What lasts forever? Real Estate!

When I started in real estate in 1960, before Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, cell phones, and apps, were in existence, probably before most of the users were born, all you needed to get a license was a letter from the police department that you’d never been arrested, a bond, and a $25 fee. Life was simple back then. Then you bought a Louisiana Real Estate Textbook written by H. D. Ruffin who was also the state real estate commissioner. Mr. Ruffin was an LSU fan so the book had a purple cover and gold engraving. This book was the only essential instruction available at the time. Sometime later, if you care to know, I’ll tell you what happened to poor Mr. Ruffin. When I retired after 50 years in the business, all sales people had computers, gave virtual tours sitting in their offices, and instead of a simple page or two, the paper work was up to 18 or 20 pages of gobbly-gook.

The first houses for G.I.’s in Hammond were built in Rosewood Subdivision by Charlie Rosenblum and if I recall correctly Bob Maurin, partner. They were 2 bedroom frame, living, kitchen (no built-ins) and 1 bath, with or without a carport, 750 to 900 sq. ft. They sold for $3500 to $5000. Same house now, if it’s still standing sells in the range of $60,000, so I’m told.

Now people build these enormous houses, MacMansions, they’re called. Kitchen has every gadget available to mankind. Each kid has his/her own room and bath, every family member needs a walk-in closet, and there are enough electrical plugs and outlets to run a factory, etc. etc. 

I decided with my first-hand experience and my penchant for writing, I would pen (such an antiquated word! Who pens?) a real estate book. The premise was the selling of a plantation in St. Francisville, The Azaleas, and all the problems associated with the transaction.

When I got to the stumbling point (every writer reaches that point somewhere along the way) I realized that the problem wasn’t the real estate. In selling, the problem is the people, those who own the premise and those trekking through the place. Once I got that notion in my head, the writing flowed again.

In my working years, I sold real estate to the grandparents, the parents and when the kids started coming into my shop and saying, “my mama said to come see you,” I thought, the time has come. Three generations is enough enjoyment. I’d better retire and take up a hobby. Except, having worked all my life, I had a problem. I had no hobbies!

Mr. Ruffin's real estate bible. 

What I learned about real estate.