Tim Dean Murray

"What a nice guy." "Such a pleasure to talk to." "Such a gentleman," with so many great stories. My dad, Tim Murray, left a lasting legacy in Powell and through our two businesses, which remain to this day. People still ask for him in our eatery, and it is sad to know he is no longer there.

Tim D. Murray was a resident of Canyon Creek Memory Care in Billings, Montana, for two years and seven months. He passed away on Saturday, August 16, 2025, at 4:30 p.m. His loving wife, Margaret; daughter, Cindy; son-in-law, Steve; and grandchildren, Steve (with wife Ali) and Dr. Olivia Johnson (with husband Mason) were all by his side. One of his greatest joys was his family. He was so proud of all of us and shared his deep love for each.

Tim was born at home on his grandmother’s farm on Oct. 30, 1931, in Okemah, Oklahoma, to parents Bessie and Marvin Murray. He had an older sister, a younger brother, and another sister. His father worked for an oil company in Oklahoma that furnished housing in what were called “camps.” One day, when Tim was four years old, two men from the school board came to the house and asked his parents to allow him to go to school. They were one child shy of having enough students to qualify for another teacher. His parents said yes, and his education began.

All grades from first through eighth were taught in the same room, divided only by a curtain. The newly graduated teacher boarded with a farm family. Tim graduated from that school in 1941. For many farm kids, eighth grade marked the end of formal education. But Tim rode the bus into town for high school. Town kids called them “country kids” or “hayseeds” — and, as Tim would later say, “They were probably right. We were hayseeds. But most of us could keep up academically.” The real challenge was the lack of music, art, and organized sports, though they were strong in the “three R’s.”

After his high school graduation in 1948, Tim took a job on an oil rig. A couple of months later, he quit and joined the U.S. Army in early 1949. After 13 weeks of basic training and an aptitude test, he stood out in Morse code. Having never before heard a “dit” or a “dah,” he thought, “Why not continue? It was better than carrying a rifle.” After two camps and 48 weeks of training, he graduated in the top five of his group.

His next orders sent him on a troop ship to Tokyo, Japan. After three days at sea, word spread that the Korean War had begun. After 13 days at sea, the ship docked at Yokohama, Japan, and Tim was bussed to the Tokyo Arsenal, where he began work as a Morse code interceptor. A few months later, he took radio equipment to Taegu, Korea, where he installed it, and later he served as a radio interceptor in Germany and Austria before returning stateside and receiving his discharge.

Through friends, he was offered an oil field job in Craig, Colorado, where he met his lifelong love, Margaret Burnside. Their daughter was born in Sidney, Nebraska, and four years later their son, Billy, was born in Williston, North Dakota. A deeply painful event in Tim’s life was the loss of his son Billy to asthma at 17 years old.

Tim’s work led him to a store manager position in Aberdeen, Scotland, where he lived for nearly three years. While there, he was able to play golf several times at the Old Course in St. Andrews, the home of golf. After 30+ years with Armco Steel National Supply Division, he returned to the States and retired.

He had planned to spend his retirement fishing and golfing, but after a year and a half he was bored. He began working at Powell Drug Soda Fountain as the “chief dishwasher and malt maker.” During his years there, two grandchildren were born: Steve William and Olivia Rose. When the business rebuilt and became Lavender Rose, he transitioned there, making many friends along the way. His down-home persona and gentlemanly manners made him a favorite. Customers often remembered him working on his crossword puzzle before serving, and long after he retired at age 91, people still asked about him.

Tim believed in God and was strong in his faith. Even while living with dementia for two years and seven months, he still remembered his daughter until near the end. He was a great dad — loving, strong in character, and a big believer in education.

He did everything he ever wanted: Traveled the world, fished, trained and raced quarter horses, raised racing pigeons and farm animals, played banjo and keyboard (self-taught), operated ham radios, hunted birds and elk, baked bread and great pies, made wine, smoked meat, and more — all while rooted in a small town and always deeply proud of his kids and grandkids.

He often told us, “Never ask for much. Just do your best, work hard, be honest, and have integrity.”

Born at home and died at his Canyon Creek home, he was forever loved. He taught us the meaning of faith and gave us a closer relationship to God. We will miss his home-cooked suppers and holiday celebrations. Deeply loved, deeply missed, forever in our hearts.

“All I am, I owe to you, Dad.”

In lieu of flowers, please donate to the Alzheimer’s Research Fund.