New York/Robert Frank - JOURNAL • BRIAN ROSE

It was a poignant day for me in New York — a series of small events against the backdrop of the anniversary of 911. I went by Robert Frank’s studio on Bleecker Street and did a series of photographs of the impromptu memorial in the front of his building. A steady stream of visitors came, stood silently, snapped a few pictures, or left flowers or mementos. I exchanged a few remarks with passersby and ended up explaining to some tourists what was going on and who Robert Frank was.

I then walked a few blocks up the Bowery to see Alex Harsely in his storefront gallery on East 4th Street. Alex is an amazing photographer whose work spans roughly the same time period as Frank’s. Alex’s gallery door is always open to friends and visitors, and Frank used to drop in fairly frequently. Alex and I chatted a while about Robert Frank, and then a man walked in who as it turned out worked for Frank as a driver and general helper. He told us that Frank had fallen in his house in Nova Scotia, had gone to the hospital, and did not recover. Frank, of course, was 94 and quite frail.

I actually never knew Robert Frank, though I’d met him once and seen him walking around the neighborhood a number of times. A few years ago I was passing by his studio after a heavy snowfall. I was walking in the street because the plows had piled the snow up into small mountains along the sidewalks. I noticed that an elderly couple was struggling to get over one of the snowbanks. It was Robert Frank and his wife June Leaf. I helped them climb over the snow and escorted them to their door. Like a true New Yorker, I never let on that I recognized them.