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John Murphy Fox died at home peacefully on October 19, 2021 and joined his father John Arthur Fox, Aunt Eileen, Uncle Lonnie, and John Downs. He also joins his favorite animal companions Deedee, Bo, Jack and Bailey, his mule, horse and loyal hounds. His boys noted that it was his half birthday, age 68 1/2 years. Murphy was born April 19, 1953 in Bakersfield, California to Doris Burts and John Arthur Fox. His sister Dani joined him two years later. He was proud to be of Oakie heritage with family from Tennessee, Texas, and New Mexico before landing in Bakersfield. He always said that The Grapes of Wrath was his family story. Murphy’s childhood was full, spending much of his time with his grandparents, and even braving the heat to play high school football in BAKERSFIELD!
Murphy studied Anthropology at California State Bakersfield. He and Sarah Page Waddill married in 1976 and began their journey to Montana first by moving to Salt Lake City for Murphy to go to graduate school at the University of Utah. They continued their journey following the fur trade inspiration of Jedediah Smith and landed in Helena. Murphy and Sarah welcomed Jedediah Wynn and Conor Murphy into their family. After their 12-year journey ended, Murphy met and married Susan Byorth in 1990. Murphy and Susan welcomed Brendan Arthur and Brian Callahan into their family. Murphy felt immensely proud of each of his boys who grew into fine men.
Murphy was a Renaissance man. His first venture was as proprietor of Durty Murphy’s Hide and Hair in Reeder’s Alley. He modeled for western artists in his best self-made fur trade accoutrements. He was an amazing singer, song-writer, poet, & musician – no instrument left behind – he played the piano, guitar, the bodhran, the jaw harp and any other instrument in his path. He delighted in playing with the Parlor Pickers and the Irish Session musicians. He wrote for Helena Downtown, bartended at the original Bert and Ernie’s, and held court at the General Mercantile for all the Gulch Rats who are the foundation of Murphy and Susan’s Helena life.
Murphy began his career at Carroll College when Hank Burgess asked him to come and teach an English Composition Class. From that first experience as an adjunct, his talents were noted and he was asked to teach courses in Native American Studies, Memoir, Environmental Studies, and the Honor Scholars program teaching classic literature and he gained full professorship and eventually was the chair of the Sociology Department. He took many groups of students to learn in Belize and Ireland at the National University of Ireland – Galway. His Irish roots were so much a part of him and he shared it with all his friends and family – kilts were ordinary gear for the Fox family. He embodied the Mountain Man, known as an expert in the fur trade history and art, and had many great experiences at fur trade rendezvous around Montana – most notably at Fort Union and at the centennial rendezvous in Red Lodge. He created saddles, tipis, leatherwork, and sewed anything, a tribute to his Grandma.
He lived large even though the last years of his life were hard, but never lost his love of family, friends, music, and the beauty of the diversity in human beings. He was adopted into the Northern Cheyenne Tribe and had many friends in the Indigenous communities. He will always be an ambassador of acceptance and love to us all. He gave us all a rich life of love, music, intelligent discussions and being able to answer most questions about anything. Murphy loved Doris Gillett, his mother and sister Dani Fox-Lopez who still live in Bakersfield. Murphy was so proud of his beautiful boys, Jed, Conor, Brendan and Brian and nieces Rynn Fox, Megan Quezada, and Catt Fox-Uruburu, grandchildren Liam, Jaeger, and Rory, and grand niblings Riley Quezada, Eva Quezada, and Emma Fox. He also loved the women who his sons love and the men who love his nieces that followed, Mary Beth Jäger, Jessie Brown, and Courtney Wunderwald, Jan Bosman, Marc Zimmerman, Mat Fox-Uruburu and welcomed rediscovered family Kevin and Saundra. He was welcomed and was beloved by his extended family of Byorths, Cates, Kaileys, Schweyens, and Padons – Paul and Rhoda, Ian, Jesse, Caleb, Joe, and Annie; Pat and Susan, Teagan, Conor, Cece and David, Maddie, Sean, Caitlin, Jack, and Mia, Karen Rose, Pete and Pam Rose and Benji, John, Bridget and Finn, Kris and Guy, Keven and Kendra, Shannon and Brian, Jordyn, Shelby, and Sheridan, and Sara, Pat and Holly. Special thanks to his caregivers – Lisa, Elaine, Angie, and Carolyn. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be sent to St. Labre Indian School in Ashland, MT or to The Myrna Loy in Helena. He was our privateer, man of the hour, mountain man, professor, writer, singer, Renaissance man! His stories are legend and as he would say, “if they weren’t true, they oughta be”. Slainte and smooth sailing!
Service Schedule
Services are pending at this time or no services will be held. If available, please see obituary for more information.
Service Schedule
Services are pending at this time or no services will be held. If available, please see obituary for more information.
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Jan Williams says
Murphy Fox was such a renaissance man, his tenor voice was a pure joy to listen to. I took a history class at Carroll from Murphy and his knowledge of the Montana Native American Tribes was incredible to hear. I also had the pleasure of working with Murphy at Bert and Ernie’s in the 1980’s and if there were any customers who got out of hand, Murphy always had my back. It was such a pleasure to know, learn from and work with Murphy – his life was lived well. I will miss Murphy, but I will have many fond memories of this gentle giant of a man.
Terri John says
Murphy lived what he taught. His authenticity, humor, wit, wisdom, and genuine kindness touched so many lives. Walk on, dear Murphy – we are grateful for the gift of your presence in our lives!
Maria Brosnan says
My life was richer for knowing you! A life well-lived! Rest in peace!
Jon Derry says
Damn,
Murphy Fox of then Durty Murphy’s Hide &Hair, “Holding Court” (credit Tom Harpole) at Bert & Ernie’s through the 70’S -80’s. An autodidact not to be experienced again in the near future.
A recollection of the late 70’s of wandering off Last Chance Gulch late in the January evening at -30* into Bert & Ernies , that was 50 feet wide 150 feet long and a ,scratch gravel , baling wire operation.
Murphy holding court behind the bar, with only one fellow at the bar, who ended up being the Best Man at his wedding. The fellow who”s name I can’t recall, plowed snow for Lewis &Clark County , and lived year round, in a cave near Unionville. He being one of the most eloquent extemporaneous speakers I’ve ever heard.
As I made my way into the bar, I expected a conversation concerning clogged roads and water mains frozen until May.
But what I did hear …was discussion of whether the “Prince” by Machiavelli was an aberration , relative to his previous published works.
Revelations do occur in the oddest of places.
Jon Derry
Elaine Rummel says
…. ” so umm I found some bodies today ..buried in jars at the junkyard… the earth preserved them perfectly still had liquid in them… I can see teeth and claws…. SOOOO GROSSS ..IT WAS GROSS MURPH” ..
… “oh ..how cool..bring them over .I’d like to see them”
THE DAY I FOUND OUT MURPHY WAS ONE OF THE COOLEST PEOPLE I KNOW …
Wendie J. Vanderwater says
Murphy was a great guy. He was so full of knowledge about people and places. He was the first sign of spring at Carroll college. When Murphy wore shorts, it was spring. I will miss his wisdom.
Chris Caniglia says
Murphy was one of the first people I met upon moving to Helena in the 80’s. Being young and timid and my first day at work at Bert and Ernies, Murphy’s tall, broad stature and bushy beard triggered my cautious side. I quickly found him to be a tender, intelligent and wise man. I recall many who sought out his company at the bar. Murphy thanks for the conversations and the occasional guidance. I will have a beer In your honor my Irish friend. Susan and family you are in my thoughts.
Jeanette M Fregulia says
As is true for many of us, Murphy was one of the first people to welcome me to Carroll 14 years ago. Admiration and gratitude, thank you Murphy, you will always be an inspiration. May he rest in peace, and may his memory be a blessing.
Gwynne Cameron Barlow says
Those of us blessed enough to call ourselves Murphy Fox’s students experienced a professor who could – politely but persistently – challenge us, inspire us, and even stir up some much-needed discomfort with our well-entrenched beliefs. Rest in peace, Murphy.
Kandice Lytton says
Murphy was by far the best educator at Carroll College. His ability to connect to students and share his knowledge was truly a gift! Always a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face. Rest in Peace!
Grant Hokit says
Murphy,
The colleague who taught me the value of the teaching moment, the power of narrative delivery, and the attitude to never let bureaucracy get in the way of a good idea. Coconspirator on excursions to Belize, designing environmental studies, and subverting attempts to capitalize on indigenous people. Never short of tall-tales, I think of you every day as I walk past Bill Robert’s driving range, watching the ball sail beyond the railroad tracks; when I think of traversing a jungle with Mayan guides; the many times having a beer with Garifuna fisherman. When next in Belize, I will lift a Belikin for you my friend.
Lara Feider says
Murphy was one of the most inspirational people I’ve had the privilege to meet. He impacted and inspired my life more than any teacher/friend ever. I became a Cultural Anthropologist because of him and his help and encouragement. I’m SO grateful to have known him and to have had him be a part of my life. I still want to be Murphy when “I grow up” and wear shorts and sandals year round in Montana. You had a great impact on not only me, but the world Sir and you will be SO missed. Wish we could all be more like you!
Cynde Watkins says
Murphy first taught me at Carroll and then was my colleagues. He enriched my life. Rest In Peace Murphy.
Laurie Stevens says
I first met Murphy at a painting workshop at the Diamond Bar X out of Augusta, MT. in the very early ’80’s. Murphy was modeling – as a trapper / mountain man – and in his element. He knew so much about the history of and life in early America – about the Native Americans, the explorers, Lewis & Clark; and about the settling of the West. Talking with Murphy was always a learning experience – music, literature, history, art, science – it was all fair game. Murphy became a good friend and although we drifted apart later, he has remained a special friend in my heart. I’m so sorry that I hadn’t managed to see him again, and so very sorry to hear of his passing.
Krys Holmes / The Myrna Loy says
Murph is one of those indelible souls whose presence will be with us always. The halls of The Myrna Loy will forever ring with his voice, his music, his laughter, his wry commentary. May enormous blessings rest on Susan and the four fine men who grew up in Murphy’s wake.
John Driscoll says
The poem Murphy and Susan had me read at the Montana Club:
If Thou’lt Be Mine
by Thomas Moore
If thou’lt be mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth and sea, shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in Fancy’s eye looks fair,
Or in Hope’s sweet music is most sweet,
Shall be ours, if thou wilt be mine, love!
Bright flowers shall bloom wherever we rove,
A voice divine shall talk in each stream,
The stars shall look like worlds of love,
And this earth be all one beautiful dream
In our eyes, if thou wilt be mine, love!
And thoughts, whose source is hidden and high,
Like streams that come from heavenward hills,
Shall keep our hearts — like meads, that lie
To be bathed by those eternal rills —
Ever green, if thou wilt be mine, love!
All this and more the Spirit of Love
Can breathe o’er them who feel his spells;
That heaven, which forms his home above,
He can make on earth, wherever he dwells,
And he will — if thou wilt be mine, love!
Source:
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
Copyright undated, very old
The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.
Mick Cavanaugh says
Once on a Tuesday night before St. Patrick’s Day, I attended a session at the Blackfoot. I brought along John the Yank Harrington’s relative from Ireland “Dublin John” – a great ballad singer who was looking forward to his first session in America.
He was a bit nervous, so I asked Murphy to introduce him to the crowd – a large one that night, as the Carrigan dancers were also in attendance). Murphy’s booming voice quieted the room, which remained silent while Dublin John sang a beautiful, sad ballad that ironically brought joyous applause from everyone.
It only got better from there, and when the brewery closed a few of us diehards drifted over to the Windbag to keep the spirit alive.
Fiddle tunes from the incomparable Will Harmon, added to the wonderful voices of both Murphy and Bruce Anfinson.
The bartender eventually locked the door, brought over to the table a bottle of whiskey and some shot glasses, and joined us for continued sharing of songs and tunes.
I left at 4:00 A.M., and drove Dublin John back to Butte.
He sang Irish ballads non-stop the whole way.
It was magical. He told me it was the best session he’d ever attended.
None of it would have happened without Murph. He was the driving force of song that night, and it allowed Dublin John to feel comfortable enough to let loose with his own fine voice.
Here’s to you, Murphy Fox! I always felt welcomed and happy in your presence.
I will forever miss your beautiful voice.
Jim Schulz says
So one Saturday afternoon in the 90’s I was driving my panel van home from Helena Middle School. I had been correcting papers and pondering a troubled and troublesome student. My mind was not on my driving but rather on my frustration as a teacher when, at a tricky intersection, I T-boned Dorothy Harper. She and her husband, the much beloved Reverend George Harper, had been out for an afternoon excursion. While one walked a block, the other drove then they would switch places and progress another block and so on down the street. Dorothy had just pulled away from the curb and I failed to see her car. Wham! Broken glass! Dented doors. Good God, I thought, I’ve injured Dorothy. I quickly got out and assessed the damage. She was shaken but ok. No cell phones back then and I needed to call 911, I knew that Murphy and Susan lived in an upstairs apartment near the intersection so I ran over and before I knocked, the door opened and there was Murphy with a shot of whiskey in his hand. “I heard the screeching tires, the crumple of metal, and the tinkling of broken glass and thought you might need this, ” he said as he passed the glass to me. “By the way, you aren’t the first one to have a fender bender at that intersection. Happens all the time.” So Murph, here’s to you, old friend. I miss your recitation of Tam O’Shanter on Bobby Burns Night, your love of Christmas In The Trenches, teaching the broom dance at the Wort Hotel in Jackson Hole, stories of the Crane Pub in Galway, and sitting next to you in so many sessions as you deftly played the bodhran. I can still hear you singing,
“And it’s easy and free, when you’re drinkin’ with me, I’m a man you don’t meet everyday.” And that was the truth.
Susan Villarreal says
My family moved in next door to “Murph” in Bakersfield. I had great conversations with him about his aspirations. He seems to have accomplished all of them, plus some! I remember when he headed up the Kern River and lost a few mules in the canyon! I am so sad for his family and friends at their loss. I am amazed and blessed by the legacy he leaves.
Tom Harpole says
He often brought his 50 caliber muzzle loader to the annual Thanksgiving trap shooting festivities. It had snowed a few inches, and under that blanket , the previous afternoon, I’d unspooled 400-feet of my dynamite detonator wires, to which I connected a quarter stick and electric blasting cap which I nailed to the backside of a fence post. Murphy, Kevin Beaton, and I had decided to prank the partygoers. When the trapshooting tapered off, Murph began loading his long rifle. Kevin bet him 50 bucks he couldn’t hit that fencepost about 400 feet away. I bet he could, but to make his shot indisputable, I offered to shake up a tall bottle of Bud and set it on that post. I hustled through the snow and set the shaken bottle up and jogged back and loitered near the west end of the greenhouse, where my shot wire awaited the “D” cell battery in my pocket. The scheme was, when I saw the flash in the pan of his long gun, I’d simultaneously set off the powder on the post with that battery. Murphy benched his gun amidst the litter of shotgun shell boxes on the table, aimed quickly and as his 50 caliber round flew, I blew the bottle into a mess of beer fizz accompanied by a loud whump. I dropped the wire into the snow, hollered, “He didn’t just hit the post, he got the bottle!” Once expressions of wonder and disbelief settled down, a few guys wanted a go. While Murphy reloaded, I ran out to a fence post a bit nearer and shook the tall Bud and set it up. No one hit it. Then Kevin dared Murph to do it again. He rather theatrically touched the barrel, said it was too hot, to some derision and peer pressure from us philistines. Murphy relented and took an offhand shot and that round blew the top of the skinny bottle off and it sat there geysering foam while the hooting shooters held on to their hats and adored him.
And that adorable anecdote,
Clark Silcox says
Two foxes were running around my 5 acre meadow in western Massachusetts this morning, and my mind blurred out, Murphy Fox! Whatever happened to him? A google search sadly led me to this wonderful memory. Murphy and I were classmates in elementary and junior high school in Bakersfield in the 1960s, and we played in a junior high rock n roll band together. Murphy played bass guitar. But what a larger than life story you have told.