The extraordinary life and death of Pittsburgh basketball legend John Brisker

Almost 50 years after his presumed death in Idi Amin’s Uganda, Pittsburgh basketball icon John Brisker remains a legend for his fiery character on and off the court. Brisker’s willingness to take stands against injustices, both real and perceived, made headlines as early as 1969, when, as a student at the University of Toledo, he helped lead an on-court protest relating to the school’s suspension of one of his Black former teammates. Brisker and the other Black players were promptly booed off the court.

But Brisker didn’t let the backlash dissuade him from standing up for what he believed to be right that February 1969 night in Toledo, or dissuade him from taking such stands throughout the remainder of his life. Whether or not his uncompromising approach led to his early demise remains a mystery. 

Brisker was born in the summer of 1947 and grew up in Hamtramck, Mich., a city near Detroit. In a 1972 interview, he described a tough upbringing that pushed him toward basketball: “We moved 15-20 times when I was growing up because we couldn’t pay the rent. I lived in a project when I was in high school. I had a lot of things frustrating me, so I’d take my frustrations outside and get rid of them shooting a basketball.” Brisker became star at Hamtramck High School, playing alongside future NBA All-Star and champion head coach Rudy Tomjanovich, before setting off for the University of Toledo in 1965.  

As was the case for all college freshmen at the time, Brisker was not permitted to play varsity basketball, but his freshman team dominated the varsity team every time they scrimmaged. When he did play varsity ball, Brisker excelled, averaging double figures in points while he played tight end for the school’s football team and even took up tuba for Toledo’s marching band. 

Brisker brought a football-type toughness to the basketball court. Throughout his college career, Brisker didn’t instigate fights, but he never backed down from any, either. In Dec. 1968, Brisker was suspended after missing a practice. A week later, his college career came to a close when he was declared academically ineligible to compete the rest of the season. He didn’t go quietly, helping to lead the aforementioned protest described above.

In 1969, the NBA’s Philadelphia 76ers selected Brisker in a supplemental draft; however, Brisker opted to sign with the Pittsburgh Pipers of the American Basketball Association instead. As a member of the Pipers — later the Pittsburgh Condors — Brisker was a scoring machine, averaging as many as 29.3 points per game. Pittsburgh coach and general manager Mark Binstein compared Brisker to NBA all-time greats Oscar Robertson and Jerry West. NBA legend Spencer Haywood later likened him to LeBron James.

Even in the wild world of the ABA, Brisker’s antics stood out. Brisker was a bruiser — so much so that he earned the nickname The Heavyweight Champion of the ABA. Brisker disliked that reputation and referred to himself as nothing more than “an aggressive ballplayer, a competitor.” He rationalized that he only fought players who were bigger than him. 

At the same time, however, Brisker made statements that didn’t help his reputation, once saying that he would “do anything to put Pittsburgh in the playoffs,” even if that meant “breaking someone’s leg.” According to one witness, while on the floor for the 1971 All-Star game festivities, Brisker intimidated the ABA’s commissioner to dig into his own wallet to pay Brisker his $300 All-Star bonus on the spot.

Other incidents included a fight with police at Three Rivers Stadium and an impromptu sparring match with Muhammad Ali inside a Miami airport. Teams intimidated by Brisker resorted to tactics never seen before or since, as when the Utah Stars tried to keep Brisker in line by surrounding the court with several professional boxers. Brisker responded by dropping 37 points in a six-point Condors victory.

By late 1971, Brisker considered playing in Pittsburgh to be “a hassle” and said he was “tired of it.” In one of Brisker’s many attempts to increase his pay, he refused to practice or play for the Condors toward the end of that final ABA season. The Condors filed a lawsuit to stop him from signing with another team. Brisker threatened to make the jump to the NBA.  

Ultimately, the Condors folded after that 1971-72 season, and a brief stint with the Dallas Chaparrals ended when the Texas team dumped Brisker simply because of the color of his skin. A part-owner bluntly explained: “Last year Dallas had only two white players … compared to 10 black players, and we drew less than 100 fans who were colored.” He continued, “A bunch of people want white faces, someone they can identify with.”  

Seattle SuperSonics ownership didn’t share those racist concerns and signed Brisker to a six-year, $1 million contract. Brisker’s three seasons with Seattle were inconsistent and disappointing (at least in comparison to his performance in the ABA), but still respectable. During his first two seasons, he averaged more than 12 points per game despite receiving just over 20 minutes of playing time per game.

Trouble managed to follow Brisker to the NBA even when he wasn’t to blame. Though a fan favorite, Brisker and Seattle’s new coach, NBA great Bill Russell, mixed like oil and water. As his time in Seattle progressed, Brisker increasingly found himself in Russell’s doghouse, and his playing time plummeted.

Russell’s treatment of Brisker didn’t sit well with the fans who recognized Brisker’s talent. “We want Brisker” chants frequently broke out during Seattle’s home games. When given the opportunity, Brisker produced. In a matchup with the rival Portland Trail Blazers, he led the SuperSonics to a victory with 28 points.  

Off the court, Brisker had a reputation for being great with children, helping to organize a charity basketball game (starring the likes of Connie Hawkins) to raise funds for a basketball program targeting the youth in Pittsburgh’s Hill District. He, along with Pittsburgh Pirates’ greats Willie Stargell and Dock Ellis (among others), spent hours volunteering to raise funds for sickle cell anemia research.

Regardless, Russell — who was also the SuperSonics’ general manager — was desperate to get rid of Brisker. He offered Brisker up in trades, but there were no takers. Ultimately, in the early part of 1974, Russell demoted Brisker to the Cherry Hill Rookies of the Eastern Basketball League (which, in essence, served as the NBA’s primary minor league at the time). In his first game with the Rookies, Brisker set a league record with 51 points. He followed up that performance with 58 points in his next game.

While Brisker often expressed his desire to return to the NBA — and still had the talent to do so — he had burned all of his bridges. In 1977, with three years left on his contract, he accepted a buyout for half of what Seattle owed him.

Brisker’s final years were tough. In Pittsburgh, his wife filed for divorce. He was held in contempt for failing to pay child support. In Seattle, he had a child with another woman, Khalilah Rashad. He owned businesses that were drowning in debt.

Brisker made several trips to Africa in pursuit of other business opportunities. According to Rashad, in March of 1978, Brisker traveled to Africa for the purposes of starting an import-export business. Rashad stated that Brisker had called her several times, and that she last heard from him on April 11, 1978.  

Brisker made that last call from Kampala, Uganda. His brother, Ralph, believed that he may have been taken as a prisoner of war. Others speculated that he was killed after crossing paths with Ugandan dictator Idi Amin. Still others reported that Brisker may have been killed while fighting as a mercenary/bodyguard for Amin. 

Brisker most likely suffered the same fate that so many others in Uganda suffered during Amin’s reign of terror — death via Uganda’s State Research Bureau. 

Records recovered after Amin’s ouster indicate that the already-paranoid Amin was being fed information that would have made Brisker a prime target of his wrath. Around the time of Brisker’s visit, Amin received a letter from Bob Astles (a British soldier who was close to Amin and was described in his 2012 obituary as “the most hated white man in postcolonial Africa”) that read: “Your excellency. We have evidence through documentation and interrogation that foreign companies are working against the Ugandan economy. We also have evidence that the C.I.A. is working against you. We would like to give our intelligence verbally. Your obedient servant, Bob Astles.” Such communications undermine rumors that Amin would have recruited Brisker — a United States businessman — to work for him in any way, let alone as a bodyguard.

Brisker’s brother and Rashad both previously speculated that Brisker may have simply disappeared on his own accord, possibly under an assumed name, to avoid the growing debts and obligations he faced in the United States. However, he had quite a few close friends and family members, none of whom have heard from him in over 40 years. Moreover, Brisker went to Africa with a friend from Seattle named Benjamin Taylor, who likewise disappeared. There is little chance both Brisker and Taylor left the country, assumed new identities, and successfully avoided detection for such a long period of time — especially in light of the fact that both of their families, as well as a United States congressman, made multiple inquiries with the State Department in efforts to ascertain their whereabouts.

The State Department does not have any record that Brisker had entered Uganda, let alone died there. Nevertheless, State Department records do indicate that a source — whose name is redacted — provided the following information: “Benjamin Lewis Taylor [identified as Benjamin Lewis in the records] visited Uganda in the spring of 1977 and approached Amin with a deal to bring a black American business group to the country. Brisker joined Taylor. Subsequently, the two were accused of criminal activities, abducted from their rooms at the Kampala International Hotel, sent to the State Research Bureau, and never seen again”.

During that time, the Kampala International Hotel was certainly not a safe place, as State Research Bureau agents used to frequent its rooftop nightclub and, when interested in a woman there, would sometimes throw competitors for her attention off the roof. A 1982 State Department record states that Brisker and Taylor “probably were in Uganda in 1977 and that they may have been killed [t]here.”  

Any Ugandan records relating to Brisker are likely long gone. In April 1979 — after Amin’s failed attack on Tanzania — Tanzanians and anti-Amin Ugandans forced Amin to flee the country. A 1979 New York Times article indicates that, two days before the State Research Bureau headquarters were abandoned, “smoke rose from the incinerator, leading to speculation that the most incriminating records had been burned.”   

For those closest to Brisker, life had to go on. In June 1978, Brisker’s divorce was finalized. On May 29, 1985, at Rashad’s request, the King County Superior Court issued an order declaring that Brisker was officially presumed to be deceased. 

Unsatisfying as it may be, that King County order will likely remain the most definitive statement on Brisker’s fate. Brisker’s chaotic life most probably met a violent end, but any records that could be used to fill in the gaps of his story likely went up in flames when Amin was forced into exile. Brisker may not have survived past the age of 30, but he left an incomparable legacy behind.

This article appears in Jan 29 – Feb 4, 2025.