The Tribune

By Diane Phillips

ON Friday, December 16, the story of brotherly love was the subject of this column. It was the story of two brothers named Lorenzo and Devon Knowles, Long Islanders who came to Nassau to work 15 years ago and for most of those years worked through, or in some connection with, the late Sir Durward Knowles, the first eight years at Queen’s College, later at Montagu Gardens restaurant until it closed. They often worked multiple jobs. After Sir Durward died, they scraped by doing odd jobs, looking after a parking lot, washing dishes at other restaurants, cobbling together a few dollars daily to feed themselves, sometimes going hungry, always faithful to church and Bible study, even when they walked in the rain to get there.

Here is an abbreviated version of how the column started:

YOU see them walking together, never one or the other, always the two of them, side by side, each wearing worn out clothes and carrying worn out bags.

There is a Bible in each of those worn-out tote bags, along with tools or work clothes for whatever job they are working that day, rags for cleaning, a uniform for washing dishes at a restaurant. Look even closer at their worn-out shoes and your heart could break right there. They walk, on average, more than ten miles a day, from the place they currently rent off Prince Charles Drive in Elizabeth Estates to the Montagu area where they find work or odd jobs and often wait until Bible study starts in the evening in the waterfront park before starting the long five-mile trek back home.

They are the Knowles brothers. Devon, who is the shorter of the two, is 47, Lorenzo, 41. They are as constant a fixture in the Eastern District as the view of the distant sun rising over Montagu Bay. Two slight, brown-skinned men getting by day-to-day but never alone. They have each other.

I only planned to tell the story. What happened afterward was truly a Christmas miracle. You, the reader, were moved to act. Rich and poor, black and white, young and old, you picked up the phone and called my office or sat down at a keyboard and wrote.

You belted out messages like “I want to help, what do they need most?” or “Do they need food?” or “Can you come and collect what I put out for them?” Messages like that came through, several from people I know but have not seen or heard from in ages.

It was as if someone opened a wall and all this pent-up treasure of friendship and compassion came spilling and tumbling out.

A retired banker who remembered them fondly from the days they helped manage a downtown parking lot where she parked brought $500. “I was so moved by the story and I remember how every day they would greet me with a warm Good Morning, Mrs. (name omitted), and wish me a good day.”

A man who is a Freemason was moved by the concept of brotherly love. He bought them a new propane two burner camp-type stove, included two new small propane cylinders and to make sure they had food to cook on it, added a $200 Super Value gift certificate. A man named Chris bought them brand new walking/tennis shoes from the Sports Centre. Several others gave $20 or $100 and with each envelope delivered to my office there was someone who holding it wanted to share the story of how it had moved them.

The Rotary Club of Southeast Nassau made them part of their give back at Christmas programme, presenting them with a carton filled with more food than they have seen in one place since they left home 15 years ago.

What could be the most life-changing call, email and personal visit came from an executive at a large company who delivered a sealed envelope accompanied by the offer of a job interview. I drove them to the interview and there is, indeed, a good possibility of a job for one of the brothers.

The phone is still ringing with promises of more gifts, but in the midst of all these blessings, Lorenzo and Devon lost the roof over their heads.

For the past several months, they had been house-sitting in Elizabeth Estates, providing security. Before they were asked to stay there, the empty house was repeatedly broken into. The owner told them it was up for sale but this week they were told it was sold. They had hours to move what they could pack into large black plastic bags and leave.

That was Tuesday. It rained that night.

They know just how hard the rain fell. It fell on them as they slept on park benches at Montagu.

All the brothers need now is just one more miracle. A place to call home. At least for a little while.