Friends, colleagues remember John Dickinson (2024)

A decade has passed since friends, family and colleagues of former Moscow City Council President John Dickinson first faced his loss, but the inspiration, affection and love he stirred within them has not faded.

He is woven into the lives of those who cared for him, his friend and former Mayor Nancy Chaney said.

Teva Hopper, daughter of another close friend, said the day Dickinson left his house on the trip to Oregon that he never returned from, he left a note on the refrigerator.

“I’ll do the dishes when I get home.”

Dickinson died after a fall from the John Day Bridge on Jan. 7, 2006, where he stopped to assist a woman who had been in a collision. A third vehicle hit his, knocking it into a concrete barrier. Somehow Dickinson ended up in the John Day River where it enters the Columbia.

His body was not recovered until later that year.

“The hardest part in the months afterwards was not knowing if he was going to come home,” Hopper wrote. “I remember calling his phone just to get the voicemail, and having dreams that he walked through our door. We grieved. We wished. We hoped that he would appear. We made up stories in our heads about where he could be. The whole thing didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t.”

Chaney said she met Dickinson when he and she first ran for City Council in 2003, and their friendship was almost immediate.

“We found we had a lot of things in common,” she said. “He was just a fun and stimulating person to be around. He touched people in a substantive and meaningful way that caused them — caused us — to live our lives differently.”

Chaney said that when Dickinson began his ascent into public service, he had recently retired from his position as chair of computer science at the University of Idaho — and was still reeling with the recent arrest of his graduate student, Sami Omar Al-Hussayen.

Al-Hussayen was arrested in February 2003 as a terrorist, although he was only charged with visa violations. The event shook Dickinson to the point where he found himself making a move he never planned on — running for office.

“John was astonished that government could be so aggressive and, he thought, unfair, as it proved out to be,” Chaney said.

Andriette Pieron, John’s friend, colleague and cofounder in Sirius Idaho Theatre — another beloved outlet for his post-retirement time — recalled Dickinson’s dedication to Al-Hussayen.

“He would go to Boise and visit him regularly,” she said.

Dickinson referred to the case in an email he provided his friend and campaign treasurer Pam Palmer, and which Chaney shared with the Daily News.

“I was interviewed by the FBI that day and I told them that I did not believe that Sami was involved with anything subversive,” he wrote.

Dickinson wrote he was concerned about many aspects of the case — both those related to the legal process and those closer to home.

“One of the first things I noticed was that many faculty were afraid to speak out on behalf of Sami — some were currently dealing with the INS, some were dependent on agencies like the CIA or NSA for funding their security work,” he wrote. “Being afraid to speak is a strong sign that something is wrong. Sami’s arrest gave me the impetus to seek political office.”

In 2004, Al-Hussayen was acquitted of the terrorism charges and three of eight immigration charges. The jury deadlocked on the other five. He, his wife and three sons accepted a deal to be deported to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, rather than be retried. He’s now a teacher at a technical college there.

Chaney said Dickinson was not only a strong member of the council, of which he was elected president shortly before his death, but brought with him his exuberance for living.

“He was not afraid to try new things, in fact he craved them,” she said.

It was during this time Dickinson was also working with Palmer and Pieron in Sirius Idaho Theatre.

“He acted in it, he built stage sets, the lighting and sound systems,” Chaney said.

Chaney said she recalled a council meeting throughout which Dickinson spoke with a Russian accent, inspiring humor and confusion.

“He was practicing for a part,” she said.

Pieron said the meeting wasn’t the only time he practiced the accent.

“He wouldn’t stop,” she said, laughing. “It was like, ‘John, I realize you have to know this but stop it, just shut up.’ ”

Palmer died in September, but she and Dickinson were close friends until the end of his life, and her daughters, Teva Hopper and Brya Palmer remember with fondness their time with him.

Hopper said when Dickinson met her and her boyfriend — now husband — struggling financially through college, he invited them to share his cottage on Pine Cone Road.

“Everything about him was selfless,” Hopper wrote in an email. “He took us in as if we were his own children. We felt incredibly welcome.”

Hopper said the three housemates would play card games, listen to Dickinson rehearse lines for a play and converse over cookies and milk.

“I describe John to my friends who didn’t know him as ‘a cool uncle,’ ” she wrote. “His heart was warm and his humor was bright. He was insanely smart, but loved a good joke. His laughter would rumble through the house.”

Palmer wrote she always looked forward to spending time with Dickinson. He tutored her in math and helped her practice driving when she had a learner’s permit.

“He kept gum in his car just for us, even though he didn’t chew gum,” she wrote.

Shanon Quinn can be reached at (208) 883-4636, or by email to squinn@dnews.com.