At a time when respect for journalists ranks somewhere between televangelists and politicians, the outpouring of respect and affection for Tim Russert was something of a phenomenon. The main reason so many people liked him was that he was the antithesis of the hatemongers and charlatans – yes, this means you, Limbaugh and Michael Savage – who pollute today’s airwaves.

As moderator of NBC’s “Meet the Press” for 17 years, Russert was a dogged seeker of the truth. Whatever his personal views, he hid them well. He never lobbed softballs. He grilled Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and liberals, blacks and whites, with equal fervor. He was a terrific interviewer because he was prepared and persistent.

Nobody ever accused Russert of being just another pretty face. His hair often looked as if he just climbed out of bed and he seemed to hunch in his chair, twiddling a pencil, instead of sitting ramrod straight. His guests always outdressed him. Russert seemed to wear the same blue blazer and rep tie every week.

He wasn’t as intellectual as, say, William F. Buckley or George Will, and he lacked the gravitas of David Broder or Bill Safire. But Russert was plenty shrewd, make no mistake. Like a good prosecutor, he would probe and poke, asking the same question in different ways, until he finally got an answer.

But Russert wore well. He was aggressive without being confrontational and direct without being rude. He actually listened to his guests’ answers instead of trying to shout them down. And when things got too tense, he had a marvelous way of breaking it with a big Irish grin or a quip.

He never forgot his blue-collar roots in Buffalo, N.Y., and his book about his father, whom he called “Big Russ,” only enhanced his popularity. He wore his Catholicism proudly and spoke about his wife and son with great pride without ever being maudlin.

As the cliché goes, he was the sort of guy you’d like to have a drink with. A regular guy who ingratiated himself with his audience by often ending intensely serious shows with pleas for a victory by his beloved Bills of the National Football League. He also was a huge baseball fan who pulled for both the Boston Red Sox and the Washington Nationals.

It would be nice to think that Russert’s colleagues would honor him by trying to emulate him. The country would be a better place if more journalists, both electronic and print, would start acting more professional – digging harder for stories, asking tougher questions, preparing better, striving for fairness and honesty more than objectivity (which can be dishonest in its own right).

But that’s not going to happen. You can bet that the talking heads at the Fox News Channel will continue being lapdogs, not watchdogs, for right-wing politicians and causes. You can bet that style will continue to beat the hell out of substance. You can bet that the Geraldos of the world will continue trying to make themselves part of the story.

For such a tough interrogator, Russert didn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body. He seemed to get along with everyone off-camera. He never took cheap shots at his rivals. And, as they say of the great players in team sports, he made everyone around him better.

Although TV was Russert’s medium of choice, he could just have easily been a newspaper reporter. He was every bit as tenacious as Bernstein and Woodward. He took nothing at face value and checked his facts repeatedly.

Yet “Meet the Press” gave Russert a forum that no newspaper could. Subjects couldn’t duck him the way they can newspaper reporters. They HAD to appear on “Meet the Press.” On live TV, they had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, when Russert began probing. People got to see their facial expressions and body language. It was often great theater.

At the memorial service in the Kennedy Center, Tom Brokaw got a big laugh when he said it was nice to see Tim’s family and friends gather together, “not to mention the biggest constituency of all – those who want to replace him on ‘Meet the Press.’”

Well, nobody can replace him, of course, but somebody has to succeed him. Hopefully, it will be somebody much like Russert – a no-nonsense, old-fashioned journalist who understands that nothing can replace hard work, digging, and preparation.

Funny, but I don’t ever recall seeing Russert, wearing a trench coat or battle fatigues, doing a stand-up with some disaster scene behind him. That’s the show-biz part of TV news, and Russert wasn’t a show-biz kind of guy. He was a nuts-and-bolts guy, a Buffalo guy, and America loved him for it.

He gave us a hint of how good and powerful electronic journalism can be when it’s used properly. Sadly, he was a rare bird whose species may become extinct, now that he’s gone.