Charlotte Owen

Arnold was such an important figure in all our lives. Particularly for me, when at 17, I made that first trip to New York. Imagine an impressionable young English girl (studying Art History) arriving in the city for the first time, and that very night, Arnold and Gus whisked me off to a party and introduced me to Andy Warhol. That would have been enough to last me for decades! But more was to come, a road trip to Long Island and the Hamptons followed, spending one day with Roy Lichenstien, and the next with the De Koonings, and then Segal. I don't think I have ever been so star struck since. And the whole of that visit was a whirlwind of Art and socialising, theatre, shows, and being introduced to the best delis on the West Side. Whenever I butter a bagel, I think of your parents. I had never eaten a bagel before, (us poor, English cousins), and they had to send me home with a huge black garbage bag full of them.

For years I wanted to be a photographer, at one point I was going to come and assist Arnold, and then I had a motorbike accident that put paid to that trip, and sent me off on another path altogether. But that's another story.

Arnold and Gus were so good to me, always. But now, as I look back over the years, I realise just how much effort they must have gone to that holiday.

The walls of our house are covered with Arnold's photographs. Wonderful ones of Robert [my father] of course, and us when we were young, or gawky, uncomfortable teenagers. (One from that era I particularly like, where I have obviously been crying, and puffy eyed, I attempt to smile, wearing the dress that I didn't want to get into - hence the tears).

So, in a sense, he is part of my kids lives too, not only testimony to the fact their mum was young once, but also, shaping their memories of the grandfather they never knew.

Charlotte Owen (cousin)

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