Janine Karnig
I had the privilege of knowing Al through his son David, my dear friend of more than thirty five years.
Big Al was a big thinker and a force, in the best and most human sense of the word. He was brilliant, funny, ambitious, deeply loyal, and unforgettable.
I always admired the story that he earned a full scholarship to Yale but chose Lehigh because it felt more comfortable and more like home to him. That decision somehow said everything about him. He was enormously intelligent, but he trusted instinct and grit over image.
And his career reflected that completely, starting at an entry level and ultimately becoming the COO and President of a global corporation through sheer discipline, intelligence, and force of will.
I knew him during his ascent to the top. I vividly remember him telling me how much all the workers he supervised meant to him. There were hundreds of people who would come to him with their problems, and he would do his best to counsel them. I saw the immense satisfaction in his face at being able to play this important role.
He also served his country in the Navy, something he carried with quiet pride. I didn't even know this until he passed.
What I will remember most, though, is how much he made me laugh.
I spent one Thanksgiving with Al and his family, but somehow it became one of those memories that stays vivid forever. In the early 1990s, while visiting, I developed a terrible headache and asked David if anyone had aspirin. Their family were the ultimate stoics. Headaches did not seem to be something they fully acknowledged as existing. Eventually Al's Jeanne triumphantly produced a bottle of Bayer aspirin that had apparently expired sometime around 1968.
I ended up lying on the floor in a dark room while family members wandered in to quietly observe what a 20-year-old woman with a headache looked like. It was hilarious, affectionate, awkward, and completely unforgettable. Al found humor in all of it.
Toward the end of his life, Al showed something even greater than success or intellect. He showed vulnerability and honesty. David hosted a conversation between the three of us, and I found myself telling Al all my memories of him and how he had affected my life. He was shocked to learn what an effect he'd had on me. With surprising candor, he reflected back on our early days and apologized for something he'd once said about me. I had never taken any offense, and I'd thought it sweet at the time, but I loved that he was thinking about it at all. I couldn't believe that this huge presence of a man was that humble and self-aware. It was raw
and truthful and entirely without pretense, and it revealed the humanity underneath everything else.
The world feels smaller without him in it. I know how deeply he loved his wife and family, and I know how much it mattered that he was there with David during his final moments.
I will always be grateful that I knew him.
I hope he is having a gimlet or two in heaven, smiling widely, finally reunited with his beloved Jeanne.
