Livonia — Frank Knes hides in plain sight, living a spartan life in suburbia. He’s homeless.
Employees of the nearby businesses—including parking security—know him and say he’s “no bother at all.” He’s never been seen panhandling and has even cooperated with local police as a witness.
Knes is something of a survival expert. He walks with a slight limp but can vaporize into thin air. He’s 62, with a physique weathered by age and the elements. His long unkept hair, gray mustache, and eyes tell a story of survival.
He explains to me his Odyssean saga—drifting around the state of Michigan as a transient, one place to the next, looking for a home.
His current residence, such as it is, is an abandoned parking lot in Livonia next to a busy shopping plaza by one of the most well-traveled intersections of the city.
Why is he here?
He plays coy, but gave me several clues as to why he’s been here for about a year.
I think he’s on to something.
Within a short walk from the parking lot is a 24-hour big box store with open restrooms, a 24-hour gym with showers, multiple diners, a dollar store, a public library where you can spend hours unbothered, a Catholic Church with a food bank, and a massive empty and unused department store.
Knes is vague, but when asked how he survives sub-zero Michigan winter nights, he simply responds, “I have a few blankets, I get by just fine,” and changes the topic.
The story of his life is both heart wrenching and inspirational. He was born in and spent much of his youth in Detroit’s Brightmoor neighborhood. He lived in Livonia as a teenager but has been on the move ever since.
According to Knes, he’s seen 32 states and parts of Canada during his trek, including a few years in Montreal. Along the way, he’s picked up work as a mechanic but has never been able to root in any place for long.
Age, physical decline, and a couple convictions for assault as a younger man have made it harder to find work nowadays, and Knes barely gets by each month on his meager Social Security check.
Knes eats most meals out of a can, and a warm meal is a rare luxury, usually provided by good samaritans. Nearby business owners—specifically a well-known diner in the area—have been very charitable to him.
He knows his stay is not permanent. A destination calls out to him; a place he’s been trying to reach for some time.
Homelessness in Michigan is hard on a person, even harder on a person of a certain age. This winter hasn’t been easy. “My health isn’t good; things are starting to go wrong,” he says looking off into the distance. “I have to get out west to Arizona.”
The plan is to fix up his van. His vehicle doesn’t run and requires parts he’s been slowly acquiring over the last several months. “Soon as it warms up, I’ll get it running and I’m outta here. I can’t work on it when it’s this cold.”
He’s looking to possibly join up with a nomadic group that dwells in the southwestern states, recently made famous in a few documentaries and the Oscar-winning film “Nomadland.”
There’s one more mystery about Knes that nags me as I talk with him. He’s articulate, sharp, and uses words that suggest he’s well-educated. He has a vivid and honest recall of historic events. Never once did he wander off in thought or lay out his grievances.
His answer was remarkably simple. “I’ve passed a lot of time in my life reading. Libraries are a good place to hang out.”
Of course, I’m not reporting Knes to city officials for living homeless, perhaps illegally in Livonia. Vagrancy is a misdemeanor punishable by up to 90 days in jail, but sources have told me city officials are currently upset with the current owner of the plot of land where Knes is currently residing.
The city officially has no knowledge of homeless people living in the area, but they damn well know he’s here. Everyone turns a blind eye.
I bid farewell to the Odysseus of Livonia. I turn my back for a second, and he’s gone.
Jay Murray is a writer for Michigan Enjoyer and has been a Metro Detroit-based professional investigator for 22 years. Follow him on X @Stainless31.
