LOUIS BRONZO

Oscar Falconi 800 325 2664
19010 Portos Drive
Saratoga CA 95070

Dear Oscar,

I am sorry to have to bring you the sad news about Lou's death this way, but I am afraid you may not have heard it from anyone else and I did want you to know. Lou always enjoyed your Christmas letters and often had good intentions of calling you to say hello.

We are slowly (very slowly) trying to recover from the sudden shock of Lou's death on Christmas day. Bob, Karen, Lou and I had opened our presents and everyone was feeling happy and wonderful. Lou went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and our traditional Christmas morning crumb cake. Before he could do that, he came out, said he had a terrible pain in his throat and laid down on the living room floor. Bob immediately called the fire department. They were there in a few minutes and by that time Lou was having chest pains, numbness in his arm and was feeling weak. We got him to the hospital right away (by 9:30 a.m.) and he was conscious and talking when we arrived. Later the nurse said he was trying to joke with her while she was treating him. By 11 a.m. he had lost consciousness, they had inserted breathing tubes and they told us he was not responding to treatment. By noon, he was gone. They said he had a massive heart attack, but Lou never had any heart trouble, always saw the doctor regularly and lately had been feeling fine. Despite a neck problem (which was mostly muscular and arthritis related), he had been playing golf more and was active. He enjoyed his job and the people he worked with, and was so proud of our children, Bob (27) and Karen (21), and they brought him great joy. Everything was really very good for us ... and now it is very different.

It was, and still is, a terrible shock. We had the funeral over the weekend and the burial on December 30. It was an awful three days for Bob, Karen and me, but we were comforted by the large number of friends who were with us. Bob and I returned to our jobs last week (we couldn't stay home anymore.. we had to keep busy) and Karen returned to Georgetown for her last semester. It was especially hard for Karen because she was looking forward to sharing with all of us so many special events during her last semester. But she has wonderful friends at school and several of her professors called to say they would be there to talk with her when needed, so I feel better about that.

Again, I am sorry I had to tell you this way, but talking about it on the phone is still very difficult, so I thought this would be best.

Carol

___________________________________________________________________

Feb 9th 1992

Dear Carol,

I knew something wasn't right when I saw the envelope. The return address was Lou and Carol's, but arriving late January, I somehow suspected bad news. When I saw it was signed only by you, I felt a sinking feeling. But I still wasn't prepared for those tragic words - "sad news about Lou's death". I've thought of little else since I read those words last week. I don't suppose you know how well and how long Lou and I knew each other - since about 1935. Alex, Sue, Joe, "Junie", and "Louie" lived at 3744-78th St, and Oscar, Carrie, and Oscar, Jr., lived at 3755-77th St., Apt 5B. In fact, Lou and I once strung a string from my 5th floor bedroom to his 1st floor bedroom which, with the help of a couple of Quaker Oats boxes, would make a telephone - which we used a few times and then got bored. We didn't have a real phone then. Gosh, I still remember the Bronzo number after all these years. It was HAvemeyer 9-2608. Wow! But I guess that's how the brain works when you're getting on.

P.S. 69, about 100 yards from our doors, was where we spent 8 years together. The cement schoolyard ran all the way from 77th to 78th St. and was about as wide as it was long. We kids must have spent 1000s of hours there - basketball, softball, stickball, handball, and more. Only about a dozen guys ever could hit a softball from the batter's box at 78th St over the fence at 77th. I never could, but all the Bronzo boys could, of course. Lou also ran faster than I could, and in our one and only fight he knocked the wind out of me. At our 1943 graduation, Lou got the math award and I was 2nd with an "Honorable Mention". Lou was always better!

He kept doing this to me all through our 4 years at Newtown High where I ended up 5th after Al Chovit, Lou, Sandy Sussman, and John Kohler. That was from about a group of 50 of us taking the Technical Course. I think the reason Lou didn't beat out Al Chovit was that Lou spent so much time with basketball/baseball. In looking back, that was quite a group. Sandy Sussman and I, and also Karl Kniel, who was about 8th or so down the line of 50, all went to, and finished, M.I.T. Al Chovit also applied, and got a $300 scholarship as well, but chose a full 4-year tuition, room and board scholarship to Webb Inst. of Naval Architecture out at Glen Cove. So you just know that Lou, if the money were there, could've gone to M.I.T. too. The only reason I could go was that my mom and dad worked full time for their only son's education. In Lou's case, there were three sons, and Alex had died earlier on. Lou obviously did well with his scholarship to Hofstra, and where he met you. It was just great how all 3 Bronzo boys married beautiful gals. In fact I had a secret crush on Ruth, Joe's lovely redhead. I'm so glad you and Lou had a long and happy marriage and didn't join the rest of us in divorce.

Lou and I very often walked together from our homes, about a mile and a third, over a bridge, to Newtown High. There was a bus we could get at 82nd street, but a dime was a lot of money those days, so we almost always walked. Sometimes Karl Kniel would join us, but not often since Lou didn't like Karl much. His family was German, and we were still fighting Germans then. And besides, Karl cried a lot, and that got to Lou. Karl even cried a few times at college. Anyway, in one of our walks, I had to break them apart to keep Lou from decking poor Karl.

On those walks, Lou and I would discuss just about everything - girls, homework, God, and, yes, death and the life after. As I remember, we were both Athiests, or at least Agnostics. But being young, death was so far off that we, even as non-believers, didn't really worry about it. Al Chovit joined us at Newtown from a Catholic school, and we soon turned him around. Yes, those walks were memorable. One thing, though, that annoyed me about Lou, was when I'd occasionally make an excellent point in one of our discussions/debates, he'd say, "bullshit". Then I'd say, "Whatta ya mean, bullshit?", and he'd say, "that's just Bullshit!". Well, it's not generally realized, but saying "bullshit" at just the right time in a discussion, with the proper intonation and emphasis, will destroy credibility, and can sound like an imposing argument. And Lou had it down to a science. I think he liked to tease me.

Lou always liked to win. Once, during a walk, we got into a spitting contest. We'd aim for a rock or something and try to hit it. Well, as pure luck would have it, I aimed at a leaf on the ground about 8 feet away, hit it, and made the leaf skid about 6 inches. I was quite proud. Well, Lou would have none of it. Before the mile and a third was up, he hit a smaller leaf, 10 feet away, and made it skid a full foot! I don't know where he came up with all the saliva, but I had to admit defeat - again. Another time I mentioned that all books had their odd numbered pages on the right hand side. He said, "bullshit". So we bet a nickel or something and off he went. Well would you believe that he came up with some darn Hebrew thing that won the bet for him! That was Lou.

One snowy winter, Lou and I were rolling a snowball, and by the time we got to the bridge, it was pretty big. Well, a commuter train, you know the one with the big window in the front for the engineer, was approaching to pass under the bridge. I think you know what I'm about to say. Lou and I lifted the big snowball (it took both of us) onto the railing. I can remember every moment as if it were yesterday: the engineer smiled and waved at us, then his expression changed to fear as he saw us pushing the big thing over the edge. Yes, it was a perfect shot. Our last sight was of the engineer squeezing all the way to his right, and our last sound was of breaking glass. Lou and I looked at each other and ran to school. All day we were expecting to be caught, arrested, or whatever happens to delinquents. Nothing happened. Not even a mention in the papers. Whew. I've never told anyone this story before. Ashamed, I guess.

I got my '37 Ford during our last year at Newtown High and Lou got his '36 Ford about the same time. Once he was taking me for a ride and some old lady was doing something dumb that really required a good blast of a horn. But Lou's horn wasn't working, so he just opened the window and yelled out, "Fer Chrissake, lady . . . . . . ", which absolutely cracked me up. The look of dismay and irritation on Lou's face I'll never forget. He had to end up laughing, too. But Lou one-upped me even then when he mentioned the time he had a good laugh on me back at P.S. 69: They used to lock the gates to the schoolyard on Sundays, I suppose to give the locals a day's peace. The din was horrendous in the afternoons after school was out at 3 pm. Anyway, Lou and I climbed the fence one Sunday to get into the schoolyard. We had to climb up a barbed-wire fence at the end where it attached to a spiked wrought iron fence, then you had to jump down from the spiked fence. Well, Lou negotiated it perfectly, but when I jumped, one of the spikes got under my jacket, just missed my head and caught me in mid-jump. So there I was, hanging there, arms and legs all swinging in the breeze. I wasn't hurt, just hanging there - like helpless. Well this absolutely cracked Lou up. At first I didn't think it was at all funny, but then I started laughing, too. The sight of me hanging there laughing made Lou laugh even harder. I don't think I've ever seen anyone laugh harder than Lou that day! Well, after a few minutes Lou decided to help me down. Wish we had pictures of all that.

The last time I saw Lou, about 1975, was when I had to go to Jackson Heights to bring Carrie, then 78 and confused, back to California to stay with me. I wanted to give her a last look at Manhattan and looked Lou up at the Time-Life Building. He was apparently very pressed for time, and could only spend 5 minutes or so with us. I hadn't seen Lou for maybe 20 years, and when he came down to the lobby I was appalled. I hardly recognized him. He was smoking and obviously under great pressure. Carrie was polite, but probably was expecting to see a 12 year old Louie Bronzo. I guess I was expecting the same. It was a meeting I'll never forget. That's why I was so happy to hear from Lou recently that he'd stopped smoking long ago. But I guess the damage had been done. Now, whenever I see Lou's name in a Time-Life book, I'll think of the sacrifice he made to get it there.

Carol, did I ever tell you I predict the future? And that I'm always right? Well here goes: Whenever February 21st and December 25th come around, you shall celebrate the good times you and Lou have had together on those days. Also, you'll soon remarry and have a wonderful life! That's what Lou would've wished.

I'm sorry to have rambled on like this, but Lou and the Bronzos are a big part of my life.

Very sincerely,

Oscar