Forging a New Life : Oklahoma Blacksmith Finds Pleasant Niche at Mission San Juan Capistrano

Brian Brazeal is a young man practicing a dying craft.

Machines such as welding torches and drill presses may have gutted the demand for old-fashioned blacksmiths, but Brazeal has still found a way to pound out a living with his hands.

Six days a week, the 35-year-old Oklahoma native can be found at Mission San Juan Capistrano, turning red-hot iron into things that people want and buy.

Brazeal came to the mission last March to demonstrate his skills on the world-famous Swallows Day, and only planned to stay for a few weeks while visiting friends and relatives.

But his wife, Amanda, then eight months pregnant, ran into health complications and was advised by her midwife not to do any traveling.

The couple heeded the advice, and today, Brazeal’s homespun enterprise on a patch of dirt next to the mission’s crumbling soldiers’ barracks is growing nearly as fast as his new son, James.

“We came out thinking we’d stay three weeks and go back,” Brazeal said with a soft twang. “I’m doing a lot better here than I was out there. I struggled to get by.”

Holly Franks, an administrative assistant at the mission, said Brazeal has become a popular feature for visitors of the 219-year-old landmark, a piece of California history.

Franks said that mission officials didn’t hesitate to ask Brazeal to stick around town and try blacksmithing full-time when he and his wife were unable to immediately return to Oklahoma.

“We don’t pay him,” Franks said. “He makes a living off of what he sells. He’s been a wonderful addition to the mission. It’s like a step back in time for people. He always has a crowd around him.”

Ken and Jacque Proctor, a retired couple from Portland, Ore., were among those who recently assembled to watch Brazeal toil on a sunny afternoon.

“The last time we saw a blacksmith is when we had horses shod 40 years ago,” said 71-year-old Jacque Proctor.

Her grandson, Patrick Baldwin, 10, said he had never seen a man heat iron and hammer it into small steer heads, smooth leaves or gnarled branches.

“I think it’s cool,” Patrick said while other tourists snapped pictures as a flame rose from the coals of Brazeal’s forge.

Since he began working at the mission, Brazeal has met people from around the country and the world--places far from his tiny hometown of Collinsville, about 20 miles outside of Tulsa.

They watch as the artisan transforms rusty horseshoes, rasp files and even car parts into original works such as coatracks, candleholders and key chains.

The battered forge that he uses to heat iron up to 2,000 degrees is a century old. His workbench stands on legs from an oak he cut down in Oklahoma, where the profession of making and fitting horseshoes is a Brazeal family tradition.

Brazeal’s 66-year-old father led the way and still works at the trade. Three sons followed, but Brazeal said he gave up the horseshoe business three years ago to save his back from strain.

When younger, Brazeal would hold horses steady for $1 each as his father nailed new horseshoes onto the animals. The job required hunching over and the risk of occasionally being stepped on.

After Brazeal decided to become more creative with his blacksmithing skills, some members of his family questioned the decision.

He told them not to worry.

“My mother wondered if I could make a living at it,” Brazeal said. “I said, ‘I’ll probably be able to do it longer than Dad shoes horses.’ He’s huffing and puffing a little bit these days. This is definitely an easier profession.”