A Family History of

Delivering Service

At Your Service

You know that expression he comes by it naturally? Im beginning to believe there might be some truth in it.
Early 1900s Shoal Lake MB
My mother grew up with a large family in a small town in
Western Manitoba named Shoal Lake. As the siblings grew
older they left and my two grandparents were long passed by
the time I came along in Winnipeg. My sole insight was the
many stories passed on by my mother.
She accounted a wonderful upbringing, full of rich small town
stories, many of which were about her father. He was a
mainstay in the community; having created and led what many
have said was a formidable town band, often at the center of
celebrations.
My Grandfather, John (Jack) Lathrope, migrated from England
with his wife to lead a life that could be, well, very difficult in
the early 1900s. The town band was his passion and its success extended to the creation of another in a
neighbouring town, Strathclair. He could not, however, raise what would be a large family by being a bandleader
alone. My Grandfather was also known for his skills as a saddler (working with saddles and harnesses) and as a
general merchant. His genuine talents were recognized and reflected hard work and good value.
It would be many, many years before I would come to reflect on these stories once again.
Meanwhile, I grew up enjoying school (and would eventually teach it myself) but I was bitten by the entrepreneurial
bug and went into business for myself for 15 years. Moving to the west coast, I joined a couple of large independent
companies and developed business services (primarily for the commercial property market) which were high quality
and branded as the At Your Service program.
In my second condo environment, a building in downtown Vancouver where I created their concierge service and
would later become their Resident Manager, I would experience a flashback to my mothers past. This came about
when I introduced myself to a new Strata Council Member. Exchanging small talk information about our backgrounds,
she stated: Im from a small town in Western MB but I doubt you would have heard about it, rightfully believing that
most people from Winnipeg barely recognize Brandon let alone any small towns only slightly
larger than a village.
Enter Dr. Gordon MacKenzie
When she named the town, Strathclair, my jaw dropped and my only response was a
bleating out of the name Dr. Gordon MacKenzie. Now it was her time to show her
disbelief. Uncle Gordon was my moms sisters husband who had been the town doctor for
over 40 years, and only a short time before his death moved back to Winnipeg.
Strathclair was next to Shoal Lake, where my mother had grown up, and I had only visited it
as a very young lad leaving me with a very limited recollection. My new Strata Council
members grandmother lived directly across the street from the good doctor and the two
were great friends. Absolutely everyone knew the doctor, and in fact they renamed the
street on which he lived for all forty years after him (albeit they spelled his last name wrong
but hey, its the thought that counts).

Normally, this would be a logical end to the story and, if so, I would have placed it under the heading what are the
chances that However, there is one additional footnote, and to my thinking, its even more powerful one
I struck it off with this new Council member and in short order considered her to be a good friend. This is why, when
out of the blue (and the topic of what are you doing for Christmas?) she offered the chance to join her for a visit to
her family home, my acceptance was not too much of a stretch.
Arriving in her childhood home, I experienced more than I expected. It
seemed everyone was tipped that Dr. MacKenzies nephew was in
town! I was trotted out to all the people in the Co-op store when we
went for supplies, and my resident hosts had some townies, (as they
called the people who lived in town rather than on the farm) stop over
to give me their best Doc MacKenzie stories (one even was
introduced as a person brought into the world by Uncle Gordon). The
stories did a lot to make this a very special Christmas.
One of the more senior guests had arrived with some information
about the Doctor, the two towns where my Grandfather had had such a
great impact (the orchestra that started in the early 1900s was still
alive and healthy, featuring many descendants of the original band),
and some photos I was shown for the first time from their towns 150
year commemorative book. Many would give some physical clues to
life of a bygone era, but one would catch me completely off guard.
The references to buffalo robes, worn to keep the occupants of an
open air cutter warm as they were pulled by horses, were neat, and the
uncommon use of some English phrases got you thinking. However,
there dead center of an ad for my Grandfather was a term he felt
was indicative of the high quality service he wished to be associated with

At Your Service.

Grampa Lathrope (a man only recounted in stories by my mother and her siblings to me and my siblings) had died
before any of us were born, but as I read over the ad I learned that I had a natural (some might say a supernatural)
connection, one reflecting our mutual desire to produce only the highest level of service.
With this recognition I think I can rightly say about my business:

At Your Service, a family tradition for over 100 years.