Barry died on November 22, and his passing leaves a huge hole in the lives of his wife, friends, students, and readers.
I met Barry about nine years ago at a Wednesday Poker Discussion Group meeting. We always argued about theory and hands, and Barry would sit quietly and let us flounder around. Then he would take a position, and everybody listened carefully. As Linda Johnson put it, “He was the E. F. Hutton of poker.”
He had immense influence on the limit hold ’em literature, from the smallest games to $40-$80. Lee Jones, the author of Winning Low Limit Hold’em, said that Barry deserves much of the credit for the improvements he made in its third edition.
Barry wrote about 200 articles for PokerPages.com, Poker School Online, and Card Player Magazine. He co-authored with Terry Borer and Lawrence Mak Limit Hold'em: Winning Short-Handed Strategy and was the sole author of Advanced Limit Hold'em Strategy: Techniques for Beating Tough Games.
He was a superb seminar leader- authoritative, but funny, with a gift for getting his audience involved. His seminars weren’t just educational; they were also enjoyable. He taught at the World Poker Players Conferences, on Card Player Cruises, and at BARGE conventions.
He was an outstanding coach. He combined strategy and psychology, with special attention to his students’ strengths, weaknesses, and attitudes. Each student received custom-tailored lessons, the ones that fitted his unique attributes and situation.
He had the rare gift of giving advice that his students should, could, and would apply. Any good coach can tell students what they should do, but that advice is often wasted because the student can’t or won’t apply it. But Barry gave the right advice in the right way so that his students became better players.
He had another gift: He could be very critical without being unpleasant. He often pointed out my mistakes, but I accepted it without becoming defensive because he so sincerely wanted to help me. Because he understood my faults, he slowly helped me to overcome some of them.
Barry’s success as a player, writer, and teacher is a bit surprising because he did not start playing poker seriously until he was over forty years old. Before that he was an outstanding bridge player. He met his wife, Betty, playing bridge. They were both Life Masters, and they played successfully in several large tournaments.
He switched to poker because any good poker player can make money, and all you get in duplicate bridge is master points. He started playing poker in the smallest games in San Jose, California and slowly worked his way up to the largest limit games there. He insisted on playing hundreds of hours at each limit before moving upward, and he wrote some great articles about how the skills needed at one level become superseded as you move up.
When he lived in San Jose, he worked for Tandem Computer, which was ultimately acquired by Hewlett-Packard. He moved to Las Vegas and became one of the toughest players in The Bellagio’s $30-$60 and $40-$80 games.
Barry’s most admirable quality was courage. For all the years I knew him, he had serious kidney problems. Most chronically sick people complain constantly or just sink into a sullen depression. Barry rarely complained, and he fought back until the very end. He usually didn’t even discuss his health problems. When I’d ask about them, he’d just say, “What can’t be cured must be endured.”
In fact, he often said he was lucky to be born in modern America with our marvelous medical technology. “If I had been born earlier or in a different place, I would have been dead long ago.”
He was more concerned about his wife’s health problems than his own. I remember one time that he was in the hospital when his wife became ill. He wanted the details about her condition and treatment while shrugging off my attempts to discuss his own problems.
They were an extremely close couple, talking on the telephone several times a day. And he always ended the calls with, “I love you.”
Because he started playing poker seriously at a much later age than most pros, and because he was so sick for most of that time, I can’t help wondering how much more he could have accomplished. Despite his medical problems, he beat some very tough games and wrote some great books and articles. If he had been younger and healthier, he might have been a Hall of Famer.
He’s been gone for only a few days, and I miss him terribly.
R.I.P., old friend.
