Blount and Beyond Online Magazine - Magazine - Page 33
The Guthrie I Remember - "The View from the Plank"
STEVE HALEY APR 5
While visiting one of the unisex barber shops in our fair town, I watched the stylist struggle to reach the head of the young
occupant in her chair. I immediately thought that she needed a "barber's plank". My mind instantly raced back to the midto-late 1960s and my place in the barber's chair in Guthrie, KY.
Mr. Warren Pritchett was the only game in town when it came to barber shops in Guthrie. As a young lad, I spent many a
day hearing yarns, fables, and outright fibs in his chair. A certain rite of passage revolved around the chair in Mr.
Pritchett's shop. For those of us of lesser stature, he would pump the chair as high as he could. If you still weren't high
enough, he would lay a board across the arms of the chair. The very idea of a plank being there meant, in my eyes, that I
didn't measure up to the others in the room. I was the little fellow. I was to be seen and not heard. The view from "the
plank" was one I wouldn't soon forget.
Being on the plank afforded us little fellas opportunities to learn many important life lessons. Some of them included but
weren't limited to:
If a horse is bleeding anywhere on its body, you can stop the bleeding by tying a rope around its tail. I so badly wanted to
raise my hand and ask why anyone would want to stand behind a bleeding horse and risk getting kicked in the head; but, I
didn't. Or if you get chewing gum in your hair you can remove it by rubbing peanut butter on it.
Great memories were made on Saturdays during the fall and winter as we cheered for the University of Kentucky and
whoever was playing the University of Tennessee in football and basketball. Mr. Pritchett always had the games playing
on his radio. We would listen to the mesmerizing melodious voice of Cawood Ledford, The Voice of the Kentucky
Wildcats for over 35 years.
The most memorable period on the plank were the summer months. I heard many, many, many, fishing tales. Kentucky
and Barkley Lakes combined couldn't hold the number of fish caught by the gentlemen of Mr. Pritchett's shop.
One day as I was riding my bicycle delivering The Grit newspaper, I realized Mr. Pritchett was alone in his shop. I just
had to seize this unique opportunity. While slipping in the door, I steeled my spine to ask the all-important question that
burned in my heart, mind, and soul. Slowly I stammered, "Mr. Pritchett will you tell me where you catch all those fish?"
He hesitated and thought hard. Then he said, "Yes."
I nearly leaped for joy at my unexpected good fortune. With great deliberation he said, "I mostly catch them in the mouth.
Sometimes I catch them in the gills, but mostly I catch them in the mouth."
As my life has become more and more cloudy with normal life travails, I am sure that my view of life has never been as
clear as when I sat on the plank.