His dance moves made him part of Lakers' show

A transplanted New Yorker carved a special niche for himself in the Lakers' Showtime era of the 1980s, his kinetic energy and unbridled flair repeatedly sending the oft-placid Forum faithful into a frenzy. Though neither a scorer, playmaker nor lockdown defender, he nevertheless retained an uncanny ability to bring dormant fans out of their seats and ignite game-changing rallies.

But then Dancing Barry just stopped showing up. Sixteen years ago this month, he says, he walked away, never to shimmy down an aisle for the Lakers again.

"It stopped being fun," he says.

Two years ago, when the Lakers played host to a 20-year reunion of their 1985 championship team, he declined an invitation to attend.

"They really didn't treat me good," he says of the Lakers.

Now using the stage name Magic Barry -- "I'm a professional magician," he says, "but I couldn't be Magic Barry in Los Angeles because they already had Magic Johnson" -- he lives outside Charlotte, N.C., and danced for a short time at Hornets games before the team moved to New Orleans four years ago.

He works as a territorial manager and trainer for a veterinary laboratory, selling lab services and training vets on how to promote their businesses.

Very little of his time, he says, is devoted to performing.

"Charlotte is not a great show business city," he says.

He is married and, based on his comments, probably in his mid-50s. "That, I can't reveal," he says of his exact age. "I can't disappoint my fans."

Though charming and funny when discussing his Dancing Barry days, he declined to sit for an up-to-date photo -- "I don't want to ruin anybody's memories," he says -- and is reluctant to say much about his personal life.

"I've still got to worry about people who might feel that I did them wrong," he says. "I don't want guys to come looking for me. L.A. has a bunch of crazy people there. You're not putting my last name in there, are you? I assume you would protect the health of the people you're writing about.

"I don't want anyone dangerous to come looking for me."

He is still spooked, he says, by an altercation with a "crazy fan" from 21 years ago. Performing at an NBA Finals game between the Houston Rockets and Boston Celtics at Houston in 1986, he says he was accosted by a fan who grabbed him, shook him and shouted, "You traitor, you traitor. I'm going to get you."