Memories and
Tributes
Tributes
| We hope you enjoy the many memories and tributes shared at the celebration of life for Frank. We laughed. We cried. We loved him. |
It's very strange to me to speak of Frank in the past tense, since he is still
so very present to me, and I would imagine to all of you as well.
Those of you who knew Frank know that he likes to make his presence
known, so I wouldn't be surprised if you feel him here with us.
Our plan today is to not have a plan. This will be a very open time for you
to share by telling, singing, laughing, crying, listening, or whatever you
feel moved to do, and just being together as people who were in some way
a part of Frank's life.
Some of you are family. Some of you are personal friends of Frank, Erika,
Diana and Morgan. Some of you are Frank's colleagues in the various
expressions of his art, through television, film, the stage, literature and
the audio worlds. Some of you are fans of that expression. We are so glad
you all are here. This feels really great to us.
The only two things we have prepared are a few clips of Frank's
recordings as an audio narrator, and printouts of some of the many
reflections we have already received from those who could not be here
today, which we will sprinkle throughout our time.
I shudder to think about the depth and breadth of the speaking ability
represented in this room, as well as the amount of stories, reflections and
memories that await expression within you all, so as we proceed I would
only ask that you do what you can to help us get out of here before
midnight.
The other thing I want to mention is that you may notice some cameras
here today. This may seem a bit strange for this type of occasion, but a few
months ago Erika was approached about making a documentary film of
Frank's work, and while it is still an evolving project, it has taken on
quite a life of its own, so we have invited the crew here to capture the
stories and other reflections about Frank that will help to tell his story.
I'm going to begin by sharing a note from a young friend. (see right)
so very present to me, and I would imagine to all of you as well.
Those of you who knew Frank know that he likes to make his presence
known, so I wouldn't be surprised if you feel him here with us.
Our plan today is to not have a plan. This will be a very open time for you
to share by telling, singing, laughing, crying, listening, or whatever you
feel moved to do, and just being together as people who were in some way
a part of Frank's life.
Some of you are family. Some of you are personal friends of Frank, Erika,
Diana and Morgan. Some of you are Frank's colleagues in the various
expressions of his art, through television, film, the stage, literature and
the audio worlds. Some of you are fans of that expression. We are so glad
you all are here. This feels really great to us.
The only two things we have prepared are a few clips of Frank's
recordings as an audio narrator, and printouts of some of the many
reflections we have already received from those who could not be here
today, which we will sprinkle throughout our time.
I shudder to think about the depth and breadth of the speaking ability
represented in this room, as well as the amount of stories, reflections and
memories that await expression within you all, so as we proceed I would
only ask that you do what you can to help us get out of here before
midnight.
The other thing I want to mention is that you may notice some cameras
here today. This may seem a bit strange for this type of occasion, but a few
months ago Erika was approached about making a documentary film of
Frank's work, and while it is still an evolving project, it has taken on
quite a life of its own, so we have invited the crew here to capture the
stories and other reflections about Frank that will help to tell his story.
I'm going to begin by sharing a note from a young friend. (see right)
Hello. My name is Franciscus Josephus Muller and the Frank
you knew is also named Franciscus Josephus Muller. Our
fathers were brothers and although Frank's family moved to the
states when we were very young. Frank and I were always fast
friends. I, of course, was the wiser one.
When I was 17 and Frank was 16, we went traveling together
to a small island off the coast of Europe where we were the
visitors who initiated the parties on the beach when the bars
closed. Wine, women, and song. What good times.
Thank you all for coming to share my family.
you knew is also named Franciscus Josephus Muller. Our
fathers were brothers and although Frank's family moved to the
states when we were very young. Frank and I were always fast
friends. I, of course, was the wiser one.
When I was 17 and Frank was 16, we went traveling together
to a small island off the coast of Europe where we were the
visitors who initiated the parties on the beach when the bars
closed. Wine, women, and song. What good times.
Thank you all for coming to share my family.
Frans Muller:
a cousin from Holland
a cousin from Holland
From a young friend -
Although I haven't really gotten to see
Frank in a while there's one of the
many memories that I will never
forget. It was at a party and I don't
exactly remember what it was for but
Veronica and Christina were just
born. As soon as I saw him he held
out his arms ready for a big hug and
I ran straight to him and he swooped
me in his arms and threw me in the
air with a huge smile on his face. I'm
sure I had a smile too. I'll never
forget this memory. It's also nice to
have the thought that my Daddy and
his good friend will be together in
Heaven. They're watching down on
us together. I'll always love them
both and I know they both will always
love me.
I love you Frank.
Love, Savannah June (age 12) - read
by Leo Muller
Although I haven't really gotten to see
Frank in a while there's one of the
many memories that I will never
forget. It was at a party and I don't
exactly remember what it was for but
Veronica and Christina were just
born. As soon as I saw him he held
out his arms ready for a big hug and
I ran straight to him and he swooped
me in his arms and threw me in the
air with a huge smile on his face. I'm
sure I had a smile too. I'll never
forget this memory. It's also nice to
have the thought that my Daddy and
his good friend will be together in
Heaven. They're watching down on
us together. I'll always love them
both and I know they both will always
love me.
I love you Frank.
Love, Savannah June (age 12) - read
by Leo Muller
Cees De Langen:
a cousin from Holland
a cousin from Holland
| Welcome. I'm Leo Muller, Frank's brother. On behalf of Frank's wife Erika, his daughter Diana, his son Morgan, my sister Tanny, and my brothers Walter and Henry, thank you all so much for gathering with us today to celebrate Frank's life. |
| What I wanted to tell you Wednesday is that you done good Brother. The love and beauty that you’ve brought into the world through your deeds, your work, your VOICE and your glorious children is appreciated and will grow. Diana and Morgan will know their father. Your family, friends and fans have and will most assuredly continue to lace their lives with your contributions. Your beautiful influence will carry on. What you experienced is massively unfortunate. Hard to figure where this shit comes from and hard to see where it’s going sometimes. Though the strengths and character that you have allowed some of us to realize through this misfortune is a blessing. And for these I’m grateful. Man, you are a testament to tenacity. Even broken, you were tough. It seemed to me that through some of your adamant behavior you were warning me to be careful out there; as if you were the reminder of the imminent fragility factor of life. That such the Maverick of a man as you could be sobered by this course and thrown into the position of teacher and what was sacrificed to convey this message. You shared so much. To have been privileged to be so positively effected by our friendship and know your clever, ever present willingness for silliness and your inspired spirit is my honor. I’m happy that you are now unencumbered. Diana, Morgan, your father was a Maverick in the best and truest sense. He was strong and strong minded and chose his directions with calculated confidence and pretty much played by his own rules; but fairly. I’ll explain that to you later. You know he loved his dogs, your mommy and you. I know he loved me. This is real: Wednesday morning I dreamt of a tall bright figure serenely lying down with music coming from him. Dressed in soft whites and smiling. I was drawn to the pleasantness and music. When I looked more closely, I noticed colorful bracelets, lots of em, hands and ankles and recognized them as our drumSTRONG wrist bands. When Erika told me of his passing, I realized who had visited me. I don’t know exactly what this dream means other than he was telling me, that it’ s all good. And I for one am comforted. It was more than Frank’s engaging dialogue, love of details; fact or fiction, his embracing spirit, his voice. Frank’s presence was present; commanding. Even when his nervous system was misfiring. Ok, especially when it was misfiring. He had an uplifting charm and undeniable charisma. HE’s whose ‘club’ you’d wanna join! And I’m not just talking about the ‘Hot Crevice Club’ of which I know nothing about. And am sworn to secrecy... Of the most fulfilling of life’s elements, Frank knew more love than most. No partner in the animal kingdom could want for the lay it on the line devotion that Erika bestowed on him. She showered and protected her man (literally) with nurturing encouragement and guidance; In health and in sickness. She made it worth Frank living in his seriously compromised state. Namasté Erika. You are a credit to the entire human race. There just are not many people who could keep it up for as long and consistently as you did for Frank. OK, I’ll speak for myself… And we thank you for that. When I say Frank was an uplifting individual, I reference literal experiences as well. May have been the first evening we spent together; several mind altered individuals decided to go swimming in the well secured pool at NCSA. Masonry building, Metal, bolted door. Loose lay-in ceiling tiles on ceiling. Frank was tall and strong. I climbed on his shoulders and monkeyed my way up and over and opened the pool for a late night of skinny dipping with ballerinas. And, on Carola’s and my first anniversary, Frank gave me a leg up so I could tack the ribbons on top of our 14’ MayPole which we cherish and still dance around regularly. These are good solid memories that have impacted my world. He was simply someone I could count on for all kinds of support. The practical jokes and the not so practical jokes kept smiles and guffaws in our hearts. My thought. Late night boat ride in Chris’ low slung boat, looking for alligators in shallow Florida waters New Year's Eve. Frank yells GATOR, STARBOARD, I slap the water with an empty champagne bottle, Chris rocks the boat and Erika and Carola’s fingernails dig so deep into our legs I still have scars. What would Frank say to us right now? Go out there and enjoy your people, your mind, your passions, your art, your toys, your meal; open your arms to life and embrace it. Let It Be. Oh yeah, and smile. |
Scott Swimmer
Founder of drumSTRONG
dear friend of fRank and erika
Founder of drumSTRONG
dear friend of fRank and erika
Frank,
I am saddened and honored and strangely happy to be
here for your release party.
I am saddened and honored and strangely happy to be
here for your release party.
From Steve Coan (read by Scott)
Oh, I don´t know exactly WHEN it was...at my age now I
don´t know exactly WHEN anything is!! I guess it musta
been around 1981.
My wife (Vicki) was about 7 months pregnant when I got
a phone call from a good friend who was the charter
captain of an ex-racing catamaran turned charter boat,
based out of the British Virgin Islands. Doug Heath
needed a crew to deliver the boat from Ft. Liquordale to
Roadtown, Tortola and asked if we would be interested in
gathering up a few friends for a two week party at sea.
"Frank. Ya wanna have an adventure?" Didn´t take more
than a nanosecond for a commitment from Frank. He had
been an avid sailor so he was my first phone call. His soft
spoken, understated personality concealed his zest for
excitement and adventure.
Whenever any gathering of the Hot Crevasse Club
(uh.....a select group of....uh.....well.....fellow "cohorts
of social compromization" from the NCSA gathered,
Frank was in the middle........at home.........ready for
who knows what.
Our course was to take us about 1,200 miles into the
Atlantic where we would hang a right and make landfall
from the north of the BVI's.
The first night saw us putting the bright lights of Ft.
Liquordale on the horizon as we literally skipped across
the waters of the Gulf Stream like a water spider. The
cat, named Ppalu, was 75 feet in length and over 40 feet
wide. You could play volleyball on the front deck nets she
was so big! The next day we spent traversing the
Bahamas, and preparing our exit of the eastern islands
into the vastness of the Atlantic as night fell.
We also had on board the Dive Master from Tortolla who
was hitching a ride back down. As he had no sailing
experience, we put him with Frank for the night watch
around 1 to 3 am. We all had a wonderful supper with
plenty of "spirits"- you know - getting to know each
other. Just as most of the crew readied for their bunks
below, a cruise ship - all lit up like a floating Christmas
tree, was sighted in the distance - on our starboard,
headed across our bows, about 3 nautical miles out.
We gawked at it and bid Frank and the Dive Master adieu
as their watch was coming up.
Now......in the dead of night.....all on board were
awakened with Frank...SCREAMING!! OOOHHHHH
SSSHHHHIIIIIIITTTTTT!!
Crew members spilled out into the cockpit to find
Ppallu's port hull rising up from the bow wake
of.........yup.....THE CRUISE SHIP! In shock, we all
strained our necks backward to look up the freeboard ( or
side) of the cruise ship as she steamed by - oblivious of
our presence until having floated past, where a late night
party was in full swing with party goers yelling and
pointing down at us..."Hey look! There´s a sailboat down
there"!! NO SHIT!
We were almost history.
What had happened was this: Frank and the Dive Master
were in deep conversation. They both were taking turns
at the helm, maintaining our course out into the Atlantic.
Time must have seemed to stand still for the two for
when they both realized that the cruise ship never did
pass by to the port, as it would have on it´s original
course when first sighted, Frank got up and walked over
to the starboard side of the cat to have a look up ahead.
What had happened was that the cruise ship had turned to
port and was on a collision course with Ppallu!
I won´t go into detail as to all the international laws of
navigation that the cruise ship broke, but that´s
irrelevant. Frank saw this monstrosity coming right for
us, ready to split the cat in two......literally! He ran to
the helm and spun the helm of Ppallu hard to
starboard.....just.....in.....time...... Thank you, my dear
friend.
OK....so now we´re days away from that potential
disaster and about 1,000 miles out in the Atlantic....in
the doldrums. For those who aren´t seafarers, that means
there ain´t no wind. That means we ain´t goin´nowhere.
This is a sailboat, remember? So for the next couple of
days, we´re ...just... sittin´there.
We figure out stuff to do to pass the time.... on about the
second day, I go up forward to the nets between the two
hulls where we would relax and hang out. These nets
were like a huge hammock. So there´s Frank and with a
couple of crew members all sitting around.
A large bottle of something alcoholic was on the net with
a couple of shot glasses between Frank´s legs (as he sat
cross legged) and his "opponent" sitting opposite to him,
maybe 6 feet away trying to toss a beer cap into the shot
glass filled with Cruzian Rum. If you missed, you had to
chug the shot.
Of course the more you missed,
then....the....more....you would...miss.
By sunset we didn´t care where the hell in the damn
Atlantic we were! (Damn that Frank!)
I remember so very vividly putting "Asleep at the Wheel"
on the stereo and singing "Ain´t nobody here but us
chickens, ain´t nobody here at all" and for some reason
(it musta been the rum) we all clucked like chickens!
Now this may not sound so very funny to you, but if you
were out at sea with a bunch of....well..... "interesting
personalities" with various forms of reality altering
substances consumed, this was a hoot! So much so that
whenever Frank, my brother Chris (who was also on this
adventure), or anyone else who we saw later on in life
who was also on this voyage, would get together, one of
us would inevitably fall into the
"Ain´t nobody here but us chickens" routine and we all
would crack up with laughter.
That's how it was with Frank. I remember visiting Frank
after the accident, when they first moved down to
outside Raleigh..... Scotty took me there.
I walked into the kitchen where Frank was and the first
thing out of my mouth was "Ain´t nobody here but us
chickens" and he said....... not.... skipping a beat.....
"Ain´t nobody here at all" !
Frank maintained the capacity of humor. The capacity of
friendship. There are times I´m sure we´ve all had when
we see friends we haven´t seen for a long time and it only
seems like yesterday. My visiting Frank that day with
Scott was like Scott and me walking down the dorm
hallway at NCSA and walking into Frank´s room.
"Oh hey Rank - wanna go trail blaze with Oblio and the
rest of us in the Land Cruiser?" (actually, he was Rank
Fuller - that was his Hot Crevasse name).
Nothing different.... just another day with one of my best
friends, that´s all.
Time was not a player then. Nor is it now. Nor will it
ever be when you share precious relationships. Distance
is not a player either. And they never will be. I know that
one day.....one day.... Frank will come shuffling up to me
and the very first thing he´ll say is, "Ain´t nobody here
but us chickens" ..........and I´ll crack up.
Love you and all the times... Stevie
Oh, I don´t know exactly WHEN it was...at my age now I
don´t know exactly WHEN anything is!! I guess it musta
been around 1981.
My wife (Vicki) was about 7 months pregnant when I got
a phone call from a good friend who was the charter
captain of an ex-racing catamaran turned charter boat,
based out of the British Virgin Islands. Doug Heath
needed a crew to deliver the boat from Ft. Liquordale to
Roadtown, Tortola and asked if we would be interested in
gathering up a few friends for a two week party at sea.
"Frank. Ya wanna have an adventure?" Didn´t take more
than a nanosecond for a commitment from Frank. He had
been an avid sailor so he was my first phone call. His soft
spoken, understated personality concealed his zest for
excitement and adventure.
Whenever any gathering of the Hot Crevasse Club
(uh.....a select group of....uh.....well.....fellow "cohorts
of social compromization" from the NCSA gathered,
Frank was in the middle........at home.........ready for
who knows what.
Our course was to take us about 1,200 miles into the
Atlantic where we would hang a right and make landfall
from the north of the BVI's.
The first night saw us putting the bright lights of Ft.
Liquordale on the horizon as we literally skipped across
the waters of the Gulf Stream like a water spider. The
cat, named Ppalu, was 75 feet in length and over 40 feet
wide. You could play volleyball on the front deck nets she
was so big! The next day we spent traversing the
Bahamas, and preparing our exit of the eastern islands
into the vastness of the Atlantic as night fell.
We also had on board the Dive Master from Tortolla who
was hitching a ride back down. As he had no sailing
experience, we put him with Frank for the night watch
around 1 to 3 am. We all had a wonderful supper with
plenty of "spirits"- you know - getting to know each
other. Just as most of the crew readied for their bunks
below, a cruise ship - all lit up like a floating Christmas
tree, was sighted in the distance - on our starboard,
headed across our bows, about 3 nautical miles out.
We gawked at it and bid Frank and the Dive Master adieu
as their watch was coming up.
Now......in the dead of night.....all on board were
awakened with Frank...SCREAMING!! OOOHHHHH
SSSHHHHIIIIIIITTTTTT!!
Crew members spilled out into the cockpit to find
Ppallu's port hull rising up from the bow wake
of.........yup.....THE CRUISE SHIP! In shock, we all
strained our necks backward to look up the freeboard ( or
side) of the cruise ship as she steamed by - oblivious of
our presence until having floated past, where a late night
party was in full swing with party goers yelling and
pointing down at us..."Hey look! There´s a sailboat down
there"!! NO SHIT!
We were almost history.
What had happened was this: Frank and the Dive Master
were in deep conversation. They both were taking turns
at the helm, maintaining our course out into the Atlantic.
Time must have seemed to stand still for the two for
when they both realized that the cruise ship never did
pass by to the port, as it would have on it´s original
course when first sighted, Frank got up and walked over
to the starboard side of the cat to have a look up ahead.
What had happened was that the cruise ship had turned to
port and was on a collision course with Ppallu!
I won´t go into detail as to all the international laws of
navigation that the cruise ship broke, but that´s
irrelevant. Frank saw this monstrosity coming right for
us, ready to split the cat in two......literally! He ran to
the helm and spun the helm of Ppallu hard to
starboard.....just.....in.....time...... Thank you, my dear
friend.
OK....so now we´re days away from that potential
disaster and about 1,000 miles out in the Atlantic....in
the doldrums. For those who aren´t seafarers, that means
there ain´t no wind. That means we ain´t goin´nowhere.
This is a sailboat, remember? So for the next couple of
days, we´re ...just... sittin´there.
We figure out stuff to do to pass the time.... on about the
second day, I go up forward to the nets between the two
hulls where we would relax and hang out. These nets
were like a huge hammock. So there´s Frank and with a
couple of crew members all sitting around.
A large bottle of something alcoholic was on the net with
a couple of shot glasses between Frank´s legs (as he sat
cross legged) and his "opponent" sitting opposite to him,
maybe 6 feet away trying to toss a beer cap into the shot
glass filled with Cruzian Rum. If you missed, you had to
chug the shot.
Of course the more you missed,
then....the....more....you would...miss.
By sunset we didn´t care where the hell in the damn
Atlantic we were! (Damn that Frank!)
I remember so very vividly putting "Asleep at the Wheel"
on the stereo and singing "Ain´t nobody here but us
chickens, ain´t nobody here at all" and for some reason
(it musta been the rum) we all clucked like chickens!
Now this may not sound so very funny to you, but if you
were out at sea with a bunch of....well..... "interesting
personalities" with various forms of reality altering
substances consumed, this was a hoot! So much so that
whenever Frank, my brother Chris (who was also on this
adventure), or anyone else who we saw later on in life
who was also on this voyage, would get together, one of
us would inevitably fall into the
"Ain´t nobody here but us chickens" routine and we all
would crack up with laughter.
That's how it was with Frank. I remember visiting Frank
after the accident, when they first moved down to
outside Raleigh..... Scotty took me there.
I walked into the kitchen where Frank was and the first
thing out of my mouth was "Ain´t nobody here but us
chickens" and he said....... not.... skipping a beat.....
"Ain´t nobody here at all" !
Frank maintained the capacity of humor. The capacity of
friendship. There are times I´m sure we´ve all had when
we see friends we haven´t seen for a long time and it only
seems like yesterday. My visiting Frank that day with
Scott was like Scott and me walking down the dorm
hallway at NCSA and walking into Frank´s room.
"Oh hey Rank - wanna go trail blaze with Oblio and the
rest of us in the Land Cruiser?" (actually, he was Rank
Fuller - that was his Hot Crevasse name).
Nothing different.... just another day with one of my best
friends, that´s all.
Time was not a player then. Nor is it now. Nor will it
ever be when you share precious relationships. Distance
is not a player either. And they never will be. I know that
one day.....one day.... Frank will come shuffling up to me
and the very first thing he´ll say is, "Ain´t nobody here
but us chickens" ..........and I´ll crack up.
Love you and all the times... Stevie
Note: As Henry did not have a written speech, this is a paraphrased version of his
words:
In 1979, I decided to start a business recording books on tape. To
find my actors, I put fliers up all over Washington, DC and set up
a number of auditions. One after the other, they came. Nothing. I
was on the verge of deciding I’d made a huge mistake when I
realized that there was yet one chance. I had forgotten to post a
notice at the best place in DC – The Arena Stage. I soon received
a call from some guy named Frank Muller.
Frank came in and began to read - and I knew I had a business.
Frank did not just read the book. With his ability to deliver each
character with a different voice and bring them visually to life,
the business of Recorded Books was born.
One of the best recordings ever narrated by Frank and one that is
yet to be surpassed is the book written by Pat Conroy, “the Prince
of Tides”. His stellar performance is held up by many as the
standard set for all others to strive to.
words:
In 1979, I decided to start a business recording books on tape. To
find my actors, I put fliers up all over Washington, DC and set up
a number of auditions. One after the other, they came. Nothing. I
was on the verge of deciding I’d made a huge mistake when I
realized that there was yet one chance. I had forgotten to post a
notice at the best place in DC – The Arena Stage. I soon received
a call from some guy named Frank Muller.
Frank came in and began to read - and I knew I had a business.
Frank did not just read the book. With his ability to deliver each
character with a different voice and bring them visually to life,
the business of Recorded Books was born.
One of the best recordings ever narrated by Frank and one that is
yet to be surpassed is the book written by Pat Conroy, “the Prince
of Tides”. His stellar performance is held up by many as the
standard set for all others to strive to.
Frank and Erika's wedding planner, Susan Chagnon, who would become their personal friend, gave a moving performance of "How Great Thou Art" Unbeknownst to Susan, this was a regular solo performed by Frank's father all through his childhood |
| "Frank had such a presence about him that i sometimes felt overwhelmed unless Erika was there!" |
"I did not know Frank but I feel like I really
missed out on meeting a great person from
hearing all of you speak today".
missed out on meeting a great person from
hearing all of you speak today".
Penny from the Waldorf School and Eno
River Unitarian Universalist Fellowship:
River Unitarian Universalist Fellowship:
| Sonnet CXVI Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me prov’d, I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d. William Shakespeare |
| Erika Muller Erika spoke her vows (at right) stating that she did not know when she said them to Frank how true her vow would be. |
Please click on Erika's name to read the letter written by Frank's sister that was the final part of the celebration.
© Copyright 2006 frankmullerhome.com. All Rights Reserved
I want to tell the story of the first meting between Frank and
Stephen King. Frank had come to Steve’s attention through his
recording of "Different Seasons" that we had followed with one of
my first productions in the 26th Street studio – the short story
collection "Skeleton Crew". Then one day soon after, Sandy
Spencer made the momentous announcement: the next time he was
in New York, Stephen King was going to pay us a visit. He wanted
to meet this Frank guy.
That day, we were beside ourselves with excitement. Frank had
brought a 6 pack of beer that we were desperately trying to keep
cold in a cooler. We had put a lot of thought into choosing just the
right macabre selection for Frank to perform, and had decided on a
nice bit of Ross Thomas that ended satisfyingly with a car bomb
going off, complete with an extensive and gruesome description of
the victim.
A huge stretch limo pulls up, and out the great man steps onto the
condom-strewn sidewalk. Let there be no doubt as to the post-
apocalyptic splendors of the studio we fondly remember as the
Bunker. It was in an old warehouse on the hooker friendly streets
west of 11th Avenue. Bare bulbs hung from the low ceilings, and
mice skittered in the corners – although they usually only came
around in the winter and this was summer, hence the problem with
the beer.
In he came, through the narrow unmarked street door, up the
staircase, where a pool of stagnant water always sat in the well,
looking like it could hide a body, and in through the metal gate that
clanged behind him like a dungeon portal. If Steve found any of
this peculiar, he didn’t blink. Within five minutes he and Frank
were friends for life – neither of them had a pretentious bone in
their bodies, and for them, any setting was appropriate for a
meeting of the minds.
We showed Steve around the studio – look, there’s the tape deck! –
Frank performed his piece, and then we broke out the warm beer.
And, inevitably when there’s beer, our guest needed to find the rest
room.
He headed down the dimly lit hallway, and returned a few minutes
later, declaring the men’s room the absolute scariest bathroom he
had ever visited in his life.
We had scared Stephen King. We were so proud!
Frank loved to laugh, and even more, make other people laugh. For
a man who could so deeply invest himself in darkness – live the
rage of Ahab, the hopelessness of Ivan Denisovich, the despair of
Jay Gatsby – he had a remarkably sunny personality. He was so
mellow. He lit up the studio. And there were memorable moments
when he shut it down completely. Like the fantasy pie-eating
contest that turns into a barfarama in Stephen King’s "The Body",
or when Bogus Trumper finds himself hurtling downhill out of
control onto the ski jump in John Irving’s "The Water-Method
Man", or Frank’s own rendition of Hannibal Lector (“I ate his liver
with fava beans and a nice chianti”). There were times when he
would make us laugh until we reached a state of exhausted
euphoria, and in those moments the joy of our endeavor was alive in
both of us. For that, and for so many other things, I will always
love him.
Stephen King. Frank had come to Steve’s attention through his
recording of "Different Seasons" that we had followed with one of
my first productions in the 26th Street studio – the short story
collection "Skeleton Crew". Then one day soon after, Sandy
Spencer made the momentous announcement: the next time he was
in New York, Stephen King was going to pay us a visit. He wanted
to meet this Frank guy.
That day, we were beside ourselves with excitement. Frank had
brought a 6 pack of beer that we were desperately trying to keep
cold in a cooler. We had put a lot of thought into choosing just the
right macabre selection for Frank to perform, and had decided on a
nice bit of Ross Thomas that ended satisfyingly with a car bomb
going off, complete with an extensive and gruesome description of
the victim.
A huge stretch limo pulls up, and out the great man steps onto the
condom-strewn sidewalk. Let there be no doubt as to the post-
apocalyptic splendors of the studio we fondly remember as the
Bunker. It was in an old warehouse on the hooker friendly streets
west of 11th Avenue. Bare bulbs hung from the low ceilings, and
mice skittered in the corners – although they usually only came
around in the winter and this was summer, hence the problem with
the beer.
In he came, through the narrow unmarked street door, up the
staircase, where a pool of stagnant water always sat in the well,
looking like it could hide a body, and in through the metal gate that
clanged behind him like a dungeon portal. If Steve found any of
this peculiar, he didn’t blink. Within five minutes he and Frank
were friends for life – neither of them had a pretentious bone in
their bodies, and for them, any setting was appropriate for a
meeting of the minds.
We showed Steve around the studio – look, there’s the tape deck! –
Frank performed his piece, and then we broke out the warm beer.
And, inevitably when there’s beer, our guest needed to find the rest
room.
He headed down the dimly lit hallway, and returned a few minutes
later, declaring the men’s room the absolute scariest bathroom he
had ever visited in his life.
We had scared Stephen King. We were so proud!
Frank loved to laugh, and even more, make other people laugh. For
a man who could so deeply invest himself in darkness – live the
rage of Ahab, the hopelessness of Ivan Denisovich, the despair of
Jay Gatsby – he had a remarkably sunny personality. He was so
mellow. He lit up the studio. And there were memorable moments
when he shut it down completely. Like the fantasy pie-eating
contest that turns into a barfarama in Stephen King’s "The Body",
or when Bogus Trumper finds himself hurtling downhill out of
control onto the ski jump in John Irving’s "The Water-Method
Man", or Frank’s own rendition of Hannibal Lector (“I ate his liver
with fava beans and a nice chianti”). There were times when he
would make us laugh until we reached a state of exhausted
euphoria, and in those moments the joy of our endeavor was alive in
both of us. For that, and for so many other things, I will always
love him.
Claudia Howard:
Executive Producer
Recorded Books
Executive Producer
Recorded Books
From: Jonathan Lowe, interviewer and author
(read by Henry Trentman)
"I remember Frank as generous and enthusiastic. I interviewed
him once for Cracker Barrel Old Country Stores, and got to work
with him a bit when I was involved in Audiobook Cafe and XM radio.
Frank narrated my own novel "Postal" in 1999, and won one of his many
Earphones awards for it. When I saw him at the 2003 Audie awards, my heart
skipped a beat when he raised his hand upon winning an Audie for reading an
Elmore Leonard title.
He will be missed as a pioneer of the industry, and as a great guy. I'm just one of
many, many people who first got interested in audio books because of him."
(Jonathan's interview with Frank can be read if you click here)
(read by Henry Trentman)
"I remember Frank as generous and enthusiastic. I interviewed
him once for Cracker Barrel Old Country Stores, and got to work
with him a bit when I was involved in Audiobook Cafe and XM radio.
Frank narrated my own novel "Postal" in 1999, and won one of his many
Earphones awards for it. When I saw him at the 2003 Audie awards, my heart
skipped a beat when he raised his hand upon winning an Audie for reading an
Elmore Leonard title.
He will be missed as a pioneer of the industry, and as a great guy. I'm just one of
many, many people who first got interested in audio books because of him."
(Jonathan's interview with Frank can be read if you click here)
Henry Trentman:
Founder of Recorded Books
Discoverer of Frank's narrative skills
Founder of Recorded Books
Discoverer of Frank's narrative skills
John Fletcher - read by Leo Muller
Very few people on this earth can talk duck. I can talk duck, but not great duck - just passable duck. Frank Muller spoke great
duck.
Back in January of ’91 – or maybe ’92, I was successfully hiding away from the talent police on my sailboat in Marina del Rey
when my old NYC agent and friend called asking to give my number to a Frank Muller - one of her actors who was about to join
the annual NYC to LA migration. Yeah, why not… more crew for spring houseracing.
By the time Frank got around to contacting me, it was late March and the first race of the season was coming up. After just a
minute or so of New York and LA blabla we figured out Frank was living in a marina apartment complex next door to where my
boat – Rosie Probert – was docked. “Hey, Frank. Just get your butt through the hole in the fence about 50 yards up from the sea
wall and we’ll go sailing.”
That was it. The law was there was nothing allowed aboard Rosie Probert that would prevent sails up and slipping the dock
within twenty minutes of detecting a decent breeze. Frank was there. If I poked my sleepless head out the hatch at 2 am and
sensing a steady 5-knot breeze – it usually meant 7-10 knots waited just beyond the break-water. A quick call to Frank and he
was through the hole in the fence.
We sailed and raced a lot that spring and when his fiancé, Erika Foy arrived from the east coast with her famous Jerk Chicken
and obscene chocolate cake, life was grand. Frank and Erika and I sailed. And eventually Frank and Erika and Nancy and I
sailed. And Bill and Alison and Robb and Rosa – we all sailed and all consumed Rosie Probert, then Robb’s 38-foot cutter,
Renegade and always Erika’s cooking.
And one afternoon, with a brisk 18 knot breeze pushing Renegade down the coast from Ventura to Marina del Rey, a chrome P-
51 Mustang came at us at full power and just 200 feet off the deck and we consumed him. And when the Mustang saw we
enjoyed his pass he came at us again at just 100 feet, gesturing with his wings as we consumed him again.
And always Erika’s cooking - except when we’re at East.
One evening at East, our favorite Japanese restaurant, Frank noticed a painfully bored 6 year-old kid sitting at the table next to
us with his parents and his ever so chatty older sister. With a slow glance in my direction, Frank slowly began forming the
slightest vowel sound in duck. The kid looked up. I responded with a less precise but extend grumble in duck. The kid quickly
looked in our direction. Frank picked up the conversation with a complete sentence in duck about how he thought Mickey Mouse
was stupid. I fired back that not only was Frank wrong, but he was stupid and a stick in the mud.
And we started arguing as fully and loudly as we ever could in duck. And the kid was laughing and clapping and tugging on his
sister’s sleeve and freaking out his parents and the room was up for grabs. And the kid was so excited and full of joy Frank
mentioned later the boy might have peed his pants – which, of course is the main purpose of talking duck.
Thank you, Frank. John and Nancy Fletcher
Very few people on this earth can talk duck. I can talk duck, but not great duck - just passable duck. Frank Muller spoke great
duck.
Back in January of ’91 – or maybe ’92, I was successfully hiding away from the talent police on my sailboat in Marina del Rey
when my old NYC agent and friend called asking to give my number to a Frank Muller - one of her actors who was about to join
the annual NYC to LA migration. Yeah, why not… more crew for spring houseracing.
By the time Frank got around to contacting me, it was late March and the first race of the season was coming up. After just a
minute or so of New York and LA blabla we figured out Frank was living in a marina apartment complex next door to where my
boat – Rosie Probert – was docked. “Hey, Frank. Just get your butt through the hole in the fence about 50 yards up from the sea
wall and we’ll go sailing.”
That was it. The law was there was nothing allowed aboard Rosie Probert that would prevent sails up and slipping the dock
within twenty minutes of detecting a decent breeze. Frank was there. If I poked my sleepless head out the hatch at 2 am and
sensing a steady 5-knot breeze – it usually meant 7-10 knots waited just beyond the break-water. A quick call to Frank and he
was through the hole in the fence.
We sailed and raced a lot that spring and when his fiancé, Erika Foy arrived from the east coast with her famous Jerk Chicken
and obscene chocolate cake, life was grand. Frank and Erika and I sailed. And eventually Frank and Erika and Nancy and I
sailed. And Bill and Alison and Robb and Rosa – we all sailed and all consumed Rosie Probert, then Robb’s 38-foot cutter,
Renegade and always Erika’s cooking.
And one afternoon, with a brisk 18 knot breeze pushing Renegade down the coast from Ventura to Marina del Rey, a chrome P-
51 Mustang came at us at full power and just 200 feet off the deck and we consumed him. And when the Mustang saw we
enjoyed his pass he came at us again at just 100 feet, gesturing with his wings as we consumed him again.
And always Erika’s cooking - except when we’re at East.
One evening at East, our favorite Japanese restaurant, Frank noticed a painfully bored 6 year-old kid sitting at the table next to
us with his parents and his ever so chatty older sister. With a slow glance in my direction, Frank slowly began forming the
slightest vowel sound in duck. The kid looked up. I responded with a less precise but extend grumble in duck. The kid quickly
looked in our direction. Frank picked up the conversation with a complete sentence in duck about how he thought Mickey Mouse
was stupid. I fired back that not only was Frank wrong, but he was stupid and a stick in the mud.
And we started arguing as fully and loudly as we ever could in duck. And the kid was laughing and clapping and tugging on his
sister’s sleeve and freaking out his parents and the room was up for grabs. And the kid was so excited and full of joy Frank
mentioned later the boy might have peed his pants – which, of course is the main purpose of talking duck.
Thank you, Frank. John and Nancy Fletcher
| The Muller Family June 7, 2008 (To view all pictures from the celebration of Frank's life, click on the family picture) |
Henry
Amanda
Tanny
Rachel
Heather
Leo
Frans
Cees
Jessica
Daniel
Rachel
Erika
Morgan
Diana
David
Nathan
Joe
Cammie
Walter
Matt
Joey
| From Gail Knight Steinbeck - Actress, Author and Teammate on the Quest for Aid - read by Henry Trentman I wish I could say that Frank and I were extremely close friends, but that wouldn't be true. Thom and I last saw Frank, Erika and Diana two weeks before the accident. We were at a pot luck on the beach in Malibu. It was less than two weeks after 9-11 and we decided that a small gathering on the beach was a good way to begin the healing process. Frank held Diana in his lap as the sun dropped beyond the ocean, cuddling her for warmth, since the September evenings in California tend to bring on a bit of a chill. We talked for a couple of hours. Erika with Thom and me with Frank. I have always enjoyed the company of handsome men and little kids, and as a stage trained actress, I found Frank's work to be fascinating, so I can honestly say that I shared some quality time with Frank that night. Diana was so beautiful with her dark red hair wrapped around that tiny white frame, that it was hard to look away from the image of father and daughter framed by the twilight sky and the dark blue Pacific. That night, with all of us still reeling from the attacks on the U.S., I never would have dreamed that it would be the Muller family that would teach me one of my great life lessons regarding, family, commitment, friendship, love and compassion. But they did. Frank, Erika, Leo and the rest of you; all of you did just that. Though my brave husband fought in Vietnam, I have never witnessed up close, such personal courage as I observed from Frank after the accident, nor have I seen the depth of commitment from a spouse, as when I observed Erika in her care for her husband and the children they shared. Then Leo came into my life. The project we created for Frank that sadly was not finished in time to help save him, made my own worries seem less important. While that same project gave me the sense of a larger purpose, I ache that I couldn't have done more sooner. Rather than remaining consumed by my own problems, I felt good about once again being involved with this unique family, while maybe helping to make a difference in the lives of someone other than myself. When John Fletcher first brought the Mullers into my life, I could never have dreamed of the impact this family would have on me, my husband and my own family. I will be eternally grateful to you all, but especially to Frank and Erika for your friendship and for helping me put my own life in perspective. I believe that as long as we remember Frank well, then his life remains meaningful and important in this world. I know that as he travels on to the next adventure, he will still remain with me and mine until it is my turn to go. With the help of Leo, Brian Downing and Claudia Howard, and with the permission of those of you who loved Frank the most, you have my commitment that I will do my very best to keep Frank's memory alive. I know I speak for my husband, Thom as well, when I send you all my love. And Frank, until we meet again, say hello for me, to those on shore. Gail Knight Steinbeck |
| From David Rapkin - Producer read by Henry Trentman Magical Frank When Frank and I worked together: he as reader and me as producer it was always by phone patch between California and New York City. We got to be long distance friends. Along with the rest of the world, I was a fan. So I was thrilled when I had a Stephen King book with Frank's name on it. I am not sure that aside from the author himself, anyone else at the time was reading Mr. King's work for audio. The author once told me that when he writes he hears Frank's voice in his mind. Unsurprising. We decided it would be best for Frank to come to New York to do the recording and that it would be fun if he stayed with Ilene and me. At the time my wife and I were "Law & Order" fanatics, never missing an episode. Sunday night rolled around and seven o' clock was approaching as we prepared to watch Lenny Briscoe wise-crack his way through another episode of our favorite program. At five to seven the doorbell rang; it was Frank, much bigger and taller than I had expected, smiling at our front door. We invited him in and said he was welcome to watch with us since we were not going to miss our weekly dose of Dick Wolf's finest. Sure he would love to join us. In fact he vaguely recalled that five years ago he played a defense lawyer on an episode. We settled onto the couch and ten seconds into the set-up Frank realized that of all the hundreds of "Law & Order" episodes that could have aired that night, this was a re-run of the one program he was on. Sure enough, thirty pounds lighter and with a lot more hair cut short there was a fresh-faced young actor named Frank Muller making a case for a defendant. The following day we began to record the Stephen King book, an installment in the "Dark Tower" series, I think. As I was to learn later it was not unusual for people to casually slip into the control room to listen to Frank read during a recording session. So aside from the usual suspects, director, engineer and executive producer there was a handful of people just being entertained by Frank's performance. We come to the end of a chapter just about lunch time and we break. We return after lunch and resume. The reader's magic is unbroken and after five days as the recording concludes Frank gets a round of applause. It was not until the mastering engineer notified us a week later that anyone had a clue we had concluded chapter 7 before lunch and resumed with chapter 9 that afternoon. I have yet to decide what that says about who. Of what I am certain is that Frank could have read the phonebook and it would have mesmerized a crowd. Frank's reverberations as an artist and a human being will never fall silent. Viva Frank Muller! David Rapkin New York City June 6, 2008 |
| - I am here today from Holland for my family - here to represent 72 family members on Frank's mother's side. Frans is here to represent 68 family members on Frank's father's side. I would like to share with you a note from my sister, Irene: Looking at Frank's minutes was a comfort; I am his cousin; our Mothers were sisters and the thought that Erika and the kids could continue to see Frank gave me peace, so much in his life was not for nothing, he was and stayed that strong man, so much humor and so much fun to look at. Frank you were a hero and you did so many important things in your life, So famous and never arrogant, always fun (see him with the guitar and you see Frank) and never a dull moment. I think they will get a great much more fun there up in heaven. So sorry he had to struggle for 7 long years and so much luck he had Erika and the children! Life is too short, but Frank made the most of it. Frank, have fun up there and I hope you are over there as you were in Frank's minutes. Love to Erika, Diana and Morgan, maybe we will see each other one time Irene De Langen |
| From Chris Coan (read by Scott) It was a rather flat, dried muddy field, up overlooking the commons. The stars were out and we had a pretty good fire going. The year was 1969, or maybe it was 1970, or somewhere in between. We were all good friends and we were having a great time being college buddies and all that. We had secret names and did things you did in the sixties. I called Frank, "Rank" and he called me "Christ-gopher". We would be buddies those college (acting) years and from that time for every year to come. I'd stay with Frank in N.Y. and he'd stay with me in California. We connected, with a like sense of humor and the ability to let laughter rip and tear its way through our beings. The Hot Crevice Club has lost a part of its history, its foundation, its heart. That such a bear of a man could be so loving and be so loved, is just what Frank was. And now he moves into my everlasting memory. My children say they are amazed at all the things I've done. I tell them, I did them for the experience of doing them. I have something no other person could ever have. I have what no other person could buy from me or rob from me or even understand the totality of. I have my memories. Of where I've been, of what I've done. But much more importantly, of who I met along the way. I love to call upon my memories of Frank, to make me smile. To make me chuckle and even laugh out loud. We had such a wonderful time during that space we shared and for all that I will hoard those memories and treasure those times as special morsels within my consciousness. Knowing that when I need a smile, all I have to do.........is think of Rank. Love and smiles, Chris |
| Click on the picture of Leo at left or the family picture at the bottom of this page to see all pictures from this day. |