BILL CHERRY

Some Active Rain friends that you surely know, too, are good about sending referrals to me. And what makes it even more interesting is that they pick me, an independent, over someone within their franchise's referral network.

Of course I'm complimented. But I also know that their choice comes from their experience with others when contrasted to their experience with me.

• They know I will always understand and respect that the client is not my client, but theirs. I'm merely a straw party who's taking their place since they are far away.
• They know I am competent; that I've been in business for many years; and they know that my reputation as a Realtor is and always has been excellent.
• They know I will keep them informed as to the progress, and ask them for their counsel when it will help me represent their client.
• And finally, they know that the day the transaction closes, I will instruct the title company to send them their referral fee at the same time the title company disburses my check. None of this stuff of sending it to them when I get around to it,

What is often overlooked is simply understanding who's your client. The referral from you to me never becomes my client. He's your client from beginning to end. I'm filling in for you.

Here's another example: When I open escrow for my clients at a title company, oft times the escrow officer will begin calling the party their client. Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm the one that's the title company's client. Without me, it's reasonable to assume there might not have been a sale, much less that escrow would have been opened in that title company's office.

Last week, a well-known title office here in Dallas forgot who brought them to the dance. It was the second time they had done that. So I pulled my new files, and I won't be closing there anymore unless a client specifically requests it.

So what's my message? No matter where you and your services fit in a particular real estate transaction, it's important to know whose client you're serving, and to honor that relationship almost to a fault.

BILL CHERRY, REALTORS

DALLAS - HIGHLAND PARK

SINCE 1964

214 503-8563

On the Web

I suppose it's because I've been in business for a long time, that I write for several regional publications, and am active in civic work and my church, I hear from lots of people.

Frankly, the current mortgage loan underwriting standards and how they are being dictated is a total nightmare, and it is causing many, many well-qualified people misery.

For an example, I just had a loan officer call and tell me that the underwriter wants a corporate resolution stating that my client doesn't own stock in a particular corporation. I screamed before I thought, "That isn't the purpose of corporate resolutions! Have I got to teach your company the rudiments of corporations and how they work?

"You need a notarized statement from a corporate officer where he certifies that he has access to the company records (stock registry) and that those records show no common or preferred stock registered in tha person's name. And what good does it do anyway? The person could have owned stock yesterday, sold it this morning, and can buy stock again tomorrow."

Here's an interesting note I just got from another friend:

"Our daughter and son-in-law begin new jobs in Minneapolis In January. They both completed their Ph.D. programs at USC, are veterans, and have great credit with virtually no debt. They just executed a super contract on a great place at a great price that is within their budget. Unfortunately, they are in the loan process, and I am amazed at what they are facing. Bankers (commercial, investment, and mortgage banks) and those who regulate and support them are my Public Enemy #1."

I agree. This industry has become Public Enemy #1.

BILL CHERRY, REALTORS

DALLAS - HIGHLAND PARK

Since 1964

214 503-8563

WEB

What seems like only a few years ago, but was probably longer, the State of Texas Real Estate Commission did a very bright thing: It instituted a license requirement for a new category called Home Inspectors.

Prior to that, prospective home buyers would drag about anyone who had ever held a hammer in his hands, to look at their purchase to determine if there were needed repairs. On top of that, clients often thought their agent should provide them personal expert opinions about the home's condition, when we had no formal training to do so.

Bad feelings and law suits were always on the tight rope ready to fall.

But what has evolved is a serious number of Licensed Home Inspectors whose verbosity, especially in areas where they have no expertise at all, cause massive problems to all of the parties.

In Texas, for an example, you can no longer pour or set a foundation that has not been designed by a licensed engineer or licensed architect. And before the house can be framed, the foundation must be inspected and stamped as compliant.

This one change in the law has made a significant difference, for an example, in Dallas, a town that has had an over supply of foundation failures throughout the years. As Tom Tynan, an architect, says, the failures were primarily caused by improperly designed and engineered foundations, not by what they were sitting on.

But now we have a multitude of Licensed Home Inspectors, who are not structural engineers or architects, who are opining that a particular foundation looks to have problems. And everyone knows when you say those two words -- foundation and problems -- adjacent to each other, your deal is probably going to "go south."

The inspector has just made a total train wreck out of what should have been a solid real estate transaction, and he got paid to do it.

So I'm tired of all of this, even to the point that I wrote the commission and the commissioners last year, giving them specific examples of reports that, when reviewed on site by an architect or engineer, were stated to be totally incorrect.

No one with the commission responded to my letter and examples. And I've just had another deal fall apart because the buyer believed his inspector's opinion over that of the structural engineer.

So I have a new rule, and I'm positive I can make it stick. No Licensed Inspector is going to represent my clients -- whether buying or selling -- who isn't on my approved list. If you want to add one to my list, fine...you can after I check his references with agents who have worked with him.

Maybe others, including sellers themselves, will follow suit.

Meanwhile, I'm packing up all of the documents related to my latest misfortune, and sending them with a formal complaint to the Commission. Perhaps one day they'll see a trend here.

BILL CHERRY, REALTORS

DALLAS-HIGHLAND PARK

SINCE 1964

214 503-8563

ON THE WEB

and your commission on your first deal was a BILLION DOLLARS. Here's how to comprehend its value:

A billion seconds ago it was 1959.

B.
A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive.

C.
A billion hours ago our ancestors were
living in the Stone Age.

D.
A billion days ago no-one walked on the earth on two feet.

E.
A billion dollars ago was only
8 hours and 20 minutes,
at the rate our government
is spending it.

While this thought is still fresh in our brain...
let's take a look at New Orleans ..
It's amazing what you can learn with some simple division.

Louisiana Senator,
Mary Landrieu (D)
is presently asking Congress for
250 BILLION DOLLARS
to rebuild New Orleans . Interesting number...
what does it mean?

A.
Well... if you are one of the 484,674 residents of New Orleans
(every man, woman, and child)
you each get $516,528.

B.
Or... if you have one of the 188,251 homes in
New Orleans , your home gets $1,329,787.

C.
Or... if you are a family of four...
your family gets $2,066,012.

BILL CHERRY, REALTORS

DALLAS - HIGHLAND PARK

SINCE 1964

214 503-8563

On the Web

THE BIG HURT

By Bill Cherry, Realtor

I don't know who had chosen which records would be among the 100 on the Seeburg Selectomatic jukebox with the neon-style lights that added the only tinge of brightness in the teeny night club, but it didn't matter, really.

Because out of the 100 possibilities that were in the jukebox's record slots, five had inadvertently been found that the clientele would play over and over again, almost always ignoring the rest.

The favorite one was sung by a one-tune wonder named Toni Fisher. And even though it had come out in 1959, seven years later it remained Number 1 on the Metropole Club Hit Parade, six plays in succession for a quarter. Its title was "The Big Hurt." It went like this:

Now it begins, now that you've gone

Needles and pins, twilight till dawn
Watching that clock till you return
Lighting that torch and watching it burn

The Metropole Club in Galveston was no more than 15 feet wide by 50 feet long. There was a bar on the right with about 12 stools. Along the other wall, front to back, were leatherette overstuffed chairs and a couple of loveseats.

Next was the Seeburg jukebox.

At that point, an archway separated the front portion from the back where there was a small dance floor surrounded by a series of tables for two and a spinet piano.

Around the dance floor's walls were little wooden lockers where members of the Metropole kept their own individual bottles of liquor.

The club's owner, president, manager and bartender was Dorothy Graham, a holdover from the days of slot machines, and the all night debauchery that Galveston had been famous for as recently as ten years before.

Next door to the Metropole Club was the Busy Bee Cleaners, owned by Ed Wheeler, who was also Miss Dorothy's landlord.

Miss Dorothy would open the Metropole Club each morning just before noon, and she would try to abide by the law that required her to close no later than midnight.

But if the place was jumping and she was partying with the others, she would oft times run over into the wee hours of the morning.

The Liquor Control Board didn't seem to care enough to catch her.

A number of Miss Dorothy's regulars were doctors. Of those, two or three were on the staff at John Sealy Hospital, and the others, St. Mary's Infirmary.

Four of them would come in together about seven each evening, begin buying each other drinks, and then the one of them who was called "Dr. B" would make a bee-line to the spinet piano to play his theme song, "The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi," with a banging segue and extreme rhythm change into "When the Saints Go Marching In."

Others customers came and went, but these four doctors usually stayed late, playing, singing and drinking.

One night when the four rang the doorbell, one of the regular customers did the peeking and admitting. Miss Dorothy was asleep on one of the loveseats.

That hadn't stopped the customers from making their own drinks, ringing up their purchases and listening to "The Big Hurt."

Someone said to the doctors that Miss Dorothy was not feeling well, and had been on the loveseat for at least several hours.

Dr. B felt her forehead and proclaimed she was OK, that she just had a bad cold. Miss Dorothy didn't move or open an eyelid.

Dr. B went to the spinet and started banging out his "Sweetheart of Sigma Chi"--"When the Saints Go Marching In" medley, drowning out Toni Fisher's "The Big Hurt."

The next night when the doctors arrived, again they were greeted by a customer when they rang the doorbell. Miss Dorothy was still asleep on the loveseat.

Since she had on the same clothes, it was fairly certain that she had been there since the previous night.

One of the doctors went behind the bar to fix the four their toddies. Dr. B. glanced at Miss Dorothy on his way to the piano. Miss Dorothy didn't open an eye. Toni Fisher was warbling. "The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi" began.

On the third night, everything was the same as before. And Miss Dorothy was still lying asleep on the loveseat.

But this time, Miss Edna, one of Miss Dorothy's friends and a customer said to the medical four, "I'm very worried about her. I've been waiting for you to come in. Could one of you examiner her and maybe give her a shot of penicillin? I think she should be in the hospital."

Dr. B and the boys walked over, stood above Miss Dorothy and proclaimed that she just had the bug that was going around.

"She'll be fine in a few days. She can take aspirin if she wants. It might make her feel a bit better," Dr. B said, now on his way to the piano.

Toni Fisher continued to sing.

Oh, each time you go
I try to pretend
It's over at last
This time the big hurt will end

The next morning Mr. Ed, Miss Dorothy's landlord, noticed that her little Mercury was in the same parking spot where it had been for the past four days. It was three hours before the time she usually arrived. He decided to investigate.

The Metropole Club's door unlocked, so he went in. Miss Dorothy was stretched out on the loveseat. Mr. Ed was shocked. He called for an ambulance. Later that day Miss Dorothy died.

That evening the doctors moved their activities to a neighborhood bar that was nearer to John Sealy and St. Mary's. Toni Fisher and "The Big Hurt" and the memory of Miss Dorothy stayed behind at the Metropole Club.

Copyright 2009 - William S. Cherry

BILL CHERRY, REALTORS

DALLAS - HIGHLAND PARK

214 503-8563

ON THE WEB