The red, white and blue lighted glass-enclosed barber pole may or may not be slowly turning, and the large window shade may or may not be pulled down, but business was still booming.

Vernon Scheer was that kind of guy, and the clientele knew that he was reliable and would be there when he could. The shade may have been down due to the bright summer sun or if it was getting close to closing time. If it was a weekday, or Saturday before 2 p.m., everyone knew Vernon was in there and ready to cut, trim or talk. That is unless it was mid-March and the annual Fairhope Arts and Crafts Festival was going on.

"There's no use opening up then," he would say. "Nobody can see me back here, so I might as well close up. Those folks always take my parking space behind the building anyway."

Vernon was dependable and…well, he was Vernon. Anybody might take a day to go deer hunting if it's October or fishing in summer, and once every few years, his wife might buy plane tickets to go visit their son outside of Seattle and tell him to close up. If so, he put a sheet of notebook paper on the door giving notice a couple of weeks before. Then, he would disappear for a week.

This not only gave him a break from the snippers, but he would return with lots of new stories to share about those crazies in airports along the way.

But as Mayberry has Floyd Lawson for its town barber, Fairhope had Vernon. He was a regular guy who every fellow from Fairhope and South Baldwin County could relate to. On the unlikely day that the shop was closed, the regular potential customer knew he had good reason to be out or he would be there. Only tourists might put their nose against the glass to see if the shop was open. Locals could "feel" that he was open, if he was open. But if not, they "feel" that's just the way it was. That red, white and blue glass enclosed barber icon would be turning most every day, but if it's wasn't, no one got overly disturbed except to be curious if Vernon might be sick or have a problem on his acreage 36 miles east of town where he lived. He would be back as soon as he could. Fairhope isn't so big that you couldn't drive back by in a couple of hours to check again. That, too, became part of the novelty and adventure of Vernon's Barber Shop.

Vernon Scheer and Ken Feeley had been barbering at 317 Fairhope Ave. since 19…well, nobody remembers; there had always been a barbershop there since back into the '60s. The cost of walking in the door was half admission and half for the haircut. Ex-mayors, county commissioners and most men of the First Baptist Church could be found there at any given time. Many a national decision had been resolved right there, but only one view was preferred.

Others could go to the barber shop in Daphne or stay shaggy as far as this constituency was concerned. Important decisions like football plays drew comments from Auburn and Alabama fans without anger, however, the debate about building airplanes in Mobile was best not mentioned, unless you were prepared to be overlooked when it came your turn in the barber chair. Vernon's son worked for Boeing at the time!

Many a year was festive and fun, but in 2006, Ken, Vernon's barber-partner, was diagnosed with cancer. He was in and out of the shop between treatments for several months and held the compassionate, sincere concern of his customers. But in 2010, the disease took him. Ken's absence thereafter was conspicuous, and the wait for a trim was a bit longer, but not one person complained. The shop continued to be filled with older Fairhopers, and the slower pace to get a cut was perceived as a memorial to Ken. The wait for a cut went from 30 minutes to sometimes two hours. If there were comments, there would be some good story about Ken or Vernon and their mischievous days as youngsters.

About a year later, a few customers began to ask Vernon if he was going to find another partner for the shop. Vernon said, "I dunno" and continued to cut, now foregoing lunch until he had a break due to the backlog of customers.

After a few more months, he began to interview barbers for the empty chair.

"Those damn kids just want to raise the rate. $12 is enough. They don't want to cut; they just want to raise the cost of a haircut so they don't have to work. We don't need any of that around here. Let 'em go get on food stamps," he would say.

So, for the time being, there was only Vernon. But the loyalty of his clientele was consistent, and the shop still filled; enough anyway to make it a pleasant experience and the exposure to a pretty darn good haircut. He was a magnet for cynical humor. He knew the news about what almost anybody downtown was doing and was the carrier of news about what was being built across the street. He was an institution. And a regular cut was still only $12!

Then, on May 18, 2025, there was a black ribbon on the door. No sign, just a ribbon. A fond memorable era of Fairhope history has passed.

Bob Glennon lives in Fairhope. Reach him at fairhopewriter@gmail.com.