Martin Allen Brown
- Mike Hottell
- Apr 23
- 5 min read
Martin Allen Brown
April 22, 2003 - May 26, 2023
Martin Brown was born in Naches, Washington and died in Wheeler, Oregon. He is survived by his father, Steve; his mother, Katie; and his sister, Addie.
Martin was like my little brother, although he was only 6 months younger than me. He was the best friend I could have ever asked for growing up. Martin was genuine — real, honest, and himself no matter who he was with. Martin was kind to everyone and had true integrity. He did the right thing even when nobody was looking. But most of all, Martin was a dreamer. He was always curious, always learning. It is difficult to summarize such a giant of character into a few short words.
Those who knew Martin knew he was a unique person. He often wore his dad’s old Army uniform as a jacket, along with an ear flap cap. He always had random projects made of duct tape and twine. He even had an entire replica WWII uniform, complete with a M1 Garand BB gun. He was unapologetically himself, all the time.
My story of Martin Brown begins in 2014. We were both 11 years old. I had recently moved from Missouri to Washington with my father and was adjusting to a new life and new experiences. My dad enrolled me in YMCA Camp Dudley, which is on Clear Lake in the mountains of Central Washington. I was late to camp on the drop-off day and when I got to my assigned cabin, my bunk had already been chosen for me because all the others were taken. In hindsight, this was God’s provision as I would be introduced to the most genuine and unique soul I have ever met.
Martin was on the bunk above me, reading A Higher Call by Adam Makos, a book with WWII aircraft on the cover. He saw me looking at his book and asked the oft-repeated Martin quote: “Do you like planes?” We hit it off immediately and we became fast friends. Martin was my very first friend in Washington and would become my closest. That week at summer camp was one of the greatest of my life.
Throughout the middle school and junior high years that followed, Martin and I spent the summers hiking, kayaking and hiking, at Camp Dudley and about every weekend outside of it. We made many camping trips together and practiced our bushcraft and duct tape skills. All throughout I got to know a very special and unique person. Martin had a personality three times his size. I don’t know if it is just the time of life we were in, but he was carefree and unbothered by the world around us, and the family situations we both grew up in. He had an insatiable curiosity and contagious positive attitude.
Martin and I both grew into—and out of—hobbies and dreams at a similar pace. It started with aviation, history (especially WWII), and the outdoors. The first time I ever had a discovery flight and flew an aircraft, Martin was with me. We visited museums, went on trips and had our parents drive us to air shows all over the northwest. We both dreamed about being pilots in the military. We both found further interest in camping, hiking and bushcraft, and attended Camp Dudley for years, even into counselor training as teenagers. As the years rolled on, we both found and enjoyed videogames like War Thunder and Unturned, which spawned many mutual friendships I still cherish today.
As we entered our teenage years, Martin and I were in different schools, but our friendship continued through our shared hobby—or addiction, depending on who you ask—of fixing up old trucks. We kept up by playing video games constantly. We both got into trouble, stayed out too late, and more than a few times I picked Martin up when he snuck out of his house to go to bonfires and other high school parties. Martin continued as a camp counselor at Camp Dudley through the summers in high school, where he had a profound impact on campers and shared the place he loved so much. All throughout, Martin never stopped dreaming or being a light to those around him. But as those teenage years went on, there was another side to what we were both experiencing.
Behind the bright smile, Martin struggled with depression. We both did in our teenage years. Martin was the only person I knew who could understand, as we had such similar family lives. I don’t believe in coincidences, and God knew I needed a friend like Martin. He could understand in a way nobody else did. I hope I was that kind of friend to him too. We both searched for meaning in a modern world that seemed so foreign to us, but I know it was always harder for Martin. He truly was an old soul, and he truly longed for a time long past. Martin demonstrated the character and courage of someone three times his age and exemplified the qualities of the great men that came before us. Despite all the darkness in his life and the depression he endured, he was a light to so many in a dark world.
In 2021 and 2022, Martin began attending church with Lauren and me. One Sunday in the spring of 2022 he chose to put his faith in Christ for his salvation. Romans 10:9 says that… “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Martin confessed Jesus as his savior. This can come only from the heart: “For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.” I have wrestled over whether I will see Martin again one day in heaven. I have confidence I will because he trusted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. I wish we could have walked together as Christians longer on this side of heaven, but I rest knowing that he is free from the pain and sorrow that he endured.
After graduating in June of 2022, Martin moved to Wheeler, Oregon, where he lived with his mother and worked as a contractor. He continued creating constantly, working on renovating his family-owned historic hotel. He picked up leatherworking and maintained a beautiful Ford Bronco. In this time, Martin and I drifted apart and spoke only weekly, usually about trucks and projects. In the last weeks of Martin’s life, he expressed the joy of living on the Oregon coast and in his job, as well as the happiness his girlfriend, Gabby, brought him. On May 20th, after saying I missed seeing him, Martin texted me that he “missed Naches, but everything I’ve ever wanted is here.”
Only six days later, Martin died by suicide. His story had just begun when he chose to end his life in the early morning of May 26th, 2023. He was 20 years old.
Today would be Martin’s 23rd birthday. I often think about who he would be today. There has never been—and never will be—another soul like Martin Allen Brown. He is dearly loved and deeply missed by so many.
In light of Martin’s story, I want to say this clearly: if you’re struggling, please reach out. You can call or text 988 to connect with professional counselors. If you know me, I’m always here to talk—no matter the time or situation, please don’t hesitate. Suicide is never the answer.
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