The Rocky Mountain News suffered two tragedies within two weeks — the loss of the nearly-150-year-old newspaper, and the death of James Meadow. James died Sunday after complications from a bike accident.

He is remembered fondly by his colleagues as a man with a good sense of humor, a wry smile and a passion for the written word. An example mentioned by a friend:

“TRINIDAD – It was a cold, raw day – temperature barely flirting with 30, gray sky not sure if it wanted to spit snow or freezing rain – when 60 people gathered on Main Street to say goodbye to a man who was part legend, part gunslinger, part SOB and 100 percent Texan.”

RIP, James.

Jim spent his career lighting a fire under second-rate city newspapers. Although the papers ultimately failed, Jim helped inspire other editors and reporters to “print the news and raise hell” by improving the quality of articles.

That aspect of his story is notable, as some of the nation’s two-paper towns recently have lost one, are about to lose one with hopes of a Web resurgence or are making sacrifices to avoid losing one. I wonder if Jim’s bosses would have permitted him to make changes to improve the copy these days because it probably cost time and money that no one has anymore.

Jim died Friday from Alzheimer’s disease. He was 86.

RIP, Jim.

Terry was an administrative assistant for the Houston Chronicle’s sports section. After receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis, Terry channeled her thoughts into a blog for the paper. CancerDiva chronicled her everyday life, with a focus on what it’s like to live with cancer.

Her posts are engaging, witty and full of art. An editor’s dream indeed.

RIP, Terry.

Paul, who was a photographer for a newspaper in Mexico, and a reporter from a TV station were leaving an auditorium after covering a news event. He and the other reporter were shot by suspected hitmen on motorcycles. The TV reporter was seriously injured, but survived. Paul was killed instantly.

In the past 30 years, more than 50 journalists have been killed in Mexico. Recently, shooters on motorcycles have been appearing on roads around Mexico City. Journalists and citizens often are killed when they interact with the country’s drug trade.

Descanse en paz, Paul.

That’s a tough beat.

But Bart McDowell had the energy to keep up. He was “the National Geographic man,” conquering new places and writing in-depth stories. Oh, yes, and doing this:

“He enjoyed pointing out that, over the course of his career, he managed to slip three hackneyed phrases past his editors: ‘Once upon a time,’ ‘Meanwhile, back at the ranch’ and “They lived happily ever after.’”

Bart died Jan. 17 of complications caused by cancer. He was 85. RIP, Bart.

Dan once badgered a paroled torture rapist for an interview. He spent the night inside of an elephant cage at a zoo for a story. I think I speak for many of us young reporters when I say that Dan was badass.

While many of us won’t be able to do the kinds of stories Dan did purely from a safety standpoint, we can take away the idea that few stories are completely impossible. The juice is worth the squeeze.

Dan died Thursday in his sleep. He was 50. RIP, Dan.

David, unlike many other veteran reporters, volunteered for the cops beat. He was skilled at local government reporting, and good at capturing the scene. Everyone knew David well enough to just call him rather than send a press release into the void. He liked to make people laugh, but even more so, he liked to get the story right.

The thing that strikes me about David is that he doesn’t sound like he got tired of it all, like so many other reporters watching the field change. I admire that. I’d like to imagine that he was the kind of person to focus on his writing rather than pitying himself or the industry.

RIP, David.

William Fowlkes had firsthand experience with that after being poisoned while taking a break at a bar. Throughout his career, William made sure that everyone knew the truth about racial relations and knew it quickly. William was known as the “race man” for both reasons.

William died Sunday from pneumonia. He was 94.

RIP, William.

Many of the obits that I view about female journalists are either those who died while still working or those who had been out of the business for years. It was a sign of the times that these women usually wrote society pieces.

Not Waltrina. She was a kicky collector that had a way with words and a love of food. She didn’t showboat, preferring to work diligently on the sidelines to write accurate articles.

Restaurateurs “didn’t always agree with Trina,” said Stu Wilk, former managing editor of The News, “but they always got a fair shake.”

And, well, she did write a series of stories titled, “I was a Playboy Bunny.” She was a different kind of lady, in a very good way.

RIP, Waltrina.

Her primary focus was getting it right, and getting that information ethically. “Being fair” was something that Marsha was known for, and that compliment is very hard to earn. Her city declared a day for her even though she had only lived there for three years. She clearly made quite the impression through her reporting, and her colleagues were very open about sharing the last stories of Marsha.

Marsha died Thursday from complications of pancreatic cancer, which doctors diagnosed her with last month. She was 57.

RIP, Marsha.