A Teach for America cohort, hailing from states all around the country, was dispatched to Baltimore in 2011. Their unfamiliarity with the city formed their bond. But it was Vincent Andrews who helped build their community.

The group spent ample time together, either because of Teach for America classes or their Friday night drinks at Moby’s, a Fells Point bar. But there were also Andrews’ dinner parties. As the ”adult” of the group, said fellow cohort Joe Francaviglia, he’d host big dinner parties for his friends, where the group of 20 or so would eat “beautiful, multicourse meals” that included foods like grilled chicken, vegetables, full desserts and wine.

A few weeks ago, friends organized a “Vince dinner” with similar foods and a nice tablecloth, Francaviglia said. It was their way of celebrating the memory of the man who helped them “all grow up a little bit.”

The educator turned lawyer and politician died at the age of 36 on Jan. 28 after a two-year battle with cancer. He leaves behind his wife, Dr. Ilana Nelson-Greenberg; their 2-year-old son, Olivier; their dog, Linus; as well as his brother, Thomas, and his parents Isabelle and David Andrews, and the many friends who remembered him for his commitment to Baltimore.

Andrews was born in Miami, but went to elementary and middle school in the Boston region before returning to Miami in high school. He joined Teach for America, a nonprofit that disperses teachers across the country, after graduating from Cornell University, along with several other early 20-somethings, like Francaviglia, who came from Wisconsin.

“Leaving college, being thrust into a new city, not knowing anyone, it was just a really natural thing for everyone to kind of bond over the shared experience of being in this program together,” said Francavigilia, now the deputy director of Maryland’s Democratic Party.

Cooking was something both Andrews and his mother enjoyed. When his grandfather would have dinner parties in France, 7- or 8-year-old Andrews was responsible for choosing the wine. His grandfather would have him taste, but not drink, the beverage beforehand.

His mother’s family is from France, where Andrews spent a lot of his time, especially his summer vacations, where he learned how to sail. He was also fluent in French.

It was May 2020 when he met his wife. Sort of. Nelson-Greenberg, a Massachusetts native, had just moved to Baltimore. The two connected on a dating app before meeting in person. During their five-hour first date, Nelson-Greenberg discovered she had met Andrews before. They had been in the same kindergarten class in the Boston area. Andrews didn’t remember her, but she knew him and his brother as “the two French boys” who lived upstairs from her best friend.

The Johns Hopkins Medicine resident found Andrews almost “off-putting” at first. Not because he showed up with a pocket full of dog toys, but because he was so handsome. She thought he’d be a “bro,” but he turned out to be warm, kind and focused on everything she had to say.

“It was hard to date for other people during COVID, but it really helped our relationship,” she said. “By the second date, I said to him ‘You can’t touch other people. We have to be exclusive.’”

It was an easy agreement for Andrews. Nelson-Greenberg noted that at the start of the pandemic, Andrews was a bachelor. By the time he “emerged from COVID,” he had a wife, son and dog.

After teaching English at Patterson High School for two years, Andrews enrolled at the University of Maryland School of Law to study health care law. He later became an attorney for the University of Maryland Medical System before becoming an associate counsel at the University of Maryland Faculty Physicians Inc. in 2017.

Andrews was always politically engaged. His wife said he enjoyed knocking on hundreds of doors in 30-degree weather for a candidate. He loved talking to Baltimoreans and figuring out what the city needed to become better.

Politics was a way he and Francaviglia bonded. They shared a “love of fighting for those that are often left behind.” They’d volunteer for both local and national campaigns. And engaged in what Francaviglia called “throwdowns over different policies for candidates.”

In 2022, Andrews ran for state delegate in District 46. A “no-brainer” decision, according to his wife. It was the perfect role for him.

“The role of ‘Baltimore City needs its due, and the state is not giving us what we deserve, and I’m going to go represent Baltimore City at the state level and get us what we deserve,’” Nelson-Greenberg said of her husband’s attitude.

Andrews’ dad said his son didn’t make “endorsement kind of deals” despite being offered. And Francaviglia said after losing that race, Andrews had earned the respect of his opponents, which isn’t typical in political campaigns.

Andrews’ dad, David, said he had a gift of bringing people together. The politician’s elementary school teacher said he was a conflict mediator. His mom, Isabelle, described her son, who she said never got in a fight, as “gentle.”

Three close friends of his moved to Baltimore to be closer to him, said his wife, who is now pregnant with their second child. There was something about him that made people feel safe.

“I truly felt like I could get through anything with this man,” she said. “Any bad thing that came our way, I felt like I would survive.”

She called him an “unbelievable dad.” In Olivier’s first four weeks, Nelson-Greenberg never changed a diaper or soothed him back to sleep. Fatherhood, she said, was a role Andrews took seriously.

Olivier was 4 months old when Andrews was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer. Andrews was home often and “in lots of ways” became their son’s primary caregiver. He set high expectations for the infant, bringing him on trips and sharing his French culture. In his first two months of living, Olivier had a passport and French citizenship.

A couple weeks before Andrews was given his final diagnosis in early December, Francaviglia popped by to say hi. Instead of talking about cancer, the two discussed the same thing they’d been talking about for 14 years: politics. They were trying to unpack all that happened politically in 2024, and how to move forward.

“It was just like we were siting in the living room in 2016, 2017, saying, ‘All right, what’s next? How do we work together to get this done?”

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