With a receding chin, puffy cheeks, hair that never quite looked neat and a self-described "face for radio," Tim Russert should never have made it to the top in an age of telegenic vacuity, dominated all too often by empty, but beautifully coiffed talking heads reading from teleprompters. The fact that he not only "made it," but was the dominant and most respected presence in American political journalism at the time of his death, says much about this Horatio Alger-style version of the "Rags to Riches" myth many had assumed long passé. Imagine that — people can still be touched by simplicity, accuracy and veracity, even at a time when the concepts of "Truth" and "Reality" have themselves been devalued as part of our government's propaganda machine leading to war in Iraq or the latest reality sitcom.

I am just one of the millions of people whose lives were affected by Tim Russert, and the remarkable sense of honesty and humility he brought to everything he touched. Although when he died he was immensely powerful as the Washington bureau chief of NBC News, moderator of Meet the Press, host of his own weekly interview show and commentator on all NBC's election coverage, Russert's true contribution was that he was the anti-anchor. Others might be urbane or sophisticated: he was all simplicity and avuncular sagacity.

Not attempting to be a TV anchor, he emerged as the best and most persuasive one since Walter Cronkite. When he said something, you had the remarkable impression that he actually meant it and that it was probably true. He was as honest as the section of south Buffalo where he grew up, and where his father Big Russ was a Garbage Collector. His passing on Friday at age 58 marks the end of an era of television news; but what is most surprising is that while he was alive, no one realized there was a "Russert Era" at all. Just Tim Russert doing the news or Meet the Press, speaking truth to power with candor and passion. Sometimes it takes loss to appreciate gifts as understated and "homely" as Mr. Russert's were.

My own connection with Tim Russert was extremely modest, but I think, revealing about the man. In 1992, Washington University hosted the presidential debates in the university's Field House, but since tickets were extremely limited, a closed circuit hook-up was set up in Edison Theatre, which was then under my supervision. I contacted NBC and requested to have Mr. Russert, then quite new as Meet the Press' moderator, to see if he would agree to speak to the (largely) student crowd in Edison right after the debate between George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton and Ross Perot was concluded. NBC informed me that Mr. Russert would try to make it, but could not promise. If he did, he would only be able to stay for a few minutes.

When I went to pick him up at NBC's booth in the Field House, he greeted me warmly, and knew exactly who I was. He then introduced me to Tom Brokaw, then anchoring the news, along with veteran anchor John Chancellor and Secretary of State James Baker, who were being interviewed by Mr. Brokaw. As we walked over to the Edison in the dark, Mr. Russert asked all sorts of questions about Washington University and the kind of students he would be speaking with. He reiterated that he would only be able to spend a few minutes.

More than an hour-and-a-half later, he was still talking politics, joking, answering questions, and providing expert commentary on what we had seen. He never, however, disclosed his own opinions about the outcome of either the debate or the forthcoming election. Instead he asked the students what they had experienced. As we walked back to the NBC booth, I told him how much I appreciated what he had done to help our students understand the issues. He said simply that he lived for such evenings — for the honest, passionate and above all impromptu discussion and exchange of ideas he had just had with our students. It was his privilege, he said.

I knew then, and I know now, that he was absolutely sincere.

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