LIVING
A CUT ABOVE
Lewis Mason was more than a barber. He was a genuine article, a one-of-a-kind character, an ordinary man of extraordinary quality who made the world a more enjoyable place for others by illuminating his community with a small-town sincerity few could match. by NAT HARWELL People are creatures of habit. We find something that works, an establishment that provides top-notch service or an individual who gives that little extra “something” to the task, and we stick with them. Think for a moment about those people with whom you may deal only sporadically, but when the need arises for you to call upon them, you do so with eagerness. You know you will not only benefit from the service rendered but leave with a smile or a chuckle while you count yourself lucky to know such a person. I want to introduce you to one of those people, if only vicariously. Lewis Mason left us all too soon four years ago. He was my barber, as he was for so very many in these parts. Funny story as to how Lewis came within a whisker of not being at all. Up in Blairsville back in 1864, his grandfather, Lewis “Buddy” Turner, refused to give the Union Army information as to where locals had hidden their food, so they hung “Buddy” on his front porch and hastily left. Neighbors came a’runnin’ and cut him down, just in time, and that was how close Lewis came to not being here at all. To describe Lewis to the unfamiliar is quite a task. He was not a big man, slightly stooped as he grew older, and he had a twang in his voice which carried with it a bit of joyous laughter. I used to love to sit in that barber’s chair and listen to the tales he would
54 The Newton Community Magazine
