SIR Harry Jones, (pictured) political animal extraordinaire, has become a victim of one of his own policies.

The whispers for the past year have been that, after 17 years at the helm of Newport council, he's finally going.

Sir Harry gamely hung on until the Labour lists were published in April before he would admit it.

But the roots of his step-down spread back over three years, when he started campaigning for fresh blood on local councils.

He said: "I don't believe Newport council is representative of the people. Most councils are composed of elderly, retired white males. I started saying that there should be change.

"I looked around. Who was the classic example of that? Who had to go? It was me."

For Sir Harry and for Newport, it's the end of an era. 31 years as a councillor: through the lows of the Usk barrage failure and steelworks job losses, to the highs of city status and a vision for Newport in 2020.

He said: "I'll pick up my things and walk out on June 10. It has to be a clean cut. I don't want to hang around, like a spectre at the feast."

Quashing rumours of an invitation to the House of Lords, he said: "I'm not going out on the basis that I know what I'm doing next. There are no proposals and no plans. But if there's any way I can serve local communities then I will take it."

Talk of retirement seems to fox this notorious workaholic. He's 76 but doesn't look it, and is full of energy - political energy.

"I haven't even got a holiday booked. I've no idea what will happen. As of June 10 it will be a disappearance of myself."

Ask him about hobbies and free time and he looks completely baffled, disturbed even.

He struggles: "I was a great swimmer. I played water polo for Wales. And I was interested in gardening. But all that went."

I'd heard that Sir Harry's only 'time off' is a Saturday morning stroll through Newport centre.

"I've always liked to see and get a feel for what was going on in Newport. It's surprising what people I meet." He said, laughing: "Many of them have a go at me."

His colleagues have had a go too - many complain of the 'secretive' cabinet system he leads, of some of his mistakes, of the way he dominates the Labour party in Newport. But the tone among the majority is reverential: "Immense." "A hard act to follow." "He's done a lot for Newport."

Born in Stow Hill and educated at St Woolos School and Newport Technical College, Sir Harry joined the Merchant Navy as an officer and an engineer "at a time when every port in the world would have a few British ships in".

Back in Newport in the 1950s he joined Alcan as a tool maker but quickly got absorbed in trade union politics as a shop steward and then a convener.

"Friends lost their jobs and there was a lot of unemployment. My being has been coloured by that.

"It started a belief that there was an awful lot to be done to raise standards of living and work conditions."

He saw local government as an extension of that, becoming a councillor in 1973 and then going full time when he was made redundant from Alcan in the mid 1980s.

He said: "Nothing filled me with greater pride than to have someone contact me and ask me to go to their home to discuss their difficulties and problems."

A huge sense of mission and purpose fills Sir Harry as he talks of "a great fire that drove me to right social injustices" and how "I've got a national reputation for being mean with money". He pauses: "It almost sounds like a crusade."

Whatever flak the council has taken over £20,000 pay-offs for long-serving councillors to leave - for which Sir Harry is eligible - there's no doubt that his sacrifice has been huge.

His family: wife Hazel, a former school secretary, and three sons, often took holidays on their own. His sons now work in housing, teaching and agriculture.

Sir Harry has four grandchildren and though he saw one briefly last night - tonight he's out canvassing for his replacement.

He reads lengthy, dry reports at night to keep pace with the council, and as chair of the Welsh Local Government Association and vice chair of the Local Government Association.

In short, the man seeps local politics from every pore. They knighted him for it four years ago.

"Often I start at 4.30am to be in London for 9. I dread seeing someone I know on the train. I hide from them. I'm relying on those couple of hours travelling to London to brief myself.

"It becomes all-enveloping. A total commitment. I do a longer, harder working day than when I was in my 30s."

For a 76-year old he manages this well, helped by his teetotal, non-smoking and vegetarian lifestyle.

He adds: "Power is used as a disparaging word. People say I do it for the power and that's true to a certain extent because without that I wouldn't have the ability to influence change.

"I've worked towards the betterment of quality of life. If there's a big game then that's what it's all about."