BUCYRUS—Local residents recently shared their memories of a Bucyrus icon who died on April 2 at the age of 80.
John Kennedy not only headed up John Kennedy Orchestra, Band, and Quartet for many years, he was President and CEO of First Federal Savings and Loan until his retirement in 2003, a volunteer throughout the community and was honored by First Federal with the naming the John W. Kennedy Community Room in 2020. The most recent recognition given to Kennedy was in March of 2021 with the Arts for Success Leadership Award in recognition of the tremendous impact his music and volunteerism have made in Bucyrus and the surrounding area. His full obituary can be read by clicking here.
Musician Dave Miller of Bucyrus said it was a great privilege to be a member of The John Kennedy Dance Orchestra for more than two decades.
“John was a gracious and humble leader. We always had fun. The highlight of the year was playing on the stage Friday night of the Bratwurst Festival,” said Miller. “Looking out across the sea of people from under the stage lights, what a blast! John was a kind person and good friend.”
Former Bucyrus Area Chamber of Commerce Director Deb Pinion said Kennedy was a guiding light.
“He guided so many organizations, projects and people, young and old, to realize their dreams through his caring professional life. I have so many memories of John,” said Pinion. “When I first became the Director of the Bucyrus Chamber, a position never held by a woman. I attended many various meetings with John where some were not so welcoming to ” a gal” in their midst. John took it upon himself to be sure the ” fellas” understood that I deserved their respect. From then on it all changed!”
She is keeping a promise she made to Kennedy.
“I cannot go into all the details, as I promised John I would never tell, but rest assured that Millennium Park and the Great American Crossroads Mural would not be where it is today without John’s intervention,” said Pinion.
She said he cared about all things Bucyrus.
“He loved this town, his family and his Lord,” said Pinion.
She shared several other memories about her longtime friend.
“John in the “Pit” at the annual Kiwanis Chicken BBQ, John ” and the Band” playing at the OSU Canteen dance the night of the Liberty Remembers mural dedication and singing “Don’t Set Under the Apple Tree” with Eric Grohe’s mom, a former professional vocalist. John playing at the American Legion on New Year’s Eve. Exactly 50 years after his first gig in that same spot, John volunteering at the food kitchen, Meals on Wheels and so many more places.”
She said these memories are only the tip of the iceberg of everything he meant to our community.
“After his brother passed away recently, I sent him a sympathy card and I also told him how much I enjoyed the music coming from the Shunk Bell Tower in Aumiller Park. When I hear the chimes, I always think of John Kennedy. He helped put them there for all of us,” said Pinion. “John was a gentleman, a businessman, a volunteer, a man who loved his wife, his children and grandchildren. And he was a friend. I will miss him and remember him and his smile, and when I hear the chimes from the park, I will think of him. Rest easy good friend.”
Attorney and former Bucyrus City Law Director and magistrate Rob Neff, who is also the son of the late Robert Clark Neff Sr., shared the following about Kennedy:
John was our Minister of Music, the Keeper of the Flame, the High Priest of Swing. He could work miracles as shown in the picture shared recently on Facebook by his sideman, saxophonist Dave Miller, where John mesmerized a toddler with his horn and knelt to share the mystery of music with him.
John could also work healings. I witnessed one on the last Bratwurst Festival show by John’s Orchestra that my father attended. Dad was one of John’s biggest fans. He attended every Bratwurst Festival Friday night performance, arriving early and staying until the last note decayed into the crowd. Dad was the Big Band equivalent of the “freaker by the speaker,” if Big Band music has such, dancing when he could and squirming in seat in rhythm when he could no longer dance.
Dad was also a product of his times and his environment as a “Preacher’s Kid” which yielded two often conflicting passions: a Prohibitionist’s passion against alcoholic beverages and his love for Big Band music. In fact, his tea totaling ways led to a gig in the Navy as the manager of the Officers’ Club at Pearl Harbor. The music, on the other hand, was the “rock and roll” of his era, and similarly disapproved of by his Temperance touting parents, who were convinced that Swing Music led invariably to strong drink. These passions would collide at the last Bratwurst Festival Dad attended.
By that time, Dad could no longer dance, or walk any distance. Parkinson’s had taken much of his body, and dementia, even more of his mind. We had Dad in a wheelchair, ready to go to the JKO show when the venue was suddenly changed to the American Legion because of weather. I offered to take Dad to the Legion for the show, but he declined. I pushed a bit, knowing it would probably be his last, but when he pushed back, I figured he just didn’t want to go to a “club” where alcohol was being served and I let it drop. He opted for a nap on our couch instead.
About an hour and a half into John’s two-hour show, Dad work up and asked why we weren’t at John Kennedy’s Orchestra performance. I told him it was because he hadn’t wanted to go. Well, he certainly didn’t remember that. Hoping to avoid a scene if we went, I told him it was going on at the Legion and that people would be drinking. His emphatic response? “Well, I don’t care about that!” Into the chariot and off into the rain-soaked street we went, Dad holding an umbrella and leaning eagerly into the wind.
Now, anyone who has ever talked Big Band music with Dad knows that When Sunny Gets Blue is his favorite song. If you talked Big Band music with Dad at his home, you heard “Thee Song” on his stereo, and you were shushed into a proper state of reverential awe if you spoke while it was playing.
By the time we got to the Legion there were about fifteen minutes left in John’s show. John saw Dad wheeled in, finished the song the Orchestra was playing, and then said, “We’re going to do something we never do. We’re going to play the same song twice in one night. Bob Neff just came in. Bob, this one’s for you.” And the band launched into When Sunny Gets Blue.
When they did, I looked at Dad. I didn’t see a broken man, ravaged by time. I saw a young petty officer bobbing (yeah, that’s a pun) enthusiastically to the music. John and his Orchestra only played two more songs, but it didn’t matter. Dad’s night, and for the first time in ages, his life, were complete.
So, here’s to you, John. Dad revered you and your music like people of my generation revere Elvis. You were the King! I never told you what you did for Dad that night. You already knew. That’s why you did it.
Rest In Peace, John Kennedy.