“Bow”…as in “leave the stage while acknowledging applause after an excellent performance.” Everybody knew Barry, Barry Vancura…and he knew everybody (If he did not, he’d continue talking until something or somebody clued him in as to who furnished the other side of the conversation, and went on from there–it was a gift.).
Barry was the consummate retail guy. He knew his product/products, he knew his staff(having hired many local young persons and made them part of his “posse”), he knew his market. He had worked for big companies, he had owned his own store. He knew other merchants and could determine ways to get the most from co-operation in promotion. He did not “sell iceboxes to Eskimos”, but he really could sell the goods…carpet, watches, unique items, insurance, home furnishings, appliances, whatever. His last place of employment–Sheely’s–was just great for him because he could use his mellifluous tones on the announcements in the store and greet all the folks who came in looking for furniture or appliances–a lot of them knew him, after all.
As “Son of Al” ( an oblique reference to a CA serial killer back in the day when he lived out Hollywood-way), he could speak fairly knowledgeably about household appliances and plumbing and repair, etc. As “Son of Gladys”, he could sometimes sew his own stage costumes or those of others. As a set designer, he once made a pair of FooDogs for the king of Siam out of styrofoam, cardboard, masking tape and gold spray paint. As a choreographer, who could forget his, “…one and two and step-kick, step-kick, shimmy, shimmy, shimmy, shimmy”…or other such arcane directions? Watching him demo these instructions was also a hoot. He knew a thing or two about music, having been in the band and every musical which graced the Garfield stage for quite some time; he and his cohort, Jeff Richmond were largely responsible for reviving the musical tradition of yesteryear and bringing it to new heights, which spilled over into the Garrettsville Community Players. He was convincing as the innocent and eager Prince Dauntless in “Once Upon A Mattress” as well as the imposing King Charlemagne in “Pippin.” He and Jeff gave Broadway a run for its money as “The Odd Couple.” His sojourn in California resulted in appearances in the movies, most notably in the background in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”–you can see him there–and he brought back souvenirs from the production companies’ back lots (Which featured in the setting when his Garrettsville apartment was in the Christmas Walk one year. No Ruby Slippers from “Wizard of Oz” though). For a time he…and Jeff…graced the back row of the choir in the Garrettsville United Methodist Church, and the high school French Club sang Christmas carols–in French–through the halls at holiday time.
Barry was “on” most of the time. He was nearly on a “first name” basis with the ticket office at Playhouse Square and could organize expeditions to “the big city” for all sorts of friends, which turned out to be special evenings–or fiascos…nothing in between.
He was known as an excellent cook/baker/host, being renowned for his mac-n-cheese as well as his grandma’s potato dumplings ( Al’s favorite) and festive parties for the seasons–didn’t matter what season, a party was always good. He could–and did–make lovely wedding cakes (He had the whole set of graduated-size pans.), often featuring fresh flowers and the buttery-est of buttercream icing.
Barry also worked with Beacon Personal Services, a provider of care and supervision of adult individuals with special needs; this was an adventure in itself and broadened a lot of horizons…for a lot of reasons and a lot of people.
A recent quotation quite aptly describes the Barry Vancura which we all…or almost all…can remember–or have heard tell of, from one vantage point or another: Do not strive to be one whose presence is frequently a focus, but to be one whose absence is definitely noted.
Last bow, Barry. Curtain.
Applause. Applause.
