Patrick J. McAuley, 88, beloved father and grandfather passed away on Saturday, January 9th, 2021. He began his life in Greenpoint Brooklyn and once married moved to Bayville for 26 years before retiring to Holiday City 20 years ago. He spent his last 6 months in Assisted Living located closer to his son in Cherry Hill.
He worked all throughout his life. He got his working papers at the age of 14 and took a summer job in the mailroom of Pan American Airways in 1946. He joined the union in 1962 as a wine & liquor salesman for Majestic Wine & Spirits, now Allied Beverage, in Elizabeth NJ before retiring after 35 years in 1997.
Patrick is survived by his son Patrick A. McAuley and his wife Heather; his daughter Pauline A. McAuley and her wife Heather Patterson; his three grandchildren, Mason, Pearce, and Brennan McAuley, and his older brother, Arthur McAuley. He was preceded in death by his beloved wife Pauline C. McAuley; mother, Mary I. McAuley; sister, Margaret Rispoli, and father, Arthur McAuley.
Patrick was a wonderful storyteller, an excellent dancer, and had a joke for every occasion. His mantra in life was “be happy.” Always smiling, he never let the worries bother him no matter how big they were. Some of the things that made him happy were his Folgers coffee, crumb cake with lots of crumbs, reading the newspaper, a good negotiation with a car salesman, any and all dogs, his wife’s baked ziti, but most of all his family.
He looked forward to every family event to reminisce about old memories and make new ones. He showered everyone with his happy spirit and big heart. While he will be missed by many, he now joins his wife Pauline of 43 years and one true love in Heaven.
To honor Patrick, the family requests that you pay tribute to his kindness and generosity by donating to your local animal shelter, the ASPCA, or St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in lieu of flowers.
Services will be private to family, but viewable virtually to those who would like to attend. The livestream can be accessed through this link after "liking" our page: https://www.facebook.com/QuinnHoppingFH
DAD’S EULOGY
By: Pauline A. McAuley
Before I begin, please take a moment and call to mind your fondest memory of our Dad. I hope you’re smiling.
Ok. Dad, this is for you...
Our Dad always said “Just be happy. Life’s too short to be anything else.” And, you know what? He’s right. Bet you never thought I’d say that, huh Dad? (Oh, I know he’s watching.)
Patrick Joseph Henry McAuley lived the happiest life he wanted to live. It was an extraordinary life too.
He grew up poor and made his own way in the world. He got a union job at Majestic Wine & Spirits and retired from there after 35 years with a full pension. (Not many of those now-a-days.) He got married to the love of his life, had two kids. A boy and a girl. When Patrick was born, he ran around proudly yelling “I have a son! I have a son!” And, when I was born the nurses handed him a pink little baby that had him laughing with joy all the way home. He was a hard worker and real-estate investor. Yes, Dad owned at least 5 homes throughout his life. Two of them being his own, the others being rentals. He’d say, “They aren’t making any more land, Pauline.” (He was right again. That’s twice. Hope you’re counting.) From a poor Irish kid who grew up in a cold water flat in Greenpoint Brooklyn to a modest Real-estate Mogul. Not too bad Dad.
He was a great dancer. There were many nights when he’d twirl me around the kitchen in the house Patrick and I grew up in singing songs from his younger days. The last time we cut a rug was at Aunt Dorothy’s 100th birthday two years ago. His dance card was always full at our family weddings, anniversaries, and milestone birthdays. It was his way of catching up with his aunts, cousins, and nieces. Wanting to know about their lives and making sure they were happy.
He was a great storyteller. He had stories about playing stick ball in the streets of Brooklyn, shining shoes on Wall Street, panhandling with his friends so he could ride the subway for a nickel into the city. And then, panhandling to get another nickel so he can get back home. There was also something in the middle about a plate of mashed potatoes for lunch from someplace, but I can’t remember.
He learned how to swim in the East River. It was the 40’s so I’m sure it was clean then. And his first job was where, Pearce? (You didn’t think there would be a quiz, did you?) The mailroom of Pan American airways. It was the summer of 1946 and at the end of it he told his manager he couldn’t work anymore because he had to go back to school. They thought it was to college. It was actually to high school. The manager couldn’t believe he was only 14. If he was anything like my brother, he was probably already 6 foot tall by that age. Right Pat? I think Mason’s on track for that. Brennan might have to catch up though. ;)
The best story he ever told to me was the night he met my mother. It was love at first sight. He said he knew she was the one. Many of you might remember he was President of the Elks club. (Our father was always the Grand Master Poohbah of every organization he joined. He was even President of the salesmen’s club for his union job at Majestic Wine and Spirits.) Anyway, back to the main story. (I get the tangent story telling from my mother.)
He was at an Elks function and she was there with some friends. He asked one of the guys who she was. He told him her name and said, ‘let me introduce you.’ Our Dad said, ‘no thanks I can talk to her myself.’ (He had been a bachelor for 40+ years, I’m sure he could have handled it.) He proceeded to grab a stool at the bar... they were sneaking glances at each other for a good part of the evening and one of the times he caught her eye he crooked his finger for her to join him and said “Pauline, you’re with me tonight.” He pulled the stool next to him out, she sat down and stayed with him until she left three years ago.
As some of you know our grandfather passed away from TB when Dad was only one years old in 1933. Our grandmother never remarried, so our Dad grew up without a father. You would never know it, because he was a good father. He had a lot of practice though, since he had so many nieces and nephews. So, he wasn’t just our father, he was also your Uncle Pat, your Uncle Paddy. You all had the chance to know his love and fun spirit way before Patrick and I came around. And he adored all of you. He would tell us so many stories about taking you out for ice cream or bringing you all candy when he visited that we realized growing up you were also like his children.
His family.
He loved his family. He loved and respected his mother. He took care of her his entire life. Yes, Dad held family in the upmost regard. ‘Blood is thinker than water’, he’d say. ‘When you have nothing else in this world you have each other.’ And he’s right. (That makes 3.) He may be gone, but Patrick and I still have all of you. And we have each other.
He always told Patrick and I to stay together no matter what. “He’s your brother, Pauline. You have to stick together. Don’t ever let anything get between you.” Just like he was with his sister Margaret and brother Arthur. They always stuck together. And while Patrick and I have our own families now, we will always have each other. The Great Patrick J McAuley willed it into our beings, and so, it will be. And we couldn’t have gotten through these last few years without each other. We have been a team and will remain a team because it is what Dad wanted.
In fact, one of the last time Patrick and I spent with our Dad together was in the hospital. It was the first night we heard about his diagnosis of possible kidney failure. We were able to see him in the hospital which is unusual during this pandemic. He hadn’t been too responsive that evening and we sat with him with our masks on holding his hands on either side, talking to him for a while. And just as we were about to leave for the evening he had woken up. He was there with us for the moment, and well, we couldn’t leave now so we sat back down and tried to talk to him. He couldn’t formulate what he wanted to say because he was very weak and after much effort to speak and couldn’t, he took our hands tight in his and pulled them together swiftly on his stomach so as to say, ‘stay together.’ We knew what he meant. Even on his deathbed he’s worrying about us. Of course, we assured him that we would always stay together. And we all held hands until he fell back to sleep.
He would do anything for us.
He showered us with the opportunities he never had. Things like our own bedrooms. He grew up in a cold water flat and shared a bed with his brother. He gave us brand new bikes, when he cobbled one together from parts he found that were thrown away. A private school education and college degrees, that he would never let us forget about by the way. But most of all he gave us love in so many ways. Whether it was by picking us up when we fell or lifting us up when we succeeded, he was always in our corner wanting us to be happy.
So, when you think of our Dad, your brother, your grandpa, your uncle, your friend, be happy. Cause we know he is, now that he’s with our mother again.
Thank you for coming and being present virtually to celebrate our father’s life. Be well, and we wish you all the happiness Dad would want you to have.
DAD’S LESSONS
BY: Patrick A. McAuley
Patrick J. McAuley meant many things to many people. To some he was Uncle Paddy, to others Big Mac (his work nick name) and to even others the Grand Exalted Ruler, but enough about my mother. To me he was Dad.
As you know Dad worked most of his life and when Pauline and I were kids he worked quite a bit. 5 days a week driving 2 hours + each way to give us a better life in the Village by the Bay. So, I would like to share some things I learned from him. Not by his words like “DO IT NOW.” ‘But Dad…’ “I SAID NOW!” --I still procrastinate-- but instead through his actions.
Lesson
1. Keep thinking and make sure you have a plan A, B, C and D.
Dogs running up the street – At one point we had 3 dogs at the same time. Two of those dogs Puff and Queenie would chase each other all around the backyard. Well one day they out of the back yard. My Dad saw them taking off up the street. While the top of our street was an empty lot beyond that was a big shopping plaza and highway. Dad was going to make sure that those dogs didn’t get killed. He jumped in the car and pulled out of the driveway….it stalls right in the street. He jumps out and runs back up to the house and grabs his bicycle, jumps on and starts pedaling up the street….flat tires. He abandons the bike and runs as fast as his 53 year old legs could take him to the top of the street to our neighbor’s house and is trying to explain what happened as he is sucking wind. “Dogs, highway, car.” Good thing our neighbor was police detective because he pieced together what he was saying. And, just as our neighbor is getting his car keys he turns around and those two dogs come running back down the street and run right back in the back yard. Despite all the issues, mission accomplished.
Lesson
2. Use your resources and save a buck
As you know Dad was a liquor salesman. Many of those brands had merch before people really know what merch was. They just gave it out for selling a certain number of cases of this brand or that brand. Dad made the most of his resources and cut down on clothing costs by making sure Pauline and I, mostly me were clothed in liquor branded shirts and hats. I remember wear Caroline’s Irish Cream shirts as a 12 year old. I found a nifty picture of me wearing a Johnny Walker Red Visor as a 6 yr old. I must have been the coolest looking kid to 20 yr olds of the time…ever.
That was only topped by bringing in mini bottles of liquor for my teachers as Christmas gifts. Not one teacher complained, even the nuns. You know what I mean father. You teachers out there think about what would happen if a first grader brought in a bottle of booze for you in this day and age. Hello Child Protective Services.
Lesson
3. Doing the right thing is difficult and can be thankless.
Saving kid from drowning – One day Dad and I were out, and he was considering buying a pool for the backyard, but he wasn’t sure about inground or above. We stopped at a pool place and of course their pitch was let the kid swim while the parents talk to the sales people about the pools. Well, I was swimming and dad walked over with the salesman. I asked him to come in with me and of course being fully dressed he said no. I turned my head for a second and looked back to see Dad’s shoe tips flying over my head. He jumped in. Fully clothed, shoes, wallet, glasses…everything. I was like “Yeah Dad!” What I didn’t know was that when was talking to him he saw a small hand reach out of the water grasping and started to sink back under the water. He could have shouted or tried to motion to parents on the other side of the pool but instead, he jumped in and saved that kid. He got out and dripping wet we left. That kid survived, nobody but the salesperson thanked him, and we got the above ground pool.
But that’s who my Dad was. He did the right thing no matter what, used his resources effectively and always saw multiple ways to achieve his objectives. He was a hero, a friend, and we are all going to miss him.
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