RSS 2.0 FeedNovember 25, 2010, Death Notices
Bill Bryck
Barasch’s ‘Mr. B,’ Bill Bryck is dead at 93
by Ira Bryck
My father, Bill Bryck, died November 13, after a couple of days in hospice, in a coma, in Florida.
He was 93 years old, and had a wonderful life. Unfortunately, the last chapter was several years of a steady decline into dementia, but almost until the end, he knew he was surrounded by people who loved him, and kept his usual warm and gracious disposition, despite having his mental life slip away.
He was born on Rivington Street, on the Lower East Side, the youngest child of Isaac and Anna, and baby brother of Esther, Faye, Rose and Sally.
Isaac was a contractor, adding pockets to pants for clothing manufacturers, until he got consumption (TB). The president of his lansman association, his friends made a collection, and helped him buy a business in the country town of Springfield Gardens, Queens. They were the only Jewish family in town, and the only store.
They lived above the store, and were all always on call. Isaac spoke only Yiddish, but with the help of his industrious children, made a “comfortable” living. He traded the police chief a box of cigars for an illegal driver’s license for my father, who was then 8, so my father could deliver papers for the store. His driving talents never improved.
Bill attended Jamaica High School and NYU School of Commerce, Accounts and Finance; was an Army sergeant in World War II, serving in the Phillipines. After the war, he sold clothes for the upscale menswear store B&B Lorry’s.
He met my mother, Barbara, at the Bar Mitzvah of their mutual cousin George (they were not related to each other; they were purposely sat next to each other). They married within a few months, and then begat me and two of the people I respect most in this world.
Bill went to work for his father-in-law in the wholesale bedding and bath business, Philip Leon, on Grand Street, on the Lower East Side. After several years in that family business, he was invited to partner with a cousin whose husband had died, so there was room at the top.
That started his long stint as “Mr. B” at Barasch’s Kidstore in Freeport. He started there in 1961. My mother and father worked together for many years, during and after they bought out the cousin. I worked there since boyhood, and worked with my parents for 17 adult years, also.
Although it wasn’t always easy, I now realize (after a long while of working with family businesses) that we had a pretty good working relationship.
My father morphed into my brother and my friend. Our styles of leadership, buying, selling, marketing, vacation, balance, all were very different. But we loved each other mightily, and enjoyed each other’s company. More on this in my play about this period, “Tough Nut to Crack.”
After we closed the store in 1993, I moved to Western Massachusetts and my parents moved to Boynton Beach, Florida. Sorry to say, dementia started creeping in almost as soon as they turned Floridian. My mother cared for him daily, with patience and determination to keep him active and involved, until she couldn’t.
In 2005, he moved to a nursing home near their condo; and my mother volunteered there daily for many years.
My father’s steady descent was unnerving for his friends and family; but till the end, there was the undeniable sense that this was a man whose philosophy of life was summed up in his advice to his children: “First, be a mensch.”
He was my friend and hero, and I will be inspired by the memory of him forever.
