Charles Franklin Magruder III

On July 31, 2025, my father, Charles Franklin Magruder III, passed from this life to the next. He is survived by my mother and former wife, Sarah Black (née Burke), brothers Chris, Brian, Joel, Mike, and by me, his son John Magruder, who struggles with the impossible task of memorializing his brilliance, faith, and love in far too few words. At every turn, my father lived a life devoted to music and God.

Dad was born November 19, 1955, in South Ruislip, England while Grandpa was stationed there with the Air Force. The oldest of five brothers, he had the makings of a modern day renaissance man: brilliant musician, award winning swimmer, Eagle Scout, and a PhD in handsome with the highest honors.

Not long after high school, he met Mom in Fort Dodge at a neighbor’s suggestion; their first date included The Goodbye Girl and dining at Little Mexico (both things I never heard of in 42 years). In him, Mom saw the man she knew she wanted - a kind, soft-spoken man and gifted musician with crushing hugs that conveyed unmistakable love.

Dad later moved to Sioux City for piano tuning school and lived with Hazel, an old lady with a rentable room. They (not Hazel) wrote to each other while Dad was away and Mom was allowed to visit occasionally, provided she slept on Hazel’s couch. On November 24,1979 they married, and shortly after, found themselves in Oklahoma where Mom had found a promising job.

During adulthood, Dad struggled with schizophrenia. Medication at that time was lackluster and my father struggled to take his medications consistently. During his struggle, around January 1982, Dad left Mom and Oklahoma to return to Fort Dodge not knowing that he had fathered me, his only child. I was born in September 1982 with blonde hair and blue eyes, looking nothing like him. It was only after learning about the mark on my head, the same mark he was born with, that he was convinced I was his. The mark mattered little as my lineage was irrefutable; I was in so many ways, my Dad, if only a fraction of his incredible talents and gentle persona.

As a result of his illness, Dad and I had a very different relationship than most fathers and sons. We never lived together, but came to know each other through visitation. Mom facilitated regular meetings where we discussed music and art while enjoying Community Tap pizza. My understanding of the arts was rudimentary, but that never dawned on me when interacting with Dad. He merely listened intently and nodded understandingly as I let uneducated words fly and then played his piano whenever I requested (a frequent occurrence).

Throughout his life, Dad dedicated himself to the arts; music, poetry, and mixed media. His love for music began with tuba and piano with him composing and recording his own music, including an entire opera. He played in lounges, was a long-time pianist at Fort Dodge’s First Covenant Church and volunteered many hours playing piano at Trinity Regional Hospital. He also had a gift for words. He was a prolific poet to the end, texting numerous digital stanzas to be cherished and held for life. Dad crafted beautiful collages, lining the walls of his apartment like wallpaper, each one layered with the beautiful pages of magazines he had at hand.

A survivor of throat cancer, Dad lost his voice in 2005, but his musical gift was unscathed and his love still unconditional. Our relationship never changed except that I tended to do more of the talking. We would still visit and he would listen patiently while I mused about whatever came to mind. Every visit, I would show up with new music and he would don my headphones, absorbing the entire song before giving me a thumbs up or down. My perpetual challenge was getting a positive reaction on anything written after the 1980s (Only Metallica and Pink Martini made the cut.).

Even after Dad entered hospice on July 8, we continued to listen to his favorites until his passing on July 31. Keith Jarrett and the Beatles poured down the hallway for all the residents to enjoy. Dad now takes his show on the road for a final, heavenly tour. The angels above are in for a treat because, Dad, you are a hard act to follow.

A celebration of Dad’s life will be held on Wednesday, August 6th with 9 am Visitation and 10:00am Funeral Mass at Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Church in West Des Moines, Iowa. A graveside burial service will occur at 3:30pm at Oakwood Cemetery in Milan, Missouri.

Flowers, expressions of love, and notes detailing fond memories are all welcome.