Sonny Boy Fields received a call in 2020 that altered the course of his life. The call came from Herb Adson, a respected Pawnee tribal elder who was also head singer and drum keeper for the Pawnee Veterans Organization. Adson was calling to invite Fields to his home for a visit. He had something important to talk about. After more than ninety years, he and other elders had decided the time had come to bring back the role of town crier, which had last been held by Billy Osborne, Sonny Boy’s great-grandfather, until he crossed over in 1927. Herb had been observing Sonny Boy and was pleased to see that he was making his life one of order, shedding indulgences and turning his life toward his Pawnee culture. Sonny Boy, they had determined, had proven himself worthy of the responsibility.

Asking someone to take on the responsibility of town crier isn’t like asking a favor. It’s a lifetime commitment and responsibility to the community. The position shows up across many Southern Plains Indigenous nations, and its responsibilities range from hollering names and talking for people at public or ceremonial events and dances to helping the community in a more private way. And this particular request carried the additional burden of trying to revive a way of life that the community had long since gone without. Herb gave Sonny Boy up to a year to think it over.

Sonny Boy didn’t need that long. He formally accepted and moved his family seventy-nine miles from Shawnee, Oklahoma, back to Pawnee so that he would be able to respond more quickly to community requests.

Since the position had laid vacant for so long, Sonny Boy consulted his relatives for advice. The first person he spoke to was his Aunt Minnie, the granddaughter of Billy Osborne. From her, Sonny Boy learned how to handle himself and his duties. He learned how to apply reverence to the duties he was tasked, how to call names, and to facilitate his public speaking. For the way he should dress in his new position, he turned to Billy Osborne’s son, Sam Osborne. While he had never succeeded his father’s place as a town crier, Sam spent years as a public spokesman for his family and others, even serving as Pawnee tribal chairman.

At first, Sonny Boy didn’t know the name of the hat or style. “The [brim] was a little bit shorter in the way they wore them. It stuck out in my head, seeing all those pictures of [Sam] and different ones wearing that style of hat. So, I got me one. I thought, man, this is it. I see why they wore these hats. They like the way they look, and I like the way I look in them. We’re not going to wear something we’re not comfortable in. We want something that’s comfortable and it fits, it’s eye-catching, you know, it’s different.”

This look wasn’t unique to the Pawnee people. Other Southern Plains nations—Osage, Otoe, Ponca, and Kaw, to name a few—who had been forcibly removed to Oklahoma had picked up this style. This look was common throughout the country; but, unlike the rest of the country, as clothing styles evolved, some families in these tribal communities maintained this style over the century as “the look” for certain functions. Every individual and community has their own take on it, but it has become the formal attire for certain tribal events, ceremonies, and occasions. The men who wore the Stetson Open Road were admired. They held honored positions in their respective communities, and those that followed in their footsteps sought to emulate them in every way—from the way they conducted themselves, the words they used when they talked, the songs they sang, down to the very clothes they wore.

Before accepting the role, Herb sat Sonny Boy down and explained a few more things. Herb told him that the younger relatives in his family would be watching him, observing him. And that when it comes time, Sonny Boy will need to pick a male successor. Sonny Boy has two sons and a handful of nephews and, just as Herb said, he sees how they watch what he does, how he conducts himself, and how he presents himself.

As for the hat, Sonny Boy says, “I’m not gonna brag, but I like the way I look in it. If I had it my way, I’d have one in every color.”

Excerpted from Stetson: American Icon (Rizzoli, 2025).