Berney

On July 9, 2024, Bernard Patrick Doyle — known to his family and friends as Berney — passed away quietly in his sleep. He was 70 years old.

Berney was born on February 9, 1954, to a large and very Irish family. He was separated from them early on in life, and was sent to live with Mildred Rehms — his Aunt Mimi, who was the most important person in his young life. He learned to cook for her and do household tasks. He dropped out of high school to work for a living, mowing lawns at a local golf course. He told his children later that he had believed no-one could teach him anything. He told them that he had been wrong.

It was while working at the golf course that Berney met the woman he would marry and later divorce, Karen King. The two married in 1974 and moved to Mississippi, where they had two children, Jude (born in 1982) and Joseph (born in 1985).

We do not know when Berney Doyle began drinking — he was probably very young — or when he began using heavier drugs. By the time his second son was born, he was an addict, and he would be for the rest of his life. Addiction cost Berney Doyle his marriage, his kids, his grandkid, his girlfriends, his friends, all seven brothers and sisters; it cost him every job and every apartment and everything he owned. He died alone, in a hotel, with nothing to his name. He walked out into the dark and did not come back.

But he was alive, and we remember him. He loved going to rock shows, and he loved Bruce Springsteen; he loved golf, and football, and getting his heart broken by the Cleveland Browns; he loved bass fishing at Lake Erie, and the novels of Kurt Vonnegut. He watched every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation and The X Files twice, first on the night they aired, and then again with his kids. He grilled brats and corn on the cob every summer weekend, and made French toast every Sunday morning for his children, until they got sick of it and asked for cereal.

He was funny. He was tough. He never let anyone tell him what to do, even when he should have. He had a story about yelling at Lou Reed from the audience at a concert until he took requests, and although Lou Reed was the most notoriously ornery asshole in rock music, and it seemed very unlikely that one random guy from Ohio could publicly browbeat him into doing his bidding, Karen did see this happen, it turns out, so the story was true. He was once so loud at an OSU football game that security guards came over to his seat three times to ask him to tone it down, and after the third visit — this is also true; we were there — the security guard looked Berney up and down, gave a heavy sigh, and visibly gave up all hope of controlling him. In a stadium full of rowdy football fans who sometimes set cars on fire to celebrate winning games, this one guy dashed an entire security team’s hopes of making him settle down. Berney was proud of that one. As he told his children at the time, “this ain’t the opera.”

Nothing was ever the opera, as far as Berney was concerned. Dying was the one thing he ever did quietly, and it is doubtful that anyone who knew him could forget. When he felt wise, he told his children two things: First, that school is a gift, and teachers are doing you a favor by letting you learn. Take it. Second: Never, ever, ever do drugs, which he called “the greatest lie ever told.” Like many of us, Berney gave the advice he wished he could follow. Because he gave it, his children have better lives.

Berney Doyle is preceded in death by his Aunt Mimi; his parents, Harry Lawrence Doyle and Norma Rehms; and his siblings Harry L. Doyle and Suzie Noftz. He is survived by his children, Jude Doyle and Joseph Doyle; his grandchild, Luna; his siblings, Nannette Crothers, Maria Elena Pence, Richard Kevin Doyle, Amy Elise Boozer, and Joseph Michael Allen Doyle; and rock and roll, which (as he often informed us) will never die.

Services were held privately. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, NAMI.org, at this address: https://www.nami.org/get-involved/donate-to-nami