Craig Steven Broyles

life story

Man of Mystery

“Leave a light on in the night for me,

that I can find

you”

“I came across a few old things

Remembering the past

Spare the rod and spoil the child

It's not too late to start again

It's not too late to charm away your ancient fears

It's not too late to be wild for roundabouts

To be wild for life”

Lyrics from one of Craig’s favorite bands, Wolfsheim. Taken from the songs, “The Sparrows and the Nightingales” and “It’s Not Too Late.”

Shine On

The Man of Mystery is the phrase a good and old friend of Craig’s used for him. He was full of so many hidden interests and talents, always seeking knowledge, but rarely openly revealing it. You could see this in his far-ranging collections of eclectic music and books, his passion for doing photography and making quirky films, in addition to his love of classic movies and noteworthy cinema. He had a whole series of photos he took documenting old signs, spanning decades and countries. He loved the elegant architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright, yet delighted in exploring and recording the ruins of human construction. The mystery of all his beautiful clock collection, most left frozen on the minute they quit working, and the way he would attempt to fix anything--give the man a roll of duct tape and some epoxy glue then stand back to see what he would accomplish--and how he would persevere until it was accomplished, yet remained surrounded by the silent Art-Deco era clocks in the house.

Craig loved estate sales. They encompassed so many of the things he valued: history, beauty, aesthetics, stories, redemption, restoration, curiosity, and a deep respect for other people’s treasures. Sifting through someone’s beloved things, as his brother-in-law put it, “finding the shine through the dust,” engaged his clever brain and kept him seeking the unique and meaningful. He would come home not with an object, but with a story of who that person was. The only child of Alice (Gadek) and Lee Broyles, who preceded him in death, along with his Uncle Stan Gadek, carefully held these stories in his capable hands. He is survived by his wife, Kelley Dean, and their daughter, Tiernan Dean-Broyles, along with his Gadek aunts and uncles, and many cousins. His aesthetic and commitment to finding the shine lives on beyond his unexpected death.

Craig was a Licensed Drug and Alcohol Counselor and, as in the estate sales, he could find the shine through the dust. His curiosity about their stories, their histories, came with a non-judgmental compassion and an ability to convey they were now in reliable care. One of his fellow counselors commented on how people would arrive at his office distressed, and when they left, they would walk away joking and laughing like they had a new best friend. He conveyed a genuine interest in their stories, respect for where they had been, and for the choices that lay before them in their attempts at sobriety. Recovery, and the redemption it brought, offered true restoration.

His daughter knew when Craig made a commitment, he had your back. She was the center of his world, she was all the shine without the dust. No matter the competition, he was convinced she was always in First Place. If the judge’s opinion differed, he’d say, “Ahh, that’s bunk! That judge doesn’t know ANYTHING!” He adored her creativity, artistic capabilities, her wit—he was so proud her first sentence was followed after some fake crying to get the dog, Starlee, to howl along with her. She looked up at him with a gleam in her eye and said, “Starlee cry.” When it came to Tiernan, the cliché of how the sun rose and set on her became a truth, for everything he did traced back to how it could support his cherished daughter. Craig was a private person, but the one thing everyone knew about was his enamor of Tiernan.

His loyalty and dedication to his family ran deep. As soon as he could he moved to Chicago, enjoyed the night club scene with his close friends, and eventually went to Columbia College, where he graduated with a degree in Fine Art. When one of those friends moved to Minneapolis, Craig decided a change was needed and followed her there, bringing his beloved cat Ivan. Many years later, he moved to St. Paul. A city boy through and through, he dreaded the quiet of the countryside, the lack of novelty a city continually provides, and the replacement of human structures with nature. He liked the anonymity of big city life, the large assortment of things to do and people to see, the grand architecture, the sense of style city people exude, and being immersed in history. However, he gave his city existence up to move out to the country in 2017 and become a gentleman rancher, all so his daughter and wife could live with their horses. He embraced the lifestyle, expanding his art into sculptures, exploring and incorporating light with them. With so much darkness in the country nighttime, he cast light wherever he could. On a dark winter evening, as his wife walked from the house to the barn with the veterinarian, the vet marveled at the ingenuity and convenience of the strategically placed solar lights as they flicked on before them, lighting their way to the barn door. Craig was problem solver and showed his love in actions.

One of Craig’s favorite places to “survey his kingdom” was at the wooden fence in their backyard. He’d rest his arms on the top rail and gaze out at Tiernan riding her horse, as the sheep came running to him in hopes he’d hand out a bit of licorice. He would have his classic Craig smile, a slight upturn of his mouth, the left side raised a bit higher, the hint of a dimple just under his high cheekbones, chin tilted up. Right next to him would be his favorite barn cat, Shakespeare, sitting impossibly easy on that top board of the fence.

Pets were a constant in his life, bookending each section of his history with their lives. He always sought out the ones in need, who ended up in shelters and rescues. The last lock screen on his phone was a picture of Jem, the family’s loving Great Dane mix, devoted guardian of Tiernan. He tolerated the horses, with the exception of Tiernan’s tiny first pony, Trixie Trot Trot, and the lovely horse his father bought for her, Sir Maximus the Bold and the Brave. He would fuss and love on them, full of pride in the relationships Tiernan had with them and in her elegance when she rode.

Comfort the disturbed

Disturb the comfortable

These words are from a magnet Craig kept in the library, his favorite room of the house. His droll sense of humor was seen in every aspect of existence, but always rooted in the words on the magnet. It shone through in his layered collages, came out in the unique songs and voices for pets, and, depending on what end of the spectrum you were in—from disturbed to comfortable—in the words he would use with the people around him. One long-time friend recalled, “I first met Craig in Chicago nightclubs and one day had a surprise encounter with him at the pharmacy where I worked in the small town he had grown up in, though he was long gone and living in Chicago. He was buying a pack of cigarettes and I said, ‘hey, I know you—we’ve met at that Chicago nightclub a couple of times.’ Craig just looked straight at me, and commented, ‘Couldn’t have been me, why would I ever leave this town when I’ve got everything I need here.’ Paid for his pack and walked out.” Clearly, she was on the comfortable end of the spectrum. That exchange began a friendship which lasted his whole life, across states and time. He was a loyal and steadfast friend.

Man of Mystery that he was, Craig’s intellect made it so he could always offer a counter point of view, and keep people accountable for their opinions while grasping the essence of who they are. His wife, Kelley, found that trait so appealing she married him for it. She was continually kept intrigued by his multifaceted understanding of news, politics, and culture. She is so thankful to have had a partner who adored their child and was equally active in raising and loving Tiernan. But he also deeply loved his wife, helping her achieve her dream, after 43 years of ambition, to own a farm, allowing her to walk out the back door with a morning cup of coffee, giving a kiss on the velvet nose of the horse waiting on the other side of the fence. Craig loved light in all different forms, especially unique ones. The last string of lights he brought into their lives was of translucent blue, glass dragonflies. He hung them around the threshold between the sun room and the kitchen—blue for her favorite color, and dragonflies because Kelley loved the real ones who visited their farm every summer. She was a very lucky wife.

The loss of Craig is best stated in the words of this stanza, by William Wordsworth, from “Ode: “Intimations of Immortality”

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where’er I go,

That there hath pass’d away

a glory from the earth.

memorial service

Craig’s Memorial Service

July 15, 2023

Open house from 3 — 4:30

Remembrance Ceremony at 4:30

The gathering is at Bethania House on the St. Croix River, about a 50 minute drive from Minneapolis.

407 Ridge Rd

Osceola, WI 54020