Outside Christ the King Catholic Church in Chicago’s Beverly community, a black and white photo of Louis Brian Piccolo stood perched at the top of the steps, and ribbons of dark blue and orange were wrapped around trees.
People wore Chicago Bears jerseys with Piccolo’s number 41 on the back as Christ the King’s pastor, the Rev. Larry Sullivan, spoke of a day a half-century ago when “the world lost a beacon of courage, compassion and excellence.”
Piccolo played just four years for the Bears before his death from cancer at age 26 on June 16, 1970. It was at that church where the Piccolo family worshiped for a number of years while living in two homes in Beverly.
On Tuesday, to mark the 50 years since Piccolo’s passing, family, friends and neighborhood residents gathered at the church before heading off in a 40-vehicle caravan past the homes.
It was the church where his funeral Mass was celebrated, before pallbearers who included Bears legends Gale Sayers and Dick Butkus helped him on a procession to St. Mary’s Cemetery in Evergreen Park.
There, Sullivan, who also serves as priest director of the Catholic cemeteries of the Chicago Archdiocese, personally assured that for the 50th anniversary of his death, Piccolo’s grave site would be decked out in Bears colors.
It had been while he was a teammate with Sayers the pair broke racial barriers while rooming together, and Sullivan spoke on the steps of Christ the King of an earlier example, in college, of Piccolo’s intolerance for racism.
He asked the group gathered outside the church “let us follow his example of courage, love and charity,” as well as Piccolo’s “commitment to social justice and racial equality.”
Traci Piccolo Dolby, one of Piccolo’s three daughters, told the group she hoped “people will come together and his message will resound again.”
Afterward, Dolby, who was 3 when her dad died, commented on that message in light of recent demonstrations following the killing of George Floyd.
“I don’t think anybody expected the message to be so strong because nobody thought we would still be having this fight” 50 years later, she said. “We (Dolby and her sisters) were not raised to see color as a barrier.”
At the church, Sullivan noted that before he came to the Bears, Piccolo was “breaking down racial barriers on campus” while at Wake Forest in North Carolina.
It was at Wake Forest where Piccolo, as a senior, led the nation in rushing and in 1964 was named Atlantic Coast Conference Player of the Year.
In 1963, it was before the start of a game between Wake Forest and the University of Maryland, whose team included Darryl Hill, the ACC’s first black football player, that Piccolo came to Hill’s defense after Wake Forest students showered him with abusive language.
Sullivan said that Piccolo, captain of the Wake Forest squad, put his arm around Hill’s shoulders and they walked toward the student section, which quieted down.
After being signed by the Bears in 1965, the Piccolo family moved into a home in the 9200 block of Vanderpoel Street then later lived in a home in the 2000 block of West Hunt Avenue.
“In Beverly, this was their dream community,” Dolby told reporters. “(Her father) loved the fact the houses were all close together and people sat out and talked with neighbors.”
The family had no other connection with Chicago, with Piccolo having been born in Massachusetts and growing up in Florida, and his wife, Joy, coming from Georgia.
Piccolo’s wife continued to live in Beverly for a short time after her husband died, Dolby said.
Jim Cronin Jr. lived next door to the Piccolos on Hunt, and the 74-year-old and his wife stopped by to say hello Tuesday to Piccolo’s family.
“I got to be friends with all the kids,” Cronin said.
He described Brian Piccolo as “an extremely nice guy, lot of fun.”
As a young girl, Mary Jo Viero, executive director of the Beverly Area Planning Association, which organized Tuesday’s caravan, had memories of the Bears running back playing with his daughters and socializing with neighbors.
Piccolo was bypassed in the 1965 draft, although the Bears in the draft that year picked up running back Sayers and Butkus, who was a linebacker at the University of Illinois.
During a November 1969 game in Atlanta, Piccolo took himself out of the game because of chest pain and a nagging cough. An X-ray performed two days later uncovered a tumor in his lungs, and he was diagnosed with embryonal cell carcinoma, an aggressive form of testicular cancer that had spread to his chest.
Piccolo began chemotherapy, but at the time, embryonal cell carcinoma was essentially incurable. It now has a cure rate of nearly 90 percent.
After his death, the Brian Piccolo Cancer Research Fund was established and has raised more than $8 million over the years.
On Tuesday, the Bears announced a special fundraising campaign in honor of the 50th anniversary of Piccolo’s death.
Those who make a contribution of at least $60 at more information is at chicagobears.com/allfourone will receive a copy of Piccolo’s biography, “Brian Piccolo: A Short Season,” which was written by Chicago sports broadcaster Jeannie Morris, who also is the wife of former Chicago Bear Johnny Morris.
Each year since Piccolo’s death the Bears have presented an award in his honor to players who exemplify “the courage, loyalty, teamwork, dedication and sense of humor of the late Brian Piccolo.” The award has been given to a Bears rookie every year since 1970 and to a Bears veteran since 1992.
Recipients have included Matt Forte, Charles Tillman, Brian Urlacher, Kevin Butler, Mike Singletary and Dan Hampton.
On Tuesday, the Bears announced that running back David Montgomery and former defensive lineman Nick Williams are this year’s recipients.
Dolby has a son, Brian, and another son Jack, whose birthday falls on the same day as his grandfather’s death. He turned 23 on Tuesday.
Speaking after the pastor, Dolby said “this (anniversary) has always been a really difficult day for us for a lot of reasons.”
Afterward, she told reporters about the emotions that come to the surface on the anniversary of her father’s death.
“Our grief and our whole lives have been very public when it comes to my dad, but what we’ve done in his name is amazing,” she said.
Dolby and her sister, who was 11/2 when her dad died, thanked the Beverly community for coming out.
“It’s amazing after all these years Beverly still embraces him,” Dolby told reporters.
