My Father 1935-2011

Thank you for coming to celebrate my father’s life.  On behalf of my mother, sister and brothers, we appreciate you being here today to share in his memory.  It speaks well of him to see so many people here, some traveling from far away.

My father was born in a small Louisiana town.  He was the son of Baptist preacher and grew up in a very modest home with his older brother and younger sister.  Maybe it was growing up in a small town, or being from Louisiana that made feel he had a larger than life personality.

We lived outside of Cleveland in the late 1960’s where he served as the commissioner of the town’s youth softball league.  After observing an umpire make several very bad calls, he walked down to the field and ejected him from the game.  “Besides making horrible calls, you know you cannot umpire a game being played by your son,” he said to this volunteer father.  After hearing this, the umpire turned to his home plate umpire and asked, “Who is this guy?”  “He is the league commissioner,” the plate umpire explained.  So, graciously, the umpire left the field without argument.

Several years later, after we moved to Los Angeles, he saw this same man being interviewed on the national news.  Shocked, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  All he could think about was how he had ejected this man from a youth softball game several years earlier. To this day, I am confident that George Steinbrenner was not thinking about the day he was ejected from a youth softball game on the day he announced he was buying the New York Yankees.

Everyone who knew my father knows where golf ranked in his life.  He belonged to more country clubs than he had children.  He was President of Friendly Hills Country Club, and a Board Member of the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic.  If he wasn’t playing golf, he was watching it on T.V.  One Christmas, at my father’s urging, the boys in the family decided to start a tradition and play nine holes of golf on Christmas Day.  The problem was, most of us had not played golf in a long time and was a bit rusty.  After successfully playing two holes, one of my brothers hit a house on his tee shot.  You can’t imagine the anger expressed by my father, for this was his country club and he know the people who lived along the course.  Next followed my other brother and he too hit a house on his tee shot.  Normally, we were all faster than my father, but on that walk home we couldn’t keep up with him. Needless to say, that tradition ended up last just two holes.

Some of you know my father as a businessman.  Others know him as a golfer, a card player or just a friend.  No matter how you knew him, you will probably agree that he did things his way, and only his way.  He had a plaque in his office that said: “Rule 1.  The boss is always right.  Rule 2.  If the boss is wrong, refer to rule number one.”

My Dad was a very strong personality.  Sometimes, especially at restaurants, he was a little too intense.  On more than one occasion I felt very uncomfortable knowing the person serving him that night was going to remember him for a very, very long time.  As an employee of his company, I was the object of his wrath on more than one occasion, and I was fired at least four times—once we were not even talking about business when he fired me.  In the end, it worked for him and me.  In fact, the business that he started in 1972 continues to this day under the name Crews MacQuarrie & Associates.

After he retired he pursued five interests:  golf, playing cards, travel, golf and golf.   He was married for 55 years; he had four children and eleven grandchildren.  He worked in the same career most of his life.  He started as a group representative for Occidental Life shortly after graduating from college.  That job took us to Shreveport, Louisiana, Cleveland, Ohio and eventually Los Angeles.  He started his own consulting firm in 1972, providing actuarial and consulting services to the retail food industry for about 35 years.  Those numbers (55 years of marriage and 35 years of professional services to the same industry) says something about him.  He was committed and he was trusted.

Several years ago, after my Mother’s father passed away, my father became very close to the Catholic Priest who performed the services at my grandfather’s funeral, Father Roy.  They really enjoyed each other’s company, and my father converted to Catholicism.  Having grown up the son of a Baptist preacher, he was always a spiritual man.    I guess that rubbed-off more on my brother than the rest of us since he is a pastor (and a lawyer).

On September 24, 2011, I lost a father, a mentor, a friend, a fellow golfer and a business partner.  I had the honor and the pleasure of knowing my father in many ways not often experienced by a son.

Let’s not mourn him too long, but celebrate a long [pause] wonderful life.