Those of us who learned English Literature from him at Aquinas Institute of Rochester lovingly referred to him as "Big Frank." Not because he was fat or especially tall but because he had a larger-than-life presence we could sense even as sophomores and seniors in high school.
Frank was one of the best teachers, bar none, I ever had, from grade school right through grad school. I lost touch with him for a number of years as he moved from high school teacher and up the ladders of academe.
I reconnected with him in the late 70s, when he was president of a college in Connecticut, and again in the 90s when his health was failing in his final years. At that time he was Director of Leo House, a little-known treasure for New York City visitors founded in a 19th century to house Catholic immigrants, mainly from Ireland. It was located in Greenwich Village, down the street from the more famous Chelsea Hotel.
In the mid-90s, my partner, Mary Whitney, and I visited him in his getaway home in Callicoon, NY a few years before his death. Over a sumptuous dinner at a restaurant on that snowy night, he regaled us with wonderful stories of his life as a teacher, choirmaster, and college administrator. It was heartbreaking to suddenly learn of his death, long before his time, in Callicoon a few years later just as were planning to pay him a visit.
Frank was one of the best teachers, bar none, I ever had, from grade school right through grad school. I lost touch with him for a number of years as he moved from high school teacher and up the ladders of academe.
I reconnected with him in the late 70s, when he was president of a college in Connecticut, and again in the 90s when his health was failing in his final years. At that time he was Director of Leo House, a little-known treasure for New York City visitors founded in a 19th century to house Catholic immigrants, mainly from Ireland. It was located in Greenwich Village, down the street from the more famous Chelsea Hotel.
In the mid-90s, my partner, Mary Whitney, and I visited him in his getaway home in Callicoon, NY a few years before his death. Over a sumptuous dinner at a restaurant on that snowy night, he regaled us with wonderful stories of his life as a teacher, choirmaster, and college administrator. It was heartbreaking to suddenly learn of his death, long before his time, in Callicoon a few years later just as were planning to pay him a visit.
