A False Shave

The local barbershop, like the country store, was always a gathering place for masculine gossip and camaraderie. Horseplay and practical jokes found a natural home in such an atmosphere. The most popular Plymouth barbershop before the Civil War was that of James G. Gleason on Main Street, about where the Bella Piazza Cafe  is today at number 15 and it was here that hatter William Bradford was a leading instigator. One day while Mr. Gleason was out on an errand, an unsuspecting rustic came in for a shave. Bradford, with a wink to his companions, said “All right, sir, your turn next, sit right down.” He proceeded to give the customer a generous lathering, and then, whipping away the towel, told him, “This is all we do in this department, you will have to go into the next shop to get your shave. When you go in don’t mind the old fellow in the front room, for he is a queer chap, a little off in his head, but go right through into the back room where they do the shaving.”

The foamy patron obediently entered the tailor’s shop next door, much to the astonishment of owner Daniel Gale, and barged through into the backroom where some women were sewing pieces of fabric. One can imagine the hysterics and uproar that this caused. When the furious customer stormed back to the real barbershop, he found that Bradford had made a judicious retreat, and poor barber Gleason was obliged to bear the brunt of his mischief.
W T. Davis Memories of an Octogenarian (1906), p. 149.