Adventures of RealtorMan

Guy Karon had heard of the acronym NIMBY before. The ‘Not in my back yard’ way of thinking. There wasn’t much objection when he built his new, industrial strength ferry dock on this side of the lake but it had caused some concern on the other side, where there was a more resort style community. He was on the other side of the issue this time. He really did object to this new development next door and wanted to light a fire under the other residents to see if it could be stopped.

He was the first to arrive at Bert Steinhardt’s door the morning of the meeting.

“Good morning, come on in.” welcomed Bert. ” This is my bloodhound, Pocano. I’ll just leave the door open for the others. Coffee?”

Helping himself to a cup, Guy said, “I guess everyone is coming except Lori Hazell. She called me yesterday to say that she was going in this morning for treatment of gallstones. Glad I don’t have to deal with that. Although I have to say this proposed  development is galling enough as it is.”

Hans tapped at the door and came in,  somewhat overwhelmed by the size and volume of the penthouse and amazed that his unit and this one were in the same building. He joined them over coffee.

“I have a few more details about the proposal…” he was beginning, when Jack Pardoe and Earnest arrived together.  They all sat down at the dining room table, passing around the offered treats, while Pocano kept one watchful eye on the men and a hopeful one on the floor.

“Are we going to have a chair for this committee?” inquired Earnest. “Perhaps it would be better if one of you besides Hans or myself would do that.”

Guy said, “As Lori is dealing with her gallstones this morning, that leaves only Jack, and you and me, Bert.  I could do it , if you are both going to be away again soon.”  There were nods. This at least was agreed. “Hans was just saying that he had some new information.” (more…)

R.M.’s tour with Shel and Michelle was now in the Third Ward. He was pointing out its various places of interest.

“We’ve actually been in this part of town before.” said Shel. “Lots of restaurants.”

“Lots of shopping.” added Michelle.

“Lots of condos.” chimed in R.M.

“So do you sell more here than anywhere else? Is it your preferred location?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, I wouldn’t try to talk buyers into one area over another. It’s more likely that I would talk somebody out of a unit than into one.”

“How’s that? What about when you work on one of those projects, what then?”

“Employees of those projects sometimes sign a contract stating that they won’t show a customer who visits the project any units outside the project itself. But, as I was telling you before, an agent who is not an employee is not subject to that contract. He is simply representing the project at a property showing or an Open House. He can show a buyer any listed unit anywhere, and it is professional to do so. Let the buyer choose.” R.M. emphasized. “So, one of two things will happen. One, it will confirm that the project is desirable and good value, or two, the customer will prefer something else in another location.”

“So, you wouldn’t try and talk us into something? What about those special bonuses agents get for selling?”

“It’s true that sometimes there’s what’s called a selling bonus offered to the selling agent, over and above a commission, usually for a sale made within a specific time frame. When this is the case, in the interests of full disclosure, I inform the buyer, especially if it’s a unit I think he should take a look at, because a buyer should know and come to a decision regardless of whether I earn more or not.”

“That sounds fair at least.”

“It’s not my job to coerce an offer. I really take issue with the sales effectiveness training mentality of “overcoming objections”. This is not a pair of shoes under consideration. It’s a major purchase. And anyway, why bring a buyer into an association, into a community, who will be disgruntled later?” (more…)

Of the two penthouses at The Prospect, only one was currently occupied, that is to say, being lived in. Both afforded three-sided views, though one faced mainly east and the other mainly west. There was a common foyer at the elevator with a front door into each unit. Each unit also had a back door near the stairway at the opposite end of the hallway separating the units. The west facing unit was in the process of extensive re-decoration by its new owners, who had never moved in. The work was being done under the direction of a Chicago interior design firm, Vanity Fairbourn Inc., and had been underway for some months. The elevator had been getting a lot more use of late, as had the foyer.

As he unlocked his front door, Bert Steinhardt heard voices through the open doorway of the west unit. Stepping across the landing, and over the clutter of pails at the doorway, he put his head in and called out, “Hello?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there.” came a rather shrill reply, and the person he assumed was in charge appeared round a corner. Yes, he had seen this woman before.

“Hello, I’m Bert Steinhardt. I live across the hall. Just curious about how things are coming along in here, when the new neighbors might arrive…”

“Hello. Vanity Fairbourn.” Her hand and her business card were offered simultaneously. “It’s coming along…a lot left to do. You won’t be seeing your neighbors soon.” She stopped, abruptly, and stared at him. As there was no indication of a work-in-progress tour apparently on offer, he thanked her and retreated.

“Give us a call if you’re thinking of improvements yourself.” she called out after him, an afterthought. He pretended not to notice. With a personality like that in the house for months, he’d rather do the renovations himself, he reckoned, closing his door firmly behind him. Vanity indeed.

Bert lived mostly on his own in the penthouse. He had married into money, his wife a local girl from a family with long roots in the Milwaukee area. They inherited a spread, Asphodel Meadows, out in Washington County, rolling hills, horses, and all. They had a daughter, but when Gertie was just a toddler  his wife had died in a farm accident.  There was a great deal of money bequeathed to him, plus a trust for the child. The family encouraged him to continue their tradition of philanthropic work, which he came to enjoy. He had never re-married, although women had been throwing themselves at him ever since. He stayed, quite content with his semi-rural life, at Asphodel Meadows, that is until Gertie left for college. (more…)

They crossed the river once again, this time onto Water Street. “East Pointe has the largest number of developments of any area, but not the most units. I keep track of all developments with at least four or more units. There are associations downtown with as few as four and as many a hundred or more units, and some twindominiums as well.”

“What’s a ‘twindominium,’” asked Shel, “or is it exactly like it sounds, two units just the same?”

“Half right.” chuckled R. M. “They don’t have to be exactly the same but there are only two of them, so more like fraternal than identical twins really. Like twins, they are not for everyone! If each unit gets one vote in an association of two, it can be hard to break a tie. Anyway, they are listed in MLS from time to time, so I’m aware of them.”

“I know that I’m supposed to know this already, but can you explain more precisely what MLS is please?” asked Michelle.

“Sure.  MLS is the commonly used abbreviation for The Multiple Listing Service.  It maintains detailed information about thousands of properties in our market, and it’s updated daily. It acts as a clearinghouse to provide member Realtors the latest information. There are other members as well, such as property appraisers, and members pay a monthly fee to access this information.”

“So, I can’t access all the information on my own, because I’m not a member?”

“Not all of it, no, although some sites now offer a search for MLS listings. But that’s all you get, just the listings.”

“But isn’t information what people want? Isn’t that enough?”

“Information is king, eh? Listings are only the beginning. There is so much more to know!” He continued, “Of course, there are other real estate sites you can access and see listings on, but none of them are as complete or as accurate as MLS.”

“So, tell me more about the listings.” (more…)

Hans knocked on Earnest Arbuthnot’s door but there was no reply. He scribbled a note, ‘Please call me. Urgent. Hans’, on the back of his business card and tucked it under the door. Hans was amused that his message read like a telegram; does anyone remember those, he pondered, or had that brevity merely been usurped by the Twitter. He tried next at Mrs. James’ unit.

“Oh, good afternoon Hans, do come in.” she greeted him. “I’ve just been typing up minutes from the last meeting. I was going to call and ask you to clarify a number. Can’t read my own writing.” Gesturing him to sit down at her perennially cluttered kitchen table, she drew out a paper from the pile and pointed to a line. He took out his pen and made a quick correction to the notes.

“That should work a little better for you.” he smiled.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Hans? I just put the kettle on.”

“Sure, that’s fine. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” She bustled about briefly in the kitchen while Mullins came over to investigate, rubbing up against his leg.

“What’s your cats name again?”

“Mullins, Mull for short. You should be honored. He’s abandoned his sunshine to look you over.” she laughed, returning to the table and examining his corrections. “Milk, sugar, honey, lemon?”

“Just tea, please.”

“By the way, I have been busy recommending you and your accounting services to interested parties.” She poured out and handed him a cup. “I hope something comes of it for you.”

“I appreciate that, thanks very much. Yes, there have been a few new inquiries.”

“Now what is it you wanted, Hans?”

“I’ve just come from Earnest’s unit but he wasn’t home.  I wanted to give you both a heads up about something I’ve heard.  I’ve left him a note to call me but you could tell him too if you happen to see him first.”

She nodded, and he went on. “You know that my full-time work is writing. I try and keep up with financial and development news, especially here in town. I’ve just been reading a report of a planned development next door to us—right next door.”

“What kind of development and where could it possibly be squeezed in?” she asked. “There is building all around us as it is.” (more…)

“So, Mrs. James, how’s it going with the twins?” Gervase and Mrs. James were having a chat.  “Keeping you on your toes?” he asked.

“Funny how mothering comes back to you after all that time.” she chuckled. “All those questions they ask!  And that reminds me, I have two for you—questions, not twins.”

“Fire away!” he responded.

“Number one, would it be alright with you, sometimes when everyone’s schedules work out, if we were to go out dog-walking with you? The girls are hoping to meet some of the resident pets because their father has vetoed having one of their own here.”

“More the merrier, I say. We could figure something out. I’ll just have to remember to not tell the dogs secrets out loud, as I often do. Mum will be my word too…and the second?”

“This is silly but, after your confession just now, perhaps not so inappropriate. I was explaining the word ‘menagerie’ to them, and that you didn’t run one. But it occurred to me to ask you if, in private, sometimes you thought you did? Some of the things that one finds out,” she editorialized, “and I’m only the secretary! Not that I’m asking to share secrets with you at all.” she continued. “When I lived in my house, over time we got to know the neighbors and some of their business; mostly only what they told us, on occasion what we observed. It’s so different here.”

“It sure is. But not everyone is like you. A few of the residents keep pretty much to themselves. They come and go a lot for sure but don’t really treat this building as their neighborhood. This building is well sound-proofed too. Imagine the secrets if it were not!”

“Of course, many areas and things are owned in common by association members, so we’re bound to be in each others paths more of the time, those of us who use them at least. And we see each other regularly at association meetings to consider our joint affairs as well.” she reflected. ” At least we are self-contained and needn’t deal with hoi polloi, anybody wandering up to our front doors anymore.”

“Because of me do you mean? The keeper of the keys? The guardian at the gate?”

“The worst were the ones Mr. James used to call ‘the soul savers’. ‘”Here come ‘the soul savers’ again, Ivy.” he would call out, “Quick, close the door!”"she recounted.

“Who do you mean, Mrs. James?” Gervase looked puzzled. (more…)

The 50 cent tour was now heading south into the Brewers Hill area and its guide was giving a short history lesson.

“On your map there, Brewers Hill actually combines riverside and riverbluff. Commerce Street runs alongside the river. Up on the hillside over there is the site of the old reservoir, now a park. It once supplied water to power the industries that used to line the riverside, the flour mill, tanneries, and sawmill, lots of warehouses too. This was once envisioned as the starting point of a canal, dug all the way from here to the Mississippi.”

“So technically you could navigate a boat all the way to the Gulf from here?” marveled Shel.

“That was the plan. Canals were all the rage in transportation before the railways. The canal  idea was dropped after a mile or so of digging but next came a railway line, the Beer Line. All that gave way later to an industrial wasteland and this whole corridor was abandoned for many years, until New Urbanism style developers imagined a gritty, rather than pastoral riverside architecture here and the re-development began. Now, Riverwalk access reaches all the way up here from downtown and there is a new walkway under the bridge as well.”

“And on the bluff?” asked Michelle.

“Well, that’s a different story. There is a designated Historic District up the hillside with many old Victorians, once the homes of the industrialists, plus conversions galore along with some newer building as well. So it’s a completely different flavor than along the river, with blurring and blending of neighborhoods.”

“That’s a positive sign, isn’t it?”

“Well I think so, but being an urban pioneer isn’t for everyone. It’s important to see the whole picture first, all the options.”

“When we looked online for units,” Shel said, “that’s all we saw—just individual units. I never thought at the time that I was missing out on seeing whole neighborhoods, never was aware that might even matter.  And then, when we actually went out to check out one development, we weren’t really aware of the neighborhood context then either. I mean, we just drove straight to the address.”

“You are buying a unit, a development, and a neighborhood, all three.” R.M. confirmed. “I can also tell you straight up that whatever you want to buy—a condo or a single-family, in whatever location you decide—it will make your home search easier and better if you talk, not text, not research, not e-mail, not avoid, but simply talk to an agent who works in that market segment. You will have more information and make a better decision.” (more…)

“Come on now you two, time to get out and put the pool toys away.” called out Mrs. James from the relative safety of a deck chair, well beyond the splashing and kicking. “Your father will be home soon.” She didn’t like going in the pool when the girls were in there; she feared inundation. With so much water surging about, more like a water park than a sensible lap pool, the children liked so much having it just to themselves, as they did today.

“Oh please Mrs. James, just a few more minutes.” came the inevitable request. Wise mother that she had become in the past, she built in a little extra time at the outset, anticipating the request. Clever children that they were, they knew that she did this. There were indeed a few more minutes to be eked out in the water but it was never quite as much fun after that first call.

Poppy and Pansy Mendel were the eight and three-quarter year old daughters of one Greg Mendel, a POP’s resident, professional sports coach, and divorced father of two. Desperate to find care for his twins, by divorce decree in his custody nearly half the time, and that time rarely coinciding with his own free time, he had spotted Mrs. James alone in the lobby one day and quickly wondered if she might be the answer to his prayers, such as they were. He was aware of a teenage girl living in the building but he knew he needed someone more reliable. Soon after, he had taken aside the trusty Gervase and asked his opinion.

“Mrs. James?” Gervase chuckled. “Mrs. James is a real lady.” Always tempted to ask why he was asked something, as concierge he had learned to never ask, never. He waited. Sometimes there was an ensuing explanation, frequently not. (more…)