Charisse Millett: Dan Fagan, we’ll dance again in heaven

By CHARISSE MILLETT

I’m struggling today with the heartbreaking news of our friend Dan Fagan’s passing.

From the moment his lovely sister asked me to call her early this morning, to right now as I try to put into words what our friendship has meant over the decades, it still doesn’t feel real.

I first met Dan during his early days as a reporter at KTUU. I was drawn to his reporting. He had this devilish twinkle in his eyes and an incredible talent for turning any news story into a must-see report. No matter the topic, Dan always found an angle that drew you in.

At the time, I was working in sales and marketing at Era Aviation. We had started a program to bring Santa Claus to the 18 rural communities outside Bethel that we served. Usually, it wasn’t hard to find someone local to play Santa. But one year, my usual Santa wasn’t available. I thought to myself, I wonder if Dan Fagan would do it? I reached out through a mutual friend, and to my surprise, he said yes!

Arrangements were made: Santa suit packed, tickets booked. Dan knew it would take three days to visit all 18 villages—it was an ambitious schedule, and the weather was beautiful but brutally cold, dipping to -30°F in some places.

I’ll never forget picking up Dan and his cameraman at the Bethel terminal. I was so excited! As he walked in through the -10°F wind, I noticed he wasn’t wearing a jacket. I asked if he’d left it on the plane, and he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, I didn’t think I’d need one.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking until he added, “I thought I’d have a Santa coat?” I burst out laughing. “You’re going to use the Santa coat as your jacket the whole trip?” He shrugged, “Yeah, I didn’t think the coat thing all the way through.”

That trip will forever be one of my favorite memories. With each stop, the crowds grew as word spread that Dan Fagan was the Santa. I got to play Mrs. Claus. In Chevak, when we landed in our Twin Otter, we were swarmed by excited kids. One little boy grabbed Dan’s arm, looked him right in the eyes, and exclaimed, “You’re not Santa—you’re DAN FAGAN!” We laughed and tried to convince him otherwise, but that moment was pure magic.

Evenings were filled with laughter, stories from the Era crews, and the camaraderie of a shared mission. Dan hated the cold, dreaded boarding the plane each morning—but he couldn’t wait to greet every child we met.

From that trip on, Dan and I became fast friends. He was witty, wicked smart, and always brought levity to any situation. He was my biggest cheerleader—and my sharpest critic—when I ran for office. We didn’t always agree; sometimes we argued, went weeks without speaking, but we always found our way back to each other with grace and forgiveness.

We shared a deep bond over our faith, our families, and of course—politics. We had so many adventures: taking the train to Seward with his nephew, road-tripping to Homer with our eclectic crew, visiting him in New Orleans with my friend Lynn, and the many hilarious memories on the golf course (those stories are for another time).

He stood by me through life’s highs and lows: when my dad passed, when I got divorced, when I was elected—and unelected. I followed his career from TV to radio and back again, joining him as a caller, a guest host, and sometimes just a listener.

We shared countless stories—about his beloved nieces and nephews, my kids, and eventually my grandkids. He never stopped seeing the beauty in this world. Even when life knocked him down, he always found his way back to hope.

Dan believed deeply in God, in the power of faith and prayer. He never hesitated to speak about God or the miracle of life. His heart was big—for Alaska, for this country, and for his faith.

I’ll never stop smiling about his constant teasing—especially his insistence that I wasn’t funny. “You’re just a big unfunny woman,” he’d say. It was his favorite line, and one of my favorite memories.

We supported each other through the loss of our dads, and when his beloved mother, Tommie, passed. I was so honored to call him my friend.

When I visited him in New Orleans, I heard his mom call him “Danny” with such love. Dan glowed when she said it. I asked her if I could call him that too. She smiled, winked, and said, “Absolutely.”

That’s how I’ll always remember him—Danny—and dancing in the French Quarter. The one and only time I ever saw him dance.

Charisse Millett served in the Alaska House of Representatives for the 25th District from 2009 to 2019. In the 29th Legislature, from, she was the House Majority Leader. In the 30th Legislature, she served the House Minority Leader.