I first met Frank Brancaccio around the beginning of 2019. I was profiling him for a Valentine’s-themed story about older adults and their love for animals. When I walked into Frank’s house on Juniper Street, I was amazed. His walls were covered from top to bottom with colorful artwork in an array of mediums, each piece seemingly telling its own story.
“I like beautiful things,” Brancaccio told me as he explained where some of his favorite pieces came from. If he spotted a particular street artist selling work on the sidewalk and something caught his eye, he would buy it. Frank surrounded himself with things that brought him joy.
At the time, Frank also lived with five cats and one dog. He was a frequent adopter from Morris Animal Refuge and spoke about his animals with genuine affection. He told me they gave him something to care for because he lived alone.
“I love them so much,” Frank said. “And I know they love me, too.”
Frank was also well known as a dancer on American Bandstand. As a teenager, he watched the show from the Bandstand bleachers during live recordings in Philadelphia. Eventually, he was invited to join the dancers himself, where his looks and moves helped him stand out. Frank didn’t talk about his Bandstand days very often, but his connection to the iconic show has been preserved in articles and books about its history.
I could tell, however, that some of Frank’s proudest accomplishments happened in New York City. At 19, he lived in Hell’s Kitchen and studied theater under Stella Adler at her renowned acting school, alongside German actress Uta Hagen. His face would light up whenever he shared stories about those theater days and the relentless grind of trying to become somebody in New York.
Or, at the very least, somebody who attended a party in Tennessee Williams’ apartment, worked as an extra in films including The Godfather Part II and smoked cigarettes while listening to music with actor Brad Davis.
Soon, I found myself visiting Frank every few weeks, eager to hear another story and capture as much of his remarkable life as I could on paper. Every visit seemed to reveal another layer of the man behind the stories.
Frank was the type of person who grabbed life by the horns, so to speak. After moving back to Philadelphia in the 1990s, he enrolled at Community College of Philadelphia and earned a degree in mental health at age 50. He went on to serve as a counselor at Philadelphia Community Health Alternatives, an AIDS testing center.
Then, at 63, Frank added another accomplishment to his long list. After three years of work, he wrote and published his debut fiction novel, Ephemeral Nights. It seemed there was always another chapter waiting to be written.
I knew Frank was battling a few health issues, but I was still shocked to learn that he passed away in February of this year. Somewhere along the way, we had drifted apart. Frank adopted more cats, while I became consumed by my own professional pursuits. Life moved forward, as it always does.
But I never forgot him.
Artist. Author. Dancer. Counselor. Lover of animals. Lover of life.
Everyone seemed to know Frank. He was a collector of friends and acquaintances, the kind of person who could make an impression during even the shortest interaction. His life was colorful, unconventional and full of stories. Perhaps that is the best way to remember him.
Frank lived as though there was always another experience waiting just around the corner, another person to meet, another story to tell, another beautiful thing to bring home.
May his tenacious and colorful story continue to live in the hearts of the many people fortunate enough to have crossed his path. ••
