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ecently, Al Church posed a question to a friend. If anything were to happen to him, Church asked, would his friend take care of his dog? The friend was Glen Schwendy and according to Pamlico County Sheriff Billy Sawyer, Schwendy found Church’s dog had been left at his porch Sunday morning, along with a check for $2,500.

That set off a two-day search for Albert Marion Church, who had moved to Oriental a few years ago and was hardly ever seen without his dog, Doobie. The Sheriff’s Department said that they did not find Al Church at his home in the Schoolhouse Condos on Church Street. Neighbors there said they’d last seen Al Church on Saturday night.

The search ended on Monday afternoon when Church’s vehicle was discovered near Dawson’s Creek. Sheriff Sawyer said that in the woods nearby, investigators discovered Al Church by a tree, dead of a single gunshot wound. Sheriff Sawyer said there appeared to be no evidence of foul play. The medical examiner will make the final determination.

Al Church. The photo is from the Playbill from the coming Oriental Repertory Company play – Church was a cast member for the fall production.

Church’s neighbor Alison Brenner sent in a note that tells more about Al:

I wanted to help to add to your article about Al— he was our neighbor over here at the school house condos for the last three years. He did love Doobie very much, they were rarely apart, but there was more to Al Church. There is much more that I don’t know, but here are some things that I do know:

He moved here from Florida three years ago. He was a professor of economics at UNM Albuquerque and at Bryn Mawr. He went to graduate school at the Claremont colleges in California, and grew up in New England. He always had a lot to talk about, kept up with current events – particularly economics. He was also, at one point in his life, a ski instructor. I saw pictures of a time that he dropped from a helicopter to ski down a mountain. He has children, a sister, and a nephew, all of which he spoke of often to me. He loved racing cars when he first came here to Oriental, and would often go up to a race track in West Virginia, I think, to race. He had some vertigo that forced him to stop, but he still loved race cars, as one could see by the Jaguar he drove. He was a very caring neighbor. He was, always, a very caring person. He was teaching his dog Doobie tracking recently—they’d both gotten very into it. He sailed a Nonsuch 26 that he loved. He had a great sense of humor.

Don Staub also remembers Al:

It’s sad news because he was such a gregarious guy. One thing that Selva and I remember distinctly was during the run-up to the election in ’08, we met Al for the first time down at Lou-Mac park. We had a long, political, polarized discussion – but – it wasn’t acrimonious at all; a lot of joking going on. He used to kid us that he was going to invite us over for dinner to try and convert us.

Memories of Al from Steve Leech:

I’m often guilty of judging people by how they view and treat an animal. I didn’t know Al well, but I liked him very much; and I admired him for the character shown by his deep commitment and love for his dog, Doobie.

We were on Al’s and Doobie’s walking route most mornings and evenings. Betsy and I would watch him, always so gentle, attentive and “cheerful” with Doobie, working constantly with him, and succeeding in transforming an almost unmanageable and unruly stray (Florida shelter dog, I think) into good citizen and close companion. Doobie and Rika played ball together sometimes, when we all met down by the boat ramp; I could see up close, then, the tenderness, the love and the patience he displayed that made all the difference in Doobie’s evolution … and in the cementing of their friendship. Doobie loved Al just as much.

This seemed to be what brought Al meaning and pleasure, at least to the limited extent that I could see into his life; he was always so generous and faithful with Doobie when others would have given up; the fact that Al finally gave in to whatever pain he was suffering so silently tells me that it must have been a hellish struggle that he saw he just couldn’t win.

I didn’t know him well, but I miss Al already … for certain, Oriental has lost a good man.

Here is a message from Alok K. Bohara, PhD, at The University of New Mexico, where Al had been on faculty until 1992; he had been a professor of economics.

I am saddened to hear this news. Al Church was my mentor, and we gradually became good friends.

He had his office next to mine. As a new assistant professor, I benefited from his wise advice and constant encouragement. He asked me to take lessons from his personal experiences and the failings alike. He truly was a generous man.

We kept in touch over the years, although sporadically. I wrote a couple of reference letters for him when he decided to take up some part time teaching position.

As far as I can tell, he loved adventurous life. I still remember his stories about the helicopter ski trip to Canada and the stock car racing in California, and, of course, the surfing. I also remember him doing the chin-up in front of the Zimmerman library. I considered him a good friend, always looking out for me. I take personal solace by reminding myself that “nothing is permanent”. May his soul rest in peace!

Will Conkwright was Al’s neighbor – his email was particularly poignant – entitled “My last conversation with Al Church”.

My name is Will Conkwright, and I moved into the schoolhouse in April. Al was the first person I encountered while taking some recycling to the containers. His exuberance and enthusiasm for a young fresh face was comical. Al was a comical character. I knew that I liked Al right away, and I also knew there was some other connection he and I shared, but I was not sure what.

In the process of exchanging pleasantries about our lives I mentioned I was an avid cyclist; He took one look at my freshly shaved legs and said, “Oh you are a serious cyclist”, with just enough sarcasm that I knew we would be friends. Al had been a cyclist as well, and as like minded individuals do, we shared stories about rides, training, cycling politics and such.

During our time together the Tour de France was happening and this would provide many opportunities for conversation. Al would pass along any articles to me that appeared in the Wall Street journal about the Tour, doping scandals, and cycling in general. The best was when one of those papers had been used to store freshly cut cantaloupe. Again, I knew we shared a deeper common bond than cycling when he gave me a newspaper article freshly soaked in cantaloupe juice. Mind you this was all happening while straddling my bike preparing to take off for a ride. I rode with that paper and read it when I got back. The Wall St journal must not skimp on ink.

Al passed along many old cycling outfits and a motorcycle jacket to me (we shared the motorcycling interest as well) and I will wear them with fond memories.

It would have been nice to stop this remembrance here. Unfortunately, Al confided our deeper common thread Sunday July 25th. Al and I both suffer from clinical depression, I have the added joy of Bi-Polar mania, and in all likely hood so did Al, his doctor just decided not to label him with it. To say being depressed is having the blues, or being down, or not feeling happy is an absurdity to the point of offense. Al told me he was thinking about killing himself, and that he was making some final preparations. I told him that I too and been in the same place just this year and I understood where he was coming from. We discussed the pros and cons to living an empty life versus not living at all, and to be perfectly honest taking matters into your own hands becomes a very logical solution.

And that is what living with mental illness is like, empty. Imagine a wheelchair, and you are strapped to it dangling in an empty room that is completely white. That might give you some idea of what being depressed is about. Al unloaded his burden onto me, and I take it with honor. I have been in 12 step rehab programs and one of the tenets that has stuck with me is that addicts are the only people that can help other addicts, and that is how it is with mental illness. We have to be there for each other, because to explain how you feel on a daily basis to someone who can’t relate is self mutilation, spiraling yourself further and further into isolation, into that internal hell of void that no one else can understand.

But Al was so outgoing?! I know someone just said that to themselves, and it is true.

Al Church was not living a life of quite desperation, he was living one of vibrant desperation, trying his best to find purpose, to find something worth living for.

I wish I could have helped him find it.

From fellow windsurfer Will Flannery:

Al was also an accomplished windsurfer at one time, living in the Columbia River Gorge Area in WA state. The Columbia River is the US Mecca for our wonderful sport. Windsurfing at Al’s level took incredible, dedication commitment, timing and agility. Windsurfing in the Gorge where Al sailed you had to be at the expert level. It was always fun to talk to him about how we both shared the enjoyment of riding the enormous river swells there.

I always say, I never met a windsurfer I didn’t like and Al helped me to keep that saying going strong. He wanted to windsurf again on the Neuse so badly but his recent struggle with Vertigo prevented it.

Al owned a Nonsuch sailboat and it was basically his big retirement windsurfer. Nonsuch have a big single sail that resembles a windsurfer and he loved the simplicity of the rig and sailing her when it was really blowing.

Al was always kind and generous with his time he always took the time to chat with everyone along his walks with Doobie. I really liked the fact that he took the time to explain his point of view using his expertise in economics. He was a wonderful teacher. Al had a great smile and I always looked forward to seeing him around town. He may have been suffering inside but on the out he did his best to brighten everyone else’s day and he always did mine. When Al and Doobie walked away after any conversation I would always think myself now that’s one hell of a Great Guy!

Al Church was 70 when he died.

Posted Tuesday August 3, 2010 by Keith N. Smith