Rory MacDonald, Blarour. 28th September 1933-6th May 2025
Son of Andrew, Blarour, of Archibald William, Blarour, of Donald Peter, Invernevis, of Long John, Invernevis , of Donald Ruadh, Torgulbin, of Angus Cranachan, of Donald Cranachan, of Angus Cranachan, of Donald Aberarder, of Angus Tulloch, of Iain Dubh Bohuntin, of Ranald Mor Chief of Keppoch, and thus back to Somerled.
Donald Roderick MacDonald was born in September 1933 and was imbued with a profound sense of his family and their place in Lochaber. It remained an irritation throughout his life that he had not actually been born in 1620 and had not been slain in battle. Rory grew into a singular chap. He was fun, witty and quick of tongue. He was enormously intelligent, had a prodigious memory for what mattered (mostly 19th C. poetry and 17th C. Keppoch matters), he was profoundly judgemental, once an opinion was established it was never shaken, with many decent folk condemned from a single incident long ago. He was generous and the most imaginative present giver, he was full of ideas, he was naughty, quixotic, wild and obsessed with tradition.To his children he showed immense loyalty, he expected wit and imagination, he was rarely complimentary and he demanded a rather old fashioned commitment to Catholicism. Irritated that one of his grandchildren was eating toast just before Mass he shared his irritation with Fr Tom. Fr Tom explained that Abstinence before Mass had ceased 23 years previously. Despite never showing us, he was proud of our achievements.
The young Rory and and his much loved sister Jeannie followed their father’s work in their early years, with holidays at Blarour and then the war took The Major off and the family moved to be with Hilda’s mother in Surrey. Time for 6 year old Rory to be marched off to Gilling Castle, Ampleforth’s Prep school many miles from home and staffed almost entirely by Benedictine monks. Twelve years later he left school with a scholarship to Oxford and a well beaten backside. In fact the most beaten backside of his generation according to his father’s friend Fr Anthony Ainscough. Rory did not take to be told what to do and was inclined to talk back. National Service with the Cameron Highlanders took him to Germany and Austria to ski, gave him an understanding and an affection for the highland character and several of his greatest friends in particular Neil MacPherson, ID Cameron and Donald Hardie . Oxford was a struggle after the army. The restrictions on his demanding social schedule proved too much and he was obliged to leave. Rory went to work at Harrods in the packing department. His sister was having a party, so himself appropriated the ‘Adult Games’ sign from the toy department and had it sent round for the party where it was duly hung out of the window. A passing Harrods employee sneaked on him and he was once again out on his ear.
The Distillers Company took him onto a management trainee scheme with a summer in Craigellachie and a period with Vat 69 in South Queensferry. Now trained he went to Montreal to sell whisky and then to New York City. Obliged to know every barman in Manhattan he would start the drinking at 11am and finish at 2pm with a cinema allowance to sleep off the morning’s work. Back on at 6pm, he could work on a Friday from the office. He cut a dash in New York; his clipped received pronunciation, his swept back raven mane with a distinct widow’s peak, and his lean frame neatly besuited. He was a handsome fellow. Nancy Hill a 24 year old Ivy League redhead Catholic caught his eye. They married in the US and took the first boat back to Europe. No chance he was going to bring any family up as Americans. One day, he returned home from his advertising job in London’s Berkeley Square and announced to his wife and two tiny sons that he had purchased a pub in the highlands. He did not really believe in sharing decisions and you will have noticed from the Sloinneadh I quoted earlier that not many of his ancestors had been female.
The Clachaig was to be his spiritual home. He was a key member of the Rescue team, He acted badly in the Kinlochleven Am Dram Society (his description not mine). He wrote a book about Coll of the Cows which he never published because he deemed it too dull, he bought a cider press to make Glencoe cider but found getting apples a struggle and had to sell it again, He reinvigorated the Ballachulish Shinty Club and was President in march 1964 when they were defeated 3-1 in the Sutherland cup by Lochaber of whom his father was the Chieftain. He skied across Scotland. He started a dedicated steak bar. He stood to be a Tory MP in West Dumbarton in October 1974 – a community particularly partial to the public school educated , but where he did substantially increase the Tory vote and where a local farmer bleached ‘Rory the Tory' onto one of the fields leading into Helensburgh. He commanded the Fort William TA famously taking a truck to the top of the Ben and establishing machine gun posts at Altnafeadh in order to discourage Glaswegians heading north in the event of a nuclear attack on the central belt. He created a whisky. He banned Campbells. He established one of Scotland’s most famous hostelries. He welcomed every hippy, every folk giant of the era, each of the Pythons and every Glaswegian needing the fresh air to breathe and several pints of filthy Youngers Tartan Special.It was Billy Connolly’s favourite pub. He and my mother somehow brought up 4 young children in the house they built by the pub.
Summers were spent in Cranachan. Allan Keppoch and he had put a roof of sorts back on. Each summer we would clear out the sheep and get started. There was no running water and no electricity. We walked in the provisions, each child with a rucksack down the long windy track and up to the house always in hot Lochaber sunshine. My father then would leave us to go back to the pub, leaving our urban Philadelphian mother to manage. He hosted memorable ceilidhs and he hated any music that wasn’t in Gaelic. He could not sing but revelled in island waulking songs, which he often sang when excited. He loved that pub because he so enjoyed his community. Euan Findlay, Walter, Willie and Doris, Sandy Whillans and Duncan MacDonald were his soul mates with Alasdair and Vicky Sutherland keeping him straight. He enjoyed their company, he respected their values, their language and their humour. After almost twenty years he sold the pub, had a three day lock in and then walked to our flat in Edinburgh. In 1970 he had conjured up Glencoe , a Vatted malt whisky which he sold at 100 proof or 56% ABV. This whisky was created by the fifth generation of a distinguished whisky family and the packaging was exceptional. Moreover you could determine the strength of the whisky by adding water to suit. Rory himself travelled the length and breadth of the country with a trunk/boot full of Glencoe introducing his exceptional whisky to every single bar. Pepsi Cola offered him an investment of almost half a million quid but he turned them down because they wanted to change the label.
In 1980 we were blessed by the arrival of Charlotte and in 1981 the family moved to Houston where he ran the World Trade Centre. A high profile job, he was known in Houston Society. Hearing where he was from, a leading Texan Campbell hostess complained that she had been refused a drink in a bar in Glencoe, ‘Terrible’ muttered my pa, his wife kicking him smartly in the shins. From Texas they moved to Philadelphia, our mother’s original home town. He was an executive and wore a suit and tie to work. They lived in a lovely old stone farm house and the girls enjoyed a warm, loving family life. Angus and I were left in the UK, he was in the army and I was at university. I was on a minimum grant and was supplied with a case of Glencoe whisky a month as my allowance. One day in 1990, Rory returned from work with tickets for the family to return home to Lochaber. Not a man to share decisions, Rory came back to Lochaber alone. This is where his soul demanded. This is where his people were from and where he needed to be.
Ian Peter MacDonald
Eulogy at St Margaret’s Church, Roy Bridge. May 19th 2025.
