James Jeremiah McCue

On November 19, 2021, James McCue made his final ascent from life’s runway into the heavens.

Born on March 1, 1940 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, James was the second son of Helen and Ronald McCue and younger brother of Ronnie. Growing up in Pittsburgh’s vicinity, a lifelong Steelers fan was born. Scratch that. THE lifelong Steelers fan was born.

In addition to his team loyalty, Jim enjoyed the diving team in high school, and at age 14, a brief one year stint in the seminary in Alabama, where his classmates voted him “Most Likely To Become A Priest” and thus setting up his lifelong punchline, “I was almost a priest.” In his telling, he was kicked out for asking for phone numbers through the confessional screen, but in reality life simply took him another direction.

A childhood passion for model airplanes led to him enlisting in the Air Force without telling his parents (Word from beyond is that Helen is still peeved about that.) Through basic training at Lackland AFB in Texas to Georgia to two years in Alaska, Jim excelled in the service – garnering awards for Airman of the Month, Airman of the Year and even beginning flying lessons. As an MP he was then transferred to Wright Patterson AFB in Ohio where he was also an expert marksman on the Air Force Pistol Team. His prowess was such that in a Worldwide Match he came in 2nd only because he was a gentleman (and almost a priest) and did not challenge his opponent’s final shot.

His life truly changed in the space of a single blind date when he met Jerri in late 1961. Six months of courtship and they married on July 14, 1962. Their first daughter, Kimberlie was born just shy of their 1st anniversary the following year. Second daughter Linda was born just prior to his discharge in 1966. He was a Staff Sergeant.

With his time in the Air Force completed, Jim turned his attention to the aviation industry, starting as a Station Agent for United Airlines in Dayton. Sons Tim and Rob were added to the brood before leaving Ohio. Moving up the ladder meant moving the family as he went on to Cincinnati as the Assistant to the Director of Aviation, then Pittsburgh as Assistant Director of Operations, onto Kansas City as Assistant Airline Manager for Braniff, then winging to Indianapolis as Director of Operations, Toledo as Airport Director, and finally landing in Glendale, Arizona as Airport Manager where he retired in January of 2001.

Not one to keep his feet on the ground, that retirement lasted all of a week before he was scooped up by Sherwin Industries as a Sales Rep and Aviation Consultant. He and Jerri were a true team as they traversed the country for Sherwin.

In addition to his industry titles and advancements, Jim was called in as a consultant on plane crashes (most notably Sioux City, Iowa in 1989) and as an expert witness in multiple aviation trials. Throughout his career he was a steady fixture in the Great Lakes Chapter of AAAE (American Association of Airport Executives), where he could be counted on to organize the yearly fishing tournament, his children always managing to bring home trophies in the kids’ division. To quote them, “We did not have a choice. We had to fish. It’s not our fault he made sure we were good at it.”

Among his many accolades, Jim went on to receive the President’s Award from the Arizona Airport Association, the Wannamaker Award from the Southwest Chapter of AAAE, and was also named Arizona Airport Executive of the Year in 1998. Under his guidance, the Glendale Airport was named Outstanding Airport of the Year in Arizona in 1999, and in 2000 Jim was awarded the National Distinguished Service Award by AAAE. For his repeated role as contact liaison for Presidential visits to his airports, he was awarded an honorary badge by the Secret Service.

As a seasoned executive in the aviation industry, he touched countless lives, teaching, mentoring, encouraging, and sincerely celebrating the advancement of those around him. As much a friend as a peer, Jim was a beloved figure into whose orbit people were simply happy to be allowed admittance.

In his personal life, Jim was a true Irishman. The life of the party, a man with all the jokes, and a penchant for donning costumes – he spread the laughter as a gorilla, the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, and of course, a priest (complete with Jerri dressed as a pregnant nun). He was also the original Smokey and the Bandit, as his children remember him bootlegging Coors, cigarettes, and fireworks for himself and friends for years during countless road trips on which his CB handle was always Big Mac.

For a man whose entire career was dedicated to the pursuit of humans taking flight, Jim was decidedly down to Earth. His home office may have contained myriad photos with Presidents, but they were not where his main source of pride was to be found. In terms of a fulfilling life, he was endlessly proud and humbled to be father to Kimberlie, Linda, Timothy, and Robert; grandfather to Autumn, Culley, Kendall, Toby, Brianna, Emily, and Ellie; and great grandfather to Mason and Addie.

Scratch that. He was not a grandfather, he was known, like Cher, by a singular, one-of-a-kind moniker: Unclepap. When grandchildren entered the scene, he protested that he was too young to be called any variation of grandpa. So Linda jokingly said “fine”, combined Uncle with pap from what they always called his father - Grandpap - and the moniker that all of the grandchildren know him by was born.

Watching Jim with his grandchildren and great grandchildren have been some of the purest moments we have known. His love was easy, he was a source of constant fun, he reveled in helping them break their parents’ rules, and his visits were always akin to the circus coming to town. His children finally accepted that they simply needed to get out of the way and clean up the confetti afterwards. His grandchildren have known nothing but laughter, fun, and unconditional love from him their entire lives. And he will be greatly missed by them all.

Diagnosed with Parkinson’s in late 2017, Jim made the most of an indeterminate amount of time as it progressed. One big highlight was a birthday trip to Las Vegas where Kimberlie taught him to shoot craps. In a scene out of a Hollywood screenplay, Jim controlled the dice for nearly 45 minutes, drawing a crowd five deep on all sides, With each successful, money making roll, cries of “Birthday Jim!” would go up from the onlookers and fellow bettors. Sweet memories. Viva, Dad.

He and Jerri finally sold their home of 27 years and moved to a beautiful retirement community in July of this year. Ever tolerant, his bride of 59 years indulged his decorating aesthetic of Airplanes-Steelers-NASCAR, including his prized football signed by the entire Steelers team and coaching staff of 1997, and a treasured gift of models in a chronological display of all planes flown by the Thunderbirds.

Jim was a lifelong Catholic and steady presence in every church regardless of where the family lived. His Phoenix church awaits his arrival one more time on Tuesday. And he will be missed. All his life, until Parkinson's robbed him of the ability, he was a lector at mass, member of the finance committee, an altar server, a fixture, and if he couldn't be a priest, he was always up there with them. He also believed deeply in where he was going. That like all of us, there would eventually be a one way, first class ticket skyward to be reunited with family and friends in Heaven.

““Prepare for the unknown, unexpected and inconceivable…” Gene Cernan, American pilot, astronaut, and eleventh person to walk on the moon

The runway is clear, Dad, and you have permission for taxi and take-off. Godspeed.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.sunlandmemorial.com for the McCue family.