Sui generis –“altogether unique, unduplicated.” It is a Latin term that could have been retained in English specifically to describe Harry Foote, a dedicated newspaperman and an outstanding human being who died last month.

Harry Foote had 96 years on this planet, and it may be truly said that he used them wisely and well – and mostly in the public interest.

His life has appeared in news stories and obits – the who, what, when, where. But these did not cover his personalities, his qualities, his character – the rare man he truly was. Nor did these reports expand on what his work and dedication meant to his community. He devoted a large part of his life, his substance and his health – to say nothing of Herculean work hours – to keep a small community newspaper, the American Journal, alive. Leaving a decently paid position as an editor on a city newspaper, he considered his small, generally unprofitable, newspaper a watchdog, a guardian of the democracy, a champion of the abused or disadvantaged, a source of truth.

As a traditionalist – a believer in fiscal caution and a student in the school of “use it up, wear it out”– he was conservative in his political leanings. To that extent, he was a nominal Republican. On the other hand, he suffered with the poor and disadvantaged; he accepted government as a tool for improvement. He believed in education and public investment. To that extent he was a Democrat. But he was in no way indebted to or dependent on any segment of the left-right political spectrum. He was no belonger and he could not be “spun.” An attempt to do so would rouse his curiosity. He was a newspaperman’s newspaperman.

He was soft-spoken, gentle, courteous, a man of quiet personal charm, cheery, unaffected, open. Ego and self-concern were not in him. He functioned in a difficult economic and commercial world without complaining of misfortune or disappointment. He did not know how to complain. Naturally modest and rather shy in manner, he was never very prominent but he was a force in his own field – a true professional. Harry was loved by those who worked for him, admired by those who worked alongside him, applauded by those in his profession, deferred to by those of lesser strength and intensity, feared by those whose failings he uncovered and respected by everyone who knew him. .

He was a researcher, exposing, comparing, contrasting – and absolutely unswerving on accuracy. Training a succession of reporters over the years, he welcomed differences and argument. He was merciless on grammar, structure, clarity and, above all, the facts. His training sessions with these young men and women were legendary in the office with their often raucous, intense enthusiasm. He liked etymology, and his writing was distinguished by a feeling for words and an often witty use of them.

Harry’s style could be biting, delivering facts in terse, clipped sentences that displayed the sentence structure taught at his beloved Bowdoin College. But he bore no grudges against those who disagreed with him and was always willing to review his position. He didn’t hesitate to criticize government or public figures, but he was never mean. His writing was much like him – honest and straightforward.

Insolvency was a weekly guest at his table, but complaint never had a seat. Despite little or no profit, it is impossible to exaggerate his workload during years of keeping his community newspaper alive. Well into his 80s with hearing problems, his eyesight effectively gone and Harry was still at his desk. As long as he could walk, he never missed a week of proof reading, grammar correction and fact checking.

He contributed. He is deeply missed.

Rodney Quinn, a former Maine secretary of state, lives in Westbrook. He can be reached at rquinn@maine.rr.com.

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