He rose from the humble origins of a potato farm to the highest echelons of New York state government
The mournful guitar chords of “The Wind Cries Mary” washed across an overflowing reception room at New Comer Funeral Home.
More than 200 mourners dreamed of an encore from the man beloved as the electrified hub of a wide wheel of friends and colleagues, a political fixer whose reputation as a confidant earned him the sobriquet “Booker T. Freud.”
When Sample died at 74 on April 27 at his home in Albany of an undisclosed cause, close friends were shocked that their indefatigable orchestrator had passed.
Former state Comptroller H. Carl McCall, for whom Sample served as chief of staff, recalled that Sample traveled to New York City nine days before his death. The two jazz aficionados had tickets for Smoke Jazz Club on Manhattan’s Upper West Side to catch a set featuring trumpet masters Jon Faddis and Eddie Henderson. Afterward, McCall went home and Sample headed downtown to Chelsea to catch a late-night set at The Jazz Gallery for emerging artists — a doubleheader of jazz.
“Nobody had Barry’s energy and nobody valued relationships and nurtured friendships like him,” McCall said. “There isn’t anybody else who could have gathered all of us here today.”
This drew a murmur of assent and nodding of heads from attendees.
McCall noted that Sample rose from a hardscrabble upbringing on a Long Island potato farm to the University at Albany, where he was accepted into the Educational Opportunity Program for students with financial need. He graduated magna cum laude with a bachelor’s degree in 1973, followed by a master’s degree in criminal justice in 1977. He later taught for several years as an adjunct faculty member at UAlbany.
“He seized his opportunity through EOP, which led to his many achievements in public service,” McCall said. “He did not forget what that opportunity did for him. He was a strong supporter of EOP students at UAlbany and across SUNY for more than 40 years, so that they could unleash their talent through opportunity, as he did.”
Sample worked at the New York State Division of Criminal Justice Services from 1981 to 1993 and was promoted to deputy director. Over the next 20 years, Sample’s state government positions included chair of the New York Gaming Commission, deputy director of state operations for the Executive Chamber, director of intergovernmental affairs and community relations for the state comptroller’s office and deputy budget director for the state Division of the Budget.
Few besides political insiders knew of Sample or the considerable power he wielded. He preferred to operate below the radar.
“Everybody loved Barry. The reason he achieved so much was that he never wanted any credit,” said attorney John Poklemba, a former commissioner of the Division of Criminal Justice Services. Sample was the best man at Poklemba’s wedding and both worked in that division for several years in offices next to each other in Stuyvesant Plaza.
A line of coworkers often formed outside Sample’s office door seeking his counsel — hence the nickname Booker T. Freud. Poklemba called Sample “my best friend for more than 40 years” whose giving nature equated to “helping others every day of the week.”
A nephew, Gary Wright, told stories of growing up in the same house with Sample, whom he revered as a big brother figure. Sample was a huge fan of Jimi Hendrix, as was their grandmother, and he started playing guitar as a youngster. Wright would slide Sample’s guitar out from under his bed when he was away and tried to emulate his uncle — who never let on that he knew the kid was messing around with his prized instrument. Sample later taught Wright guitar chords and how to play the harmonica.
Sample played lead guitar in rock bands — he strapped on a Fender Stratocaster like Hendrix, his idol — throughout high school and college. He later gravitated to jazz and was a habitué of New York jazz clubs. He made an annual pilgrimage to the Montreal Jazz Festival.
“We had so much music in the house growing up and Barry was at the heart of it,” Wright said, before jamming along on a six-string acoustic bluesy version of “Walking the Dog,” written and performed by Rufus Thomas and later covered by the Rolling Stones and Aerosmith.
William Chalmers did not believe at first a call he received that his friend and business partner, with whom he had dinner just a few weeks before, had died. “That can’t be true,” he told the caller, and sought a second source to verify the news.
In 2013, Sample and Chalmers formed Instructional Systems Inc. to help bridge the digital divide among low-income, underserved college students with a grant from the state Legislature in collaboration with SUNY’s Educational Opportunity Centers. Their programs provided computer training, tech skills and financial literacy tutoring to more than 100,000 SUNY students.
“Barry had a rare blend of intellect and humanity,” Chalmers said. “He was someone you wanted in the room, and in your corner always.”
Chalmers ended his reflection with a Jimi Hendrix quote: “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
“My Dad showed up for people and made a mark on their lives,” said his daughter, Serwa Sample-Adams. “He was smart, loyal, dependable, with a wry sense of humor. Music was our language when we didn’t have words sometimes.”
The Rev. Alan E. Williams, pastor of Shiloh Baptist Church in Hudson, said in a eulogy that Sample’s life was “a ministry of presence. He set an example of being there for others.”
“Will the wind ever remember,” Hendrix sang as six pallbearers prepared to lift the casket into a hearse. “The names it has blown in the past.”
The rain came then, and a caravan of cars, Barry’s people, were going to Graceland — Graceland Cemetery on Delaware Avenue in Albany.
