The Candy Man: Henry J. Brown, the 1975 Masters and Beyond

Henry "Candy Man" Brown and Lee Elder at the 1975 Masters (Augusta Chronicle photo)

There was something truly special about the caddies at Augusta National Golf Club. It wasn’t just the distinctive white jumpsuits and green caps adorned with the Augusta National logo that set them apart from other tour caddies. Ask any one of them and they’ll tell you. They were the best caddies in the world. There was a fierce pride in being a caddie at Augusta National. These men didn’t just carry a golf bag. That was like saying Michelangelo carried a paint brush. They challenged one another on who could read greens the best or who could pull clubs the best. They took it personally if their guy wound up in the water or, God forbid, four-putted a green.

Over the course of history, some Augusta caddies have become better known than others. There was Jim Dent, who rose from the caddie ranks to play on the PGA tour and later recorded 12 career victories on the Champions Tour. Sidney Walker, better known as Beau Jack, went on to become the nation’s lightweight boxing champion. Nathaniel “Iron Man” Avery caddied for Arnold Palmer in every one of his four Masters championships, and Carl Jackson forged such a tight bond with Ben Crenshaw that–even after the rules changed in 1983 and pros could bring their regular tour caddies–Crenshaw kept Jackson on the bag. He was with Crenshaw when he won in 1984 and when he won the second time in 1995.  Finally, there was Willie “Pete” Peterson, who caddied for Jack Nicklaus in five of the six times he won at Augusta, including his fifth Green Jacket in 1975.

But there was another caddie who made history in 1975, and the start of this year’s Masters Tournament on April 10 will mark the 50th Anniversary of that milestone. On that day, Henry Jeremiah Brown, a thirty-six year old caddie who split time driving a taxi for a living, did something that no other Augusta National caddie had ever done before. On April 10, 1975, Henry Brown stood on the first tee in the first round of the Masters Tournament, reached into a golf bag, and handed a driver to a golfer who shared the color of his skin. Now driving, Mr. Lee Elder. Fore please!

This wasn’t Brown’s first brush with Masters history. He was on the bag for Roberto De Vicenzo in 1968, the year De Vincenzo signed an incorrect scorecard and wound up missing a playoff with Bob Goalby by a single stroke. The error occurred at the 17th hole during the final round, when De Vicenzo put his approach to within three feet and made the short putt for birdie…only his playing partner, Tommy Aaron, put him down for a par. Convinced Aaron did it on purpose, Brown was so incensed after the round that he had to be restrained. “I couldn’t believe that Aaron put down a 4 when Roberto knocked it that close,” he told John Fineran years later. “I almost leaped a couple of cars trying to get at him afterwards.” 

Fred Bennett, who served as caddie master during Brown’s time there, could only laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe that,” he said. “That’s just Henry talking.” Just Henry being Henry. He was a bona fide character. As Bennett put it, “a good guy, just a little wild…a piece of work.”

Brown had been a caddie since the age of nine, when he and his buddies would skip school to make $3.50 a bag looping at Augusta Country Club,  just a two block walk from his home on Gardner Street. In 1952, at the age of thirteen, he graduated up to The National, and he had been there ever since. Not only could Brown carry the sticks, he knew how to swing them as well. He played with a cross-handed baseball grip and could hit a 300 yard drive from either side of the ball. He played to a one handicap at the local municipal course the caddies called the “Patch,” and claimed to have shot a 68 at Augusta National one year on Caddie Day. Like many of the Black men and boys raised in the Sand Hills district of Augusta, golf ran deep in Henry’s blood.

The ‘75 Masters was Brown’s twelfth. He caddied for De Vicenzo in eight of his Masters appearances, and the two developed a close rapport. “He knew when I handed him a stick that it was the club to hit,” said Brown. He liked the Argentinian pro, and would have caddied for him longer, but as De Vicenzo slid farther past his prime, he encouraged Brown to find a younger guy. Brown took his advice and worked for Art Wall in the ‘74 Masters, then destiny stepped in the very next week when Lee Elder won the 1974 Monsanto Open down in Pensacola, Florida.

When Brown first started working at The National in 1952, heavyweight boxing champ Joe Louis had just become the first African-American to play in a PGA-sanctioned tournament. After that first break in professional golf’s color barrier, it was another nine years before Charlie Sifford became the first Black pro to receive a PGA tour card, but neither of his two tour victories–at Hartford in ‘67 and L.A. in ‘69–rated an automatic invitation to the Masters. When Clifford Roberts and the tournament committee changed the rules in 1972 to award automatic bids to all PGA Tour winners, Brown knew which horse he would be betting on. 

Every year since, Brown had lobbied to get Elder’s bag should he ever get an invite. “I’d been watching the newspapers and the television,” he said.  “I knew which Black players were doing well on the tour, and I figured back then that Lee Elder was going to be the first one to make the Masters.” As the caddies lined up in front of the clubhouse to watch Elder make his historic first trip up Magnolia Lane, none wore a bigger smile than the man wearing Number 68. 

A small army of reporters waited at the clubhouse that morning hoping for a printable quote, but Elder remained tight-lipped. He had gotten on Clifford Roberts’s bad side a couple of years ago when he criticized the Masters’ exclusionary entry qualifications. “I’m not talking,” he snapped. “Every time I talk I get into trouble.” But if Elder wasn’t talking, Henry J. was more than willing to make up for his new boss’s silence.

As far as Brown was concerned, Elder had the pick of the caddie pen. “I can walk this course backwards,” he told the reporters. “I know every blade of grass on it. All Lee’s gotta do is stay cool.” He said that Elder needed to stay loose, play his game, and try not to focus too much on the trouble. He wasn’t about to tell Elder how to play his game, but If he asked for advice, Brown would tell him what he thought. “I don’t know how Lee Elder will do out there this week,” he told them, “but I’m going to help him all I can. All I can promise is that he won’t be out-caddied.” Brown would do his best to follow the caddie’s motto—to show up, keep up, and shut up—but ultimately, Elder was the boss.

Brown was confident that with his local knowledge and Elder’s game, the sky was the limit, but as sometimes happens in golf, things didn't exactly go as planned on Thursday. Aside from the intermittent rain that fell throughout the day, Brown and Elder were often at odds over course management. Instead of walking off yardages, as Brown had promised Elder he would, Brown preferred to make the club selection as he had done in years past for De Vicenzo. As a result Elder was always a half-club shorter or longer than he wanted to be. Despite all that, he ended the round with a respectable two-over par 74, tied for 39th in a group that included De Vicenzo, Hubert Green, and Ed Sneed. If he could keep it together on Friday, he was in position to make the cut.

Overnight, Elder considered firing Brown. Rose Elder thought the cocksure Brown was concentrating more on the media attention than he was on her husband’s golf game, but others advised Elder that making a big fuss at this point in the tournament might be misunderstood by Roberts and some others who would rather he not be there in the first place. Reluctantly, he decided to keep Brown on the bag, but he played even worse in windy conditions on day two. He finished the round with a 78, which gave him a 36-hole total of 152, and missed the cut by four strokes.

In spite of their differences that week, all seemed well after the tournament. Elder told the press that the Masters had been everything he hoped it would be, and more. “I was really expecting to play better,” he said, “but since I didn’t, I’ll look forward to playing better next year.” For his part, Brown said he would be in the caddie house the next day putting in his bid for next year when, not if, Elder would be back. 

Elder even invited Brown to play in his celebrity pro-am later that spring, but a few weeks later, Henry…just being Henry…angered Elder by insinuating in an Augusta newspaper that Elder missed the cut at the Masters because he enjoyed partying too much, didn’t trust anyone–especially not his caddie–and didn’t want any advice except to know distances from the hole. Elder shot back that Brown wasn’t the caddie he thought he was, that it was Brown’s inability to give him proper yardages that bred the lack of trust, and under no circumstances would he be using Brown in any future Masters appearances.

That wasn’t the end of Brown’s golfing story, though; not by a longshot. Emboldened by wins in several local and regional tournaments, he decided to take his one-man show on the road the following year. Some local golfing buddies, both Black and white, helped him cobble together about $200 to travel to Cleveland, Ohio, and on July 4, 1976, he won the Holiday Open (formerly the Sixth City Open), beating a field that included an aging Charlie Sifford and PGA Tour regular Chuck Thorpe. The win earned him $2,000 (all of which went to his sponsors after expenses) and a new nickname, when Sifford dubbed him the “Candy Man” due to his new job at an Augusta candy company.

On his way back to Augusta, Brown picked up another $110 with a T-13 finish at the Sky View Open in Asheville, North Carolina, and had his sights set on PGA Q-School in December, but he didn’t make it into the 150-man field. He set out again in 1977 with the backing of an anonymous sponsor, and over the next year-and-a-half, he racked up multiple wins on the mostly-Black North American Golf Association circuit. He notched three wins in his first full year as a professional, and in the first five events of 1978, he earned just over $1,900 with five top-ten finishes, including a win in Atlanta and runner-up finish in Detroit. That was the summer he began his quest to play in America’s national championship.

His first try at the U.S. Open was in May of 1978 when he finished in a tie for second in local qualifying at Midland Valley Country Club in nearby Aiken, South Carolina. From there, he went to sectionals in Atlanta and wound up as the first alternate, missing a trip to the ‘78 Open at Cherry Hills by one stroke. He suffered the same fate in 1979, this time at Orangeburg (S.C.) Country Club, where he lost in a six-man play-off for the final spot in the ‘79 Open at Inverness. 

Brown ended the summer of 1979 with a five stroke win at the Sky View Open, finishing a blistering 15-under par for the 54-hole event, and when April rolled around, he was back at The National caddying for journeyman pro Artie McNickle in the 1980 Masters. Brown was in good form and was all set to play in the USGA’s local qualifier at Cherokee Golf & Country Club in Atlanta on May 18, but there was just one problem. Due to a dispute with his ex-wife, Brown was picked up by Augusta police and put in jail for non-support. Realizing he would be incarcerated until after the start of qualifying, he did the only thing he knew to do. He made a desperate plea to the USGA.

The USGA’s Larry Adamson recalled receiving the letter. It was handwritten on stationery from the Augusta city jail and explained Brown’s current predicament. Brown said he would appreciate it if the USGA would send an official to Augusta to get him released from jail, set up a special 36-hole qualifier just for him, and have the official walk the course with him to serve as his marker. When Adamson realized this wasn’t a prank and contacted Brown to tell him that wasn’t happening, Brown maintained his innocence and begged, telling Adamson “you can even handcuff me between shots!” His innocence or guilt notwithstanding, he would have to wait another year.

Months later, Henry left Augusta and moved to South Bend, Indiana, where he went to work at a local salvage yard. He showed up one day at South Bend Country Club, introduced himself to the head pro there and told him, “I’m going to win the U.S. Open.” Thing was, he hadn’t yet applied. Once again, Brown contacted Adamson to send him an application, but when Brown returned it, the application was late and he hadn't included the entry fee. There went another year.

Undaunted, Brown continued to practice, hitting 150 balls a day on the driving range at Elbel Park Golf Course and blasting balls out of a sand trap he fashioned in his own backyard, and in 1982 he shot 69-71 to win co-medalist honors at the local qualifier held at South Bend Country Club. He went on to sectional qualifying in Chicago, but narrowly missed a shot at going to Pebble Beach-once again by a single stroke. Adamson later recalled what Brown said to him that day in Chicago, “He wasn’t angry or upset. He said, ‘Mr. Larry, all I ever told you was I wanted a chance.’ That’s what it’s about. Giving people a chance.” 

For the next three years, the story was the same. Brown would make it past locals at South Bend only to falter at sectionals. Finally, in 1986, he lost a three-hole playoff for the final spot in the local qualifier and failed to move on. He tried again in ‘87 and ‘88, and one final time in 1989--the summer after he turned 50--but each year he came up short. 

Three months later, he played in his first Senior PGA event, the RJR Bank One Senior Classic in Lexington, Kentucky, where he finished T-28 and pocketed a check for $2,480. Below him on the leaderboard were a Who’s Who of names from Brown’s past. He finished one stroke ahead of Tommy Aaron, two ahead of Lee Elder, three ahead of ‘68 Masters champ Bob Goalby, and four strokes better than Charlie Sifford. He was poised to try for his Senior Tour card later that year until the capricious hand of Lady Fate stepped in yet again. 

Henry Brown’s story conjures up images of Roy McAvoy dropping ball after ball and hitting shot after shot into the water in the final scene of the movie Tin Cup. It’s almost as if you can hear him saying, “One swing, Henry. One…good…swing.” But Henry Brown’s story doesn’t end with him holing out the 3-wood for a 12 and walking triumphantly onto the 18th green with his caddie, his 3-wood thrust high in the air. 

Just months after playing his first Senior Tour event, Brown was diagnosed with cancer, ending his dream of playing on the Senior Tour. He continued to play the game he loved even while on radiation and chemotherapy, but his condition deteriorated rapidly and by April of 1992, everyone knew the end was near. He returned to his native Augusta to be among family and old friends, and it was there that he passed away on July 22, 1992 at the age of 53.

In an article by Dave Nightingale, South Bend Tribune golf writer John Fineran called Brown “the most unique character I’ve ever met.” Friends and acquaintances described him as someone whose passion in life was golf from the moment he woke up in the morning until he laid his head on his pillow at night. He could talk a mile a minute and always seemed to have something going on, but you couldn’t help but like him. Where golf was concerned, he believed in hitting the fewest strokes possible (“because you get less tired that way”), in forgetting about the trouble and just playing the shot at hand, and above all, he believed in himself. 

Legendary sports writer Grantland Rice once said, “Like life, golf can be humbling. However, little comes from brooding about mistakes we’ve made. The next shot, in golf or in life, is the big one.” That was Henry. His is a story of grit, perseverance, and a love for the game he had played since he was old enough to pick up a club. He is the embodiment of what the common man had to overcome, and often still does, to succeed in golf.

Henry Brown was not a perfect man, and he never claimed to be one. But for all of his brashness, his poor decisions, and things that other people might think of as shortcomings, Brown nailed it when he told reporters before the ‘75 Masters, “I’m here because this is an opportunity for Lee to compete in the best tournament in the world. But it’s not only important to Lee or to Black players. It’s also important for all qualified people to compete and achieve.” He would have been proud to know that, just shy of five years after his death, a Black man named Tiger Woods won his first Green Jacket at Augusta National, and that he won it in the most dominant fashion in Masters history. 

Somewhere up there, somehow, maybe Henry knows.