Ed Jackson will be missed by family, community

Ed Jackson was content if he was helping someone or if he had a cigar clamped between his teeth. He was in absolute bliss if he could do both at the same time.

Jackson was a longtime volunteer with Central Valley Sheriff Community Oriented Policing Effort, logging more than 10,000 hours in the past decade. He patrolled for handicap parking violators, checked homes of vacationing residents and staffed the Sheriff’s Office front desk downtown two days a week.

He died June 24 at the age of 79 after a stroke, leaving behind nine children, scores of grandchildren and a legion of admirers.

“The department had a lot of respect for Ed,” said Lt. Steve Jones of the Sheriff’s Office. “He was a big part of our agency.”

Jackson was born Ed McCruden in Chicago. His father died when he was 12, and he was adopted by his mother’s second husband when he was 14, taking his last name. He was training to be a pilot in the Army Air Corps when World War II ended. He had dropped out of high school, and when the war was over, he decided to go back to school and get his diploma. He got his diploma, but he also got his wife, Bonny.

“My mom was delivering a note to the teacher,” said his daughter, Deanna Jackson Gansser. Jackson would later say that he knew he would marry her as soon as he saw her.

They married in 1950 and had 10 children over a span of 20 years. The name of every single child begins with the letter D, though no one knows the reason for sure. It may be that once they started, it was hard to stop.

Jackson worked for Firestone for 16 years, then worked for Goodyear for 23 years before retiring in 1990. He had been transferred to Spokane in 1980 and stayed in Spokane Valley after he stopped working.

“It wasn’t long after he retired that he started volunteering,” said his son, Daniel Jackson. He started out delivering meals for Meals on Wheels with Bonny. Nine years ago she was diagnosed with lung cancer, dying nine months later close to Thanksgiving.

Her death hit Jackson hard. “I think a lot of us thought we’d be back by Christmas for another funeral,” said Jackson Gansser. Instead, Jackson threw himself into his volunteer work. “That’s what kept him going,” said his son, Doug Jackson.

Jackson was a private man. His children knew that his volunteer work was important to him, but he didn’t say anything when he was named the SCOPE Volunteer of the Year in 1997 or the Sheriff’s Office Volunteer of the Year in 2001. “Dad is our dad, but he’s also everyone else’s friend,” said Daniel Jackson. “We realize he meant so much to the community.”

“It’s almost like he was two people,” said his son, Donavan Jackson. “His public image is so wonderful to hear about.”

His children grew up knowing Jackson as a hard-working man and a strict disciplinarian. During the summers he’d take a few kids along when he went on business trips. Jackson almost always drove on those trips. He loved to travel, but he preferred to drive or, better yet, take a cruise. He didn’t care about the destination. He just loved being on the water. He particularly enjoyed a spontaneous trip to the Oregon Coast this spring that reunited him with four of his sons.

He also had a sly sense of humor. “He liked to pull the wool over people’s eyes,” said his daughter, Denny Kapp. “He loved to just sit down and watch your reaction.”

Jackson was proud of his family, said Sheriff’s Office spokesman Cpl. Dave Reagan. Jackson did Reagan’s filing and worked the front desk only steps away from Reagan’s office. Reagan once took a trip to Jackson’s house to pick up some shelving and ended up staying for three hours while Jackson chatted and made lunch. “He gave me a tour of all his family photos,” Reagan said.

Jackson was a pro at dealing with people who came to the Sheriff’s Office desk. If someone was rude to him, Jackson wasn’t shy about calling them on it, but at the same time he was respectful to everyone.

Reagan would often hear him tell people, “I’m just an old volunteer here. I don’t know much.” But the truth was that Jackson knew everyone in the building and was able to help just about everyone. Every once and a while a mom would come in, little children in tow, and ask for junior deputy stickers. The Sheriff’s Office hasn’t ordered the stickers for 15 years, but Jackson would hunt high and low until he found some, Reagan said.

“He took so much of the burden off the desk officer,” he said. “We know the law. Ed knew people. He could be strict and forceful and businesslike when required. But he was much more comfortable being everybody’s favorite grandpa.”

Disaster struck on June 14. Jackson was heading into his driveway when his car ran into some bushes. Bystanders took him to the hospital, where he was told he’d had a stroke. Some of his children arrived in town to make preparations for putting him in a nursing home. He was awake but had trouble communicating. On June 21 he had another stroke. The rest of his children dropped everything and came, even his son Doug who had been serving in Kuwait with the Air Force for a month. Jackson never regained consciousness before dying June 24.

His children decided to bury him in his SCOPE uniform. A pen was in his shirt pocket, ready to write another handicap parking violation.

“Ed will be hard act to follow,” said Reagan. “This place is the poorer for his passing.”