Mike Curran

Mike Curran After a hard fought battle against Parkinson's Disease, Mike Curran died with family by his side on St. Patrick's Day, 2018. Curran was born in Bakersfield, California seventy-five years ago. As a sixth generation Californian (his great-great-great uncle was Romaldo Pacheco, the first Hispanic governor of California), Curran was an avid outdoorsman. Since boyhood, he preferred to be outside in nature and he would even occasionally cut class on his walk to school to roam the fields and hills around him. Despite the self-initiated vacations, Curran had a life-long passion for learning. He liked reading and talking about archeology, astrophysics, politics, and all the natural sciences. Curran was also a fan of poetry and fiction, especially Robinson Jeffers, John Steinbeck and John Updike. And, if the mood struck him, he'd sometimes spontaneously recite from Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe. Then there were the magazines. Inevitably shriveled up from hot-tub water and stained with coffee, mud, and Magic Shell, Curran was always leaving a wake of Scientific American, Newsweek, and Archeology magazines behind him. Regarding his formal education, Curran received a degree in English from U.C. Santa Barbara, and an M.D. from the University of Irvine. Towards the end of undergrad, Curran had a chance encounter with the school's doctor when he cut his heel diving for abalone to sell on the black market to supplement his meager income. The doctor was a Navy man and encouraged Curran to consider a career as a medical diving officer. He did just that. After completing training at Key West, FL; New London, CT; and Washington D.C., Curran served during Vietnam on the U.S.S. Grayback. He was a medical diving officer as well as a "frogman" attached to the Naval Special Warfare's Underwater Demolition Team, the precursor to today's Navy SEALs. Tight-lipped about his combat experiences during the war, Curran would only share about the "fun times" like water-skiing through enemy territory and sneaking off the sub and swimming to shore to try the local specialty: live monkey brains. After Vietnam, Curran put his scientific mind to use while satisfying his need for adventure. Working in concert with NASA, scientists Art Langguth and Bruce Parks at the Naval Undersea Research and Development Center at Pt. Loma, CA were tasked with developing an anti-shark weapon. It needed to be less cumbersome than the previously used "bang sticks" that the frogmen could carry when retrieving Apollo astronauts after "splash down." Curran was one of the audacious frogmen who volunteered to test the new device, a weapon that became known as the "Farallon Shark Dart." When his Navy commitment ended, Curran headed for land and set up what would become a thriving radiology practice in Twin Cities, being the first to bring nuclear medicine and mammography into the community. But that was just his day job. His real career was rancher, hunter, guide and fisherman. Curran learned to fish and hunt from his grandfather Roland and the two would later take epic trips together. Curran hunted and fished all over the world: Alaska, Africa, Australia, Asia, Baja, Central America, Hawaii, Kazakhstan, the Marquesas, Mexico, Mongolia, Russia and Tahiti. He would carve weeks out of his radiology schedule to guide moose hunts in Alaska and overland safaris in Africa. Thrilling as these international trips were, his first love would always be duck hunting. For many years, Curran, with one of his loyal Labradors, imbedded himself in an old 1950's Airstream trailer at the infamous Gilbreath Brother's Duck Club, northwest of Wasco. Later, "Dr. Duck" would hunt in style at private ponds his good friend, Ron Hurlbert, secured that were adjacent to the Fish and Wildlife Refuge. When he wasn't duck hunting, travelling, or working, Curran was at his ranch in Adelaide. After years of big game hunting, he was satisfied to just drive his JEEP around scoping for pig and turkeys. He bulldozed a pond in his backyard and stocked it with trout so that he could practice fly-fishing in his bathrobe in the mornings while drinking his hot chocolate. When the pond would start to evaporate in late Spring, he'd host trout BBQ's. Curran spent the last seven years of his life quietly in Marin County, California where he became a devoted grandfather, and even more surprisingly, an avid baseball fan coached in the nuances of the game by his son-in-law, Joe. In sum, Curran liked a well-told story, the outdoors, women, and ice cream. He disliked spiders, the Dodgers, cold water, and weakness. He was a brother, class-cutter, birder, hiker, hunter, fisher, diver, English major, railroad worker, truck driver, scholar, solider, sailor, skier (water and snow), teacher, doctor, rancher, farmer, business owner, traveller, arch-er, storyteller, survivor, father, and grandfather. He leaves behind his sisters: Marsha Burbridge and Nancy Curran. His children and grandchildren: Michael Curran, Jr., Cody Curran, Riley Curran; Adelle Kincel; Erin DiMiero and Jane DiMiero. His "roommate," buddy, and son-in-law, Joe DiMiero. And his beloved Ashers: Dean, Beth, Sarah, and Jake. In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to P.E.T.A. Curran's final BBQ is TBD. For details, please contact Mike's personal assistant, Quan Wells, at qmaya123@yahoo.com