Billy Bryan "Big Eagle", Ojibwe
Bill is a third generation pipe maker his father was Ojibwe and his mother was Dakota. He has carved pipes for more than 40 year until his passing in 2012. His father was George “Standing Eagle” Bryan taught Billy and his son Dick to carve pipestone they specialized in an unique style of buffalo and bear pipe.
When William “Big Eagle” Bryan died of a heart attack Oct. 14 at the age of 70 it marked the end of an era at the pipestone quarries.
Bill was a third generation quarrier and pipemaker. His parents, George “Standing Eagle” and Clara Bryan, both had a family history of pipemaking. George’s father, William Bryan, made pipes and so did Clara’s father, Moses Crow. Crow taught George the craft and George passed it on to his sons, William and Richard.
Bill and Dick were the last of the family to live in Pipestone and carry on the tradition. The two men quarried for around 60 or 70 years, starting in their father’s pit as boys and later in pits of their own. Dick died May 27 at the age of 67.
“It was just Dick and my dad left down there,” said Barb Bryan, speaking by phone from Minneapolis, one of Bill’s three daughters. “It’s amazing that in just six months they’re both gone. It’s very sad.”
Glen Livermont, Pipestone National Monument superintendent, said Bill was a fixture at the Monument who quarried whenever he could and often sat along the circle trail carving pipes and visiting with passersby.
“It was part of what makes the park special,” Livermont said.
Myron Taylor, a lifelong friend, said he, Bill and Dick practically grew up at the Monument, exploring the area while their parents were quarrying and talking to visitors.
“The Monument was our playground,” Taylor said. “We knew everything there was to know about that place.”
Taylor said Bill loved the outdoors and often camped out at the Monument, “much to the consternation of the National Parks Service.”
Bill was considered by those who knew him to be an excellent pipe maker, a storyteller who could entertain for hours, a man who could get along with anyone, an historian, and a teacher who loved to share the craft of pipemaking. He served for many years as an historian and carving demonstrator at the annual Gathering of the Sacred Pipes Sundance at the Monument, which was started 23 years ago by Clyde Bellecourt, executive director with the American Indian Movement (AIM).
Bellecourt came down from Minneapolis Oct. 17 for the funeral and performed the traditional Native American part of the ceremony. He said they buried Dick’s ashes during this year’s Sundance and that Bill told him at that time that he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered in his quarry.
“So that’s what we did,” Bellecourt said.
There was both a Christian and a traditional Native American funeral ceremony for Bill at Hartquist Funeral Home in Pipestone. Bellecourt said the traditional ceremony involved singing a song of thanks to the Creator for Bill and the Bryan family, prayers for strength for Bill’s family and friends who are in mourning, and a pipe ceremony at the quarries.
After the ceremony at the quarries, Bellecourt said the family removed all of Bill’s pipes from the sale case at the Monument, kept a few for themselves, and distributed the rest to Bill’s friends. The pipes were of particular significance to his friends and family because the stone from which they were made and the quarry from where the stone came were so much a part of Bill’s life.
“I thought that was really beautiful,” Bellecourt said.
None of Bill’s three daughters, Barb, Melanie and Shontel, were close to him, but all three attended his funeral. Among the three, Barb said she spent the most time with Bill, but even she had little contact with him after her parents separated and she moved to Minneapolis with her mother at the age of three.
Barb said she spent many summer days and holidays with her grandparents George and Clara as a child and came back to visit them and her uncle Dick from time-to-time as an adult, but she never developed an emotional tie to her father. It was difficult, she said, because of his lifestyle, which she likened to an Australian aborigine on walkabout. She said she often thought Dick’s Native name, “Whirl Wind” would have been better suited to her father.
“He was kind of like the wind,” she said. “He just came and went.”
While she was never close to her father, she acknowledges that she might have inherited his “wandering spirit.” She lets that spirit free through activities like scuba diving, hiking, backpacking and traveling whenever and wherever she can.
Barb said none of the next generation of her family is involved in quarrying or pipemaking, but she hopes the tradition doesn’t come to an end with the death of her uncle and father. She said she’s never quarried, but she’s willing to give it a try in order to carry on the craft that her family helped to preserve.
According to the book “Managing the Sacred and the Secular: An administrative history of Pipestone National Monument,” the Bryans as well as the Taylor and Derby families kept the tradition of quarrying and pipemaking alive at the Monument in the post-World War II years when the practice was disappearing and there were only four permits issued some years.
“Their input and ability to teach younger Indians the art of pipemaking was crucial,” the book says.
Even if this is the end of the Bryan family’s tradition of quarrying and carving, the practice will live on. Today all of the 56 pipestone quarries at the Monument are spoken for and Livermont said there are 130 names on the waiting list. According to Monument policy, Bill’s quarry and Richard’s quarry, which was formerly his father’s, would be offered to the next people on the list.
Bill was a third generation quarrier and pipemaker. His parents, George “Standing Eagle” and Clara Bryan, both had a family history of pipemaking. George’s father, William Bryan, made pipes and so did Clara’s father, Moses Crow. Crow taught George the craft and George passed it on to his sons, William and Richard.
Bill and Dick were the last of the family to live in Pipestone and carry on the tradition. The two men quarried for around 60 or 70 years, starting in their father’s pit as boys and later in pits of their own. Dick died May 27 at the age of 67.
“It was just Dick and my dad left down there,” said Barb Bryan, speaking by phone from Minneapolis, one of Bill’s three daughters. “It’s amazing that in just six months they’re both gone. It’s very sad.”
Glen Livermont, Pipestone National Monument superintendent, said Bill was a fixture at the Monument who quarried whenever he could and often sat along the circle trail carving pipes and visiting with passersby.
“It was part of what makes the park special,” Livermont said.
Myron Taylor, a lifelong friend, said he, Bill and Dick practically grew up at the Monument, exploring the area while their parents were quarrying and talking to visitors.
“The Monument was our playground,” Taylor said. “We knew everything there was to know about that place.”
Taylor said Bill loved the outdoors and often camped out at the Monument, “much to the consternation of the National Parks Service.”
Bill was considered by those who knew him to be an excellent pipe maker, a storyteller who could entertain for hours, a man who could get along with anyone, an historian, and a teacher who loved to share the craft of pipemaking. He served for many years as an historian and carving demonstrator at the annual Gathering of the Sacred Pipes Sundance at the Monument, which was started 23 years ago by Clyde Bellecourt, executive director with the American Indian Movement (AIM).
Bellecourt came down from Minneapolis Oct. 17 for the funeral and performed the traditional Native American part of the ceremony. He said they buried Dick’s ashes during this year’s Sundance and that Bill told him at that time that he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered in his quarry.
“So that’s what we did,” Bellecourt said.
There was both a Christian and a traditional Native American funeral ceremony for Bill at Hartquist Funeral Home in Pipestone. Bellecourt said the traditional ceremony involved singing a song of thanks to the Creator for Bill and the Bryan family, prayers for strength for Bill’s family and friends who are in mourning, and a pipe ceremony at the quarries.
After the ceremony at the quarries, Bellecourt said the family removed all of Bill’s pipes from the sale case at the Monument, kept a few for themselves, and distributed the rest to Bill’s friends. The pipes were of particular significance to his friends and family because the stone from which they were made and the quarry from where the stone came were so much a part of Bill’s life.
“I thought that was really beautiful,” Bellecourt said.
None of Bill’s three daughters, Barb, Melanie and Shontel, were close to him, but all three attended his funeral. Among the three, Barb said she spent the most time with Bill, but even she had little contact with him after her parents separated and she moved to Minneapolis with her mother at the age of three.
Barb said she spent many summer days and holidays with her grandparents George and Clara as a child and came back to visit them and her uncle Dick from time-to-time as an adult, but she never developed an emotional tie to her father. It was difficult, she said, because of his lifestyle, which she likened to an Australian aborigine on walkabout. She said she often thought Dick’s Native name, “Whirl Wind” would have been better suited to her father.
“He was kind of like the wind,” she said. “He just came and went.”
While she was never close to her father, she acknowledges that she might have inherited his “wandering spirit.” She lets that spirit free through activities like scuba diving, hiking, backpacking and traveling whenever and wherever she can.
Barb said none of the next generation of her family is involved in quarrying or pipemaking, but she hopes the tradition doesn’t come to an end with the death of her uncle and father. She said she’s never quarried, but she’s willing to give it a try in order to carry on the craft that her family helped to preserve.
According to the book “Managing the Sacred and the Secular: An administrative history of Pipestone National Monument,” the Bryans as well as the Taylor and Derby families kept the tradition of quarrying and pipemaking alive at the Monument in the post-World War II years when the practice was disappearing and there were only four permits issued some years.
“Their input and ability to teach younger Indians the art of pipemaking was crucial,” the book says.
Even if this is the end of the Bryan family’s tradition of quarrying and carving, the practice will live on. Today all of the 56 pipestone quarries at the Monument are spoken for and Livermont said there are 130 names on the waiting list. According to Monument policy, Bill’s quarry and Richard’s quarry, which was formerly his father’s, would be offered to the next people on the list.
