Lawrence (Mackie) McErlain
Family man, master networker, extraordinary salesman. Born on April 24, 1929, in Toronto; died on Nov. 20, 2014, in Mississauga, Ont., of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, aged 85.
Mackie, as he was always known, was the seventh child, and youngest son, of 10 children born to Bridget and John McErlain, Irish immigrants who lived on Bude Street in Toronto.
A rascal from childhood, Mackie got away with breaking the rules because he never acted with malice. If demoted to the "kiddie table" when older siblings brought their dates home to Sunday dinner, he tossed mashed potatoes at the wall. Once, he tried to climb the Christmas tree. Times were tough during the Depression. His younger sisters had babysitting income and Mackie would beg for loans to go skating, and then wisely took them along to keep him out of trouble.
When he was 20, he met the feisty Florence Agostinone at a church youth group. They married four years later and enjoyed 61 years together raising Danny and Donna, and later welcoming three grandsons, Paul, Duncan and Cameron.
Mackie and Florence treated friends like family, and family like royalty, hosting the annual Christmas party and reunion picnics. He was proud of his Irish heritage and enjoyed visiting relatives in Ireland.
An award-winning auto supply salesman, his success was attributable to his amazing networking skills. He knew everyone, yet spoke to you as if you were the only person in the room. The king of cool, Mackie was recognized by his habitual unlit cigar, and was legendary for having a designated bar stool at Blanche's in Toronto. He was treated like a celebrity because his sarcastic wit never let details get in the way of an entertaining story.
Mackie was influential in our extended family, not least because 20 of his 34 nieces and nephews lost their fathers at a young age. Travelling for work through Southern Ontario and to Detroit made it convenient for him to drop in for a meal to check on everyone. He quietly assumed the role of mentor, doling out a pat on the back – or a kick in the pants – while instilling the values of honesty, integrity and respect.
He was passionate about golf, darts and curling. The house league where he curled for more than 50 years created a trophy in his honour and implemented the "Mackie rule" allowing skips to throw lead rocks.
Memories of Mackie are kaleidoscopic. Thrilling his young nephews by squealing the tires of his Plymouth Fury on deserted back roads; wearing his cherished green jacket from Detroit's Tipperary Pub; pouring drinks and telling stories at his own basement bar on St. Patrick's Day; singing or jive dancing with Florence or his four sisters to big band music. He loved it all!
Diagnosed with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease in 2007, his indomitable spirit prevailed and he outlived the doctor's expectations. When he could no longer drive, he became the unofficial watchman, safeguarding the neighbourhood from his lawn chair with the help of Hobbes, his grandsons' little dog. His guilty pleasures included family pasta nights, the saucy Irish sitcom Mrs. Brown's Boys, and mincemeat tarts.
Mackie passed away peacefully, surrounded by family, listening to Mack the Knife, his signature song.
Karen Sencich is Lawrence's niece.