Lou Byrd, South Side barber who loved verbally tangling with customers, dies at 93

Over the course of nearly five decades, thousands of people in South Shore knew this: You better know what you’re talking about before you go into Lou Byrd’s Barber & Beauty Salon and open your mouth.

“He liked to debate; it was sport for him,” said his daughter, Judy Byrd. “If you believe something, you better be able to back it up. That was true at the shop and the dinner table.”

In recent years, all topics somehow circled back to basketball star LeBron James.

“That was his guy. For a long time it was Michael Jordan. Then it was LeBron,” his son, Louis Byrd III, said.

Topics that got chopped up included James’ business acumen, the breadth of his community service and what if he’d played football instead of basketball.

“It was like, ‘Everyone knows Michael’s the best, man! Look at the rings.’ And he’d say ‘LeBron hasn’t been there long enough.’ And it was like ‘Oh God here we go,'” recalled Dr. Keith Tucker, a cardiologist and longtime customer and friend who noted that Mr. Byrd didn’t approve of cursing.

Mr. Byrd died from natural causes on Sept. 21. He was 93.

Lou’s Barber & Beauty Salon

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“It was the epitome of a Black barber shop in a Black community,” said Louis Byrd III.

The place was an institution on 71st Street business corridor until it closed in 2016.

Everyone knew Mr. Byrd. He came and went in a sharp suit bookended by cowboy boots and Stetson hat that added a few inches to his 6-foot-5 frame. For years, all the barbers in his shop wore colorful dashikis. Jazz played on the radio as his two sons swept hair and shined shoes.

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If anyone at the shop had a birthday he’d order a sheet cake, and he kept champagne at the shop for such occasions.

Lou’s Barber and Beauty Salon

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The shop became a time capsule of 1970s fabulous with black, yellow, avocado green and brown accents.

“He used to drive a gold Cadillac convertible, and the two VIP chairs at the front of the store matched the car — extra wide and luxe and luscious and gold,” his daughter said.

His wife and kids piled into the Cadillac for getaways to Wisconsin and Michigan that were occasionally interrupted by the crackle of CB radio exchanges with truckers (his handle was Windy City Gold Man) to avoid speed traps.

In his nearly 50 years with the shears, Mr. Byrd counted comedian Bernie Mack, Chicago Bull Norm Van Lier, boxer Muhammad Ali and smooth-throwing 6-foot-5 Cubs hurler Fergie Jenkins as customers. Jenkins weighed in on baseball chatter as Mr. Byrd styled his Afro, and neighborhood kids came running to catch a glimpse.

“Just a regular guy. Never put on airs. He never thought he was big stuff,” Mr. Byrd told the Sun-Times in 1991 when Jenkins was inducted into Major League Baseball’s Hall of Fame.

The VIP chairs at the front of the barber shop

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“Hanging out with my Dad when I was little, I felt like a VIP. He knew everyone, and he’d introduce me to the people who owned restaurants and clothing stores, and people worked together and knew each other,” his daughter said, noting that her father was very involved in the local chamber of commerce.

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“The neighborhood was different back then. There were a lot of middle-class Blacks in the area pushing things upward. There was a lightness to things,” she said.

Mr. Byrd gives a final hair cut before his shop closes in 2016.

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Before he retired and sold the building in 2016, the television show “Empire” filmed scenes at the shop. Mr. Byrd and his daughter were extras.

Mr. Byrd was born April 19, 1931, in Nacogdoches, Texas, to Louis Byrd Sr., a chauffeur, and Lessie Blount Byrd, a school teacher. His mother moved to Chicago to help her brother run a newspaper stand, and Mr. Byrd came, too. He attended DuSable High School and later served in the Navy before attending barber college and opening his own shop.

As Mr. Byrd got up in years, he’d share advice with customers who weren’t far behind.

“Phone conversations turned into debates like it was his barber shop, and my wife would overhear and be like, ‘Baby, don’t upset Lou, you got him hollering.’ And I’d be like ,’Baby, he called me!'” recalled Tucker with a laugh, noting Mr. Byrd called him nearly every day after he retired. “God, I miss Lou.”

In addition to his son and daughter, Mr. Byrd is also survived by his wife Shirley and his son Steven, as well as five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

Services have been held.

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