Andre, everyone's friend

The following is Newsday editor in chief Judy Raymond's remarks at media photographer Andre Alexander’s funeral Mt D’Or Seventh-Day Adventist Church on September 13. Alexander, 63, died at hospital on September 5 after a battle with cancer.

Good afternoon to Andre’s family, his friends and colleagues – though I’m not sure that’s a distinction Andre would make, because just about everyone was Andre’s friend.

Andre and I met when I began working at the Express, almost 30 years ago. I don’t remember the first time we met, but that’s not surprising, because when you met Andre you felt as if you’d always been friends.

And as with all Andre’s other friends in the media, we remained friends whether or not we happened to work in the same place.

The last time we officially worked together we were both at the Guardian, while I was editor in chief. Sometimes he would come into my office, to tell me a funny story about something that happened on an assignment the night before, or because there was something going on in the newsroom that he felt I should know about and he wanted to make sure I did, or just to show me a photo that he was especially pleased with.

Or so I thought. But I remember once he came in for a few minutes, and we talked about this and that, and as he was leaving he said, "I just wanted to make sure you were all right, because I know this office can be a lonely place.” And that was absolutely typical of Andre: you might think he was just having a good time, but he was very considerate and very shrewd and he noticed everything.

As a photographer, too, his intelligence was one of his gifts. He made sure he knew who and what was in the news, so on a slow day he could go out and create a picture with news value. Because he knew everything that was going on, if he went to cover what seemed like just another cocktail party, he would overhear a conversation and realise it was actually a big news story.

It helped too, that, that as Wesley Gibbings commented on Facebook, Andre knew everyone in the world.

Andre was almost always positive, upbeat and good-humoured. Everyone here has their own favourite Andre stories, and memories of secret jokes he shared with us, with that husky, conspiratorial laugh. He had incredible stamina for partying – but he worked even harder. He would cover three events in one night and then stop off in the newsroom, no matter how late, to upload his photos before he went home. He was always willing to take on another assignment, or to help a colleague who needed it, for instance a rookie reporter who wasn’t sure who was who, or how to do things.

But one of the few things that would annoy him was people who didn’t do what they were being paid to do, and more importantly, didn’t take pride in their work. But working hard was easier for Andre, because not everyone has his amazing gift for combining work with pleasure.

Unless they proved they didn’t deserve it, he treated everyone he met with respect, and more than that, with genuine affection and kindness. That was one of the reasons he had so many friends, in so many areas of life.

He could mix happily with ambassadors and judges and government ministers without being intimidated; he put them at ease, too, and they appreciated that. So just as he went to their cocktail parties at their official residences, or some other posh venue, in return he would invite them to his famous "second Sundays" at his home every year – and they would gladly accept.

He spent a lot of time in the past few years working on that house, to make it more comfortable for his wife, Betty—not really for himself, because even though he talked about retiring, we all know Andre was never going to stop working.

But still, even if he chose to spend them working, he should have had a lot more years ahead of him. He had earned them.

There are a few comforting things that can be said today. Andre had a good and purposeful life. He did what he loved, work he was good at, and that hard work paid off. He enjoyed what he had achieved, and he enjoyed it without envy, arrogance or malice. People loved him as much as he loved them, with that big heart of his. His suffering of the last few months, which was awful to watch, is over.

And I’m reminded of something that one of my family said about another relative who had passed away. He recalled the phrase in the Apostles’ Creed about the “company of saints,” and he said that made him think of our deceased relative, liming with the saints, enjoying a drink or two with them. I can just see Andre doing that too, having them all laughing, with Andre laughing more than anyone at his own joke, glass in hand.

Andre had his weaknesses, like everyone, but they were outweighed by so many things: his professionalism, his caring for other people, his generosity – his good nature, in every sense of that expression.

For those of us he’s left behind, the newsroom, and assignments – and our lives – will be quieter and less fun without him.