Darrell 'Gene' Fincher, 78

Darrell 'Gene' Eugene Fincher

May 3, 1947-June 28, 2025

Also known as, Gene, Fincher, Dad, Grandpa, and "the guy who owned a mountain lion."

Darrell Eugene Fincher, born Douglas Ray McMillan—more on that in a minute—revved his final engine and peeled out of this earthly plane at 78, in a cloud of dust, burnt rubber, and with classic rock blaring.

Born May 3, 1947, to Shirley Marie Young McMillan and Raymond Edwin McMillan, Gene had an early plot twist most soap operas would envy. He was adopted a year later by Nadine Frances "Frankie" Denton Fincher and William "Bill" Howard Fincher and renamed Darrell Eugene Fincher—because Douglas Ray was far too tame for the wildlife ahead.

Gene’s childhood was a mix of waterskiing on Lake Blaine, baseball, and an early appreciation for the opposite sex. He was a natural athlete, a magnetic personality, and the kind of kid who flirted with any girl that looked his way.

In his teen and young adult years, Gene developed two great loves: things that went fast, and…well, let’s just say "ladies" and leave it PG. Working in his parents' wrecking yard, he learned how to turn junk into muscle—cars, not abs. He loved building street and track beasts with engines so loud; they would attract the ear of local police departments.

In 1967, Gene joined the Army National Guard as a medical specialist. He served with honor until 1972, despite an "incident" involving a vaccine gun and a platoon leader who presumably deserved it. Let’s just say Gene's bedside manner came with a side of revenge.

Following in his father’s muddy, concrete-caked footsteps, Gene became a concrete finisher—because what else do you do when you can "trowel the tiger?" He poured his heart (and a lot of cement) into major projects like Libby Dam. If you've ever stood on a sidewalk in Kalispell and thought, "Wow, this is perfectly level," you're welcome.

Gene had a soft spot for business ventures and a strong case of entrepreneurial ADD. He started several promising businesses, all of which were either wildly successful, accidentally experimental, or possibly just a great excuse to avoid real jobs.

His pet choices? Unconventional. While most people had dogs, Gene had a mountain lion named Simba and two skunks named Fefe and Benji. During his time working on the Libby Dam, the stretch of highway between Kalispell and Libby was suspiciously devoid of roadkill. Coincidence? No. Simba had a very refined palate.

An avid hunter and fisherman, Gene filled his home—and eventually a museum—with more trophies than a high school football team’s dream board. Alongside his dear friend Sandy Colville, he co-founded the North American Wildlife Museum in Coram, which proudly showcased his decades-long dominance over anything with antlers or fins.

Gene is survived by his brothers, Skip and Roger, sister, Jackie Ricks, his son, Chad, wife, Tara and their kids, Jadeyn and Noah, daughter, Heidi, husband, Scott and their kids, Tucker, Tre, Teagan, great-granddaughters, Athena and Anastacia, numerous friends, possibly some illegitimate fish, and a need for speed! He lived fast, loved hard, and never met a speed limit he couldn’t ignore.

If there’s a heaven, we’re betting he’s already teaching the angels how to do donuts in a '69 Chevelle.

In lieu of flowers, please rev your engine twice at a stoplight in his honor, or donate to your local wildlife conservation group, because Simba, Fefe and Benji probably would've wanted that. 

A celebration of life will be announced at his favorite watering holes later this summer.