“You have to see the Frick Museum,” my friend intoned, “if you do one thing in New York City, the Frick is it.  It is the Frick home that has been turned into an art museum.”My friend was born and raised in New York City, is an active connoisseur of the finer things in life, specifically art and wine, and being a simple country boy looking for a little culture in the big city, I felt obliged to listen.

Off to the Frick we went.

I will admit that I had some expectations.  As a student of history, I had heard of the Frick name before, the strong arm of Andrew Carnegie.  The man blamed for the violence and bloodshed during the Homestead strikes in 1892, the reputation of the man was not high in my eyes.  The coke magnet, instrumental in developing the steel industry - a captain of industry during the United State’s transition from rural to an economic power house built on the back of steel.

Walking out of Central Park, we were met by a classical Mediterranean style building, with granite walls, metal gates, pillars and porticos.  It looked like a museum.

Walking through the massive doors and into the reception area, we were intrigued.  For a house, it was like nothing I’ve seen.  With classical Roman style, it had a lavish interior - marble, statues, and fine details throughout the entrance.  The entrance fee would be well worth it.

We were met in the first hallway with some of the finery of the gilded age - French furniture, romance paintings, the knick-knacks of the rich and famous.  Walking into the first room it looked like a room fit for a king.  Because it was.  The wall paneling, all specifically painted, the furniture, the fireplace and mantle, the paintings on the wall, were all once a part of King Louis the XIV’s summer residence, specifically comissioned by his last (and favorite!) mistress.  Carefully packed and brought here, to one of the kings of the gilded age in the United States.

Each room, each massive room, had its own surprises.

The drawing room where I came face to face with my very first El Greco painting - and while not an art fan - even I could tell the brilliance in the color, in the broad strokes, in the passion that the paintings represented.

The intricate detail in the wood paneling and ceilings, each carefully carved and put in place.

The study, where one of my personal hero’s portrait hangs - the famous painting of Sir Thomas Moore, the right hand man of King Henry VIII, who helped rule the kingdom, but was killed for standing by his principles.  This painting I’ve seen so often staring back at me in books and museums was now in front of me.

In the library, an intricate mantle piece, stretching floor to ceiling, all hand carved.  On the opposite wall, with many other works of art, hung one of the original paintings of George Washington by the famous Gilbert Stuart.

The details, the artwork, the overall feeling was overwhelming.  Here was a man who had designed a home to be used for a museum, to house his precious works of art, so that all could see and enjoy.

Henry Clay Frick, the man that bloodied Homestead, PA, was also an art lover and a generous man.  Do the two conflict?  Can a man who gave so much really have planned to ruin the lives of so many?

That is a question to be pondered as you circle the magnificent home, given as a museum, by Mr. Frick.