Typically, I don’t write in the first person. But this is a special occasion.

On Tuesday, June 8, Culver City buried a longtime friend, Albert Vera. His passing was unexpected, and the turnout to pay homage to arguably the city’s most popular and admired figure was indicative of Culver City’s affection for him and his family.

In the interest of full disclosure, I was a friend of Albert Vera’s. When I arrived in Culver City in 2004, he was the first councilman to welcome me to the city.

“Please call me whenever you want,” he told me. “I’m always willing to help newspaper reporters.”

Having lived through Italian dictator Benito Mussolini’s reign during World War II, Albert told me he always had a deep appreciation and respect for the press.

“Newspapers are very important in our society, Gary,” he told me one day as we sat in his office at Sorrento Italian Market. “You have the ability to keep the people informed about what government is doing for them — and to them.”

That resonated with me, as did almost everything Albert told me. It’s not always easy to find politicians who actually respect the press. Many pay lip it service, but often take umbrage if a news story — regardless of if it is factual or not — does not advance or promote them, their political agenda or that of their associates.

He was always available when I covered the city council. He often provided history and context to votes or items that the council was voting on or considering. Albert was always quotable, which is a reporter’s dream.

Our friendship blossomed after he left the council. He would invite me to his home, where I would often talk with him for hours on a variety of subjects. I also met many of his longtime friends who spoke of his loyalty and generosity.

Jewett Walker Jr., a campaign consultant who worked on Albert’s last campaign in 2002, remembers him for his integrity and generosity.

“It was like working for an icon,” Walker, a Culver City resident since 1999, told the News. “He was highly respected by politicians and people from all walks of life for who he was — a very honest, down-to-earth person.”

Like most successful men, Albert had his detractors. Some provocateurs, armed with the courage of a hyena and the Internet, unsuccessfully sought to tarnish Albert’s reputation by darkly hinting that he has exerted political influence after his two sons suffered legal troubles. Interestingly, some have now risen from the shadows to falsely and unconvincingly cast themselves as contemporaries or even amicos of Albert’s.

One of his council colleagues from his first foray into politics, Steven Gourley, saw him several days before he passed away.

“It came as a great shock to me,” Gourley said. “We talked for a while and reminisced about the good old days.”

Gourley, who knew Albert for nearly 20 years, says he came to greatly respect his friend’s passion and loyalty. His Old World sentiments and sharp tongue were two things that Gourley says he will sorely miss.

“If he had been born in the 19th century, he would have been an opera by (Italian romantic composer Giuseppe) Verdi,” Gourley quipped.

Walker believes his philanthropy was a great asset to his campaigns and was one of the reasons why he was so respected.

“That’s very important to a lot of people,” he said. “Albert was always very respectful to me when I came to Culver City, and he was colorblind.”

That was another aspect of him that I admired. His associations with local African-American political leaders like Los Angeles City Councilman Herb Wesson and former Second District Supervisor Yvonne Burke, like ours, grew from professional admiration to personal friendship.

I saw Albert the Sunday before he passed away. He seemed slightly more tired than usual. His wife Ursula, whose lingering illness was a great strain on him, had a particularly bad night. He gave me a hug before I left and said, “Thank you for your friendship, Gary.”

I never imagined that would be the last time that I would see him alive, or that those would be the last words that he would ever say to me.

The playwright Tennessee Williams said, “Life is partly what we make it, and partly what is made by the friends that we choose.”

I didn’t always understand Williams, but I certainly understand this.

Albert told me on many times, “Politics is temporary, but friendship is forever.”

There is so much more that could be said about Albert, but in so many ways, I think that says it all.

It was an honor, mon ami.