Businessman, Filmmaker & Philanthropist John Devaney On Transforming Lives Through Impact-Driven Films
…It doesn’t take money to be generous. It can be as simple as being creative, using your voice, or advocating for something by writing an email. If you take just 5% or 10% of your energy every day and focus on being kind to others, I promise it will make your business better…
I had the pleasure of talking with John Devaney. John is a businessman, philanthropist, and advocate with a career spanning over two decades in finance and a growing influence in film production. Born and raised in the small community of Key Biscayne, Florida, Devaney’s childhood revolved around boating, fishing, and a tight-knit family environment. His early years were shaped by a sense of privilege, but also by personal challenges, including his father’s struggle with alcoholism and his brother’s involvement with a local gang known as the “Key Rats.”
Devaney’s academic journey reflected both potential and turbulence. After attending several prestigious boarding schools, including Christ School in North Carolina and Deerfield Academy, he faced expulsion for teenage missteps. Eventually, he returned to Miami, where he finished high school with a struggling GPA. Devaney credits his turning point to his time at Tallahassee Community College, where he found independence, discovered his academic potential, and began excelling. His academic revival continued at Colorado State University, where he earned straight A’s and double-majored in English and finance.
In parallel with his studies, Devaney began experimenting with entrepreneurship. During college, he leveraged creative financing strategies to purchase a house with no money down, generating rental income from his fraternity brothers. He also ran a bar during one summer break, honing his networking and business instincts. Devaney’s financial acumen became apparent early on when he made significant profits trading stock options — laying the foundation for a career that would eventually lead him to Wall Street.
After college, Devaney entered the world of bond trading, initially working for a small mortgage bond firm in Fort Lauderdale. In his mid-20s, he broke away to start his own firm with $500,000 in capital, quickly transforming it into a profitable enterprise. His expertise in trading government-backed and structured mortgage bonds enabled him to build a niche business that flourished in the late 1990s and early 2000s. At the height of his success, Devaney was managing large portfolios of complex securities, generating millions in revenue, and establishing himself as a leading speaker and expert in the field.
However, his rapid rise was not without setbacks. His firm suffered losses during the 1998 collapse of Long-Term Capital Management, and Devaney personally endured the emotional toll of his brother’s battle with addiction, which culminated in his brother’s tragic death. These experiences profoundly shaped Devaney’s outlook, motivating him to incorporate philanthropy into his business model. In 1999, he formalized a community reinvestment plan, pledging a portion of his earnings to charitable causes — a commitment that has persisted throughout his career.
Devaney’s business ventures continued to thrive until the 2007–2008 financial crisis, which dealt a significant blow to his firm. Forced to restructure, he sold assets, including artwork, real estate, and even his private jet, to stabilize the business. Despite these challenges, Devaney rebuilt his firm and maintained a presence in the mortgage bond market, weathering further economic shifts.
In recent years, Devaney has expanded his focus beyond finance to the film industry, supporting projects that align with his personal values. He became actively involved in two films: The Prince, directed by David Mamet, and City of Dreams, a film about child trafficking. Both films reflect themes that resonate with Devaney’s personal experiences — The Prince explores addiction and redemption, while City of Dreams raises awareness about exploitation and human trafficking. Devaney has taken a hands-on role in promoting these films, emphasizing their social impact and leveraging his business acumen to ensure they reach a wide audience.
Beyond film, Devaney has embraced mentorship and community building. His Bahamas estate, Manor House, serves as a hub for young people, where he hosts groups of high school and college students, offering internships, life lessons, and opportunities to connect through shared experiences. Devaney emphasizes the importance of kindness and generosity, encouraging young people to use their platforms for positive change. His family has also become involved in his business, with his children obtaining financial licenses and contributing to the operations of his brokerage firm.
Devaney’s efforts to integrate philanthropy with business extend to his current projects, including events focused on encouraging influencers to advocate for meaningful causes. His work reflects a shift from purely financial ambitions toward a broader mission of creating impact through storytelling, mentorship, and advocacy. With plans to expand his film studio, Devaney hopes to foster a community of like-minded individuals committed to promoting kindness and addressing critical social issues.
Today, Devaney continues to navigate the complexities of business, film production, and philanthropy, driven by a belief in the power of storytelling and human connection. His vision is to inspire others to embrace generosity, build meaningful relationships, and use their talents to make a lasting difference in the world.
John, it’s an honor to meet you. Before we dive in deep, our readers would love to learn about your personal origin story. Can you share with us a story of your childhood and how you grew up?
John: Okay, sure. I grew up on Key Biscayne, Florida. It was a sleepy kind of fishing town when I grew up, much different than today. It says a lot about how Miami has changed since then because Miami is a different city now. It’s very affluent, but it was much different when I was a child. And Key Biscayne especially was. It had about 3,000 residents, and now it’s 12,000. So, we were a small community. There was a drawbridge on the way out to Key Biscayne; now there’s this giant bridge. I grew up riding bicycles to school and all around town. We’d go to vacant lots with our fishing poles and fish. A lot of the young boys had little 8–9 foot dinghies with 5–7 horsepower motors. So, we’d take these little boats out, and then we all graduated to a 13-foot boat with a 25 horsepower motor. It was a big boating community. I grew up racing prams, sailboats, and lasers at the local yacht club, and I went to church every Sunday. My mom was very involved in St. Christopher’s, the Episcopalian Church, and she still is to this day. I was an acolyte. My dad was a baseball coach. And yeah, it was a wonderful community to grow up in.
I was a very good student. My mom was a teacher and tutored kids. She taught English as a second language when immigrants were moving here, then specialized in learning disabilities, and later tutored some gifted kids as well. So, I was a super overachiever — very high test scores, a gifted young man — and did very well in school until maybe around eighth or ninth grade. I started getting a bit distracted. I ended up going to a boarding school called Christ School in Arden, North Carolina. I did very well there. It was very formal — I wore a coat and tie to class, to sports, to dinner, and to church. I got the second-highest GPA. The school was very focused, with a lot of supervision. I was acting out a little bit in eighth grade, which is partly why I went there, but it turned out to be a great experience. Then I went to another boarding school. My dad went to Williams College, an amazing liberal arts school, and then to Georgetown Law School. He really believed in education, and he got me into Deerfield Academy, which feeds into schools like Hotchkiss and other Ivy League-type schools in the Northeast.
But for some reason, I moved from Christ School and went to a boarding school in Florida called St. Andrew’s, and I kind of got off track there. I did well in ninth grade, but in 10th grade, our prefect, who was a senior, encouraged us to sneak off campus on our bicycles. He even showed us how to buy beer at the farm stores and have parties with him, inviting girls. So, there was no supervision in the dorms like before. Anyway, I was just doing normal high school stuff, to be honest, but I ended up getting kicked out of there because he got in trouble, and we all did too. A girl reported a lot of us, and they expelled almost 10 of the 110 boarders. There were about 350 students total. So, I ended up back in Miami and went to public high school. I’ll talk about this in some of the movies and why I support “The Prince” honestly, just to give you some background.
Around that time, my brother started having some problems. My dad was an alcoholic. He was a partner in a law firm but struggled with this issue on and off. Alcoholism can affect people of all education levels, all levels of wealth — it doesn’t matter. So, my dad had that issue, and it created some challenges for our family growing up, especially with my mom. Even though he had been sober for a couple of years, my mom divorced him. He was very upset, moved out, quit his job, and it really changed our family dynamic. He said he wasn’t going to work anymore, that he was just going to quit. It created a lot of challenges for my brother and me. My brother dropped out of high school and joined the local gang, the Key Rats. They weren’t really serious troublemakers, but they hung out and rode around together.
Eventually, I’m going to write a book because the experience at Key Biscayne was so different from Miami. It’s kind of like The Outsiders, you know, the movie and the book, The Outsiders. There was some really interesting stuff happening at Key Biscayne, especially with the Key Rats. The Key Rats would ride around in groups of five. They were kind of like beach hippies. They rode cruiser bikes and were proud of not wearing shirts or needing shoes. So just imagine kids in jean shorts or khakis — that’s all they had. They hustled around, didn’t go to school, and would hang out at this gas station called Iancard around two o’clock every day, drinking 16-ounce Bud tall boys out of paper bags. A lot of them had dropped out of school. Some of the Key Rats were as old as 25. Unfortunately, we lost my brother to the Key Rats.
Some of them probably got involved in petty theft, like stealing car radios or dealing weed and that kind of stuff. But I was trying to stay committed to school. I was in the International Baccalaureate program and took all the AP classes. My grades were all over the place — I’d get all A’s and then skip school and get an F on a report card. I was in public school now, after growing up with what you’d call privilege, you know, going to private school with parents who had good jobs. But now my mom was really struggling to support us. My dad didn’t provide any financial support for the rest of his life after my parents split. My mom was making $25 an hour teaching kids, struggling to pay the property taxes. It was a tough time for me — I was angry at everything. I ended up graduating with a 1.8 GPA, which is like a D plus. And I didn’t have many opportunities or know what to do next.
A lot of people from my grade — what you might call the burnouts — ended up going to community college because they were kind of lost. I wasn’t exactly a burnout, but I was mixed up. So, I went to Tallahassee Community College right next to FSU, and I had this realization. It was what I needed to be independent. I started putting effort into school, talking in class, sitting in the front row. I just wanted to do something for myself. And that really snowballed and empowered me. I started making straight A’s. Then a friend of mine was going to Colorado State and said, “John, you should come to Colorado State with me.” This was back in the day — no cell phones, no computers, just fax machines. So, you’d either mail your college application or, if you were last-minute, maybe fax it.
I called the admissions department. I’m very persuasive, always have been, and I spoke to a woman there — I think her name was Judy. I explained my whole situation. I said, “My parents split up, I’m really smart, I’ve got great test scores, but my GPA is bad. Can you give me a chance?” She told me, “Your GPA is so low, this is really difficult. It’s December 20th, the school is closing the day after tomorrow for Christmas, and I don’t know if we can make this happen.” But I kept pushing, asking if there was anything she could do. Finally, she said, “If you can meet me on January 5th, the day we reopen, I might be able to get you in for the first semester on probation.”
So, I drove my 1974 Volkswagen camper across the country with my friend Chris. We packed up all our belongings and made the trip. I met with Judy, and she sat me down and said, “I’m really sticking my neck out for you. You need to apply yourself here. You need to come meet with me every month, and I’m going to keep an eye on you. I’m giving you a chance.” And it really changed my life. Honestly, because I started trying in school, I showed her I could do it — I ended up getting the highest grades in my classes.
I’d get the highest grades — 100%, 98%. A lot of it was multiple choice, but it came pretty easily to me. I kept a 4.0 for three years straight and double-majored. I started reading books on entrepreneurship, and after my first semester, I bought a house with no money down. I learned about this from books and tapes by Charles Givens that I bought off a TV commercial using my first credit card — it cost around 200 bucks. The tapes explained how you could assume VA loans without even qualifying and negotiate with the seller for a second mortgage. That’s how you could buy a house with no money down.
We found a seller who needed to move — they worked for Oracle and got transferred to Denver. They saw me as this ambitious college student who said he had rich fraternity brothers lined up, which I did. I showed them the house — it had a hot tub, sauna, pool room. It was the coolest five-bedroom place, about four miles from campus in a nice residential neighborhood with doctors and lawyers around. We rented out the rooms for 350 bucks each, which would be like a thousand today. That meant 350 dollars of free cash flow every month. It got me started on a journey of entrepreneurship and thinking big. The next summer, I partnered with the owners of the Shore Club Hotel to run a bar they had in another hotel nearby called the Sassoon. The bar had been closed, so I went to bartending school, and they gave me a third of the cash register.
What they didn’t know was that one of the reasons I had a 1.8 GPA in high school was that I used to throw huge parties. I had like 10 keg shells stacked behind the family shed, hidden between the shed and the neighbor’s fence. I was known for having the biggest parties and knew everyone in my age group. That summer, I made about 80 grand in cash, all stored in a shoebox. I went back to college, redecorated my house, bought a water ski boat, a second car, dirt bikes, a cross-country motorcycle. I started splurging. But at the same time, I kept making straight A’s in school.
Then I learned about stock options in class. Someone was bragging that their dad, who worked at Merrill Lynch, knew Motorola was going to have some big earnings. I didn’t even know what a stock rebound was, but I told my roommates, “Hey, this guy’s dad works at Merrill Lynch.” Of course, looking back, I didn’t realize that with 5,000 brokers, they might not know much more than anyone else. But I was only 19 or 20 then, in my junior year, so I took a chance. I had some money saved, so I put $3,000 into buying call options at 50 cents each. I sold them for $2.50 and got back about $12,500. Then I bought more out-of-the-money call options and won that trade eight out of eight times. The bets got bigger — $15,000, then $10,000, and I’d make $25,000 back.
By my senior year, I had turned about $30,000 into over $100,000. I sold my house and had my English and finance double major. That whole experience made me very ambitious and really turned things around for me. After graduation, I got a job with a mortgage bond trader in Fort Lauderdale — a real guy from New York.
They had just started this company, and I was like the fourth employee. I was his assistant, and I learned a lot about bonds. I created a tool in Excel that sorted all the bond offerings that came in on faxes. The company grew to around 35 employees, with sales guys and offices in several cities. The next year, they let me move into sales, and I became the number two salesperson right away, out of about 15. These were seasoned guys, but I had my data tool that I showed to some insurance companies. My first client was Travelers Insurance, and they appreciated that I was polite, had good manners, and was different from others in the business. I would write letters to clients, sending Manila envelopes with things I was reading, which was unusual in the bond business where most people just pester you over the phone. It really resonated with people.
The tool I created was called Value Books. It had all the bonds in the agency mortgage bond sector — bonds backed by Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, so they were government-backed. A lot of insurance companies and money managers buy these bonds because they’re seen as very safe, similar to treasuries. My tool tracked every bond that a dealer was offering — there were about 30 or 40 dealers. I would take the dealer’s name off the file and give my clients a disk with all the information. It helped me build a strong following. I stayed there for two years.
Unfortunately, during that time, my brother, who I had moved out to Colorado State and got into school on a GED, started struggling again. He had a tough history with drugs and alcohol from his time with the Key Rats. He seemed to be doing better for a while — he lived with me for a year, then got his own apartment, and even took a medicine that made him sick if he drank, which helped him try to get on the right path.
But after I graduated, something went wrong. He went into a downward spiral, driving around the country for about a month, drinking the whole time. He quit school and showed up on our doorstep. His car was filled with liquor bottles and trash, and he was in a really bad place. We tried to get him help, but he wouldn’t accept it. Eventually, I was back working in Fort Lauderdale, and my mom told him that he couldn’t stay with her if he wasn’t willing to get help. He ended up turning to crack cocaine just as it became more widespread and affordable in Miami. It was everywhere, and he got deeply addicted. He ended up moving into the ghettos of Overtown, living in crack dens. He passed away when I was 25, and he was 26. It had a huge impact on me.
After that, I fell into a deep depression. I wouldn’t leave my apartment in Fort Lauderdale. Some friends helped me snap out of it, and I eventually went back to work. But the company’s other partner, Todd, called me into the conference room. He said, “You can’t just not return our calls and disappear for a month. These accounts are the company’s, not yours.” I was a top producer, so my absence was costing them money, and he was really upset. He started yelling at me in the conference room right after I came back from bereavement. He was a tall guy — about 6’4″, and I’m 6’1″. We were standing face-to-face, and I just looked at him and said, “Look, man, I don’t need to work for you.” I grabbed my sales book, which had all my notes, and walked out the door. I decided right then that I was going to start my own business.
So, I walked out with no backup plan. I didn’t really know how to start a broker-dealer, but a family in Miami who lived on Key Biscayne had one. I wrote a business plan and pitched them, saying, “I think I can build a great business.” I had saved up about $250,000 from my sales work, and this guy put in another $250,000. We set up a trading account for me to trade mortgage bonds and grow the business. I hired 10 people, and I was just 26 years old. Some guys who joined me had left the previous company — they were big traders who weren’t getting along with the management there. They had families, kids in high school, and they took a chance by joining me, a 26-year-old trader.
We took that $500,000 and turned it into $10 million in 20 months. The business really took off. I wasn’t the main bond trader — I was more of a sales guy — but I was really good at bond trading even at a young age. We ended up doing more business and making more profit than the company I left, which had 35 employees, while we only had 10 in our little group.
And then that firm, when this financial crisis called Long-Term Capital hit in 1998, it was the first big financial crisis where the Federal Reserve had to step in and bail out the banking system. It wasn’t as severe as the Great Financial Crisis, but Long-Term Capital had around $40–50 billion in loans that they had borrowed, which caused major ripple effects in the stock market. My firm had set up a division with traders they hired from another company to trade equities, and they took some big stock positions using a lot of borrowed money. One of the stocks they held heavily was a $20 million position, and it dropped to $5. Our clearing firm sold them out, and it bankrupted the company. I lost a portion of my earnings in that collapse.
But, you know, sometimes when you stumble, it can push you in a new direction that ends up being really positive. Challenges can turn out to be a blessing, even if you don’t realize it at the time.
That was just the first of several challenges I had to face. I had some savings left, so I bought a brokerage firm for about $150,000. It was a shell company with all the necessary licenses, and that’s when I started United Capital Markets. I was 28 years old, and I really got things going in February of 1999. I did my first trades then, which marked the start of what has now been a 26-year journey owning a leading firm that trades mortgage-backed securities, like I mentioned earlier. I trade commercial mortgage-backed securities and another sector called asset-backed securities, which includes things like airplane loans, credit card loans, automobile loans, and even gas station loans. It covers a wide range of assets and is a very significant part of the bond market. It’s now larger than the entire corporate bond market — second only to the U.S. Treasury market. I’ve been deeply involved in that market.
Anyway, in ’99, we got things up and running, and we had a great first year. I was still very good at trading those bonds.
Can you tell us about the social impact projects you are working on now?
John: Recently, I’ve been using my voice to talk to young people about the importance of being kind and generous. I’ve become very passionate about supporting films that have purpose and meaning. Since March, I’ve been so inspired that I’ve dedicated a lot of my time to it, even though my business is still doing well — making two or three million bucks a month. I used to make even more, like five to 10 million a month when I was fully focused on bond trading. But I retired for a while, then came back, and now we have a solid business. But I’ve put some of that on the back burner.
There’s a significant opportunity cost for me to advocate for these films right now and to build a team to create a studio that can really make an impact by backing meaningful films. But this is something my heart is driving me to do. My family is behind me, but it’s a bit of a risk for us DuVaneys because my business overhead is about a million bucks a month. So, we have to keep our revenue up. We’ve made some sacrifices recently to support these two films that I’ll tell you about. But to finish the business story a bit, I found myself talking to a group of influencers, some young celebrities, after a red carpet event.
I was telling them, “You have a voice, and you can use it, especially as influencers. You’re putting yourselves out there to get views. Some of you dance, some of you act or make skits, others are travel bloggers — there are all kinds of content creators out there. The digital world is changing so fast, and you have the ability to make an impact.” This was after we’d done a big red carpet screening in Miami for City of Dreams, a very heartfelt story. I’ll get into that in a bit. Tony Robbins, Vivek Ramaswamy, and some other big names were there. I ended up making an impromptu speech to close the event during a Q&A session.
Afterward, everyone went to an after-party, and I had about 12 of these young people waiting to talk to me. I told them, “You have an important voice, and you can use it. It doesn’t take money to be generous. It can be as simple as being creative, using your voice, or advocating for something by writing an email. If you take just 5% or 10% of your energy every day and focus on being kind to others, I promise it will make your business better. It did for me. It strengthened my long-term relationships and made people feel very connected to me. I highly recommend you do that. And it doesn’t have to be about supporting City of Dreams. I’m just giving you advice based on my experience. I’m in a position now where I feel I can use my voice to influence others positively.”
And I told them the story that I’ll share with you now. In my first year, back in 1999, I was at my bond trading desk when a client of mine in Orlando said, “John, these nice ladies want to meet with you.” I said, “OK.” They drove all the way from Orlando and brought a TV with a little VHS cassette. They showed me a film about their farm, where they did therapy with horses for kids with disabilities, kids with terminal illnesses, and kids in the foster care system. They had been running the program for over 10 years, but their main benefactor had died, and they lost their funding. The horses were going hungry, and they needed just $5,000 to get by.
As I listened to them and watched their video, I felt this connection to them. They were asking for $5,000, but I thought, “That’s nothing. What are you going to do with $5,000? I’ll give you $50,000.” I was making a lot of money back then, and no one had ever asked me for help before. So, I called over my CFO, Alan, and asked him to get the checkbook. I was busy, so I said goodbye to the ladies, sat back down at my desk with my four monitors — like all bond traders have — and got back to work. About an hour later, I made a trade that earned me $250,000. Up until that point, it was the biggest trade of my life. Money wasn’t worth as much back then, so that was a huge deal. I really felt like the universe was giving back to me. It felt like it was all meant to happen.
That experience inspired me to write a community reinvestment plan, which you can still find on my website, unitedcalifornia.com. I made a pledge that year in 1999 to give back to my community. I felt that a portion of our earnings should go to helping others. I was in my 20s, and I just felt inspired to make a difference.
Over time, I became an advocate for speaking up for others and being a positive example in my community. We’ve supported around 100 different philanthropies and given away tens of millions of dollars. As my earnings grew, so did my ability to give back. The next year, when I was 30, I made $25 million. Back then, there were no easy cash-ins like with internet startups. It wasn’t like today, where companies go public and get rich overnight. This was real, hard work, competing against Wall Street — except we were operating from a small island with no Wall Street training.
I moved from trading government-backed bonds to more complex bonds, where different tranches — like B, C, D, E, F, G — had varying risks. If the collateral, like mortgage loans or auto loans, defaulted, the lower-rated tranches would get wiped out first. I focused on trading the B, C, and D tranches, which were the riskiest. I built models for it — I was really good at modeling and sales. This kind of structured finance was just being invented in the 90s, right when I got into it, and not many people knew how to trade these products. I became really good at it. With my background in English and finance, I started writing white papers and quickly became an industry expert. I spoke at conferences about three times a year and became a leading speaker in the field. The following year, when I was 31, I made $45 million.
My success kept growing, and I stayed connected to my community. In 2003, we made $110 million in net income on $130 million in revenue. I was 33, and that year really changed everything. Raymond James, a public company with 20,000 employees, made $90 million that year. And here I was — just John DeVaney — with a team of about 20 people, working out of a four-bedroom 1960s house. Some of us had to park at a nearby church and walk over to the house because it was in a residential neighborhood. But we had a good relationship with the community. Code enforcement, the police, and even the fire department — everyone was friendly with us. That year, I bought the biggest office building on Key Biscayne, a 40,000-square-foot building, and we moved in there. We kept growing and eventually had 115 employees. We even started an asset management and hedge fund business.
That hedge fund had phenomenal returns, leading the industry with over 40% returns for our investors two years in a row. I seeded the fund with $100 million, and it grew to $400 million in the first year, then to a billion. But then the global financial crisis hit in 2007. Like many others, we took heavy losses. I probably lost about $170 million. But it was still an accomplishment to have built up that kind of capital by the time I was 37. I had earned, paid taxes, and saved up a significant amount.
To recover, I sold off some assets — like my $55 million art collection at Sotheby’s. I sold my jet for $36 million, my helicopter for $10 million, and my yacht for $22 million. I sold my office building for $24 million and rented the space back. We sold some properties on Key Biscayne too. It helped us get back on our feet. We had a big business with a $3–4 million overhead, so it was about survival at that point. It was a tough time — I had to let go of a lot of people, but we slowly built back up and did well again until about 2018.
At that point, I retired. I retired for about two and a half years. I was just really tired and felt like I was chasing the wrong things. I was so competitive, but some of my friends and people close to me said, “John, you’ve already won. What are you chasing?” One of my friends had sold his advertising company that handled the Nike account, and he started spending time with his family and encouraged me to do the same. He convinced me to slow down and work less.
My daughter was 15, and I wasn’t really around to teach her how to drive or help her get her learner’s permit. You know, bond traders start work at 8 AM and come back home around 7:30 or 8 PM. You don’t see your family much during the week, just on weekends. So, all of a sudden, I found myself driving carpool every day. I had this 1967 bus, and I’d fill it up with kids. It was pretty unsafe — no seat belts — and all these parents trusted me with their kids. Nowadays, with airbags and safety standards, it’s crazy to think about. But that’s how it was. I became like “Mr. Dad.” I even taught 12 or 13 kids how to get their Florida Safe Boater card when they turned 14, and I gave them all boat lessons. My kids started using our boats, and I taught them and their friends how to spearfish and freedive. I took them on all kinds of trips.
I started mentoring a lot of these kids at my property called Manor House in the Bahamas. I bought it during that big year in 2003. It’s a big estate with gardens, guest houses, a spa, and a large dining hall. The property is over 100 years old, and it has a magical feel. So during that time, I wasn’t working. And then in 2020, when COVID hit, my middle daughter’s best friend got an internship, and she was a junior in high school. She came to me and said, “Dad, I want to intern.” I asked, “Oh, really? With who?” And she said, “Well, with you.” I was like, “But the office only pays our bills. What are we going to do?” And she reminded me of our family motto, “DeVaneys never quit.” I told her, “I didn’t quit, honey.” And she said, “No, I think you quit.”
That hit me hard. So I grabbed her, and I said, “Let’s go.” She had just finished school for the summer, so I took her straight to my office. I turned on all my computers, and we talked for three nights in a row until 2 AM. I taught her a lot about our business, about bond trading, and we started ramping everything back up. My kids have done five internships with me now. When the other two heard there was money involved, they wanted in too. That summer, we made around $8 million. We shifted from trading asset-backed bonds and residential bonds to dealing with very complex commercial mortgage bonds that were hit hard by COVID — malls and hotels that had closed, defaults, all these big issues. I’m kind of an expert at trading distressed assets.
We got the business back up and running. The next summer, my middle daughter secretly studied for the Series 7 exam — it’s a huge book — and she passed it right when she turned 18 and graduated. She even started an intern program of her own. The next summer, she had around 12 interns. So, I found myself mentoring all these kids during the summers through our internship program. My other two kids got their Series 7 licenses too — my oldest daughter that summer, and then my son later on. Now, they’ve all become licensed, and they’re helping with the business. It’s starting to feel like a real family business, and they’re being groomed to take over my brokerage firm. My plan is to pass it on to them. They’re smart and have contributed a lot, and I feel so blessed that my kids are now so connected with their father.
And because I started connecting with the interns a few years back, I began hiring live music to create a fun atmosphere and to support being kind of a cool older guy. It made the kids want to work hard during the summers. I started bringing groups of high school and college kids to the Manor House — big groups, like 20 to 30 kids, sometimes even 40. Over the last three years, we’ve hired between 55 and 60 live bands per year. It’s really about supporting the kids and mentoring them. Sure, we host clients from my business there too, but that’s probably only 20% of the time. Another 10% is for family reunions. The other 70% is all about these groups of kids. We encourage them to share their experiences at our big tables — we have one that seats 24 in these big linen chairs inside our dining hall, and another that seats 10. It’s a special place that fosters sharing, fellowship, and creativity with music.
We even have about 30 cruiser bikes that the kids painted in Bahamian colors like pink and white. We go on bike rides around the island with my giant JBL megaboom speaker blasting Bob Marley. We ride all around the island in a big group with all these college kids. It’s been an incredible way to build connections and teach these young people, and I feel like I’ve been able to make a real impact.
Can you tell us about the films you have been working on?
John: Recently in March, I invested in this movie called The Prince. David Mamet wrote the script, and it really struck a chord with me because the hero in the story is addicted to crack cocaine. It reminded me a lot of my brother. The story is exciting — it’s about a guy who lives in two worlds, one of privilege, much like how I grew up, with a wealthy uncle and a life full of power and money, and another in a seedy underworld. He interacts with these gritty characters, like the one played by Nicolas Cage in our movie. We have an incredible cast — Nicolas Cage plays a pimp, J.K. Simmons is the wealthy uncle, and Andy Garcia, who’s actually my neighbor from Key Biscayne, joined the project. He told me, “John, Hollywood is risky. You need all the help you can get, and I’ll be in your movie.” He loved the script and became part of the team.
Our lead actor is Scott Haze. And this is kind of off the record, but Scott Haze once brought David Mamet to a second Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I heard that, and it resonated with me. I don’t drink myself — I quit when my wife was pregnant with our first child, and my daughter is 22 now. I realized it wasn’t for me. I think it’s in your genes sometimes; alcohol can be really unhealthy for some people, especially with a family history like mine. When I learned about the story behind The Prince, I was drawn to it because it deals with addiction. Giancarlo Esposito joined the team, and the cast is just incredible. They all loved David Mamet’s script, which isn’t what people might expect.
I feel bad because David Mamet mentioned on Bill Maher that The Prince took some inspiration from Hunter Biden’s life, but the movie isn’t about him. It’s more about a character who could be like him, someone struggling between these two worlds. It’s an important story that I felt needed to be told, so I wish he hadn’t made that comparison. I don’t want the movie to seem like it’s exploiting anyone’s troubles. The story itself is very complex. The hero meets this character, Charles, played by Giancarlo, at a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting. The hero had saved a girl from attempting suicide in a bathroom stall — she was very depressed, and he had his own issues. He had originally gone to the meeting for the wrong reasons, to pick up women. There’s a lot of satire in the movie, showing the lengths addicts and those who exploit others will go to.
The hero is torn between these worlds — his uncle asks him to arrange prostitutes for a yacht party, and the movie opens with him in a morally compromised situation. He’s on a couch in a suit, seemingly talking to a therapist, but when the camera pulls back, you see a girl putting on fishnet stockings, and he’s in his underwear. You realize, “Oh my God, this is a prostitute.” He’s living in that world of exploitation and poor choices. But then, at the Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting, he meets Charles, played by Giancarlo, who serves as a Christ-like figure, representing God. It’s a really special role because Charles guides the hero, helping him to see the possibility of making better choices.
Even in their first meeting, Charles tells the hero, “You did a great thing today, saving that girl.” The hero, who’s strung out with red eyes, says, “I didn’t do anything,” but Charles responds, “God brought you here to save that girl and to save yourself.” That line sets the tone for their relationship. Charles appears like an angel throughout the story, delivering profound monologues. When Giancarlo delivers those lines, you could hear a pin drop in the theater — they’re that powerful. But like many stories about addicts, the hero doesn’t listen right away, and the story goes through all the ups and downs of his chaotic life.
The hero’s journey is full of twists — he goes from being the family’s black sheep to blackmailing his uncle for a promotion so he can handle the family business. Suddenly, he’s living a life of luxury, with drivers, jets, helicopters, and international business deals. But as he rises, he’s also dealing with threats and blackmail from dangerous people. He becomes paranoid, thinking his family has turned their back on him, even though they haven’t. He’s so out of control that he ends up seeking protection from the very underworld characters he’s been trying to escape. They slam a metal door on him, rejecting him, and he finds himself packing up to go on the run.
That’s when Charles appears again, offering him a drink. The hero, feeling guilty, admits he wants a drink, he wants drugs. But then Charles says, “Do you want something better?” The hero looks up, confused, and Charles says, “Admit to God, yourself, and another human the nature of your wrongs.” That’s the fifth step in Alcoholics Anonymous. It’s a pivotal moment. Charles is acting as a God-like figure, but the hero can’t open up to him. Instead, he lets in Susan, the girl he saved earlier. They hold hands and start crying. For the first time, the hero begins to let his guard down, to admit his mistakes. He’s starting to move out of denial — taking those crucial first steps toward recovery.
From there, the movie moves towards its conclusion, filled with self-reflection and moments where the audience begins to feel real empathy for the hero. That’s one of the two films I have coming out, and it’s set to release around December or January. It’s been an incredible journey, and I’m so excited to see how it will impact people.
Tell us about City of Dreams?
John: Then there’s the other movie, City of Dreams. It tells the story of a young boy who is tricked with promises of attending a soccer camp, only to be trafficked across the border and forced to work in a sweatshop. Despite everything, this boy shows incredible courage, standing up to his captors multiple times throughout the story. He’s mute, so he can’t even use his voice to resist, but he’s still brave. Towards the end of the movie, there are these really creative dream sequences that the director, Mohit Ramshandani, used to give the boy a way to mentally escape the terrible situation he’s trapped in.
In these dreams, the boy escapes the dark, dungeon-like world of the sweatshop, where everything is bleak and the colors are dull and oppressive. Then suddenly, he’s a soccer superstar in London. The colors shift to bright, vivid whites and greens — the white jerseys, the green soccer pitch. He’s dribbling the ball, the crowd is cheering for him. At first, the crowd’s cheers are faint, but the sound builds louder and louder, filling the theater. These moments last maybe 20 seconds each, but they’re a huge emotional release for the audience, who feel like they’re on a roller coaster of hope and despair. Just as quickly, he’s snapped back to the grim reality, and this cycle repeats a few times. The movie ends with the sound of the cheering crowd, even though you don’t see the visuals. It’s a powerful and emotional finish.
After the children are saved in the story, there’s a reel where the young actor speaks directly to the camera, explaining why he wanted to be part of this movie. He talks about how shocked he was to learn that child trafficking is such a widespread issue, even right here in the United States. The end credits run news clips from shows like Good Morning America, The Today Show, CNN, MSNBC — showing reports of automakers, cereal companies, and other corporations being caught using child labor, often involving undocumented kids. Even I didn’t realize how common this problem was until I saw the movie. I remember thinking, “How could this be happening?” It hit me so hard that I cried during the screening.
That night, I spoke with the director, Mo, until about 2 in the morning. I finished watching the film at 10 PM, and he shared his whole journey with me, why he felt so driven to make this movie and raise awareness about this issue. The film was incredibly creative, and I thought it was outstanding — definitely a thriller, though it’s difficult to watch at times because of the way it depicts the abuse of children. It kept me awake that night, tossing and turning. The filmmakers had a budget of around $5 million and planned to open on just 70 screens, but they wanted to reach 800 or even 1,000 screens, which meant they needed more funding for advertising.
I had already invested in The Prince, but the next day, I called them up and said, “I’ll give you the money. This message is so important, it needs to reach a larger audience.” It fit with what I was feeling about the other movie, and I knew this was a story that had to be told. Working on City of Dreams has connected me with an incredible community of people who are so generous and committed to making the movie better and raising awareness about child trafficking. So many people have stepped up — like Lisa Gerrard, a renowned composer who initially quoted $250,000 for her work but then decided to do it for free, only needing about $10,000 to $15,000 for the orchestra.
Luis Fonsi, the famous singer known for “Despacito,” donated his time to sing a theme song called City of Dreams. Linda Perry, a highly respected songwriter, wrote the song. She was so moved, she cried just like the rest of us did.
And Tony Robbins got involved after seeing the film. He lives up in Palm Beach, and he immediately joined our group. Even though he’s incredibly busy with his motivational business and helping people all over the world, he’s been so dedicated to this cause. He has a private plane, but he makes time to show up at all the events we’re doing. I’ve done nine TV podcast appearances to use my voice for this cause, and he’s done ten. He isn’t making a cent from it — he’s just a warm and generous person. He’s even gone undercover to expose child trafficking rings. He went to Haiti undercover and unfortunately uncovered sex trafficking rings involving young girls. He was trying to understand how such evil can exist in the world. He and his wife support a number of organizations that work to prevent child trafficking, child exploitation, and child abuse.
Vivek Ramaswamy is another one. He’s a billionaire and a very successful businessman, and he’s been traveling to all the events with us too. We’re all business leaders using our resources and voices to raise awareness on this important issue. We’ve also had support from people like Mira Sorvino, who’s been fighting for children for over 20 years. She’s appeared in three films advocating for raising awareness about child exploitation, sometimes even without charging a fee. And beyond that, we’ve had over a hundred celebrities and influencers create testimonial videos to support the cause. You can find some of those videos on our website, cityofdreams.com. It’s amazing to see this community coming together.
Seeing all these people step up has been really inspiring for me. It made me realize that there are so many people out there who want to be kind and make a difference, and I feel like I’m right in the middle of that movement. The name “Manor House” couldn’t be more fitting for what we’re trying to do. It’s like a home, a place with rooms dedicated to different aspects of the community we’re building. It’s become a symbol for this network of like-minded people who genuinely want to help others. Part of my mission now is to grow this community even more — to encourage a thousand, then 2,000 influencers, actors, and leaders to support causes that matter and to back films that have a real impact.
At its core, our mission is about being kind to others. I think that’s something the world really needs right now — just a commitment to kindness and helping those who are vulnerable. It’s such a simple idea, but in this day and age, it feels revolutionary. I want to build something that revolves around that, and I believe we can make a real difference together.
And so, you know, one of the other “rooms” in this whole thing will be dedicated to philanthropy. We’re going to give back a lot of our earnings. I already give to philanthropy, so this could be another way to do it. If we have a big hit, like if The Prince makes $100 million, we’ll take $10–15 million and put it straight into philanthropy. We’ll hire a whole team for that. Right now, we’re building out a team with about 10 people — film crew, editors, copywriters, digital ad buyers, a digital marketing manager, a social media manager, and a producer. One of the rooms will be focused on creating content for the Manor House channel. We’re planning to go into communities, film there, and I’ll be alongside celebrities and influencers, actually doing acts of kindness together. That’s going to be a big part of our identity.
We’ll create short-form content, write short stories — things like that. I wish I could show you, I have it on my phone right here. We’re hiring a very famous writer who’s really excited to join us. And this whole project is kind of infectious; people hear about it and want to be a part of it. We even have a famous social media star who’s interested. We put together a great movie reel with the help of a company called The Mill, and she saw it and wanted to be a writer for us, creating all kinds of short-form content. She’s a well-known TikToker named Elena Gone, and she’s popular with high school kids. She does this series called “If I Made a Movie…” where she imagines different movie ideas based on fan suggestions. She can play two or three different characters herself and then brings in other people. Her clips range from three to ten minutes. She even just wrote and directed her first feature film.
Nahir, our producer, worked with her and has been introducing us to great people. Nahir really loves the community aspect of what we’re doing and all the creative ideas we have. She told me, “Wow, you’ve got the resources, and you’re serious about making content focused on kindness and not just films?” And I said, “Yeah, because we need to build a big community. These films — like The Prince — require huge investments, like $25 million. It’s risky as anything. We need a community that believes in what we’re doing, that respects and supports our mission, especially if we want to compete with Hollywood.”
Hollywood has this massive marketing machine, and breaking in as an outsider is incredibly difficult. Sometimes, they’re not interested in backing certain kinds of movies, and I don’t know why. So, I think our mission has the potential to resonate with a lot of people in America if we approach it the right way. We’re building up our camera team, creative team, and all of that. It’s so inspiring, and just yesterday, we got some news that blew us away.
I wish I could share my screen right now. I’m not the most tech-savvy, but let me share the beginning of this new story we’re working on. It goes like this:
“This is not a story of a particular person but something that exists within all of us. Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there stood a house. But this wasn’t just any house. This was a place of wonders, where magic lived — not the kind of magic you can see, but the kind you feel with every step, in every breath. It wasn’t just a place, not just a house — it was a feeling, a home, a connection to something powerful, meaningful, and inspiring. This is Manor House Films. Like any home, it’s built on a foundation — not just of bricks and walls but of stories. Stories that matter, stories that move hearts, change minds, and create a better world. Every room in this house holds a piece of that magic — a story that has the power to change you. Four of this house are the values of kindness and doing good. This kindness is what turns a house into a home. The message of Manor House Films is to inspire others to be kind, to make a difference in the world, and to empower others to see that they, too, have homes in their hearts. Every room, no matter its purpose, carries this heart with it. This is the story and the heart of Manor House Films, but this is just the beginning.”
That’s the essence of what we’re trying to build — a place where kindness is the foundation, where stories have the power to inspire and make a real impact. It’s about creating a community where people want to be a part of something bigger, something that makes the world better. And we’re just getting started.
So she’s been talking to us for a couple of days, and we’ve been collaborating on all of this. I had the idea of the “rooms,” and she’s been listening and helping shape it. We’re going to make content like this, and we think it will help build the community. So that’s my vision for Manor House Films — to create a space where we bring people together through events and projects. We’re planning to host events for celebrities and influencers, encouraging them to use their voices collectively. I’m using mine, and I want them to use theirs too.
Our first event is with a charity called Love Has No Limits at my house on October 4th. I live in the house that was featured in Scarface, on Key Biscayne. Everyone loves the elevator that Michelle Pfeiffer used in the movie. Honestly, we didn’t think much of it at first, because people take photos of it from boats and do tours, but now that I’m in the movie business, people go crazy over it. The house has a giant yard, and we even have a one-acre helicopter pad over the water — it’s a ridiculous event space. So, we’re partnering with Love Has No Limits, which organizes Good Neighbor Day events where thousands of people do great things in cities like Miami and LA. We’re expecting about 125 of the biggest influencers, and some of them supposedly have around 400 million followers. I’m going to talk to everyone and encourage them to be kind to others, and that’s the beginning of creating a community focused on doing positive things.
I have so many questions, but I want to pull it all together. You’re a person of enormous influence because of your great work and the platform that you’ve built. If you could spread an idea or inspire a movement that would bring the most good to the most people, what would that be?
John: Well, it’s kind of what I’m doing right now. This is it — this is the idea. And it’s funny that you use the word “movement,” because that’s exactly what I think we’re creating. It’s like a snowball rolling down a hill, gathering more and more momentum. It’s just taking shape, and I’m inspired by so many people who want to help. That’s why I’m building out this whole team. I feel like we went over quite a bit today, but I’m happy to continue the conversation.
No, really, it was amazing. Your story is incredibly inspirational, and I’m so grateful that you shared it. I’ll turn this into a great article.
John: Oh, and we’re looking at funding a third film right now — it’s about an immigrant family from Miami, a really heartwarming story about two siblings. The brother is chasing a sports career at all costs, and it takes a toll on him, while the sister dedicates herself to a life of giving. It’s a beautiful script, perfect for us. We’re still deciding whether to move forward, but we really love the story and the people involved.
Anyway, let’s keep in touch over email, and I’m happy to get back on the phone whenever you’re ready. I really enjoyed our conversation today — it was great.
Interviewer: It’s been an honor. I hope you have continued success in all your work. You’re truly making a difference.
John: Thank you so much. That means a lot to me. It’s not easy — we’re fighting for it, but we’re passionate about it. Okay, we’ll talk soon.
Businessman, Filmmaker & Philanthropist John Devaney On Transforming Lives Through Impact-Driven… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.