How a Mercedes-Benz, a shaved flattop and a foreclosed apartment led to Tony Jones’ single-chair shop
January 27, 2023 | Story and Photos by Ryan Haley
This article is part of Atrium’s Winter 2022 issue. To view the print edition online, visit our Issuu here.
One Saturday in 2014, Tony Jones drove 45 minutes through the early morning darkness from his home in Starke to the Gainesville barber shop he opened earlier that year. He turned down Southwest 24th Avenue and pulled in behind his two-room studio before 7 a.m. He unlocked the shop’s front door for the day and dialed up a long playlist of Michael Jackson for his listening pleasure. He prepared the only chair in his shop and waited for what is normally the busiest day of a barber’s week.
And he waited. And he waited.
The bell that hangs from the front door of Legendz Barbershop and Beauty Salon never rang.
He prayed for most of the morning before he called his wife around noon. He told her he had not cut a single strand of hair on a day most barbershops bustle with customers. She questioned whether her husband made the right decision to leave his old job at a barbershop in Jacksonville.
Jones knew he wouldn’t leave. He’d decided the sheriff’s department would have to march him out before he abandoned his new shop. He wanted to give it a proper shot.
The King of Pop serenaded Jones as he waited in vain to cut any willing hair. No one arrived. He locked up the shop and began his 45-minute drive home, this time at least with the company of sunlight.
That night, he took out his prayer journal and began to write.
God, I want customers to come from far and near, from different cities. I want all different nationalities. I want people sitting outside waiting on me when I get to work.
Running toward a new career
Clippers and combs never existed in Jones’ teenage ambitions. He wanted to be the fastest man alive. He wanted to be a track legend.
Jones competed in the 100-meter dash, as well as the 200 and the 400, with his high school track team. He ran well enough to earn a scholarship to Jacksonville University.
But one morning in his first semester with the team, Jones awoke to a phone ringing beside him, a call from a woman he’d been seeing. He shook off some drowsiness and held the receiver to his ear for news that would change the rest of his life.
“I’m pregnant,” she told him. “You’re going to be a father.”
Jones knew immediately he’d have to leave the team and make money to support his child. The dream of becoming the fastest man in the world vanished in an instant.
Jones left college within the month and crashed at the Gainesville apartment of a high school friend who attended the University of Florida. He landed jobs at Pizza Hut and Wendy’s to provide child support for his infant daughter.
Two years later, Jones’ life shifted course again. His father and uncle came to visit; they wanted Jones to do more with his life than work at fast food eateries. They urged him to join the family business: Afro City Barber Shop, his uncle’s shop in the small city of Cocoa.
“You don’t argue with my dad,” Jones said. “You just said, ‘Yes, sir.’”
The former runner followed them home, though he felt reluctant at first. After he saw a cousin, who began work as a barber just one year before him, return home in a Mercedes-Benz, Jones found interest in his new trajectory.
The former runner cut his teeth at his uncle’s shop for the next two decades.
He made some mistakes early on. A couple months into the profession, his blunders crescendoed as he sheared off a customer’s flattop. While the customer hurled expletives at him, Jones followed his uncle outside for a warning.
He’d have to learn how to cut hair, his uncle admonished, or he’d have to go back home.
Jones knew his uncle meant every word, so learn he did. The same customer remained a regular despite the blunder. As he sat and waited in later years, he’d wave off other barbers.
“I’m waiting on Tony,” he said.
In 2007, like millions of Americans, Jones fell victim to the housing market implosion. A skyrocketing mortgage forced him to sell his old home in Palm Bay and move into a duplex apartment. Less than one month into his lease, Jones needed to rip up his roots again after the entire apartment building went into foreclosure. He had 90 days to leave.
His brother and sister pitched the idea of moving to Jacksonville with them, but he knew he needed to leave Afro City.
Jones approached his uncle, his boss for roughly half his life, after work one day to tell him he was leaving the family shop.
“Well, good luck,” his uncle said. “You’ll make it.”
Jones’ uncle didn’t show up to work on Jones’ last day, and Jones broke down into sobs during his final haircut with the shop.
He left for Jacksonville with $1,000 to his name.
Jones started at Who’z Next, a shop that already employed multiple established barbers. He spent 15-hour days commuting from Starke to Jacksonville, but customers declined his empty chair as they waited for their favorite pair of scissors.
So he returned to Gainesville — this time to open his own business.
He struggled initially. The street he worked on received little traffic and his shop received even less word-of-mouth. He persevered through the early years, including that one fateful Saturday without a customer.
In 2016, Jones’ business turned a corner when a friend of his built a website to showcase his work. The site put his shop on the map for curious locals. Overnight, Legendz became easy to find.
Customers have kicked the door down since, with the earliest and most eager clients waiting in the parking lot by 6:15 in the morning. Legendz grew day by day until, in 2018, another local legend walked through the door.
A star walks in
One Friday morning in 2018, before his world record and Olympic medal, a Florida track and field star swung open the door to Jones’ shop.
His 6-foot-2, 190-pound frame stood out, his athleticism obvious even to strangers. He took in the posters and whatever music or sports talk show Jones queued that day with no desire for special treatment. He waited his turn like every other customer until he reached the shop’s hallowed chair.
Grant Holloway just wanted a good haircut. Jones delivered.
The future world champion sat in Legendz’ single chair and spoke to the man holding the scissors, who peppered him with questions and reminisced about his own track career. And so began something special.
In Jones’ shop, the eight-time NCAA champion and collegiate record holder was just Grant. No matter how many people stood between him and a fresh haircut, Holloway always sat in line. The man Jones described as a big personality contributed to the sports debates and life musings heard around the room while he sat, but Holloway never once volunteered his accolades as a conversation starter.
The track star would chat for a while, sometimes paying for others’ haircuts. As soon as he left, other customers would immediately point at his posters around the room.
“Was that Grant?” they’d ask. “Why didn’t he mention who he was?”
Jones always smiled when he heard those comments. He knew Holloway’s humility.
The two men text regularly to this day about Holloway’s training or where his newest competition takes him in the world.
“I’m like a big brother to him,” Jones said. “I really love that dude.”
A true legend
Today’s Legendz customers get to see a mosaic of Jones’ personality upon his shop’s walls: Michael Jackson record covers, Kobe Bryant championship posters, bright red Muhammad Ali boxing gloves. Holloway can be found as well – one poster displays him with his arms outstretched in the entryway while another under Jones’ television depicts him mid-hurdle. Photographs of Jones’ family surround his mirror, and multiple signs across the walls let customers know foul language is not welcome within his walls.
Customers watch as Jones greets each customer like an old friend and converses effortlessly with everyone who passes through the door. He pairs names to the faces of regulars with ease and never takes his eyes off his work; no more mistakes or shaved flattops.
He asks a new client questions about her and her son as he combs. He prompts a regular about the performance of his beloved Florida State Seminoles football team as he perfects a hairline. He rattles off some thoughts on the Dallas Cowboys as he touches up a sideburn.
Gina Guzman, 49, brought in her teenage son one Monday in October. She said she felt drawn to Jones’ shop — the sole chair and the fact that the owner cut hair himself made her trust his hand more than a local franchise.
Jesus Flores, a long-time customer, praised Jones’ professionalism.
“I just like his down-to-earth personality,” Flores said. “I bring my son with me sometimes. [His rule against profanity] makes it comfortable to bring your family. It just feels like a really great environment.”
Devin Berry, with his 1-year-old son Knowledge in his arms, also describes Legendz as family friendly. More than that, Berry, 23, believes Jones is the best barber in Gainesville.
That Monday, Jones only got distracted from his work once. He stopped mid-cut to dap up a client he hadn’t seen in 16 months, asking unprompted questions about the customer’s girlfriend, his new job and the local property he owned.
Jones still drives 45 minutes to reach his single-chair shop five days a week. He still drives through the morning darkness every Saturday. He still turns down Southwest 24th Avenue and he still parks behind the two-room studio.
But now, as he gets out to unlock the door, there’s always another pair of headlights in the parking lot. There’s always a customer eager for a fresh haircut. He never spends his Saturdays alone.