Mashpee brewery is at the center of a culture clash. Can both sides move forward together?

As a girl, Madas Strickland loved to run straight from Mashpee Wakeby Pond to the back door of The Flume restaurant to grab wing dings and fries, "Grampa" Earl Mills Sr.'s chicken salad and a fresh piece of pie crust from her Aunt Jan Hendricks.

"The Flume was a highlight of my childhood," said Strickland, who is a Mashpee Wampanoag Tribal member. "It was a place where Native and non-Natives worked alongside each other and had camaraderie."

Mills, also known as Chief Flying Eagle, opened the Flume in June 1972 and shuttered its doors in 2004.

Since Naukabout Brewing Company opened in 2017 on the property, tensions between Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe members and the new owners and customers have risen. The tension arose recently with a "Full Moon Fire Ceremony" event posting for May 23 by a third party that seemed to mock Native American culture, Strickland said.

"Naukabout Brewery is located on ancestral Wampanoag land. And it seems like they have a lack of understanding about our Indigenous heritage and sacred spaces," said Strickland.

Brewery owner Peter Murner reached out to the ceremony's organizer, Justin Gagne of The Saving Light, to cancel the event in early April, after seeing comments from members of the Mashpee tribe on a Naukabout Facebook post advertising it. He also deleted the event posting.

"The last thing we want is to have a negative impact on the community. We are always trying to support our neighbors," said Murner.

'Spirituality, culture and money'

The Saving Light offers guidance with spiritual awakening and ascension processes, according to a Facebook site. The group also holds drum circles, full moon fire ceremonies, and walk-in temple-style meditations.

"It was culturally dismissive and perpetuates harmful stereotypes," said Alexandra Pocknett, a Mashpee Wampanoag Tribal member, of the moon fire ceremony." "Especially when they know the legacy of that space."

Pocknett criticized The Saving Light for charging $25 for drum and moon ceremonies, especially when alcohol is involved.

"I feel like it's just dirty," she said. "Spirituality, culture and money — I don't care what your intentions are — I don't think they mix."

Strickland said the event underscores the urgent need to combat cultural appropriation.

Murner said he didn't give too much thought about the event when it was initially planned. Gagne, he said, holds spiritual healing events throughout Cape Cod and was hoping to use Naukabout's patio for his group's event.

Mashpee Wampanoag Tribal Historic Preservation Officer and Mashpee Select Board member David Weeden said Murner called him shortly after the moon fire ceremony was cancelled to apologize.

"He reaches out anytime there are controversial issues," said Weeden. "He tries to do things in a respectful way."

Through Facebook Messenger, The Saving Light told the Times the event was cancelled on April 2. The organization declined to comment further.

Tensions since Naukabout opened

Mills built The Flume close to Mashpee Wakeby Pond, said Strickland, because the area is sacred to Wampanoag people. For thousands of years, she said, tribal people have frequented the waterways that surround the space, and held ceremonies throughout the woods that connect to the pond and Mashpee River.

Mills built The Flume, said Strickland, as a testament to his heritage and connection to Wampanoag land.

When Naukabout opened, said Strickland, owners allowed intoxicated customers to frequent the pond's beach, playground and parking area, while carrying alcoholic beverages. Brewery guests, she said, have also taken up town parking spaces without permission.

"I’ve never heard of patrons going down there and causing disruption who have been consuming," Murner said. "That hasn’t been brought to my attention."

Mashpee Police Sgt. Ryan Nardone said there have been occasional problems of Naukabout customers wandering through pathways from Naukabout, down the hill, to the pond's beach. "It's few and far between but it does happen," said Nardone.

Much of the surrounding area, said Strickland, has been disrupted by Naukabout expansion.

"The destruction of trees, the encroachment on sacred spaces, and the transformation of a once serene haven into a bustling site for alcohol consumption reflect a broader pattern of disrespect and exploitation of Indigenous lands and traditions," she said.

The Flume did serve alcohol and had a bar but guests were contained in the restaurant, Weeden said.

When Naukabout initially took over the building, there was some expansion that cleared appropriate trees and other greenery, said Murner. He worked with Select Board members, and Mashpee conservation officials, he said, to "carefully expand." There hasn't been any construction since, he said. "That work was part of our special permit plan approved by the Select Board," said Murner.

Weeden said that Murner obtained Mills' blessing before he opened Naukabout. "Ultimately, we should be happy someone is using the space," said Weeden. "If no one uses it, it's going to fall apart."

Issues arising long before Naukabout

There has always been some back and forth between Wampanoag tribal members, the town, and with police, said Pocknett.

One of the most known incidents occurred on July 29, 1976, when a group of nine Mashpee Wampanoag men were confronted, beaten and arrested by 30 police officers dressed in riot gear, she said. The incident was documented by in 2016 with a book and a film — both titled — "The Mashpee Nine: a story of cultural justice."

In 1998, David Hendricks, a Mashpee Wampanoag tribal member was shot dead on Route 130 by Police Sgt. David Mace. At the time, Mace said he shot Hendricks in self-defense. Tribal members said Hendricks was murdered, according to a 1998 Times article.

More recently, a tribal member who Pocknett didn't name died at the pond due to a health-related incident. Right away, she said, rumors spread that the tribal member was killed by another tribal member.

The town in the past also used to lock the gate to the pond parking lot early in the evening, but in recent years doesn't lock the gate at all, said Nardone. Except, said Pocknett, during Mashpee Wampanoag Powwow weekend.

"As soon as our family is in town and we are celebrating, here comes the police," said Pocknett. "They could choose to police differently if they want to."

Nardone doesn't feel there's tension between police officers and tribal members in modern times.

"That's not really a thing anymore," said Nardone. "The log hasn't reflected a lot of problems down there — at least last summer."

The future of Naukabout

Murner acknowledged to the Times that communicating with tribal members more regularly could help ease any tension.

"I am more then willing to sit down with the community face-to-face and hear their concerns and make sure we are adjusting things appropriately," said Murner. "I am always available."

Strickland said the pond is her safe spot, a place Wampanoag people have frequented for thousands of years.

"I just feel like the ancestors are rolling around in their graves," she said. "This was a place for welcoming Native and non-Native people to experience our culture at The Flume. How can we get back to that?"

Rachael Devaney writes about community and culture. Reach her at rdevaney@capecodonline.com. Follow her on Twitter: @RachaelDevaney.

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This article originally appeared on Cape Cod Times: Naukabout Brewing in Mashpee is on sacred tribal land. Why it matters.