Editor's note: Published with permission from Theodore Te, who is currently the spokesperson of the Supreme Court of the Philippines.

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In that very distinct diction and with measured pronunciation, he would address me, to my utter public embarrassment, as “Professor”; I would cringe privately and always demur, “Senator, please just call me Ted.” But he would disregard my entreaties and always, always accord me that courtesy--never agreeing to address me by the diminutive but exalting me by the honorific. It was the greatest lesson I would ever get in real humility and genuine humanity from one whose life was the stuff of legends.

Bar topnotcher in 1944 (95.3%, tied with his friend and ally Jose W. Diokno) with a law degree from the University of the Philippines, a Masters in Law from Harvard Law School, and a Doctorate in Law from Yale University with a Doctor of Laws Honoris Causa from the U.P. Topnotcher in three senate races, pre-Martial law (1965), post-Plaza Miranda (1971) and post-EDSA (1987). First PCGG Chair.

Former Senate President. Principal author of the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Government Workers, the law definining coup d’etat as a felony, and the law defining plunder as a crime, and many others. One of the magnificent 12 who voted to kick out the U.S. bases in 1991 (unforgettable image: Ka Jovy intoning “The treaty is defeated.”)

The.stuff.of.legends.

I am privileged to have met and worked with Jovito R. Salonga in my lifetime. As a law student, I did research on some matters that he had asked the UP Law Center for, which later turned out to be inputs for the law defining plunder (R.A. 7080). I never met him when I was a law student but I did vote for him when he ran for the Senate and again when he ran for President. He was the only candidate for President I ever cast my vote for. Much later on, I would have the chance to meet him and sit across him, listening to him think--and that was, for me, an experience of a lifetime.

He called me on my cell phone. No advance text warning as to who was on the line, just a number that wasn’t on my contacts list. I took the call nonetheless and after a perfunctory “hello”, I heard that familiar voice saying, “Professor Te. This is Salonga. May I trouble you for a few moments with some questions?” I sat up in my chair even if I wasn’t visible to him and assured him that of course, I would be happy to help him. And that was how it started.

He wanted to meet to discuss his latest brainchild, Bantay Katarungan, a judiciary watchdog that would screen nominations for the judiciary; this was the concrete expression of his belief that judiciary aspirants must be a cut above the rest in terms of competence, professionalism and integrity, especially on integrity. I and the Robin-to-his-Batman Emil Capulong would meet for many hours discussing his thoughts on how to realize this dream. Much later, this dream would be realized; I would join him for some training sessions involving law students who would serve as monitors. He would later make me an offer to work full-time for Bantay but because I was then neck deep in my advocacy against the death penalty and was handling so many death penalty appeals, I had to decline the offer. I gave him some names and he did consider them, inviting some of them to work for Bantay in the days and years to come.

I would encounter him on many more occasions after those brainstorming meetings. He would call to ask questions; he would offer opinions. And, everytime, he would greet me with that wide, albeit crooked smile that lit up his eyes and that by-now-familiar-but-no-less-cringe-inducing “Professor.” I would always call him by the last title that he earned, “Senator”, even if, in my opinion, he was, with Jose W. Diokno, the best President we never got.

I would have the honor of representing him (and several others) before the Supreme Court in the first case to question the constitutionality of the Visiting Forces Agreement (G.R. No. 138698, which would be decided on October 10, 2000). Conscious that he was the Salonga who wrote the textbook on Public International Law, I approached the writing of the Petition with great trepidation; of course, I showed it to him. And, after reading it, he smiled and said, “Okay. Let’s file this.” For a young lawyer, that was the equivalent of a Siskel & Ebert “two thumbs up!”

His human body, ravaged by injuries from the Plaza Miranda bombing and later by illness, kept him from participating for many years in public life; for practically a generation, his name drew no recall. But for those of us fortunate enough to have witnessed this giant among us, his name would always summon memories of a time when a life was a light and that light shone brightly. His passing diminishes us all. He was the last of the greats. Today, he enters immortality.

Paalam, Ka Jovy. Mabuhay ka!