Family.
In places like Wayne County, that word means so much more than blood ties and a last name.
Here, it’s about bonds.
And Tuesday evening, thousands of people in this community lost a brother.
I feel fortunate to count myself as one of them.
That’s why it’s been so hard to get to the “news” in this tribute — as, once I learned my old friend was receiving hospice care, not-good-enough draft after not-good-enough draft got deleted.
It’s not that I didn’t know what to say about Al King.
It’s that I was not quite ready to acknowledge that he’s gone.
The truth is, I’m still not. And I’m certain I’m not alone.
The first time I met him, I was a rookie beat reporter and he had been Goldsboro’s mayor for more than three years — a post he accepted after the city’s longtime leader, Hal Plonk, died and the City Council deadlocked as they tried to find the right person to replace him.
King would tell me repeatedly over the years that his ambitions never included being the person tasked with filling the shoes of a mayor so many revered.
But he put off retirement because he believed — to his very core — that Goldsboro needed him.
And unlike so many who rise to power and allow it to consume them, King seemingly never did.
All he wanted was to leave a better community for his children and ours.
It really was that simple.
During our initial interview back in 2005, I asked him how it felt to ascend from the self-described “poor kid who used to walk along the train tracks” to get from Mount Olive to Goldsboro to the county seat’s first black mayor.
I’ll never forget his response.
“Really, Ken?” he asked, a smile creeping across his face. “You have to have a more interesting question than that, young man.”
That was the Al King I knew — a man who had little interest in labels or how local historians would remember him.
What mattered to the mayor was how he made people feel — how the issues he tackled and the votes he made would impact those who came after him.
Race, religion, and other identifiers?
They never seemed to motivate the King I spoke with nearly every week during his 14 years as the face of Goldsboro.
“We’re all just people, man,” he said to me in early 2007 ahead of an event where he was set to receive an award from the NAACP. “So, how can we make Goldsboro a place people would be proud of? That’s it. When we start talking about black and white and all that, we’re looking for a fight. And what happens at the end of a fight, Ken? Someone always loses. Well, what’s wrong with wanting everyone to win?”
Beyond the politics, King was a kind, decent man who never forgot where he came from.
He was known for firm, long handshakes and as a gentleman who put a premium on eye contact.
When he met you, he remembered you, so when you crossed paths again, it was like seeing an old friend.
And like any good friend, he was someone you could count on.
If Al King he gave you his word, it meant something.
And when he coined the phrase about Seymour Johnson Air Force Base — how it was “the home of the best fighter wing on planet Earth” — the retired airman meant it.
He didn’t deliver those words so they could end up on a T-shirt or become a campaign slogan.
So, when he came across a man or woman in uniform — as he did during several of our many walks through a downtown he was, at the time, championing — he stopped, shook their hand, and thanked them for their service.
And during those exchanges, never once did I hear him introduce himself as the mayor of those airmen’s adopted hometown.
He was just another patriot who was grateful for the many sacrifices he knew, from firsthand experience, they were making.
King was a true servant leader — a man involved in seemingly everything who gave his time whenever and wherever it was needed.
And while he bemoaned the fact that his duties required him to keep putting off a trip around the world with his son, he considered it an honor to serve the citizens of Goldsboro.
No, it was not about how much power he could wield or money he could make.
It was about continuing a lifetime of service to others — from the city’s project housing communities to Pill Hill.
For that reason, nobody owned Al King.
And those who mistook his easy and affable manner as weakness — who challenged or threatened him with consequences if he took a particular position on an issue — well, they were in for a rude awakening.
He lived and spoke his truth — confident that if the city he loved couldn’t handle it, its residents would send him on his next adventure on Election Day.
They never did.
We have said it before — both here and in our sister print publication, Wayne Week.
When you lose leaders like Al King, they are not as easy to replace as one might think.
That’s why long after he passed the torch, he remained an influential voice — the type of person the next generation of elected officials went to for advice.
And if you kept a sharp eye open, you might have caught a glimpse of him holding court outside Starbucks or Café Le Doux.
His mind might not have been as sharp in these recent years as it once was, but he remained unafraid to call things for what they were.
King was a common man at heart, with the flash of a person who had been places and who knew what having a hometown worth coming back to meant.
So, all of us could learn something from the example he set.
And there are many Goldsboro leaders today who could benefit from a deep dive into how he managed his time on the City Council.
He was firm when he needed to be and courageous when it was necessary.
He was feisty enough to make sure that anyone who crossed him knew they had made a mistake, but he was kind enough to be there for a struggling family, airman, or youth who needed a guiding hand.
His heart was as big as a mountain.
And our hearts are with his family — a family he never missed an opportunity to praise — as it prepares to say goodbye to someone who meant everything to them.
We know it’s never easy.
But we hope they know that there are thousands of Goldsboro and Wayne County citizens who will never forget him.
We will remember the lives he changed through his mentorship.
We will remember the fierce defender of Goldsboro and Seymour Johnson Air Force Base.
And yes, we will remember the long, firm handshakes — and how, by doing something as simple as placing a hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, he could make you feel like you had value beyond what you believed you possessed.
In our view, there can be no greater tribute to any man than the acknowledgement of that.
And there is no one who deserves a tribute more than Al King.
Family.
In places like Wayne County, that word hits a little different.
And Tuesday evening, all of us who were lucky enough to know this particular human being lost a piece of ours we know we will never be able to replace.
But we can honor Al King by remembering his vision of a Goldsboro prosperous enough for everyone — by fighting for every single citizen.
We at New Old North certainly will.
And while we do, we hope you will rest easy, Mayor.
As you watch over this city you so loved so dearly, we can only hope what you see — the people you touched carrying your torch — makes you proud.
