Of all the political/public figures I’ve met over the past 40 years of my working life, none – absolutely no one – came close to the unique qualities that embodied one Jack Brooks.

I know what you may be thinking: The term “unique” encompasses a wide range of feelings and emotions. Well, Jack was difficult to pigeonhole.

He died last night at a Beaumont hospital. He was around 90, but it seemed like he was 90 forever. He seemed almost that old when our paths crossed when I was a journalist working in the southeastern corner of Texas, which Brooks represented in Congress for four decades until losing his re-election bid in 1994. I had thought back then that if Brooks lost his Ninth Congressional District seat – which included one of the remaining yellow-dog Democratic voting blocs in Texas – there would be no way the Dems could hold on to the House of Reps. He lost, the Democrats lost the House and the Senate that year and Jack Brooks went quietly into retirement.

He chaired the House Judiciary Committee at the time. He despised Republicans. He was irascible, grouchy, profane, smelled of cigars and generally was known as one of the fiercest partisan gut-fighters in Congress. He also was a champion of the blue-collar Democrats who kept sending him back to the House every other year. He fought for their interests and was a friend of the African-American community that comprises such a large portion of the voting population in Southeast Texas.

How did I get along with him? OK … I guess. He didn’t seem to care much for media types. I couldn’t pick up the phone and call him the way I could, say, the late “Good Time Charlie” Wilson, Brooks’ Democratic House colleague who represented the neighboring Second District, and with whom I had a much better working relationship. I also enjoyed better relations with Republican U.S. Rep. Mac Thornberry of Clarendon.

Once, after authoring an editorial that endorsed the guy who ran against Brooks in his campaign for the House, Jack told my editor that I needed to take a “permanent vacation.” And he meant it.

Brooks was one of a kind. He was a throwback. He represented the old Texas Democratic establishment that produced Sam Rayburn, John Connally, Lyndon Johnson and Jim Wright.

It might be that Brooks’ most endearing quality was a form of self-deprecation. He knew what people thought of his gruff demeanor. He didn’t shy away from it. He was proud of his image.

His self-titled nickname said it all: Sweet Old Brooks. He might have been an SOB, but he was our SOB.

Rest in peace, Jack.