Thank You and Goodbye, Steve Mac
When I was 16-years-old, living with my American family in Brussels, Belgium, my parents decided to send me to Villa St. Jean International School, a Catholic boys’ boarding school in Fribourg, Switzerland.
I was confused and frightened. I wasn’t a Catholic and wasn’t ready to leave my friends in Brussels, nor my family. It turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me, and one of the main reasons was a wonderful guy by the name of Steve MacIntyre.
On Thursday, I learned that Mac was found dead in his home in Arizona. It has taken me this long to gather my thoughts. I’m shocked, heartbroken and staggered by the loss of a close, longtime friend. Mac and I talked recently about getting together in Sun Valley in March with some of our other Villa friends, but now I know I will never see him again. At least, not in this life.
In our recent call, he was upbeat and positive about his future, and I was expecting many more joyous times together.
When I arrived at the Villa, Mac was one of the first to reach out to me. I felt welcomed, and quickly realized that I was in an extraordinarily exciting and challenging environment. Mac, Tom Hanlon, Scotty Scott, Brian Lawler, Michael Childs, Eric Harrison, Rafael Sacasa, Mike Litton, Felipe Echevarria, Randy Dalton and many others became my brothers. In our senior year, we were joined by Marc Scott, Michael Schoeneberg, Ronny Ryan, and more.
The academic standards were high, driven by our teachers, many of whom were members of the Marianist religious order and just a few years older than we were, studying to be priests at the seminary across the street. We were still kids, but they were brilliant young men, and we hung out after class with them, talking about religion, philosophy, politics, sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. We also played a lot of bridge and foosball, and we also enjoyed a beer or two. (No drinking age in Switzerland in 1967.)
We were a small group — graduating class of only 32 — all the sons of ex-pats, mostly American, with some other nationalities sprinkled in, and our parents lived in different cities in Europe, the Middle East and Africa. After we graduated, most of us went back to the U.S. to college, and we lost track of each other for the most part.
Mac went to Bowdoin. I went to Iowa State and then Ohio State. Others went to Dartmouth, Harvard, St. Mary’s in Texas. It was the late sixties/early seventies — no email, texting — and we were kids just trying to find our way. The school closed not long after we graduated, so we had no formal way to keep in touch.
Mac, however, was better than most of us at staying connected, because he cared, and about 15 years after our graduation, he embarked on an effort to find as many of us as he could. There are some we wished we could find, but never did. But many of us reconnected, thanks to Mac.
Since then, we have had several joyful reunions in Fribourg, visiting the grounds of the Villa, where only our old classroom building remains standing, and enjoying our favorite local beer — Cardinal — and favorite meal — cheese fondue — with the best wine pairing — Fendant.
We were often joined by friends from other classes, included Orlando Sacasa, Alan Balladur, Jim Craig and Brian Lawler’s brother, Kevin.
Mac had been the driving force in bringing us back together, and he was the life of the party whenever we gathered. Mac and I actually lived just a few miles apart in Connecticut for several years, and I got to know his wife, Debbie, and stepchildren, Cole and Amanda. That was a special time.
One of the features of our time together in Switzerland was downhill skiing, and one of our Villa brothers, Brian Lawler, and his wife, Anne, have a home in Sun Valley, Idaho. We’ve had many VSJ Bombers and Babes ski trips to Sun Valley over the years.
When we’re together, we never fail to give the “Villa salute.” Please don’t be offended by our upraised middle fingers — it’s all in good fun!
We also had a reunion at Mac’s home in Beaver Dam, Arizona, which he referred to as Scorpion Gulch, to honor one of the Marianist brothers, who had become Father Dave Paul, and who had been incredibly influential in all of our lives. Father Paul died soon thereafter, and we were all grateful for having reconnected with him.
Mike Litton also hosted a reunion at his home in San Francisco with another of the Marianist brothers, who had become Father John Putka, and who now plans to lead a mass in honor of Mac.
What do I remember about Mac? Always generous and kind. Cared deeply about friends and family. Good listener. Open to different points of view, but with very strong political views on the liberal end of the spectrum. Loved his dogs and motorcycles. Great skier. Cared about me, as I cared about him. Mac was one of those rare people who, when you were with him, you felt better about yourself. What a gift!
At the end of the day, I will always be grateful for Mac’s welcoming and acceptance of me in my early days at the Villa. I went from lost and scared to best friends almost overnight. And for a lifelong close friendship — it didn’t matter if we hadn’t spoken for days or years, it always felt like we hadn’t missed a beat.
I’m mourning the loss of my dear friend, but I will be grateful for and celebrating his life for the rest of mine.
