Murray Hickman

Murray Hickman made an uncharacteristically quiet exit, shuffling off this mortal coil on Sunday, February 19th. He was peaceful and surrounded by family, whom he loved, adored and antagonized. As his granddaughter said, 'Grampa liked to fuck with people'... He'd rattle your cage as a way of saying he loved you. In fact, 'fuck you [insert name]' is exactly how his friends recall him communicating his affection for them.

On the surface, he may have seemed brash... yet he had the most gigantic heart in the universe!

Murray was the second eldest of five children, making a dramatic entrance into the world by being born at home in the doorway of their kitchen, on September 20, 1950, to the late Murray Hickman Sr (the OG) and the late Catherine Hickman in Santa Maria, CA, years after his older, late brother Bert, to whom he played wingman for nefarious shenanigans unfit to be published.

Similar mischief likely ensued as he grew up in Santa Maria with his lifelong friend Wes. They went to school together, worked together and played softball together... and there may or may not be some Animal-House-esq VW story.

You'd routinely find him proudly flaunting his mad BBQ skills with his famous Santa Maria style BBQ to a full house at countless Superbowl, Memorial Day, 4th of July or just-a-regular-Saturday parties. He especially loved hosting his legendary BBQ for bowling buddies when the senior tour was in town.

He loved BBQ'ing so much, we are left to deal with his amassed collection of grills, smokers and an entire trailer famously named “Barbecue Island”. And he was over the moon when he displayed his hospitality in any way he knew how.

His son, Murray III (Jr), born in 1971 to Sr and first wife Linda, will take over the role of grill master. Jr and Pops, bowled, golfed and, along with grandson Alex, worked together on their never-ending car project.

Murray was an avid, accomplished pro bowler, proudly sporting countless coveted 300 game rings. His early bowling career included bowling for green stamps with younger brother Doyle at a small 8 lane center in his home town.

We're told Murray was taught to drive so he could take his mother to the hospital when she was about to give birth to their younger sister Catherine, who was ultimately born at home. It was 1958 and Murray was 8 years old. While this may sound like an exaggeration, there are a myriad of tall sounding tales that often turn out to be at least mostly true.

Murray's youngest, late brother, Bryan lived with him briefly in Las Vegas and taught Murray's first grandchild, Korbyn, how to play chess and ride a bike.

Sparks flew on the 4th of July 1980, when he met the love of his life, dancing at El Jardin's Mexican restaurant & night club... yeah, that was thing. He married Cheri exactly one year later and they were just shy of celebrating their 42nd anniversary. He'd always tell her everyone was celebrating them when 4th of July fireworks went off.

When he married Cheri, Murray also gained a daughter, Jen Kunkel, who he was proud to walk down the aisle at her wedding and a step-son, Don Kunkel, with wife Bernadette and their two children Sierra and Sterling.

He loved telling stories and it seemed he tended to exaggeration... “Murman” would, on occasion, peg the BS meter to the far, far right... until we'd later find out his whopper was actually pretty darn close to the truth, if not spot on.

His best buddy in Vegas, Mike, confirms that, in his prime, he most certainly could drive a golf ball as far as John Daly and could make a 250 yard shot with a 5 iron. Apparently, he was also known to be very good with the 'foot wedge' when he hit a bad shot.

After hundreds of jobs (according to him), in the 80's, Murray's 'fuck you, can do' attitude prompted him to spit in the face of authority, quit his job and start the family tel-com business.

He cherished playing host to family and friends, which were one in the same to Murray. For years, he and his wife Cheri's house would be packed with Thanksgiving strays, family, friends and anyone who wanted to celebrate with them. All were welcome.

He was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. If you barely mentioned you needed, wanted or liked something, he would search it out and get it for you. If he saw something that made him think of you, you'd soon have it in your possession and he didn't take no for an answer. His beaming smile would declare, 'I love you with all my heart'.

Sure, the gift might be from one of the auction sites he was fond of and it may or may not be intact, functional and with all the pieces. We'd tease him about how some of his incredible auction finds had missing parts or didn't work... like we'd end up with a 3 legged table, a play-set we never assembled because we didn't trust all the hardware was included or an ice machine that didn't make ice... and he loved every minute of it.

Murray adored his grandchildren! Korbyn was a Chevy girl and Grampa was a Ford guy. He loved bantering with her about it. In fact, he loved bantering about anything, with anyone. Korbyn's son, Dylan was blessed to experience five cherished years being loved and treasured by Grampa Sr (Jr will always be Grandpa Jr to us).

He was so proud of Alex, a Staff Sergeant in the Air Force, who loves working on cars and considered Grampa his best friend. Murray was honorary Grampa to many of Alex's friends, making a positive impact on their lives.

In 2019, Murray donned his dancing shoes once again to celebrate his new daughter-in-law, Christina at she and son, Murray Jr's wedding.

He loved the crap out of his family and would do anything for us... and for his many friends.

We can still hear Murray's boisterous, booming voice, lightheartedly telling an off-color joke or spontaneously belting out an oldie, a Capella, with a blissful, satisfied grin on his face... or yelling 'slow down' at people stirring up dust on the dirt road at DC... a tradition his great grandson Dylan will happily carry on.

He was a good man, who loved with his whole heart.

We will miss him and love him forever.

Celebration of Life open house will be held on April 15, 2023 from 1pm – 5pm, at his niece's home (RSVP under events tab for location details). Since Murray was always late, feel free to do the same. He'd say, “The world can wait. We'll be there when we get there.” Of course, there will be food and drinks. And Hickman parties don't actually have an end time.

Murray looked snazzy in a suit, but really wasn't much for formality so dress comfortably. In fact, you could even don a shorty robe you'd find him sporting, especially if you showed up at his house in the early morning, with the smell of coffee and bacon in the air.

Everyone has at least one Murman story and we'd love to hear them all.

Murray will be cremated and properly interred in a beautiful wooden urn in front of the 85” television the family recently gifted him, so he can finally get some use out of it.

Cheri and the family are forever grateful to his neighbors Paul, Joe and John for their support in recent years.

In lieu of flowers, Murray would love it if you grab a drink and reminisce about his antics and/or honor his memory with a donation in his name to one of the causes listed on this page.

To share a memory of Murray or send condolences to the family please click at the bottom of this page... Upload photos, videos and/or tell a story, share a memory. We want to hear them all!!!

Sr-isms: (Please add yours in the tribute area)

It's raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock here!

I'll eat ya for Easter! {When he or one of his golf buddies would claim they were going to make an impossible shot}

Hey Darlin'