During the late-19th century, the average life expectancy was around 43 years, with approximately 15% of the populace living to see their 60th birthday. It's no wonder then, why so many big leaguers of this era met an early demise. One of these tragic figures is William "Big Bill" Brown, a weak-hitting catcher who transformed into a run-producing first baseman—and defensive whiz—shortly before his untimely death.
A San Francisco native, Brown began his pro career with the California League's Nationals franchise in 1882. The 16-year-old struggled and soon returned to playing semi-pro ball. In 1887, Brown joined the New York Giants; he performed well behind the plate but hit a meager .218. The 6-foot-2-inch, 195-pounder continued to be a consistently good receiver over the next few years, and by 1890 had dramatically improved his hitting, finishing the year with a career-high four home runs and a .278 batting average. (A .261 career hitter, he batted .442 in two "World Series" appearances in 1887-88.) Following a knee injury, Brown moved to first base where he performed like an old pro with the 1891 Phillies: He slugged 20 doubles while pacing big-league first sackers with a .989 fielding percentage.
"California Brown," as he was sometimes called in the press, joined the Louisville Colonels (NL) in 1893, putting together his finest all-around season. Helped by the lengthened pitching distance, he hit .292 with 26 doubles, seven triples, and 90 runs batted in; in the field, he once again paced major league first basemen in fielding percentage (.988). That November, The San Francisco Morning Call wrote that Brown's "skyrocket catches and rapid fielding" had garnered more than a few standing ovations over the past season. The same article noted that "Big Bill" should lose "thirty or forty pounds of superfluous flesh" before it becomes "difficult to tie his own shoes." Another local scribe opined: "When a man of Bill's size tries to knock a ball over the center-field fence . . . the wear and tear on his well-rounded physique must be awful."
Following his breakthrough 1893 campaign, Brown, along with several other major leaguers, was invited to play in a winter exhibition series. Feeling under the weather, he politely refused, citing a desire to get some much-needed rest. "I do not feel like jeopardizing my chances of being in good form in the spring," said Brown. The San Francisco Morning Call ominously wrote that perhaps Bill was afraid of injuring himself or "contracting consumption [tuberculousis] from the large mouth fulls of fog on a damp day."
As Louisville's 1894 season got underway, it was obvious that something was seriously wrong with their star first baseman. Lethargic and short of breath, Brown sometimes found it a chore to jog out to his position. He waved at easy grounders that he'd have once skillfully snagged, and his Herculean strength had vanished—he weakly offered at one fat pitch after the other. After posting a paltry .193 average through 16 games, "Big Bill" was given his release and finished out the year with the Eastern League's Wilkes-Barre Coal Barons. In 1895, Brown was diagnosed with an unidentified lung ailment (possibly tuberculosis) and was directed to take some time off to recuperate in a dryer climate, which was thought to be beneficial for TB patients.
After several months of rest beneath the Arizona sun, Brown felt well enough to attempt a comeback with the Seattle Rainmakers of the New Pacific League. He looked to be in good form, hitting .288 with a home run while catching all 15 games in which he appeared. Sadly, the 30-year-old would never play baseball again. In search of relief from his increasingly severe breathing difficulties, Brown moved to Hawaii in 1897. That July, a reporter with Honolulu's Pacific Commerical Advertiser tracked down the former "crack ball player" at his residence in Waikiki. In the ensuing interview, Brown shared his thoughts about the quality of baseball played in Hawaii:
"The baseball you are having down here surprises me," declared Brown, whose shockingly emaciated appearance (165 pounds) belied his child-like excitement. "The first game I attended here was the one on Saturday . . . and I was surprised at the boys. They handle the ball as well as the average league team, though the games played in the States are, perhaps, a little more scientific and are played in a shorter time. In the league, we had to run in and run out, but here I notice that when a side is out, they walk in. It's a good thing funerals are not drawn over the ground or the players would be run over with the hearse. I don't think the spectators like these long-drawn games. . . . [But] the boys play well together. I enjoyed the game . . . and I've got a lot of enthusiasm bottled up for the game on Saturday."
In the weeks and months following the interview, Brown's condition steadily worsened. By mid-October, Bill was confined to his bed; however, no matter how sick, he insisted upon having the sports page delivered to his room each morning. Sensing the end was near, Brown returned home to California that November. He passed away on December 20, 1897. The San Francisco Chronicle, among others, ran the following obituary:
"William Brown, known to all lovers of baseball throughout the United States as 'Big Bill' Brown, is dead. About two years ago, Brown, once a perfect specimen of physical manhood, became afflicted with lung trouble. He sought relief in the Hawaiian Islands, Southern California and Arizona, but in vain, and yesterday the end came at his home in this city. Deceased was 32 years of age."
✍️ Bobby King II
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