Frank was .... Frank. He told you where he stood on things, and he meant what he said, and he followed through.
There was an element that hated him; but there was a larger element that loved the guy.
Elderly folks weren’t afraid to walk the streets of their neighborhoods - the neighborhoods they’d basically built and lived in all of their lives.
Now... not so much.
Yeah, when we were there last year, we went past 58th Street...it was like we crossed into Uganda.
I called my nephew and told him where we were, and he yelled: “GTFOutta there!”
Wish I had a piece on me that night. Luckily, we escaped unharmed.
I took a pic of the huge Frank mural in the Italian section.