Elgin historian -- and a really good guy -- gone too soon

The night before he died, George Albee had prepared a wonderful meal of pork tenderloin with asparagus for his wife, Joye, and oldest daughter, Jennifer Bero, Bero said.

Every Friday, she met her parents at the Albee home for what they called "Friday date nights."

Albee, ever devoted to Joye, had learned to cook in 2005, his daughter said.

It was his way of helping her out around the house while she recovered from foot surgery, Bero said.

"He made good meatloaf," Bero recalled. "He decided horseradish was his secret ingredient."

Before she left him Friday night, Bero tells me she gave him an extra hug.

The next day, Albee and his wife were scheduled to lead tours through Old Main, the building that houses the Elgin Area Historic Society and Museum, which Albee was responsible for securing, said museum director Liz Marston.

"I was waiting for him to walk in the door," Marston said.

I think we all were.

Albee died Oct. 6, a month before his 79th birthday.

After being so active on Elgin's preservation scene, we certainly didn't expect to lose him so soon.

He had so much energy and fire.

Roughly two weeks before he died, his daughter tells me they'd gone on the annual historic walk through Bluff City Cemetery.

What a strange twist of fate it was, she said, to be burying him there 17 days later.

It just doesn't seem right.

I got to know Albee two years ago when what was then Grace United Methodist Church was seeking to merge with another church.

He was the treasurer and resident historian, and ran me through the history of Grace.

He said that in 2000, he'd filled out and submitted an application in hopes of attaining landmark status for the church.

The city agreed to do it, but then revoked it once the Northwest Conference of the United Methodist Church opposed the move, saying it prevented them from adding onto the building.

Five years later, Albee was still angry about the conference's intervention and made no bones about discussing his feelings.

"We have no love for the conference; they've done nothing for us," he told me in 2005.

Bero told me he was so furious over that and other issues that when Grace finally closed in 2005, her father wrote a letter to the conference, saying he no longer wanted to be a Methodist. I hadn't realized his anger reached that deep.

"That was a big step for him," Bero said.

From then on, he and his wife attended Sunday services at the First Congregational Church of Elgin, the same church that held his funeral service.

He was buried wearing an Elgin pin on his left lapel, a demonstration of his devotion to this city, his wife said.

I thought Albee was a delightful man with an awesome sense of humor.

He was in on a prank to surprise Elgin Mayor Ed Schock when two of the mayor's homes were receiving historic plaques.

Albee and the Elgin Historic Commission -- which he was in charge of -- plotted with the mayor's wife, Karen, to keep the news under wraps.

They took great care not to mention which houses were getting plaques in their meeting minutes, because the mayor reads them.

And they would have gotten away with it, too, if someone hadn't included the information in the program for the Mayor's Preservation Awards, giving the whole show away 10 minutes before it began.

I hope someone will pick up where Albee left off in his tireless efforts to protect Elgin's history.

My heart goes out to Albee's family and everyone who had the pleasure of knowing him.

Elgin has lost a legend. But most importantly, as his wife points out, the city also lost a good guy.