A pair of grungy panhandlers cornered a frail, young woman halfway down Marshall Street. The beggars began to speak, and the Syracuse student’s face shriveled into wide-eyed helplessness, glancing around for help.

Then – out of nowhere – a hand reached out and snagged her collar. That hand swept her away and guided her down the street. ‘C’mon sis, we gotta go. Dad’s waiting for us around the corner,’ said the man, making sure the panhandlers were within earshot.

The man and his ‘sis’ walked out of hearing distance and he whispered to her, ‘Walk with me around the corner. I’m the barber here. These two guys you were talking to are bad news.’

The stranger veered her into Bruegger’s Bagels, and the two sat down at a table. Home free. He offered advice on how to avoid the situation in the future: Just carry a couple quarters at all times. When approached for money, drop the coins and keep walking.

Joe LoBello had no idea who this woman was in this incident six years ago. But peering from behind the door window of Tony Christopher’s Hair Design, parental instincts took over. These are the children he sees every day, students at Syracuse University.

For more than 40 years, LoBello and Duke Drumm have been constants at an always changing university. They remember an era when it cost $25 to retrieve your towed car (LoBello needed to in 1966 after parking his car on South Crouse for his job interview), an era when kids jumped the fence at Archbold Stadium to sneak into football games (Drumm did as a child).

An era when SU basketball coach Jim Boeheim’s hair needed to be trimmed every other week instead of every other month.

The world around the hair-cutting duo seems to change daily, but one thing never changes.

‘I’m like a mom and a dad to these kids, especially the freshmen that come up,’ LoBello said. ‘They look at us as a figure.’

The taller Drumm trims at the left chair, sporting a sky blue polo, speaking in a low tone, with his scruffy white goatee reflecting 96 semesters as a barber. The shorter, stouter Joe works on the right side in tan suspenders over a green checkered shirt, speaking in the rapid, energetic tone he has for 84 semesters.

Born one month apart, the 67-year-olds, Duke ‘n Joe, have become fixtures at SU. One name can’t be mentioned without the other. Duke started cutting hair in 1960 at the Orange Tonsorial along the Marshall Street alley. Six years later, Joe joined him.

For 39 years and 11 months the duo cut hair at the Tonsorial, until the building’s landlord attempted to turn the building into a five-screen movie theater (which failed). So they swung around the corner to Tony Christopher’s Hair Design – sandwiched between King David Restaurant and T-Shirt World – where they’ve been for the past eight years.

The barn wood lining the walls was replaced by a pink-based color scheme. Orange and blue chairs with the ability to lean back that cost $1,000 each were sold to fraternities for $200 apiece when they moved. Two of Duke ‘n Joe’s fellow barbers retired. But a connection with the campus never changed.

Said Drumm: ‘We deal with kids from all walks of life, area, time. That’s what it’s all about. It’s a three-way triangle: us, the students and the university.’

***

A record-store owner – and Duke ‘n Joe regular – stormed through the Orange Tonsorial door about 20 years ago. The Syracuse men’s basketball team had lost a back-and-forth game the night before. The owner was livid and needed someone to vent to.

While cutting one man’s hair, who was reading a newspaper at the time, Drumm fed the fire. The two exchanged rants.

‘That Boeheim – We gotta get a new coach,’ the then-owner of Desertshore Records said.

‘Yeah, he’s gotta go. He stinks,’ said Drumm, who then lowered his client’s newspaper.

‘Say hello to Jimmy.’

The store owner’s face froze, as his eyes met with the coach he just chastised. Boeheim shrugged it off.

Boeheim’s job description shuns continuity. Thirty-two seasons of new recruits, constant new acquaintances and nowadays freshmen declaring for the draft. Changes (and stress) run rampant.

But one element of Boeheim’s life has persisted from his days as an SU student to the present, unchanged. For the last 45 years, only one man has cut his hair: Duke Drumm.

‘It’s a constant,’ Boeheim said. ‘Something that doesn’t change. I go down there, I wait my turn and I get a haircut. Sometimes I have lunch and wait there until it’s my turn to get a haircut.’

They started their careers at Syracuse two years apart, Drumm in 1960 and Boeheim in 1962. Duke still remembers the quiet freshman trotting into the Orange Tonsorial with his thick-rimmed glasses.

‘(Jim) was a pretty reserved guy – a geeky kind of guy,’ Drumm said. ‘Just really low key and quiet.’

Drumm doesn’t press opinions or tips on Boeheim, like an ‘expert’ outsider. They started from scratch together. A natural relationship developed, not unlike the medical students-turned-retired doctors who have become part of Drumm’s clientele through the past four decades.

Last week the two discussed Boeheim’s summer plans of a family cruise and the upcoming Beijing Olympics, where Boeheim is an assistant coach for the United States national team.

Drumm has a view no SU student or fan has of Boeheim. The ‘head shot,’ he calls it. But he also has a view of full context. No one else at Syracuse has seen Boeheim’s entire progression like Duke.

‘You know the old slogan, ‘everything changed, but stayed the same?” Drumm said. ‘He’s not a hot-shot. Some of these coaches hop around here and there and are never happy where they are. They think they’ve ground all axes there are to grind. …Jim was a small-town guy and all of a sudden he’s a big-town guy. The B.M.O.C. Big Man on Campus.’

Boeheim does have one bone to pick.

‘I actually had hair when I started going to him,’ the coach said. ‘I think it’s his fault I don’t have any hair left. But he’s not taking the blame for it.’

***

Nobody knew what Ty O’Bryan was even talking about.

‘Pom-pa-dour.’

‘A Pompa-what?’

From one barbershop to the next. The SU writing instructor couldn’t find anyone to maintain his pompadour hairstyle – the slicked back, Elvis Presley style popularized in the 1950s.

So he gave Tony Christopher’s Hair Design a shot, where both Duke ‘n Joe knew how to sculpt the pompadour.

‘These guys were the only barbers around that knew what a pompadour was,’ said O’Bryan at the doorstep of Tony Christopher’s. ‘They’re old school.’

The end of the Duke ‘n Joe Experience is ‘old school’ at its finest. After clipping and trimming of the top is complete, sideburns aren’t topped off with the typical electric razor. The duo uses foam and a classic straight-edge to precisely slice off scruff around the hair line.

‘They keep their razors sharp and never nick me, so they know what they’re doing,’ O’Bryan said. ‘They’re really nice guys too. They talk to you. Duke has this great collection of old cars that he loves pulling out pictures of.’

O’Bryan pointed to someone entering Tony Christopher’s.

‘There goes somebody else,’ he said. ‘It seems like every time I go in there they are busy.’

***

Drumm’s face flashed disappointment, as if it was the one that got away. Sure, ‘Mittens Jones’ only visited the barbershop a few times, but his demise still struck a chord.

SU students are ‘family in our confine,’ Drumm said. As extended guardians, Duke ‘n Joe encourage students individually to stay focused in their classes. Over the decades they’ve fostered a small support system for incoming freshmen. Relationships grew, and many students have even brought their parents in to meet the barbers.

‘Mitten Jones’ – the student that regularly visited Duke ‘n Joe – was one of the more tragic stories. He frequently bought hair products at the barbershop. ‘(Jones) bought good stuff. He knew what he was buying,’ Drumm said.

But a few years after graduating, ‘Mittens Jones’ could be seen on the street asking people for money near the same campus he attended. His moniker came from wearing mittens at any temperature.

Eating on his lunch break, Drumm set his sandwich down and shook his head in confusion.

‘After dealing with him like we did, we knew he wasn’t a street bum. But then he was out there, bummin’ frickin’ change all the time,’ he said.

And still, that’s what impresses Drumm most. Downfalls like Mitten Jones’ have been almost nonexistent through his 48 years as the school’s go-to barber.

‘The kids are studious kids. As much as they horse around,’ he said, pointing toward the bar-side of Marshall Street. ‘Everybody seems to know what’s going on. They know what they have to do up here.’

***

When you work exclusively with the same person at the same time, doing the same thing, day after day for half of a century, some fun needs to interrupt the routine occasionally. Avoiding cabin fever has been a cinch for Duke ‘n Joe, two colorful personalities that work in tag-team fashion.

‘I only want an inch off. I only want an inch off,’ one student repeated at least five times, doing a double-take at the circular saw near the sink.

Duke strapped the cape around the nervous student, and fired a telepathic glance at Joe across the room. The circular saw on the counter was being used for the wood on the walls. With the student turned the other way, Duke grabbed the saw and revved it at full blast. The student leaped out of the chair in fright.

‘What the hell are you doing?!’ he yelped.

‘Don’t you want it nice and straight?’ laughed Drumm, holding the saw.

‘Not with that you’re not.’

Duke ‘n Joe lose their breath reminiscing about the incident.

‘Me and Dukie have a great time up here,’ LoBello said. ‘We know when to push each other’s buttons and when to back off.’

The key is never changing through the changes. Staying genuine. They opened up a sister store with eight barbers from 1965 to 1970 during the Vietnam War when soldiers needed buzz cuts. They survived the 70s when long hair was the trend. And they persisted through the three more decades still doing it their way – entertaining and outgoing.

For Drumm, a passion for antique cars like his 1942 to 1959 Fords, Chevys and Dodges, is a popular conversation starter among patrons of all ages, from fellow 60 year olds with garages and hot rod shops to one 20 year old who ‘will tear a car completely apart, bolt for bolt, piece for piece, fix it, strip it, mend it, put it back all together and cruise it.’

Duke ‘n Joe enjoy telling stories and interacting with people too much to retire. They remember old loyal customers like Larry Csonka (‘a knothead, good average joe’) and a diminutive French fencing coach (‘a good, little boy!’). Most of all, they always look forward to meeting new students.

‘You meet a good variety of kids,’ LoBello said. ‘I’ve made friends with a lot of nice kids here.’

For now, everything will continue: The straight-edge blade, the wise-cracks, the obscure hairstyles and the on-the-spot heroics. The all-women dorms on Mt. Olympus Drumm frequented as a teenager have changed, and the hospital across the street where he was born and got his tonsils out at as a kid has vanished.

But for Duke ‘n Joe – that’s just fine.

‘In high school, I’d get all upset when my teacher moved me from one desk to another, because I didn’t like change,’ LoBello said.

‘But change isn’t bad. Change is good.’

thdunne@gmail.com

Published on May 6, 2008 at 12:00 pm