William McGilvray

All Veterans Funeral & Cremation - Colorado Springs

Altogether<br/>4307 Vineland Road, Suite H-17-19, Orlando, FL 32811<br/>For more information, visit our website at <a href='www.altogetherfuneral.com'>www.altogetherfuneral.com</a><br/>Copyright © 2025 FPG Intermediate Holdco, LLC

Bruce passed away unexpectedly from cardiac arrest shortly after beginning his battle with a recently diagnosed, rare form of liver cancer. He was 82. Born to parents William Andrew and Marcia Jane McGilvray, Bruce spent his formative years in Lakewood, Colorado. In his youth, he was a Boy Scout and played on the junior high baseball team while a Lakewood Junior High School student. He had a happy childhood filled with adventures at his Uncle Bob’s ranch in Bailey, Colorado, where he would ride horses, rustle cattle, bale hay, and fish. His younger brother Alan (7 years his junior) recalls a few of the more vivid memories growing up with Bruce: “There are many, many memories for me personally, like when he would watch me when Mom and Dad went to their square-dancing group or to the Elitch Theater and he’d keep me in line by telling me that if I didn’t behave, Mrs. Murger would come and get me. To this day, I have no idea who Mrs. Murger was, or even what she looked like, but for some reason, her name and my imagination made sure that I did what Bruce told me to do. Or the Thanksgiving that Snoopy got up on the counter in the kitchen and started to eat the turkey and Bruce had to get him out of the house for an hour or so while the folks calmed down.” Active in high school, Bruce competed with the Lakewood Country Club golf team and was a member of the Winter Park Ski Club. As one of the students of the first graduating class of the (then) newly constructed Lakewood High School in 1959, he was elected to the National Honor Society and was a National Merit finalist. In his free time, when he was not golfing or skiing, he took great pride in cruising around in his blue MG convertible. Bruce left to attend Stanford University in the fall of that same year and became a member of the Chi Psi fraternity as well as the Reserve Officer Training Corps for the United States Army. Before his last year at Stanford, he took a chance and agreed to go out on a double-blind date with one of his fraternity brothers. The date was at Elitch Gardens (the original location on 38th and Tennyson St.) Perhaps fortuitously, the night went a little awkwardly as Bruce did not find his date very appealing. It was his fraternity brother’s date, Sandie, who caught his eye. He was smitten with Sandie and decided she was the one for him. Working as a stewardess (that’s right, a stewardess) for Western Airlines at the time, Sandie played a little hard to get. She often traveled to far-off destinations, and usually never to the same place twice. Bruce had his work cut out for him, but history tells us that the pursuit paid off as they were married right after he graduated from Stanford. Upon graduating in 1963, Bruce fulfilled his military commitment to the U.S. Army as a 1st Lieutenant assigned to Headquarters 1st Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery at Fairchild AFB in Spokane, Washington, where he commanded a unit assigned to the Nike Hercules surface-to-air missile battery as part of the national air defense during the Cold War. After receiving an honorable discharge from the Army, Bruce began a long and rewarding career in banking with Bank of America in San Francisco. At night, he taught a finance course at a local college and often reminisced about how he genuinely enjoyed teaching during that part of his life; he found teaching to be incredibly fulfilling. In the mid to late 70’s, Bruce accepted a position with Production Credit Association (PCA) in the Imperial Valley, California, where he specialized in agricultural and farm lending. Located in the extreme southern part of California, the Valley was, and still is, known for its abundance of agriculture, livestock, and unrelenting heat during the summer months A far departure from the temperate climate of the Bay Area, Bruce and Sandie adjusted to life in the Imperial Valley and embraced the change with their four children, enjoying seeing their kids compete in soccer, football, swimming, and 4-H. For the six years they resided there, they experienced a series of adventures and misadventures of which tales are still told during family gatherings. The McGilvrays formed life-long friendships and actively participated in the local 4-H club. They raised hogs, steers, goats, chickens, ponies, and a menagerie of cats and dogs. Life was good, but not easy. Located fifteen miles out of town, the homestead had unique cooling, irrigation, and water systems that required regular maintenance which were too costly and inconvenient to enlist the services of professionals. Periodically, the water pressure to the house would drop. Bruce, along with his eager and willing sons, would have to climb 15-20 feet down into an underground cistern to manually shovel and lift via buckets all the silt that had collected from the nearby water source (a large drainage ditch for all the agricultural fields in the area). The cooling system was essentially a giant swamp cooler; a 15-foot-tall cooling tower that occasionally had to be cleaned, keeping the dozens and dozens of fiberglass vanes from being obstructed. Cooling to the house was then sent to a large underground duct that ran the length of the six-bedroom ranch-style home. One summer turned into a nightmare of legend. Due to the home being situated right next to a farmer’s field, the problem of insects and rodents migrating onto the property was a regular nuisance, albeit a manageable one (for the most part). Except for that one particular summer wherein the farmer decided to flood his field of sugar beets, causing a cricket migration of biblical proportions. Of course, the chickens and other birds had a field day for days on end, and Bruce’s sons reveled in plinking away at the horde with their BB guns. The ground was crawling with tens of thousands of crickets so dense, that the rear and sides of the property were covered with what appeared to be an undulating black carpet of biomass. Luckily, the house had a five-foot-tall, one-foot-wide brick wall that sealed the perimeter, keeping the crickets out of the yard and house. For days on end, it went like this, and all was (seemed to be at least) somewhat under control for the interior yard and house. Then the smell came. It permeated every room of the house; a kind of earthen, decaying, musty smell that could only be experienced firsthand to truly grasp. Bruce quickly realized the source of the problem: the cooling ducts under the house. So, once again enlisting the services of his sons, he asked for a volunteer to go down into the ducting system a find out what the source of the stench was. His middle son, Scott, took a flashlight in hand and climbed down into the duct. Reminiscent of a scene out of the movie, Alien, Scott crawled on his hands and knees with trepidation; slowly turning to shine the light in both directions as he cautiously navigated the darkness… About ten minutes later, Scott could be heard off in the distance. yelling, but indiscernible. The whole family…Bruce, Sandie, Clint, Jason, and little Heather were all crowded around the hallway access panel to the cooling duct, silently waiting in suspense. Scott finally emerged, out of breath. “There’s millions of ‘em! All dead! There’s a wall of dead crickets blocking the far end…I had to crawl over hundreds of ‘em…” Apparently, the flooded field motivated the crickets to crawl in there from the outside cooling tower, couldn’t scale the smooth surface of the sides of the duct, and just piled up and died. It took Bruce and his sons more than a few days to scoop out mounds upon mounds of dead crickets, bucket by bucket. It was especially difficult for Scott, as he was the only one who could fit into the duct. Then there was the pony cart fiasco. Bruce read in the local paper, a classified ad for a pony cart for sale. “Well, that might be fun,” he pondered. But what made the deal especially attractive was the bit in italics that “if you buy the cart, you get the pony for free.” “Well, shit...” thought Bruce. “That’s all there is to it. I’m gettin’ a pony cart.” He relayed the information to Sandie, and they quickly decided a pony and cart would be great for the kids, so Bruce called the guy up and made arrangements to buy it from him. Once Bruce got to the guy’s house, he could not believe how friendly the guy was. In fact, the man even offered to deliver the cart and pony for free. Corduroy was the pony’s name, and it did not take too long for the family to realize that Corduroy wasn’t exactly keen on pulling that cart. For one, the pony fought having the bit placed into his mouth. It took at least half an hour to get him to accept it. Once the bit was in his mouth, Bruce attached the cart to the harness and climbed up on the cart. He took the reins and guided the cart and Corduroy around the circular driveway. The pony was a little bit temperamental and hard to control at first, but Corduroy responded to Bruce and after a short while, he settled into his new surroundings. So, all seems well. Time for the boys to try it. Clint, Bruce’s eldest son, took the reins (along with Scott and Jason) and went for a ride. And what a “ride” it was! Corduroy bolted, and the cart with him. The boys held on for dear life as the pony was kicking up dust clouds ripping ‘round and ‘round the circular driveway. Clint, pulling back on the reins with all his might, could not get the beast to slow down and eventually, the cart flipped, and the boys went flying. After getting up and patting the dust off, everyone decided it was time to unhook the cart and give Corduroy some more time to get acclimated to his new owners. Months went by before anyone even contemplated hooking up that cart to Corduroy. But one lazy summer day, boredom beat out better judgment and Corduroy was hooked up to the cart again. It was amazing how much a little time off could do to the animal’s disposition and attitude. He took the bit and harness without a fuss and allowed the cart to be hooked up without complaint. All is well. So, Sandie, Jason, Heather, and Honeycomb (the family’s miniature Collie) all climbed up and sat down on the buckboard. Bruce led Corduroy by the reins, slowly walking him and the cart around the driveway. “So easy, Sandie…see? You got it,” asked Bruce. Sandie said, “I got it, you can let go now…” What followed can only be described as one of the most classic tales of uncertainty, elation, and terror that is still told at family gatherings. As soon as Bruce let go of the reins, Corduroy took off… and Sandie, the children, Honeycomb…they all knew who was in control…Corduroy! No matter how hard Sandie pulled back on the reins or how hard everyone yelled at Corduroy to stop…nothing would stop him. In fact, the panicked yelling egged the bastard on…and on he went, tearing around the driveway, along the outside perimeter brick wall, and on and on. By the time the cart scraped and bashed around the third corner of the brick wall, Sandie and crew knew they were going to have to take drastic measures as Corduroy was hell-bent on getting away from the cart by destroying it. Headed into the adjacent farmer’s field recently harvested of sugar beets, the soil was composed of large, hard, dried dirt clods churned up by a tractor and was not a surface you’d want to jump onto. Especially at considerable speed. Sandie recalls so vividly the look Honeycomb gave her…and then to Jason…as if to say, “The hell with this!” and bailed. Sandie grabbed Heather and without hesitation, bailed right after the dog. Jason jumped from the other side as the cart flipped, but by this time, Corduroy was so spooked nothing would stop him until he slung the cart around a telephone pole at edge of the field 20 or 30 yards away. And so here endeth the lesson: if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Corduroy got his way in the end. He got rid of his cart. Aside from the misadventures out in the country, Bruce looked forward to seeing his sons compete in sports and was easily the most vocal parent in the stands whenever there was a game or swim meet. Whether it be soccer, swimming, or football, his sons will never forget hearing their Dad yell “ATTA BOY!” from the stands. Years later, when Heather would win dancing competitions, he’d give her a loud “Atta girl!” from the crowd. A resolute man to both his family and his profession, Bruce enjoyed living in the country and working as an agricultural lender in one of the most prolific produce and livestock regions in the country. He served as Vice President and later, President of PCA until the mountains and the familiarity of home (Colorado) came calling. Desiring to be back near the mountains and a more temperate climate, Bruce later relocated with his family to Colorado to work in banking and later became a small business owner (Sage Valley Kennel from 1986-1996). Around this time, his youngest, Heather, took up competitive Scottish Highland Dancing. Along with a few friends, Bruce and Sandie became founding members of the Colorado Youth Pipe Band, now based in Denver, CO. As an announcer for Scottish Highland Dance competitions, Bruce took immense pride in watching his daughter compete in several regional Scottish Highland Games both as a competitive dancer and drummer for the Colorado Youth Pipe Band. Shortly after selling the business in 1996, Bruce returned to the banking industry and finished his career with Citywide Banks. During his vacation time, he and Sandie had the opportunity to travel to Europe (Germany, Switzerland, Monaco), the British Isles, and Australia. Wherever they were, they made it a point to travel by train when time allowed. A big-time train buff, Bruce could tell you the make, model, year, and gauge of locomotive just by looking at a photo or viewing a scene in a movie that featured one. The same goes for old war movies. He could tell you the name of the film and who starred in it within a minute or two. But by far the most surprising little factoid about Bruce was that his favorite genre of music was not the 50’s. It was disco. ABBA, The Bee Gees, KC and the Sunshine Band, Donna Summer, Rod Stewart, etc. He loved it. The film, Saturday Night Fever, was one of his favorites but he’d never admit it. He even had not one, but two, Leisure Suits back in the day. Hard to imagine, but true. Upon retirement, Bruce and Sandie sold their home in Lakewood (Bruce’s childhood home) and moved to Florida but only remained there for a few years before settling in Colorado Springs where he spent the remainder of his life. An old-fashioned soul, Bruce was kind, generous, immensely caring, and honest to a fault. His sharp wit and wry sense of humor made him an epic storyteller, writer, and speaker. He has been and will continue to be deeply missed by all who knew and loved him. He leaves behind his loving wife of 60 years, Sandra, his four children; William Clinton (spouse Kim, grandchildren Kade, Makenna, Kieran) of Verona, Wisconsin; Scott Alexander (spouse Michaela, grandchildren Finn and Zoe) of Fulda, Germany; Jason Andrew of Colorado Springs, CO; Heather Elizabeth Barnsen (husband Jamie, grandchildren Beau and Ace) of Sydney, Australia; his devoted brother Alan of Denver, CO, his four nephews, one niece, and seven cousins. A memorial to Bruce’s life will be held at the Patty Jewett Golf Course in Colorado Springs, Colorado on May 24th, 2024, at 2:30 p.m.

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William McGilvray Obituary | Altogether