Frank Kusk

Frank and I were friends for over 70 years. Even though I moved from Broadway in 1954 we continued getting together, to explore all that is NYC. We did everything together, in our formative years. We went to every museum, in the five boroughs of NY. From the Museum of the American Indian, when it was uptown, to the Staten Islan Museum, to which we walked, from Astoria, We walked over the 59th St. Bridge, into Manhattan, down Second Avenue, to its end, then on further, to the Battery, and the Staten Island Ferry, then the couple of mile walk; to the museum. It was a good thing it wasn't a large Museum Collection, or we would never have made the return walk, back home, to our apartments, in time for dinner. I can't tell you, we spent many Saturdays sketching the sights, in Central Park, and we didn't miss many. Each of us came away, with our own versions of the same site that we were recording. One day, as we were sitting on a rock capturing a view of a bridge, that I can still find today, a fellow that had been standing, behind us chatting, as we painted in oil paint. Picked up a brush, from Frank's box dipped it into, the brightest Red on Frank's paint tray, as he exclaimed, "This is what this needs" as he flamboyantly drew a large dash of Red across Frank's canvas. We sat there, open mouthed, in total disbelief as this miscreant put down Frank's brush, and dissapeared, into the park, as we sat silent, in total disbelief, at what had just happened. Though this sounds terible, it was easily corrected, with a paint knife. Now, only you and. I have this reminiscence of a day with Frank, to extend this moment in time that Frank and I shared, sixty plus years ago. The days we spent together were many and now you have one of our's to share with you . Walter