them could give us anything but bits a pieces. No one had a complete picture. It was really frustrating. They just didn't know."

She called her team together and told them to start asking questions, digging for information, and sent them back to their assigned sectors.

Mary decided to take a long ride on the elevator.

Sure enough, the only individual in the bank who had the most complete picture of what was going on was the elevator operator. He had listened all week as employees from all departments had ridden from floor to floor talking about their business and problems. He related it all to Mary.

It was Thursday and Mary had to decide whether or not to purchase return flight tickets for her team to fly back to the bank next week. She gathered her team together and they talked about the bank. Mary finally disclosed what she had heard from the elevator operator, and it was her opinion that this bank would not be open on Monday morning, so no return tickets were needed.

It was a gutsy call because there were expected to be there if the bank did in fact open.

Mary and her team flew back east Friday and shortly after arriving at home she learned that when the bank had closed its doors for business Friday evening, regulators from FDIC arrived and seized control of the bank. It would not reopen.

Today's taxi cab drivers and barbers are nothing less than yesterday's elevator operators.