Just like Norm of Cheers fame, Russ Pry sat on the same bar stool every time he showed up at Rockne’s Pub.
Which was almost every day.
“He was always here,” says owner Chris Hamad. “It was like his second home. He called it his West Office.”
Unlike Norm, Pry occasionally did something constructive at his cozy neighborhood bar, the one off West Market Street in Akron, just up and across the street from the Tangier.
On those occasions, Pry would sit in a corner booth and dive into whatever paperwork beckoned.
But you could argue that the former Summit County executive also was doing important work when sitting on his stool near the beer taps, in front of the stained-glass Rockne’s sign, sipping a Ketel One vodka — namely, bringing people together.
“He was awesome,” says Hamad. “He had the right attributes about him. He put politics second, and he was a person first. That’s how he approached things. …
“He always had time for people, even when he was exhausted from work. People knew where to find him, so they’d come down and see him and put their troubles out, and he’d help them solve them.”
Pry was far from a typical customer. He was a close friend of the family, dating back to when Hamad’s father opened the place in the late 1980s and Chris was a little kid.
“He was like a second father,” says Chris, standing behind the bar on Monday, the day after Pry’s death, preparing for the noontime crush of lunch patrons.
“If there was ever anything I needed, he would do it, and do it silently. He never looked for accolades. He just did it to help me.
“He was just a great person. I loved him.”
This hasn’t been a particularly good year for Hamad. His father, Chris Sr., died in January, at the age of 59, from pancreatic cancer. Now his second father is gone, too, succumbing at age 58 to complications from colon cancer.
A hand-lettered sign behind the bar is testament to the deep bond between Hamad and Pry. It reads:
“10-2-14
“ ‘Is a good day’ — Russ Pry.”
Nobody knew why it was a good day until much later, because Pry was sworn to secrecy. He had accompanied Hamad to the store when Hamad picked out and bought an engagement ring for the woman who would become Stephanie Hamad.
Twenty-five days later, after the proposal and acceptance had taken place in the Napa region of California, the secret was out — and Rockne’s employees finally knew why Oct. 2, 2014, had been a good day.
Pry used to joke that his steady patronage of Rockne’s was putting the six Hamad siblings through Archbishop Hoban High School, and later through college.
In earlier days, when he was an attorney, he often brought in fellow attorneys. After rising to the head of the local Democratic Party, he would sometimes be accompanied by U.S. congressmen and senators.
But he hung out most often with regular folks.
Sometimes he came for lunch, sometimes for dinner. Often he’d stop between appointments and political events. He also held fundraisers there.
His go-to meal: half a Reuben and a cup of black-bean soup.
Pry’s unexpected death was a shock to Hamad, as it was to almost everyone who knew Russell M. Pry.
“It was heartbreaking,” Hamad says. “Luckily we were able to be with him a lot throughout the whole process. He has had a great support system. He was pretty much a loner, but he always had a core group of friends.”
Among them was fiery, confrontational former Akron Mayor Don Plusquellic, who, in terms of personality, had little in common with Pry.
“They complemented each other perfectly,” Hamad says with a smile.
“They had a great banter, and it was always in good fun. It was a great friendship, which actually ended up helping both entities, the city and the county.”
He’s right.
Russ Pry was a good man. I am among the many who will miss him.
Bob Dyer can be reached at 330-996-3580 or bdyer@thebeaconjournal.com. He also is on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bob.dyer.31