ROY W. MACKAY
Roy Walter MacKay, our first Chieftain and the eldest of Robert and Jane
MacKay’s 10 children was born on January 23, 1898 in Perth Road, Ontario,
Canada.  Helen his wife of 52 years was born in Cleveland, Ohio on June 2, 1902.
After coming to Buffalo to work when he was a young man, Roy lived on
Crowley Avenue.  While there he was attracted to a sweet young lass who lived
across the street.  It was not long before Helen Reinke, became his bride on
August 24, 1924.
One year later they were overjoyed with the arrival of twin boys. 
Unfortunately only one survived, Stuart Arthur, born June 9, 1925.  A few years
later they moved to Rochester where they were blessed with a daughter, Helen
Virginia, born July 23, 1928.
They lived in Rochester for about 4 years and then returned to the area
and lived in the Town of Tonawanda for about 5 years before moving back to
Helen’s family home on Crowley Avenue.  This move was necessary due to need
to care for Helen’s mother who was dying of cancer.  It was here that their third
child, Mary Jane was born on January 29, 1938.
For many years they were very active members of the Riverside United
Presbyterian Church.  Both received 50-year awards.  Roy sang in the choir and
taught the Baraca Philathea Sunday School Class.  Through his interest in the
class his became an active member of the World-wide Baraca Philathea Society
and served a term as its president.  Helen and Roy traveled annually to their
conventions all over the country.  At the same time they were both active in
Masonic lodge work...Roy, in Occidental of Free and Accepted Masons and Helen
in the Eastern Star.  Roy served as Master of the Lodge in 1947 and later became
a State Grand Officer.
Roy worked at Chevrolet during World War II. But desiring the freedom of
having his own business started the Better-Built Garage Door dealership of
western New York.  The house on Crowley was not suitable for Business.  A
location on Brighton Road in the Town of Tonawanda was found and the
construction of a block building begun under the direction of Delbert Hamilton,
with the children’s help was completed.  A real family effort!  This building is
located next to Stu’s home on Brighton and is still a garage door business.
One of Roy’s dreams was to own property in the country...and he realized
his dream when he bought a cabin in Java Center, New York.  He and Helen
converted it into a lovely comfortable home, in a picturesque setting.  Winters
were spent in Florida and summers in Java Center.
Unfortunately, their hard earned leisure did not last too long, as Helen
passed away on October 7, 1976 after a long illness.  Roy died on December 23,
1976 and the children felt that “after 52 beautiful years together” - he could not
face Christmas - without her.
REFLECTIONS... FROM A DAUGHTER AND GRANDSON
Some of the things Dad told me about his youth...
At Easter time in Perth Road, the kids would have a competition among
themselves to see who could eat the most hard boiled eggs...  Dad's favorite book
was "Tom Brown's Schooldays"...  He traveled out to Western Canada and spent a
summer with Uncle watt who worked for the Canadian Pacific Railroad.  He also
took a steamer up the Inland Passage as far as Juneau.  He loved the poems of
Robert Service about Alaska.
When Dad came to Buffalo he worked for Western Union and was sent to
New York City for a period of time.  While there he saw Marilyn Miller in the
musical "Sunny".  He thought it was the best show he ever saw.  Two of the songs
from the show, "WHO" and "LOOK FOR THE SIL VER LINING" were Mom and
Dad's favorites.
While serving as Master of Occidental Lodge, he made many lasting
friendships with members of St. Andrews Lodge in Hamilton, Ontario and was
made an honorary member.  Dad never missed a "Robbie Burns" affair at the
lodge and St. Andrews Ladies Night was enjoyed by both Mom and Dad for many
years.  Dad was usually absent on Father's Day, because that was the week-end 
lodge members from Buffalo and from Hamilton spent at Bob Strahan's cabin at
Bala on Lake Muskoka, Canada, fishing or just relaxing.  One of the traditions of
the trip was to fly someone's pajamas from the flagpole.  (Bob's was made an
Honorary Member of the Clan). 
Dad was always proud of the family’s relationship to the great Scottish
preacher, Thomas Guthrie.  He always said that there was a statue of him in
Edinburgh, Scotland.  While I was teaching in England in the Air Force School, I
was able to visit Edinburgh and found the statue on Princes Street.  I had my
picture next to it and sent it home.  I know that Dad was pleased that I had gotten
to see it.  Dan took another photo of Dr. Guthrie and me on return visit a couple
of years ago.  We’ve posted it on the MacKay web site.
Mary Jane McCarthy
A GRANDSON’S LAST WORDS
In the years before Grandma and Grandpa retired and lived in the cabin in
Java, they would summer there and leave for Florida after Christmas.  However
one year everything froze and they couldn’t get their Galaxy up the dirt road and
(this portion missing from book)…and from over the new snow, or the flickering
light from the wood burning stove as I fell asleep under the hand-made quilt on
the couch.  But there was always Thanksgiving Day, when Grandma would hover
about the cabin preparing dinner and dispensing hug to each new arrival.  Even
as I grew into a restless teen-ager, I would look forward to this particular day, as
it seemed to mark the passing into a more “home-bound” season.
Grandpa and I were to always remember a period of my life when I was
about eight years old.  Aunt Mary Jane was home from teaching abroad, and
every evening I would be sent next-door, workbook in hand.  Mary Jane would
attempt to bring my reading and writing skills up to a level that would allow me
to enter the next grade.   She would struggle with her disinterested student until
Grandpa would bring out the checkerboard.  After several games,  I would leave
with renewed confidence having somehow always won the last few games.   I
often stopped over to play checkers with Grandpa.  In time, I became much
improved and we began to know each others moves too well.  It was then Gramps
brought the Chess pieces and slowly began to teach me the game.  The victories
did not come as easily as they had with checkers.  I Couldn’t read very well, but I
memorized a series of moves and was surprised how easily I check-mated.
Years later, during my grandparents last spring, I visited Aunt Mary Jane
and Uncle Dan in Florida.  My grandmother was then very ill and couch ridden. 
Driving home I promised myself that I would someday write the McCarthy
children and describe the grandmother I had known when I was their ages.  I am
not a writer. And my words would be to concrete to capture the vitality of
Grandma pushing her rolling office chair between the file cabinets and typewriter
in that little office in front of the warehouse on Brighton Road.  
On the night I was to damage the paint on their car, Grandma and
Grandpa were baby-sitting my sisters and me.  We were playing “Hide and Seek”
and attempting to find an ideal hiding spot I climbed across the hood of
Grandpa’s brand new Ford Galaxy, severly scratching the paint.  I can still
remember his anger when he discovered the damage the next morning,  We were
to learn from Grandma that the warehouse was “off limits”,  and that ban lasted
at least until our next visit.  As the years passed, we were to  joke about that
incident many times.
I suppose that if I knew that you would be sharing your “last words”, the
words would never be quite right, could have been more profound.  It’s
unlikelyyou would mention the only time someone had been disappointed in you.
Through the years I had given my grandfather many opportunities to be
disappointed.  I recall having bragged about my prowess on the high school track
team.  Weeks later, Grandpa and his brother, Denver, sat well through the dinner
hour in the rain at Parker Field.  I rewarded their patience, by being caught from
behind on the anchor leg of a 4 x 220 yard relay.  I wondered as I approached
them how much my grandfather had built up my anticipated performance.  I
worried that I might have embarrassed him in front of his brother.  I learned
about our family’s special closeness by the enthusiam with which they
congratulated me for having given my best effort.
On the night before he passed away, I visited him in the hospital.  I
pointed to the hiking boots he had given me the money to buy as my Christmas
gift.  They were tall boots laced high above the ankle with deep treads across the
heel and sole.  I thanked him for the present and as I moved toward the door I
mentioned that they could do severe damage to the hood of his car.  H smiled and
I knew he was remembering precious years, gone by.
In the years since, I’ve often wondered what I would have said if I’d known
they were to be “last words”.  I’ve wished I could tell him all  the things that have
happened since….. that I graduated from Colgate,  became an architect….have
married and that ny wife Monica and I have children, Parker and Emily….and
that we don’t live to far from that little cabin in Java.  I’ve come to realize that
“last words” are not that important.  It was the way they always had time for me
that mattered.  The way they listened to what I had to say made me feel
important.  The way they provided a place where I could feel accepted.
Ken MacKay
*Ken wrote this for the 25th Anniversary Clan booklet.  Since then he has
establish his own architual firm in Kenmore, is teaching architecture at the State
University of Buffalo and has another son, Stuart.
mjm