By Christopher Williams,Staff Writer

LEWISTON – Robert Frechette lifted his canvas hat to reveal thinning gray hair.

“Cut it high over here so it lasts longer,” he used to say.

But the man with the clippers never listened. He didn’t have to.

Like the thousands of songs he had committed to memory over the last four decades, Frenchy the barber knew the cut of a man’s hair by the familiar look of his face.

Ferdinand Langlois, better known by his nickname, was as much a fixture on Lisbon Street as the faded tri-color barber pole outside his shop. On Thursday at 5 p.m., it stopped spinning for the last time.

Langlois, 69, died on Friday, one day after giving his last haircut. They came in three shapes: square cut, rounded and crewcut. He didn’t style hair, he only cut it, son Fernand said Monday.

Everything about Frenchy was a throwback to the era of buzz cuts and big bands. The decor of his small single-chair shop in the heart of downtown Lewiston dated to the 1960s, right down to the color portrait of former President John F. Kennedy.

At the back of his shop stood a full-size electric keyboard. Stacks of ring binders filled the space around it. In them, he had printed out the lyrics to songs he played and sang. He never learned to read music, so he memorized the melodies, his son said. His band, Pop and Country Sound, played golden oldies at social clubs and nursing homes.

A Canadian immigrant, Langlois came to Lewiston for a job in the mills where he worked as a cotton weaver.

He tired of mill life, remembering the cheery ambiance of the barbershop from his hometown in Ontario.

He studied at Hanson’s Barber School in Lewiston. With financial backing from family, he opened his own shop. He hung his first sign on Chestnut Street, named for the location, across from Simones Famous Hot Dog Stand. Twenty years ago, he migrated to Lisbon Street. When he did, he struggled to come up with a new name.

He decided on “Frenchy’s,” the nickname conferred on him by his many clients.

His door was open to anybody looking for a $5 haircut or a place to chat. Because he was bilingual, the older generation of immigrants felt at home there. More recently, Somali fathers and sons flocked to the shop, Fernand said. All haircuts were $5, with a $1 discount for seniors and kids. He even made house calls to shut-ins.

In the city’s boxing heyday, local fighters and promoters frequented his shop.

“He knew a lot of the rough and tough because it got kind of rough and tough here sometimes” on Lisbon Street, said Frechette, who knew Frenchy since he started cutting hair.

He kept his politics to himself, said his son. “He never wanted to offend anybody.”

Langlois hadn’t been to the doctor in 20 years, except to have his toenails clipped, Fernand said. He was always upbeat. “As long as I wake up in the morning, I feel good,” his son quoted.

On Friday, he didn’t wake up. Fernand found him in his apartment over the shop that morning.

“He always said to me he wanted to go quick and that’s what happened.”

A funeral service for Ferdinand “Frenchy” Langlois will be held at 11 a.m. Tuesday, Jan. 17, at Our Lady of the Rosary Church in Sabattus.