Helen Frankenthaler

William. In 1950, William’s parties on Eleventh Street opened up the literary and artistic world to me. The politics! The nuances. . . .

Introduced by Clement Greenberg, I was more or less a saddle-shoed girl a year out of Bennington and awed by all that was going on in New York. I had a huge appetite for the "buzz" of New York. There are few of us left who can remember the cast of characters that appeared in the photograph in William’s excellent New York Times obituary: left to right, Fred Dupee, George L. K. Morris, Philip Rahv, Dwight Macdonald. When I saw it, I felt like a dinosaur and have had reveries of William ever since.

William was a generous person, never treating me like a young whippersnapper but instead like a thoughtful, serious, young artist. I think he never realized that when I was introduced to Saul Bellow, Delmore Schwartz, Sonia Orwell, Diana and Lionel Trilling, and the whole crowd, what a high it gave me (and sometimes the insecure "shakes").

New York was bursting with activity, experiment, and energy in all directions. Literature, painting, sculpture, architecture, theatre. At the same time, everyone around me seemed to be arguing and drinking. (Good God! The drinking!)

When Clem and I had our frequent dinners at the Phillips’ (usually a good pot roast with all the trimmings), I sat under a mesmerizing 1940s painting by Jackson Pollock. Jackson had loaned the picture to the Phillipses, since people weren’t tripping over each other to buy it. Between bites, I would stare up and study that Pollock.

In the recent obituary there is mention of William’s hypochondria that came from his mother. Yes! Whether we ate at home or in a reliable restaurant, he always seemed to doubt the quality of the food before him. Should he chew and swallow? Therefore, there seemed to be a pointless and interruptive drama between his plate and the conversation. Those conversations were far more gripping and usually had to do with PR, the problems with Rahv and others, the side taking, the McCarthy hearings, baseball, love affairs. Actually, William chewed over a lot of things that way.

He never missed an opening of mine. He was constant, wry, open, and encouraging, with a cynical humor. He was also capable of showing his displeasure in many situations.

Recently, a friend of mine said to me, "William really liked you." I’m proud of that. I really liked him.

Along with many others, I will miss him and all he stood for.