Bravo! Brothers who were more than athletes

By Ron Brocato
Clarion Herald

Cavorting alone around New Orleans for a 12-year-old in 1953 was a commonplace occurrence, at least in my household. So, when I told my mother that I was going to the other side of town to watch a Tulane football game via two buses and a streetcar, it was no big deal. Her trust and my common sense prevailed on such occasions.

Armed with $2, which bought me a child’s admission to the north end zone, a program, team pennant and two cold drinks with 14 cents round-trip car fare to spare, I was living large on Saturday afternoons during football season.

I lined up the pennants along the crown molding of my bedroom. Tulane’s was the first, then the others for their home opponents followed … Georgia Tech and Ole Miss. (I skipped The Citadel, which Tulane drubbed, 54-6, because its name was not in the mainstream conversation.) Then came the game against Army.

Following the rout of The Citadel Cadets, Tulane lost its next five games, which included playing Michigan, Georgia and Auburn on the road. Against Army, however, Tulane managed a 0-0 tie.

Since I had no personal curfew, I’d linger outside the locker room to see how many players I could identify. I recognized Max McGee, Lester Kennedy, Bobby Nuss, Al Robelot and a few others by their faces in the program.

I later boarded the Freret Street bus and sat on the bench seat behind the driver. Soon, the bus was packed. And standing over me was the familiar face of Tulane’s end Eddie Bravo. I was excited and wanted to show him that I knew who he was. I opened the program to the players’ page with his image.

Also draped across my lap was the Army pennant. Bravo looked down, then at me and said, “Army, huh?”

Many years later, when Eddie was in the midst of a successful career as a high school football official and I as a writer specializing in prep sports coverage, I had many occasions at reunions and other functions to remind him that he broke my heart that night. We’d laugh and raise our beers in toast.

Today, I will drink another toast to Eddie, and his brother, Lou Bravo, two men I’ve come to know and idolize, not for their athletic talents, but as outstanding individuals whose lives were exemplary.

Eddie Bravo died at age 89 on May 31, just two years after Lou Bravo left behind his legacy and love for his fellow man on Sept. 15, 2019, at age 90. Eddie was the last of six siblings to leave.

The sons of a Nicaraguan consul general, the Bravos were outstanding athletes at St. Aloysius. Eddie, a paper carrier as a young boy, was the heartthrob of the neighborhood girls who sat on their porches to await his arrival with the daily news. He starred on the Crusaders’ football and basketball teams through 1950 before becoming an All-Southeastern Conference receiver for the Green Wave.

Lou Bravo was one of the starters on coach Johnny Altobello’s first state basketball championship team in 1946-47, playing with Nick Revon, John Cronin, Eddie Davis and Warren Duncan. He revealed how he learned to play the game.

“I lived across the street from Gilbert Academy (the present location of De La Salle),” Lou said. “It was a school for black students, and the yard was filled with basketball courts. I played ball with the students practically every day.”

Also an excellent football player, Lou went on to play for Loyola University and then at St. Ambrose College in Iowa, where he lettered in both sports. Then came the Korean War.

Never shirking a challenge, Lou became a paratrooper in the fabled 82nd Airborne and the Army’s 40th Infantry. Serving on the front lines at age 20, Lou led a small party on a night scouting mission when North Korean snipers opened fire on his group, striking three soldiers. Unhit, Lou dragged the injured men to safety while under fire and was awarded the Bronze Star medal for bravery.

In later years, he cared for one of his high school rivals, John Petitbon, when the former Jesuit and Notre Dame star back was stricken with Alzheimer’s disease, until Petitbon’s death in 2006. The two retired insurance executives attended athletic reunions and other functions together.

The Bravo brothers were fans of each other, often referring to their sibling as the better athlete.

Eddie played on Tulane teams that were part of the Southeastern Conference. He may have been one of the last 60-minute men during the years of limited substitutions. His No. 82 could be seen on offense, defense and special teams. And he played well enough to be selected for the Senior Bowl and Blue-Gray games.

Lou was Eddie’s idol. He followed him into the U.S. Army, in which he also became a paratrooper in the 11th Airborne. But he remained close to the football field by joining the local officials’ association.

As a back judge, he was one of the best, having worked over his 33 years of service primarily on four- and five-man crews. The officials made him president of their association.

In later years, Eddie had the unique job of monitoring coaches’ instructions to players through the helmet microphone at Saints’ games. He timed the communications, holding the “on/off” switch.

The Bravos were respected by everyone who had the pleasure of knowing them. They left behind a grateful nation, hundreds of mourners and the remnants of a 12-year-old kid who bought the wrong team’s pennant.

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