Big Bird Flies High

By Olivia Zmarlicki-Germano

Contributing Writer

Many of us pass beneath the bridge nicknamed “Big Bird” so routinely that its presence has become almost invisible—at least a few times each week, and often more. If you have a child attending Union School or Farmington High School, stop for groceries at Stop & Shop, or conduct business at Town Hall, you may cross under it several times in a single day. Yet even in the familiarity of daily travel, it still draws the eye. We glance at its rust-colored sidewalls and faded lettering and wonder how it came to carry its name. Over time, the bridge has become a local landmark—woven into everyday life, quietly accumulating meaning through repetition. It has been a subject of conversation, in local photography, and, more recently, the focus of a striking drawing by local artist Irina Bezsonova. 

Big Bird Bridge, Farmington, CT. Ink drawing by Irina Bezsonova, 2020. 

In trying to answer the longstanding question of why this bridge is called “Big Bird,” many people, naturally assume the name came from the famous yellow character that generations of children watched on PBS. That assumption, however, is incorrect, although someone had painted a likeness of the Big Bird on the lower portion of the overpass at one time. The bridge is not yellow, does not resemble the character in any way, and there is no known connection between Unionville or Farmington, and anyone associated with the show. Despite some past media coverage, conflicting stories about the origin of the nickname have circulated throughout the community. Yet for members of the Farmington High School Class of 1976 – who remember exactly how it came about – the answer remains clear: Brian Quigley. 

Soft-spoken, he had many friends who remember him fondly, even after the passage of five decades. Brian Francis Quigley, a member of the Farmington Indians, Class of 76’, was known for his sense of humor, kindness, and gentle smile. When you first met him, he seemed shy, but once he got to know you, his outgoing nature emerged, and he became the kind of friend you kept for life. He loved making people laugh and, often the comedian, had a way of bringing it into the lives of those around him. With his dark, wavy hair parted to the right and his six-foot-three frame, Brian naturally drew attention from the ladies. He dated often, however those close to him say that although he was once engaged, he remained single. Brian loved to work on cars, especially his marina-blue 67 Pontiac Le Mans, and his father, Francis’ 67 Chevrolet Camaro. He’d cruise in his Le Mans through the streets of Unionville and Farmington, with his best buds, listening and singing along to Steve Miller, Chicago, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Jimmy Buffet, Fleetwood Mac, ZZ Top and a favorite, “Tequila Sunrise” by the Eagles. 

Brian Quigley, Farmington High School Yearbook, Class of 1976 

Brian was a typical teenager of the era, working a part-time job, hanging out with friends and having fun. In Farmington, that meant the baseball fields, the river, Suburban Park, the drive-in, or the railroad trestle. From there, they could see far into the distance, making them feel as though they were on top of the world. The tracks were a forbidden temptation, making it all the more enticing to young people eager to challenge rules. Restored following the 1955 flood, which brought the overpass down to the street below, the New Haven–Northampton Railroad returned to service to once again serve local needs. Passenger service ended in the late 1960s, and freight trains, though still running, were reduced to just a couple of trips per week. Deliveries continued to McCallum Auto Parts store, situated adjacent to the bridge, where a dedicated spur track extended directly into the building. There was something undeniably inviting about being on the tracks, and for the teens who spent time there, the place felt safe—or at least ordinary in its risks. At their age, there was little sense of danger; an assumption of invulnerability common to youth, when the consequences of a single misstep are rarely understood or fully considered.

For those of us who wonder how Brian came to be known as “Big Bird,” we have to travel back in time to the halls of Farmington High School, more specifically to his freshman year gym class. When Coach John Grocki Sr. was getting to know the students, he took one look at Brian on the gym floor and nicknamed him “Big Bird.” Part of it was because of Brian’s height, but even more from the way he moved when he ran. With his long arms and wide reach, he seemed almost to be flying as he drove toward the basket and dunked the ball through the hoop. The nickname stuck immediately. 

Brian Quigley is seen here with the signature saying that was said to describe both his height and sense of movement. 

What prompted Brian and his friends to choose that specific day in early May of 1975 to paint his nickname on the bridge side wall will probably forever remain a mystery. Perhaps it was a dare, a prank, or maybe the painting was intended to commemorate his eighteenth birthday, which fell on May 8. Whatever it was, he and his friends, Francis M., Steve C., and Dante, whose first name is now lost to the memories of those present there, followed through with the plan. The four of them waited until dusk for cover and snuck up on the trestle, as they had done hundreds of times before. In those days, traffic was light in the hours after supper. The teens were giggling and shushing each other so as not to bring attention to their plan. Reportedly, the group split in two; Brian and Dante climbed over the edge onto a narrow west-facing ledge along the side of the bridge, balancing on the tips of their shoes, one hand gripping the top beam while the other held a can of white spray paint.  They edged forward, careful not to slip from the inch-wide footing, as they wrote “FLY HIGH” across the metal. Brian hated heights and it was no small accomplishment for him to take part in such an endeavor, suddenly worried that a single wrong move could send them falling. Simultaneously, Steve and Francis spraypainted “BIG BIRD” on the opposite side of the trestle. Some fifteen minutes later, the deed was done, and they headed home pleased with their handiwork, hardly able to wait to see their creation in the light of day. They had a difficult time sleeping that night, looking forward to seeing the signs in daylight. As they traveled to school the following morning, the lettering was clearly visible from the road as yellow school buses and streams of cars passed beneath the bridge—a sight that filled them with a sense of accomplishment. The letters may have been slightly off-center and imperfectly sized, but given the precarious maneuvers required to paint them, the boys considered the effort a remarkable success. News traveled through the school quickly, despite there being no Instagram, Snapchat, or other social media. By mid morning, the hallways were buzzing with excitement, curiosity, and rumors about what had happened and questions as to who did it.

There is no doubt that they got into trouble; just how much remains a matter of speculation, since nothing can be found in either local newspapers or even high school alumni records. The times were different—life was simpler and more forgiving, and such actions were most likely seen as harmless youthful mischief. I have no doubt, however, that each of the teens faced the proverbial music when the news reached their parents’ ears. One thing is certain: they made history. The trestle that now hosts the bike and walking trails is forever known as the “Big Bird” bridge. The “FLIES HIGH” sign has since been painted over with “CLASS OF 20XX,” and each year it is updated to honor the new graduating class. Brian would most definitely approve.

Brian Francis Quigley passed prematurely as the result of a car accident that ended his life on April 10, 1988, at the age of thirty. Someone continues to keep the tradition alive, repainting the letters and preserving the memory of Brian in the hearts of those who cared for him. Some believe that Brian himself, through inspiration, is reaching out from beyond the grave to ensure that his legacy never dies. The sign he painted remains a reminder that each life is meaningful, and that what we leave behind—through memory, action, or deed—keeps us alive long after we are no longer walking this earth. Befittingly, “Big Bird” is written beside his photograph in the 1976 Farmington High School yearbook and engraved on the back of Brian’s grave marker at St. Joseph Cemetery in Plainville, reminding all who visit there, of the young man who so definitively left his mark. 

The next time you drive past the Big Bird Bridge, or walk or bike across the trestle, remember the person behind the nickname. Brian Francis Quigley was here, and in the hearts and memories of those who knew him, he will always fly high. 

The author sends a Heartfelt thanks to Brian’s family, friends, and schoolmates for contributing their memories and information for this article, and especially to Francis M. and Stephen C., his two fellow conspirators in this unforgettable adventure. VL