PORTLAND — It had been 45 days since his death, but for one last afternoon Portland Commissioner Nick Fish found his way back to the people in the city he loved.
There was Fish grinning with his wife, daughter and son in one of the photographs displayed Sunday. Cutting a ribbon and visiting a park in another one. Enjoying the company of political dignitaries, schoolchildren and people in the community who could use his help.
The Portland City Council’s veteran political figure and longtime affordable-housing champion died Jan. 2 from stomach cancer at age 61, becoming the first commissioner in 50 years to die in office.
Several hundred people gathered in downtown Portland for a touching ceremony to celebrate his life — one Fish organized himself.
“He selected every speaker himself, he loved to plan events, and he left clear instructions,” said Stephen Percy, interim president of Portland State University.
George Hocker, a pastor and former political aide to Fish, remembered the private prayers they would share in Fish’s office at City Hall in the years after he won election in 2008.
“We usually prayed for wisdom,” he said, “and for strength.”
Former Gov. Barbara Roberts, who mentored Fish, found the legacy and loss of her friend difficult to put into words.
“You could sense his compassion and empathy in a single handshake,” she said, later adding: “He left all of us kinder, wiser and more deeply connected.”
Tina Kotek, speaker of the Oregon House, recalled that Fish always believed problems could be solved and justice should be served. Their final conversation, she said, was about police accountability and Oregon’s growing housing crisis.
“Being a public servant wasn’t just a job for Nick,” she said. “It was his joy.”
A Harvard graduate and labor lawyer by training, Nicholas Stuyvesant Fish grew up in New York and Washington, D.C., carrying the bloodline of an American political dynasty. His great-great-grandfather, Hamilton Fish, governed New York and became secretary of state to President Ulysses Grant. His grandfather won election to the U.S House, as did his father.
Fish came to savor his life far from the East Coast, however, moving with his wife, Patricia Schechter, to Portland in 1995 when she accepted a position at Portland State University. Fish raised his family here, taking particular pride watching his children, Maria and Chapin, play soccer.
Oregon Attorney General Ellen Rosenblum recalled getting to know Fish in his early days as a Portlander. Fish was eager to meet people and volunteered to organize a summer picnic for the U.S. District Court of Oregon Historical Society, managing every aspect of the event.
“From the start, Nick was a person of unbounded optimism, good cheer and delightful gossip,” Rosenblum said to laughs. “Right?”
Ever the networker and purveyor of inside-baseball political insight, Fish launched a campaign for City Council in 2002, eventually winning on his third try. He asked two former city commissioners, Gretchen Kafoury and Mike Lindberg, which bureaus he should seek.
Kafoury said housing. Lindberg said parks. Fish got both.
On the council, Fish was student of politics and history. Lindberg recalled getting regular calls from Fish, seeking to learn about events or decisions from decades earlier.
“Those calls were amazing to me,” Lindberg said, “because what he wanted to understand was the foundation upon which the present is built.”
Fish served on the City Council under four mayors, earning a reputation as a consensus-builder and diplomat. He is perhaps best known as a longtime champion for building more affordable housing, advancing the issue years before it was politically popular.
Marc Jolin, who leads city and county efforts to help shelter homeless people, recalled seeing Fish show up every year to share a Thanksgiving meal with homeless people or to deliver food boxes to people who had just secured housing.
One couple Fish met 10 years ago got married a few months before his death. Fish attended.
“It was this genuine commitment to human connection and belief of the central value of every person that led Nick to use the power of his office, again and again, to make sure the city was caring for those left furthest behind,” Jolin said.
Fish had a passion for helping the underdog, a strong moral compass and natural affinity for politics, said his younger brother, Peter Fish.
It’s why a hospice nurse advised family members that Fish’s Dec. 31 decision to eventually resign from the City Council “may well be a turning point.”
“Wise counsel indeed,” his brother said.
Ted Leavitt, a friend of Fish’s since age 10, offered the final words of the afternoon.
“There’s an enduring legacy from his work,” Leavitt said.
“We’ll miss you, Nick.”
