Six days on the road

Picton LCBO manager Stewart Bailey removed his tie and jacket and picked up his electric guitar and fell into place behind young percussionist Benjamin Martin playing the cohune.

Mark ‘Hammerdown’ Redmond runs a barbershop in a building made of hard Kingston limestone. That’s a good thing, it takes that kind of a structure to contain the energy that drives within its walls. Especially on a Friday afternoon.

I spot a poster-size image of musician Peter Rea as I climb the wooden front steps. ‘Peter’ is below the ‘Open’ sign and above the sign that reads: ‘Barber Shop Jam Inn’. The glare off the big window catches a glimpse of traffic that wades through the equator-like heat of Picton’s main drag. Hard to believe, but as I squeeze through the front door of the shop, despite air conditioning, inside is hotter. Maybe it’s the music.

Picture 25 people taking in and playing roots-country songs in a space the size of the wheelhouse of the Glenora ferry! Well maybe a tad larger. Musical instruments, mics and mic cords, amps and music stands grow around a houseful of talent. There’s a whole lot of pickin’ and a grinnin’ goin’ on! “I started inviting musicians to play and Fridays seemed best. We began December past,” Marks tells me as we meet. “And now I don’t know half the people who come by to listen. They just crowd in, sit awhile, enjoy some music and then they’re off,” he adds.

It’s as if Mark has invited a busload of musicians and spectators young and old to come for a ride. And a ride it is. The place is a wall to wall to floor to ceiling visual collage; a walk-in scrap book of souvenirs and memorabilia. There are horse collars, keepsake coffee mugs and horned cattle skulls; Images of vintage cars, big motorcycles and bigger trucks are plastered everywhere. I see family pictures, newspaper clippings and over here by the mirror hangs an agency photo with a discernable scrawl: ‘To Mark…best…Chubby Checker.’

There is hair cutting and kids a comin’ and a goin’. The front door cracks open and the neighbours peek in. Musicians are tuning; players pack up; guitar pickers like Stewart Bailey, manager of the Picton liquor store stop in to play a set on his lunch break. And by now the room is moving to Bill McBurney singing the Tennessee Waltz. “I went from one extreme to another,” says Mark. “From being alone to having a room full of people every day…I wish I had done this all my life,” he tells me.

A customer slides into the barber chair as singer-songwriter Mark Manteye launches into This Promise a song of his. Seated and lining the walls of the place there is at least one banjo player – Jack Bokkers; there is a harmonica, conga drums, a bass player and three guitars chording while eight-year-old Benjamin Martin runs a beat on the cohune. Colette Peters jumps in with voice harmonies.

I stand in a corner unsure whether I’ve landed in ‘Woodstock’ of the ’60s, some kind of summer jamboree or I’ve climbed up into the cab of an 18-wheeler with the volume cranked on the CD player. Maybe something in-between because, while the music is live, the truck cab is a topic Mark knows well. ‘Hammerdown’ Redmond has spent half a lifetime behind the wheel of the big rigs.

Members of the jam (from left to right) Eric Pilgrim (foreground left) Bill McBurney, Fred Hall (obscured) Rob Johnson, Justin Martin (on mandolin mixing with the crowd) Colette Peters, Mark Manteye and Steven David. Meanwhile Mark Redmond tends to a customer amid the afternoon tunes.

Alone on the road Mark collected an armful of tattoos and tuned into the music of the ’50s and ’60s. He’d toe tap, sing a few, sneak in some ‘air guitar’. The CD player played on as Mark drove long haul from Caledonia to Carolina, from Aliston to Alabama to Austin, Texas, Kansas to Kentucky to California and back. The music played on while running the short turns between Montreal and his hometown of Picton. And the music played on the day the affair with the road was over. “I love trucks and will forever, but after 30 years of only being home once a month…,” he tells me over the zzzzz of electric hair clippers and Eric Pilgrim’s true rendition of A Rainy Night in Georgia. “I always wanted to be a barber so I went to school in Owen Sound and apprenticed before getting my licence,” Mark adds. And eight years have passed since Mark decided that alone in a truck cab was no more. Music would see to that.

“I first met Mark when we (The Cadillac’s) played over at the Royal Hotel,” Peter Rea tells me later. “Mark was barbering and wanted to learn to play the songs that had accompanied him on the road. I taught him a few chords; he’d practise between giving haircuts and call me when he got stuck. I’d tell him to change the key from C to D or G or whatever. He has a heart of gold. We soon became good friends.”

Justin Martin on mandolin still drives a heavy rig out of Belleville and comes into Mark’s for the camaraderie of playing. Next to where Justin is sitting, I notice the lower drawer of the cash register cabinet has a hand-written sign: ‘Sidd’s Treats’ – a stash of dog biscuits for the four legged visitor that accompanied his owner to Mark’s. And huddled against the baseboard next to Sidd’s treats ‘Fat Haley’ stretches a black-cat yawn to say he is unimpressed with the commotion in the joint.

Pilgrim’s song lasts three and half minutes, time enough for Mark to wind up Ben Cowan’s haircut. Gregg Lawson is next in the barber chair and will be groomed and trimmed by the time Have You Ever Seen the Rain by Credence Clearwater Revival is over. Fast going, I mention to Mark, referring to the speed of a haircut.

“Three to four minutes and we’re done,” is his reply. “Five at the max; Customers love it; in and out. The regulars tell everyone that a cut at Mark’s is faster than the drivethru at Tim Horton’s,” he laughs: “And faster than the band can play Cracklin’ Rosie.”

“Rob Johnson taught me my favourite song, Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying by Jerry and the Pacemakers. There’s Mark Davies from the funeral home, Drew Ackerman, Peter Rea aka ‘Produce Pete’ who also works at Foodland in Wellington…they have all taught me to love the music. Peter has shown me different licks and a lot of what I know; songs like Diana by Paul Anka…songs by the Everly Brothers, The Righteous Brothers and songs like Conway Twitty’s Its Only Make Believe,” Mark continues. “I only know 12 to 15 songs or so but enough to play them at the nursing homes once a month.”

Mark finishes up Gary Bradshaw’s hair trim. “It gets crowded in here alright. It’s small but it is what it is,” Mark gives the grooming cloth a shake. “It wouldn’t be a barber shop jam without a barber shop,” he adds. Steven David, singer songwriter, is up next with an original tune. The lyrics are crisp, Brian Howell’s harmonica wails and Fred Hall’s bass line is spot on.

I put my note book down; scan the faces; often strangers that music has brought together. Mark rings through a payment for a haircut; I gesture to the full room: Where do you see this going? I’m curious. Mark picks up his guitar; thinks for a moment while he tunes it: “Bleachers…ya maybe bleachers are the answer…maybe that’ll be next!” he laughs.

I can hear Mark singing from here; makes ya just wanna boogie! Paul Anka’s Diana carries across the back parking lot and through the four o’clock light that holds the limestone building with the red and white sign to Main Street in the Shire town.

Also thanks to Terry Douglas, Gerald Hennessy, Noah Bunnett and Jim Barefoot.