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		Priscilla Sanden, 1940 - 1972 My first wife was a source of great strength at the time of our move from Minneapolis to New York. She was just as scared as I was, but she remained calm and focused, encouraging me each step of the way. When we got settled in New York, and after our daughter was born, Priscilla died suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 32.

was convinced by now that there was "something else" I should be doing — something above and beyond anything I had attempted so far. I honestly believed — deep inside — that there was a "destiny" waiting for me "out there." I had been twenty years in Minneapolis. I was regularly shipping my paintings to Reader's Digest in New York — by now I had painted some 75 subjects for them. Occasionally, I would use some pretext to fly out to New York and deliver a painting in person. Of course, the expense of such a trip devoured the fee for the painting. But I loved New York — though it terrified me. Could I possibly ever live in New York — be a New York artist? When I mentioned the idea to my wife of eight years, Priscilla surprised me by not laughing. In fact she was intrigued. So we began to dream. It was an awe-inspiring thought. We owned our home in the Minneapolis suburb of Golden Valley. The thirty-year fixed mortgage cost us $109 a month. I had just remodeled one wing of the house into a deluxe studio. Why would we give this up for the unknown of New York? But the idea was unshakeable. It moved into the forefront of our thoughts. My boss at the Billy Graham organization had already sensed my restlessness. He encouraged me to take on free-lance assignments such as the work for Brown and Bigelow and Reader's Digest (by now I was spending more time on free lance work than I was for Billy Graham). As believing Christians, Priscilla and I also prayed extensively about the decision. This period of soul-searching and indecision lasted almost a full year. Finally, the choice was made to go. Billy Graham promised to

130 West 57th Street Our first home in New York. Just a few doors down the block from Carnegie Hall, this remarkable old (1909) artists studio building was the brainchild of artists Childe Hassam and Irving R. Wiles, who occupied the the two top floor apartments when the building opened. Consisting of twelve breathtaking artists' apartments with double-height studios and lots of space, by 1970 the tenants were largely from the world of films and entertainment. Artist Charles Baskerville occupied the Childe Hassam studio on the top floor. My apartment was one-half of the duplex home of actor Jose Ferrer.

keep me on a retainer in New York in exchange for art jobs for his organization (this proved to be our salvation financially). We sold the house, said goodbye to our friends, loaded the cat into the Chevrolet, and — one beautiful summer day in August 1969 —headed for the Wisconsin border. Beyond lay New York — and the great unknown future. We had enough money to last for perhaps three weeks. As we rolled out of town, I could not possibly know that it would be 23 years before I would see Minneapolis again. And Priscilla had no way of knowing that she had only three years to live. We stayed a few months in the Westchester County town of Ossining, just north of New York, to get our bearings. But it was Manhattan we wanted, so we sold the car, and looked for an apartment in town. I had enrolled in an evening class at the Art Students League, and we looked near there. At 130 West 57th Street, the "apartment for rent" sign referred to the upper half of a huge duplex occupied by the well-known actor Jose Ferrer. We were a half-block from the League, in an historic artists' building, and we rode up in the elevator with Woody Allen! (His production office was in the building). The excitement was almost more than we could bear. We were in New York! The rent was $400 a month. I could pay the first month (and the security deposit) — but where would the second month's rent come from?

	New York Artist I enrolled in the Art Students League (in the next block) and began to live the life of a New York artist. My neighbor in the building, artist Charles Baskerville, let me paint his portrait (which he disliked). The other painting is of supermodel Sunny Griffin. Across the bottom of the picture are some of my student paintings from the Samuel Oppenheim class at the League.

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