Where the hell would we be without Bill Dougherty?

It was always meant to be a hypothetical, coined by his adoring mother-in-law, and shouted out to no one in particular and everyone within earshot each time he delivered a perfectly made Manhattan. It was said by his wife, Mary Ann, as she looked out over the home they created together, and by his children, Billy and Maggie, on each one of the countless adventures he took them on as a family.

Where the hell would we be without Bill Dougherty, indeed.

But here we are. The man has died.

He lived for 74 glorious years. Not nearly long enough for those who loved him, of course, but a good run nonetheless. The early days in Chestnut Hill were recounted with more than a hint of magic and, if you ignored the words and just listened to the tone of the stories, you'd think he and his siblings had the perfect childhood. And maybe they did?

His parents, Patrick Doherty and Theresa Harkin, both from County Donegal, Ireland, met in the Philadelphia area and started their family: Nancy, Pat, Ben, Connell and then Billy – the baby. From day one he was sweet and serious, quiet and kind. He was the kind of kid who always gave the first piece of candy to his mother. And, as the baby, he was his mother's favorite, a fact which all of the siblings readily admit to this day. But on Christmas Eve, 1954, she passed away after a battle with breast cancer.

Their young father, alone now with five kids, did his best but couldn't quite make it work. Life got hard after that, although you still wouldn't know it from the stories. Stories many others might recount with at least some hint of self-pity or sadness, were told like joyful adventures they wished they could relive, "And then we snuck back to our boarded-up house, pried the wood off the back window, and climbed in. We passed our mother's favorite glassware through the window and into our radio flyer wagon to whisk away before everything was auctioned off." The delicate blue chalices, unchipped and pristine, sit on the top shelf of Bill's china closet to this day.

His Aunt Peggy, who had five grown children of her own, took them all in when he was 8 or so. She was known for her stoic demeanor and toughness, her devilish smile and sneaky sense of humor. Everyone who knew her loved her – and Bill loved her enough to name his only daughter after her. To be fair, as a testament to how universally loved she was, there are about 30 Margaret's in the family.

He grew up working, proudly delivering The Bulletin, cutting grass around the neighborhood, and serving the Sisters of Saint Joseph in the cafeteria with his life-long best friend, Charlie McClafferty. Both the sons of poor Irish immigrants, they grew up like brothers, spending lots of quality time at McNally's with so many amazing friends. In an ideal afterworld, Charlie was there to greet Bill and guide him to the other side.

Bill graduated from Cardinal Dougherty High School in 1965. He wasn't on the college track – it never crossed his mind. But a family friend, Eddie, saw something in him and helped Bill get into Temple, St. Joe's and LaSalle. For reasons even Bill could never quite pinpoint even years later, this poor kid with no college prospects only weeks before said, "Thanks, but I'd really like to go to Villanova." Eddie made it happen, and Bill made it work, hitch hiking from Chestnut Hill out to the main line and persevering through business classes he was woefully unprepared for in his first year. He graduated in 1969, started his accounting career, and enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserves, ensuring Willow Grove was safe from all threats, foreign and domestic.

Bill was an accomplished CPA. Many accountants seem subtly depressed about actually having to be accountants, but Bill truly loved the work. He insisted it was an interesting and dynamic profession, and that it was less about numbers than it was about people and relationships and puzzling through regulations to find what worked best for everyone. In 1997, he and a group of partners took a bold financial and personal risk and started a new firm, Briggs, Bunting and Dougherty.

For Briggs, Bunting & Dougherty to succeed, Bill and his partners worked harder than they ever had, with few resources and no guarantee of future success. Founding a new firm required them to be innovative, collaborative, confident and scrappy. Today, the firm Bill and his partners founded nearly 25 years ago is a national leader in serving the audit and tax needs of the investment management industry as well as the go-to audit and tax firm for nonprofit organizations, and increasingly government entities, in the Greater Philadelphia area and beyond. After he retired, he continued working with some of his long-term clients, and was determined to finish his last job in the weeks before he died.

Even as he built a successful business, Bill kindly agreed to do the taxes of any family member who asked. But many quickly learned that, no, he would not bump up this number here or reduce that number there or just make it work. Sometimes he refused to do perfectly legal things for people, specifically his daughter, because he didn't believe it was "in the spirit of the law." His strict adherence to the law drove some away, and that was clearly always part of his plan.

Bill's modest beginnings led him to a life of great generosity. At a young age, he began to donate money to a program fostering underprivileged children in South America, and continued that support throughout his life. He helped his family at every turn, in ways seen and unseen. He did not hesitate to donate to every charity that he liked, after ensuring their validity on CharityNavigator.org. As Bill's health declined, the last item he checked off on his "to do" list was to mail his 2021 donations before the end of the year. Physically, he struggled to sign them, but he did it.

If you knew anything about Bill, you'll know we've buried the lead: the absolute love of his life, his soulmate, his wife: Mary Ann. Bill would be the first to say that she was, hands down, the best thing to ever happen to him. There is no way to adequately describe their love, their companionship and their friendship, and this obituary falls woefully short in doing so. Just know that they were absolutely perfect together and that Mary Ann's life will never be the same without her Bill. She was everything he wasn't and he was everything she wasn't and somehow they were also exactly the same and they made each other whole and better.

They met at a bar in Avalon, by absolute chance, in 1977. He loved his life as a bachelor and didn't want it to change, he famously told Mary Wright, his future mother-in-law, months into dating her only daughter who had recently come out of the convent and who had very little time to pull a family together. This revelation prompted Mary Wright to advise Mary Ann to cut this one loose and move on. But, thank god, she didn't – because where the hell would we be, right? Bill's family knew it was serious when he was willing to drive all the way to Aldan on a weeknight.

Bill proposed to Mary Ann while they waited at a red light on City Line Avenue as she drove him home from a party. After the wedding, they flew over to Ireland to visit Bill's family in Dublin and Moville, his mother's home. Those Harkins, McGuinnesses and Dohertys quickly became just as much a family to Mary Ann as they were to Bill, and that was just the first of many trips back over to Ireland.

Before long, they had Billy and Maggie, 18 months apart. In their backyard in Aldan, Bill taught his children the intricacies of baseball. He coached their teams, he drove them to games, he showed up and he provided. During busy season, he worked late – but other than those few months each year, they had no idea how hard he worked and how successful he was. He was just a Dad. He wasn't a touchy-feely guy, but there was no question about how much he loved his children.

He shared his love of the Phillies and Eagles with both of his children – and while both teams brought the family much joy and pain, it was always something they could all agree on. Each summer was filled with Phillies games, especially during the bleak seasons in the 1980s when no one else wanted the tickets from Dad's office. We'd put the seats down in the back of the van, no seat belts, and drive to the Vet with friends in the back and Dad in the lead. He taught us that you love your team in the good times and in the bad, and the joy we felt when the Phillies and the Eagles finally paraded down Broad Street was as much for the win itself as it was for how happy we knew it made our father. Actually, our joy was mostly for how happy it made our Dad. If you ever saw Bill Dougherty truly ecstatic, those moments when he let his guard down and let his emotions show, you saw him at his most beautiful.

Every Saturday morning, the entire family was in the yard gardening in Aldan and then later in Glen Mills. As 4 and 5-year-olds, Billy and Maggie's tiny fingers were incredibly useful in getting even the most miniscule weeds out of the sidewalk cracks. He was immensely proud of the house in Glen Mills – growing up, it was a place he never thought a kid like him would have – and his love of gardening only grew there. Each fall, as the leaves fell and fell, the whole family would be out there together with tarps and rakes and the Little Wonder. He was at his happiest then, and if we could all go back, even just for a few minutes, to one of those fall days in the 90s – we'd be at our happiest too.

He kept the gardens (designed by his nephew, Bob) as meticulous as possible – edged, trimmed, mulched – and he absolutely loved pulling into that driveway after the long commute back from Philly each night. But he was a city boy in the country, who threw toads into the pond not realizing they weren't frogs and who prevented the male duck from pursuing his love interests for years until a guest told us all what that was all about.

As he got older, Bill could garden less and less – and that was one of the things he missed most with the passing of his youth. But he and Mary Ann replaced that with travel – venturing to Italy, Spain, Bermuda, The Gambia, and many a river cruise. They loved the friends they made on these adventures. But their favorite trip was an annual adventure that started the spring after Bill retired: Phillies Spring Training. Bill organized the trip for the whole crew – the McClaffertys, the Johnsons, and Maggie – buying the tickets, mapping out the activities and – of course – planning the dinner adventures…which did not shift from year to year. If you found a place (and a specific meal) that you liked, why deviate? They were all there at Spring Training in 2020 when COVID struck, pretty oblivious to the changes that were coming and Bill was less than pleased when Spring Training was cancelled, and even more upset when March Madness was as well. He had nothing but love for Villanova basketball.

The greatest gift Bill gave to his grandchildren, aside from just the general gift of being an amazing grandfather, was their trip to Disney in 2020, planned by his niece, Peg, and squeezed in right before the pandemic hit. He wasn't the kind of guy that went on a lot of rides, or ran around the whole day with the kids – but sitting back and watching their joy and excitement was everything to him. At the hotel at night, the kids would run back to and report every single detail of their day to him and Mom Mom. He was quiet, sometimes even stoic (a lot like Aunt Peggy's description…) but he was also filled with love and pride. His grandchildren were everything to him and he loved them more than they could ever know. Although he endured many losses in life, the greatest was the loss of his beautiful granddaughter, Brighly. Bill had a strict rule of not holding infants until they were six months old, but something about Brighly made him break that rule and he was eternally grateful to have held her in his arms.

When his grandchildren came in to say goodbye to him as he drifted away on Monday, they had to brace themselves for pain and push themselves to do something scary. They were mature and sweet and made a terrible moment beautiful. Bill was still with us enough to understand their courage in that moment, and we know he could not have been prouder. Seeing them confront something like that with grace and resolve undoubtedly gave him a sense of peace, knowing they would be just fine in life. Surrounded by his perfect wife of 42 years, Mary Ann, his loving son, Billy, his sweet daughter-in-law, Beth (Derespino), his brave and wonderful grandchildren, Brody, Brennon, Bibi and Billy, and his dutiful daughter, Maggie, Bill Dougherty drifted into a deep sleep.

On Tuesday, December 14, Bill spent the afternoon sleeping peacefully as his loving sisters, Pat and Nancy, and his nephew, Frank, shared memories and prayed with Mary Ann. As in life, when Bill made a decision, he implemented it quickly and without hesitation and later that afternoon, with Mary Ann and Maggie by his side and Billy on the phone, he slipped away gently and calmly, as he lived, listening to his family tell him what a great guy he was.

Bill was so deeply grateful for his siblings during this time, for Pat and Nancy's support, for Ben and Mimi driving down for regular visits and for Connell and Terri's love from afar. Bill knew, above all, that his brothers and sisters loved him dearly and he loved them back. Bill was and Mary Ann is deeply grateful to the Bayada hospice team, who showed him compassion, support and guidance through this challenging journey.

Bill was preceded in death by his mother, Theresa Harkin, and his father, Patrick Doherty, as well as his aunt, Peggy Gallagher and his uncle, Frank Gallagher. He was also preceded in death by his siblings in spirit, Jack Gallagher, Pete Gallagher, and Kathleen and Art Hevener. His cousin and quite the character, Father Charlie Doherty. His beloved in-laws, Mary Wright, Bud Wright and Sandy Wright. His best friend, Charlie McClafferty. And finally, by his perfect granddaughter, Brighly Margaret Dougherty.

He is survived by his soulmate, Mary Ann Dougherty, as well as his children, William (Billy) and wife Beth. His grandchildren, who will miss him every day, Brody, Brennon, Brighton (Bibi) and William (Billy). And his daughter, Margaret (Maggie).

He is also survived by his siblings, Nancy Deady, Pat Dougherty, Ben Dougherty (and Mimi), Connell Dougherty (and Dolores), and Theresa Manchester as well as countless cousins, nieces, nephews and friends.

Services for Bill will be held at his parish of the last 30 years, St. Thomas the Apostle Church, 430 Valleybrook Road, Glen Mills, PA on Tuesday, December 21, 2021. Friends and family are welcome for visitation from 9:30am to 10:45am, and a Mass of Christian Burial at 11am. The burial will take place at St. Thomas Cemetery and a luncheon will follow. Please note that masks will be required by the family.

Bill's favorite poem ends with the line: "And they, because they were not the one dead, turned to their affairs." It's an inevitability – we all must move along. But before you do, think about Bill Dougherty. Think about all his fascinating complexities and idiosyncrasies and values. Think about the way he made you feel, the impact he had on your life. Think about how he carried two handkerchiefs in his pocket at all times, one for him and one just in case he came across a stranger in need. Think about his smile, his quiet gentleness, but also his toughness and strength. Think about his subtle humor and quietly brilliant observations. Think about how stubborn he could be, and also how smart and kind and generous and giving and funny and sweet. Think about Bill Dougherty even as you turn to your affairs and, of course, think about where the hell you would be without him.

In lieu of flowers, the family welcomes donations to the Sisters of Saint Joseph (ssjphila.org) .

Service Location St. Thomas The Apostle Church Get Directions

Begins: Dec 21, 2021 11:00am - 11:45am

430 Valleybrook Road Glen Mills, PA 19342 Cemetery Location St. Thomas The Apostle Cemetery Get Directions

Dec 21, 2021 12:00pm - 12:30pm

430 Valleybrook Road Glen Mills, PA 19342 Condolences