Richard John Frassetto

Rick was born on July 10, 1953 and, according to the medical odds, passed away sometime in 1994. Thankfully, the date of death was off by 27 years. Rick was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor in 1993 and given a grim prognosis of 51 weeks (not even a year, doc?) to live. Instead, he enjoyed his life until he passed away peacefully at his beautiful home in San Francisco on August 17, 2020. His loving wife of 37 years, Ellen, was holding his hand. His daughter Gina was by his side, along with her husband-to-be, Steve.

But back to the beginning: Rick was born in Salinas to proud parents John and Jennie Frassetto, joining his brother, Jim, and soon to be joined by his sister Anne and his brother Paul. Rick grew up on the family’s artichoke farm in Castroville. He loved to play in the fields and was often put to work picking and sorting artichokes. Later he wrote “Artichoke” (styled after Ionesco’s absurdist play “Rhinoceros”); such was the influence of life on the farm.

Fast forward now to postcollege years: Rick lived in San Francisco and worked as a cabinetmaker until retiring in 2008. His first shop occupied the garage of a friend’s home, where rent was a bottle of Wild Turkey on the first of each month, which his landlord friend happily shared with him. Eventually, Rick’s clientele included the rich and famous of the San Francisco Bay Area, earning him the title (amongst friends and family) of “Cabinetmaker to the Stars.” Rick was artistic, and although he couldn’t draw with any realism (he was more of a cartoon guy) he made incredibly beautiful cabinets and furniture. He would draw the equivalent of a stick-figure cabinet and then execute an extraordinarily gorgeous piece of work.

Rick and Ellen bought their Noe Valley Victorian in 1985 and did a major remodel a few years later, fully utilizing Rick’s craftsmanship with custom woodwork, cabinets, built-in bookcases, crown moldings, and other finely honed details. The night before major brain surgery, Rick was up on a ladder finishing the cornice above the mantelpiece in the double parlor. An amazing man.

Back in the day, Rick was an athlete, running in marathons and generally looking quite the hunk. He famously rode his bicycle from San Francisco to Yellowstone: He and a friend dipped their tires into the Pacific Ocean and arrived in Yellowstone two weeks later. This was pre-bike shorts, pre-lightweight bikes, and pre-comfy bicycle seats. He rode in cut-off jeans, with hard seams against a hard bike seat. We still wonder how he managed to father a child in later years.

Rick and Ellen met in October 1981 at a postHalloween breakfast sibling get-together at Upton’s on Lombard Street. Ellen had met Rick’s sister Anne in the summer of 1981, then met brothers Paul, Jim, and Jim’s wife Karen for the first time that morning. They were awaiting the arrival of brother Rick, and when he drove up in his work van, looking good, Ellen was struck by the thunderbolt. Rick and Ellen married in 1983.

The other light of Rick’s life was their daughter Gina. Rick loved walking Gina to school in the neighborhood, drawing with her, cooking with her (Rick was a fantastic chef), and later, recording podcasts with her. Rick was extremely proud of Gina, and he was so happy to have had the pleasure of knowing Steve.

Rick enjoyed gardening, stamp collecting, and making pottery and whimsically designed ceramic pieces, always signed with his trademark “Z” (short for his nickname “Fraz”). He loved the outdoors, geology, knew everything you ever wanted to know about plate tectonics, and collected rocks from all over the world.

Rick loved his family, his friends, and his caregivers. He disdained bullies and bigots. He was saddened by the suffering of others. If you wish to give in Rick’s memory, please consider a donation to Save the Children. A celebration of Rick’s life will take place every time family and friends meet and say his name, but there will be a bigger party in his honor at a future date.