Godspeed Barry

This week, I found myself back in a community theater in spring 1998.  

After three hours of Elizabethan dialogue, it was hard to forget the cry of anguish when King Lear returns to the stage, with his daughter Cordelia’’s body in his arms, his own death moments away. The spine shivers, and emotion wells up - Shakespeare wrote a crescendo. Seconds after Lear thinks he sees Cordelia breathing again, he collapses and dies, ending the play. 

That final scene is even harder to forget when it’s one of your favorite college professors playing Lear. 

Barry McAndrew died in late July 2025. A lifetime ago (for me), he was Mercyhurst College’s Shakespeare professor, and one of the kindest, friendliest professors at Mercyhurst. 

He retired from the classroom in 2005, and I had not seen him in a long time. We were connected on social media, but didn’t really communicate. After a while the words don’t come as easily, and the legions of students he encountered in 40-plus years of teaching would have required some reintroduction. 

His passing brings me back to a time when I dove eagerly into the classics of literature. He taught the English department’s Shakespeare course for 40 years. I took it in Winter Term 1996-97, my first step to the harder coursework the English degree required. The harsh Erie winter passed with days of reading, rereading, and writing a term paper on one of the six plays we did not cover in class (three comedies, three tragedies). 

The class was a rite of passage for Mercyhurst's English majors, and the first time I encountered Barry as a student. Originally from Scranton, he lived in the language of Shakespeare and Chaucer, but American literature as well – he taught our African-American literature course. He had an energy for the work. Outside class, he was an affable man, who played Santa Claus at children’s events on campus and announced at the men’s and women’s basketball games. When we had irregular English department gatherings, you could count on him for good banter. 

With Barry, it always came back to Shakespeare. He taught Chaucer, and played roles in Canterbury Tales during the summer, but I never got to take the class, which was a rare offering at Mercyhurst. 

But I got to witness his peak moment in acting. He took Lear seriously in the classroom, and grew even more serious when he took the role. Barry had a head of curly gray hair. In the leadup to playing Lear, I passed his office and did a double-take – his hair was cut short, bringing the silver out. 

“That’s a new look," I remarked. 

He smiled tightly and said, “It’s for Lear – only for Lear.” 

Before the actual performances, he would shave the top bald to give his Lear a look similar to Lawrence Olivier. The production exceeded three hours. 

I was excited for it. King Lear is complex and not for the faint. Barry and the actor who played The Fool had exceptional chemistry. When the Fool enters the stage, Lear runs over and hugs him. The Fool famously disappears halfway through the play, his voice of reason drowned out by Lear’s madness, although this production kept him in the background even though he had no dialogue. 

I once asked the college’s drama director if he saw it. It was hard to forget his response – “The production was crap, but Barry was magnificent. He put all of himself into Lear.” I enjoyed the effort at community theater tackling a difficult classic, but was glad the drama director singled out the performance. 

But most days, Mr. McAndrew really put it all into teaching. Whether King Lear or Sonny’s Blues by James Baldwin, he could always bring out the poignancy and skill in the work. As a student, I only saw a sliver of Barry McAndrew, but teaching was a key piece in a many who lived a multi-faceted life.