In memoriam: Francis "Frank" Ford (1945-2025)

Ford’s journey began at Milwaukee’s Mt. Sinai hospital, where he was born into an Irish and Polish Catholic family in 1945.  A graduate of Whitefish Bay High School in 1964, his early adulthood was marked by the turbulence of the Vietnam era. 

By 1967, Ford had picked up a camera, cutting his teeth by covering the chaotic 1968 Democratic National Convention. However, his formal education in the medium came a few years later. Between 1970 and 1972, he studied photography at Milwaukee Area Technical College (MATC). In a twist of dark historical irony, he studied alongside Arthur Bremer, the man who would go on to shoot presidential candidate George Wallace in 1972.

Some of Ford’s most vibrant and historically significant work was documenting Milwaukee’s underground queer scene in the ‘70s and ‘80s. The fascination began when Ford read about the Cockettes in Rolling Stone. Intrigued, he asked a friend, John Stegman to connect him with local drag queens.

Stegman’s response seemed absurd: “I can introduce you to them, but you’re going to have to come down to Cudahy.”

“I thought this was crazy,” Ford recalled. “Drag queens? In Cudahy? And it was really nuts. So, I went to see them.”

The drag scene Ford documented was distinct from the polished, high-production aesthetic of modern reality television. Performers didn’t use prosthetics or padding.

“At that moment, it wasn’t heavy drag, it was more glam rock. Gender fluid,” Ford explained. “It wasn’t about "tits and ass" as it became later. It was high-fashion, high-concept, high-energy performance art. It was incredibly revolutionary.”

The Bon Bons were “scenesters” who turned their existence into living art. Ford’s images of the group —figures like Chuckie, Bobby Lambert, and Jerry Dreva— are still being showcased in galleries today. Robert Lambert, a member of the scene, credited Ford’s scrutiny behind the lens with finding beauty in unexpected places.

“The photos Francis Ford took of the Bon-Bons made us iconic—and still do,” Lambert said. “He was the kind of person who made you a better person just by knowing him.”

Lambert remembered the deal they struck with Ford: if he produced prints the Bon Bons could use to promote themselves, he could take all the photos he wanted. The photo shoot led to a juried art competition at the Milwaukee Art Museum.

“When the matron at the door was confronted with a half dozen guys in bizarre outfits, including Chuckie Betz on stilts in a transparent gown that glowed when plugged in, they refused to let them in,” laughed Ford. “I was so mad. I was just completely pissed off. How dare they? I told them that – unless they were allowed into the event -- I was taking all my artwork and leaving this instant.”

The matron begrudgingly allowed the Bon Bons inside – without tickets. Later in the evening, a guy “in a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt” made a rude remark about Chuckie Betz’s outfit to Francis Ford’s mother.

“Without blinking, she turned on him,” said Ford. “She said, ‘that’s my son you’re talking about. You watch your mouth.’ The guy shut up real fast.’”

Ford’s photos of the Bon Bons propelled the group into the stratosphere. Within a year, they were part of the Sunset Strip glitter rock scene, befriending icons like David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, Elton John, The Cockettes, Sylvester, and more. 

They became America’s first “influencers” – famous only for being famous – in part, thanks to the artistic eye of Francis Ford.

While Ford originally wanted to be a filmmaker, he lost interest in cinema once he discovered the “magic” of still photography. But he still had to pay the bills. From 1973 to 1979, Ford held a day job as the camera department manager at the Kmart on 76th and Good Hope.

“Every day, there would be another startling photograph,” he said, referring to the film customers would drop off for processing. He couldn’t believe the images passing through his photo lab—snapshots of daily life that, to his eye, held profound artistic weight. Recognizing the unintentional brilliance of these amateur photographers, he curated an exhibition titled "Kmart Collectibles."

The show traveled far beyond the aisles of the department store, landing an exhibition at the prestigious OK Harris gallery in New York City in 1977—the same gallery that had helped launch Andy Warhol.

However, Ford’s heart remained in Milwaukee. After a fire destroyed his studio on St. Paul Avenue in the Third Ward in 1979—one of the first artist studios in that area—Ford moved his operation to Walker’s Point. He established himself in a loft that sprawled across the entire top floor of 805 South 5th Street, a space nicknamed Studio Galactica.

To the local creative class, Ford’s loft was more than a workspace; it was a sanctuary.

“The place was an organic hive of artistic energy of all kinds,” recalled Bobby Tanzilo, editor at OnMilwaukee.

The loft was a space fueled by passion, discussion, and beer purchased from nearby bodegas. In the summers, Ford and his contemporaries would sit on the fire escape, admiring the skyline or gazing up and down National Avenue. Miss B.J. Daniels described the rooftop studio as a “New York dream,” a place so cool it made visitors feel like rockstars.

Ford’s professional portfolio was as eclectic as his social circle. He served as the photo editor forArt Muscle Magazine, a free publication that united Milwaukee through an appreciation for art.

Through his lens, he captured cultural titans like Richard Avedon, Cheech Marin, Divine, John Waters, and Willem Dafoe, alongside local political figures such as Henry Maier and Frank Zeidler. His work appeared in national publications including Rolling Stone, Spin, Newsweek, Creem, and Time Magazine.