Dave and Kitty McKee
Dave McKee. Leo '46 has gone home to Christ.
The only sad part of my wonderful job is watching brave, generous, witty, tough and talented men part this world for their places in Heaven.
Bernard Pepping possesses the most dutiful eye for Leo fallen and I regret each note he sends me announcing the passing of Eugene Phillips, James McNicholas, or Jophn P. Coakley. Last night, I received the news from Bob Hylard about the nearing end and the passing of Master Piper Dave McKee.
Mr. McKee piped Leo Men to the Colors at every Veterans Observance and into the hall of most Alumni Banquets. He was a classmate of Bob Hylard, who played in the Leo Marching Band and edited The Oriole.
"Pat...my very close friend dave McKee,leo '46.. the bag piper is in extremely critical shape at Christ hosp...he's probably close to the end..as you know he piped the vets day doings at leo until he no longer could about 4 years ago....he led the..." Stockyard Kilty Bagpipe Band"... for 50+ years....he and the band were featured in Chicago Trib many times through the years...he is a noteworthy and colorful character and I thought maybe you could get your friend rick kogan [trib] to do an obit honoring a guy who was there anytime he was asked or needed.....pat .i'm writing this approx. 8pm Tuesday and he is still hanging on, but barely....when the end comes I will forward this to you and hope that rick sees the value of a story about a great guy and the band he led through some much of Chicago history...as you probably know the s.y.k.b.was the lead band for the southside st Patrick's day parade ever since it went big time... Years back Dave and the band was on the cover of the trib sunday magazine section...very glossy in those days.....post ad ..great story on tamara holder....tnx pat.......if rick or another writer can do obit Dave's son Matt would be great source of wealth of info....Matt McKee 708/229-1253...tnx pat........"
Thanks Bob. I know I will get the official news in few hours from Bernie Pepping. One thing you can count on on this world and that is a Leo Man.
Being a Little Flower HS grad, I offer this small tribute to a sweet and talented Leo Man. The poem is from a Northern Ireland poet and an Orangeman.
Bagpipe Music
It's no go the merrygoround, it's no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison.
John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey,
Kept its bones for dumbbells to use when he was fifty.
It's no go the Yogi-man, it's no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.
Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
It's no go your maidenheads, it's no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tire and the devil mend the puncture.
The Laird o' Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
Mrs. Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife "Take it away; I'm through with overproduction."
It's no go the gossip column, it's no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a mother's help and a sugar-stick for the baby.
Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn't count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.
It's no go the Herring Board, it's no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.
It's no go the picture palace, it's no go the stadium,
It's no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums,
It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections,
Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.
It's no go my honey love, it's no go my poppet;
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall forever,
But if you break the bloody glass you won't hold up the weather.
Louis Macneice
