Just a few days ago brother Malachy McCourt said Frank did not have long. The Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Angela’s Ashes died today from metastatic melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer, according to Susan Moldow of McCourt’s publisher, Scribner.
I met Frank and took this shot of him at a tribute to Benedict Kiely (who had recently died) at Housing Works Bookstore Café in March 2007. He was 76 and in good spirits. I was very shy at the time, almost embarrassed, to take photographs of people I respected so much. My camera was a cheap, 2.3 megapixel Fuji my sister Cheryl bought me for my birthday; it certainly didn’t look serious. I had no confidence. When Frank asked me why I was taking the shots, I told him it was for Wikipedia and he brightened. We talked about the site, and he asked why we didn’t just use PR photographs. I explained to him that we could only use work whose copyright was Creative Commons.
“David,” he said, “you mean to tell me you give all your photography away? And don’t make a penny? My mother might say you were a fool!” He laughed to show he meant the comment good-natured.
I explained to him that I wasn’t a professional, but that the photography gives me a substantive excuse to go out and do things like meet him.
“Mr. McCourt,” I said, and he quickly corrected me to use Frank as I continued, “my life is far richer for moments like this, with you, than the $10 I would chase to have it published, which would only cheapen the experience. This camera has given me an interesting life, but only because I’ve shared it.”
Colum McCann, Christy Kelly, Christopher Cahill and Frank McCourt by David Shankbone, March 2007
He looked at me for a moment, and then asked if I was going with the other writers, including Christopher Cahill and Colum McCann, on a bar crawl after the reading to celebrate the Irish poet Kiely (everyone was invited). I was staying away from drinking at the time and told him my stomach didn’t feel right, so I would miss it. Then he clasped my shoulder, and said:
“Too bad, it would be interesting to hear more. Society has become so possessive. People keep things that have no value unless they are shared. That’s very respectable that you do what you do.”
Then I took a couple of shots, and he continued to mingle. It was moments like that which fueled my energy to eventually photograph over 500 of the biggest names found on Wikipedia, and my confidence climbed. Thank you, Frank. Later that year I would photograph Malachy McCourt in his Manhattan apartment, where we got into heavy philosophical discussions that have never left me. The McCourt family had a good impact on me at a time when it mattered, and I am thankful to them.
The portrait of Frank above, like all my photography, is licensed Creative Commons and available for reproduction. Click on it to download a higher resolution version.
Here is the New York Times obituary.
David, of the many photos I could have used on my blog post today to tell my version of a brief encounter with Frank McCourt (much like yours), I knew your capture of Mr. McCourt HAD to be the one I featured. I appreciate your story that epitomizes the generosity of spirit in sharing literary icons such as McCourt in one moment captured by one person that leads to an experience for the rest of us.
Thank you for what you’re doing on Creative Commons, David.
I didn’t know Mr Frank McCourt personally but when I read all his books I liked this person, because it seems to me that some times life is not to kind and gentle. Some of us didn’t have no silver spoon in our mouth at birth or through out our lifetime. Some of us have seen poverty, alcoholism and abusiveness (all kinds and all types) in a family. So it just seems like I can really relate to his upbringing, and like he said ‘we all survived it’. Now that he is gone, my condolences go out to his family and brothers. May he RIP.
His “Angela’s Ashes” and “‘Tis” brought me back to thoughts about my family.
“Teacher Man” brought me down to earth, that I understand my students, like me, are humans, with their own stories, and sorrows.
TP Chuan
Malaysia
I came to know about Frank McCourt’s death only very recently, and that too, by accident… I’ve never met him in person, but I’ve read Angela’s Ashes, and ‘Tis and watched the movie based on the first book as well… And, for the first time in my life, I was really really down on hearing that one of my “idols” (for want of a better word) is no more..
Frank McCourt died at the age of 78 in July 2009. So, when you photographed him in 2007, he was 76, mot 87 as stated in accompanying text. You may want to correct this error.
I just finished reading his book Angela’s Ashes and was so moved by his account of the deep poverty of his upbringing in Ireland. Surprisingly, he did not succumb to hopelessness. He was a gifted writer and loved his fanily.
Twitter: davidshankbone
says:
Thank you for that catch, Richard.
This week, I started and finished Frank McCourt’s witty memoirs, Angela’s Ashes. I couldn’t stop crying and laughing at the same time. Thereafter, I hit the Internet to find one or two things about the Irish writer and probably send a mail to him and his brothers (Pa Malachy, Micheal and Angie) for the way the family held together as they moved up and the similarities that I see between their interesting story and mine and those of many people in Africa.
But I couldn’t believe what I saw: Grandpa Frank McCourt, whose story is so well told in the book, is gone.
In Africa, like the Irish, we respect elders. So, Grandpa McCourt may your hard-working, persevering, committed, humorous and kind soul rest in perfect peace, just like the souls of those that have gone before you-Margaret, Oliver, Eugene, Abigael and your mam’s mother!
Twitter: davidshankbone
says:
Kehinde, thank you for sharing that story, and best to you in Africa.