In line with Chris Johnson’s post this morning, a charming real estate story from The American Spectator:
Recently, I was contacted about a hot deal in Buckeye (the fast-growth, west side of Phoenix) by a very bright, young Phoenix wheeler-dealer.
We’ll call him Tony (not his real name). Tony was, and still is, one of the smartest guys I have ever met. I first met him as super-charged go-getter sitting in one of the thousands of real estate cubicles on Camelback Road. At that time, he brought me a deal that turned out very well, and he was pleasant and honest throughout the whole process. Over the years, as I predicted at the time, Tony would quickly move out of the cubicle and into something bigger and better. History proved me correct and by 2004, Tony had a fancy office on the Camelback Miracle Mile with a secretary that looked like she just stepped out of Vogue.
Sitting in his plush office, Tony was still Tony, going 1,000 miles per hour and talking up deals, but in a nice and pleasant way. He had picked up a few nice souvenirs of the ongoing boom, including a fancy spread in the 85253 zip code where he entertained lavishly, a sleek new private jet, and a very cool yacht in Marina Del Rey. At Tony’s 2005 Christmas Party, I could have sworn that half the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders were there at Tony’s Paradise Valley house.
Anyway, Tony was calling me after a long absence. I had missed the ’06 and ’07 Christmas parties, but I can only imagine their lavish scale. Tony was now on the phone saying he had a great deal that I should look at “right away…this one you’re gonna love.” I have heard that line a million times, but in Tony’s case, I trusted his judgment and agreed to meet that day at my office. Tony arrived, pitched the deal (I was already fairly familiar with the location and the dynamics of the site), and indeed, it was a deal. It was exactly right for one of my clients in Read more

