Greenwich Village's coffeehouse folk scene in the early sixties drew Frank to New York. He met such names as John Kay, later of Steppenwolf. A large insurance settlement he received after he turned 21 enabled him to travel to London, and it was here he made his biggest impact.
He took up a flat with a then struggling folk singer Paul Simon in London, who later was impressed enough to produce ten of Frank's songs in a self-titled album. While Frank's voice was tremulously somber, the quality of the compositions was often impressive, with a reflective, melancholic touch that possibly influenced Simon himself and the likes of Sandy Denny and Nick Drake. Although his first album was well-received in the British folk community, he was unable to reproduce a similar quality of material and crippled any attempt for a follow-up. Combined with deepening depression, increasing stage fright, and an end to his insurance settlement that had allowed him to live freely, he decided a move back to the states in 1969, without releasing another album.
Frank took a slow slide into despair as his depression grew worse. Taking a bus to New York, he hoped to connect with Paul Simon again, but with little luck began sleeping on the streets. He became a ward of the state, and at times he was institutionalized. In 1977, with life looking better, Frank tried to release a new album, but was promptly dismissed by what publishers said was a lack of market appeal for his music. Again he fell into a deep depression, and the injuries from his childhood got much worse, once again he was hospitalized for both physical and medical reasons.
That is until Jim Abbott, a local Woodstock resident and sympathetic fan, rediscovered the aging singer from an inscription on an old album bearing his name in a record store. He successfully made contact with Frank and brought him out of a state housing project in the Bronx and into a senior center in Woodstock. He resumed songwriting and performing occasionally until his death on March 3, 1999.