Saint Ed

When a 72-year-old man gives to the poor, he doesn't just write a check. He puts his all into it.

By WAVENEY ANN MOORE

© St. Petersburg Times,
published August 19, 2001

ST. PETERSBURG -- Rail-thin and frail, Ed La Duke has ordered his life around the spirit of giving.

Each month, the 72-year-old military veteran earmarks his $500 Social Security check to feed the poor. Every day except Sunday, before dawn and in the midafternoon, he grubs through dumpsters, hunting for aluminum cans to turn into more cash for his charitable cause. A byproduct of his scavenging is the treasure trove of toys, furniture, clothing and countless other finds also designated to those in need.

For himself, he cleans, keeps and displays crucifixes that he finds. Several hang on his living room wall, as does a tapestry of the Sacred Heart.

"Most of the stuff you see here on the wall came out of dumpsters, crosses and all," he says, as music from WBVM-FM 90.5, a Catholic radio station, plays in the background.

As is his custom, one recent dawn found La Duke setting off on his first forage of the day. Painstakingly organized, he has developed a system for delving into other people's garbage. An old white bucket just outside his back door has been appointed to fetch the aluminum cans he finds. A shortened broomstick outfitted with a cup hook at one end and the grip of a bicycle handlebar on the other has been designed to prod, poke and lift.

He may spend a lot of time worming through dumpsters, but he keeps his modest two-bedroom home immaculate. His kitchen is brightened with a red, green and white holiday tablecloth. Plastic place mats, in faded gold and cream, mark places at two mismatched chairs.

In the spotless living room, a creche, red candles, baskets of artificial poinsettias and Christmas pillows add to the incongruous setting on this hot summer's day.

Explaining his love for all things Christmassy, La Duke says matter-of-factly, "It's Jesus' birthday."

La Duke gives in other ways as well. He is a notary for single parents and others with little money to pay for such services.

"It doesn't cost anything to sign your name and stamp it," he says as he sits in the kitchen, where there is a tin for donations from those who can spare the change. That money also is put in the fund to buy peanut butter, Ramen noodles, macaroni and cheese and similar staples that are the mainstay of food pantries.

At Daystar Life Center, a small agency at 226 Sixth St. S that serves about 20,000 impoverished men, women and children a year, La Duke is a cherished benefactor.

"I've known him since I've been here, and he was a fixture when I came," says Sister Rosemarie Infinito, who has been director at the center for the past three years.

"Every Monday and Friday he has food for us and clothing, household items, anything that we might need, and not just for us, for other agencies as well. He shares the bounty. If I say to him, I need peanut butter, he gets it for us, or whatever it is that we need. He gives us toys all year long. Whatever he gets, he gives," she says.

"He is always so cheerful," says Jane Trocheck Walker, associate director of Daystar and former deputy executive director of the St. Petersburg Free Clinic.

"I've known him for years, from my years over at the Free Clinic and now over here. He always shares his blessings. He knows there is a need and he feels that if he is able to, he should do his part."

On Friday, La Duke took delivery of 25 cases of Ramen noodles for Daystar. He had ordered them from Maher Kassis, owner of Kassis Market at 3711 Fifth Ave. N.

"Whatever I order for him, I give it to him at cost," says Kassis, who got to know La Duke, a neighbor behind the market, about a year ago.

"I could tell that he is a friendly guy, and he told me he helps out people. He is a very nice guy. He is more than a friend. I should call him like my grandfather, my uncle," said Kassis, 26, whose year-old store still carries its old Lockhart's Super Market sign.

There are some things La Duke buys for charity. Others he scrounges for. On a recent morning dumpster run, a Tuesday, the first bin proves to be a disappointment.

"It's usually about Wednesday that it starts getting good. Monday is usually the best," he says of his daily treasure hunt.

"On weekdays, everybody goes out and parties," adds La Duke, speaking from the experience of one who has been collecting soda and beer cans for recycling "on and off" for almost 22 years.

This day, he continues purposefully along the alleyway behind his home. Mostly, he searches the giant black dumpsters with his bare hands, in one instance undeterred by smelly, rotten fruit, buzzing flies and tenacious mosquitoes.

"I got 25 picture frames from this dumpster," he says, as he searches behind a small office.

"Lawyers, they are the worst offenders in throwing things away," he says.

But the pickings are slim this particular morning. He discards a pair of child's sneakers. They are too battered to be passed on to anyone. He leafs through a stack of office message pads. Those he also leaves behind.

His inventory this day includes five aluminum cans, a small supermarket catering tray, a folded white pillow case, a box of staples, a tin of cloves and another of dry mustard. Someone has thrown out a bottle of candy sprinkles. That too is saved. There is also a can of apple spice, which La Duke carefully wipes with the wash cloth that hangs from his waist. He places it in a cardboard box top that had been sitting near the overflowing dumpster.

"I'll hit it again this afternoon," he says as he turns for home.

Out front, an American flag is flying. A sign reads, "Vietnam Veteran. Notary."

La Duke says his neighbors are aware of his unusual pastime. Some bring him cans. Various people drop off bags of stuffed animals, clothing, bicycles and even furniture.

"We get women's clothes, but we don't get much in the men's department," says La Duke, who until last week relied on the companionship of his beloved 16-year-old Shih Tzu, Poppy. The dog died in his sleep Tuesday. The Central Oak Park resident's home is filled with evidence of his Roman Catholic faith. In his kitchen, a rosary is draped over a photograph of the late Sister Margaret Freeman, the nun who forged the St. Petersburg Free Clinic into a respected multi-service agency.

One of 12 children, La Duke came to St. Petersburg in 1976 after serving in Vietnam. He says he made a promise to his mother, whose photograph hangs on his living room wall, to help others.

"I remember years ago, my family had nothing," the Syracuse, N.Y., native says. "It was kind of hard going to school having to wear hand-me-downs. That is something you don't forget."

He does not own a car.

"I don't need that much," he says.

Over at Daystar, Sister Infinito is grateful for his generous spirit.

"He'll call and he'll say he has things for us today and he always reminds us how many days it is until Christmas," she says.

"He's a wonderful person. He is one of the saints of the world."

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