I may shed a tear as I write this, as she was my first ever property. Really, there is so much I could write; my challenge here is brevity and relevance, which I’m sure too fail, but if you like a good yarn (1o mins?) on why property can change your life then please indulge me if I go a little off track. I offer reason and logic in most of the other projects, but there might not be much here except on why, with positive intentions, property can change your life. I was 17 and at the Police Academy earning a paltry $225 a week (from memory), of which half went in onsite board and food. Wow, they were hard but fun times!

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To the property story, I remember it like yesterday; I was dating Tanya, an absolutely lovely girl who was studying law at UQ (above my pay grade), who I’m sure now must be a judge or something better. One Saturday morning, we walked past her dad (an absolute champion himself!) who was reading the paper at the dining table. I glanced at the page he was reading and saw an advertisement for a government sale of land at Coolum on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. In hindsight, the market was slow, so they were going to auction (whatever that meant), and the remaining lots for sale were tucked behind the beachside environmental park. So I decided and declared then and there that I was going to buy one of those lots. Look maybe, I was showing off, I don’t know, but clearly my experience of having grown up in an eternally renovated house and the fact that in the tenth grade (15 years old) I spent two weeks of heaven with three mates in his parents’ caravan at the Coolum Beach Caravan Park (where it pumped waves the whole time) had me suitably qualified to make a property investment decision – at age 17. I promise on my parent’s graves and kid you not, this is how the story goes.

 

So, decision made, now how would I make this work? I went and saw Dad. To place perspective, he was a qualified tradesman though now working as a sales rep, and he and mum owned their home and that’s it. They married at 17 and 19 (I was the ‘reason’), so life was tight and there was no room for treats unless I worked for it or structured a deal, you know, pay it off. You see, Dad was a Russian immigrant Jew and an entrepreneur, and so the family habits ran thick. My pitch was this: ‘Look Dad, I’ve found an opportunity you might like to invest in, but I won’t tell you unless you also agree to allow me to do it as well’. Seriously, the arrogance! I’d love to recall Dad’s face; he should’ve slapped me, but I know he would have been smiling at my approach because this is what he taught me to do – willingly or not.

 

Getting my first surfboard was a tortuous event for me with Mum and Dad, after finding it in a second-hand shop on holidays and endlessly begging them to buy it for me. Eventually, we struck a deal where he paid the balance after my deposit, but I worked it off following the pre-agreed payment plan down to every cent. On auction day, August 12, 1991, we gathered at The Peregian-Coolum RSL, when again I was still 17, and unbeknown to us all I was not allowed to legally own property. The terms were 10% deposit on the drop of the hammer, 30-day settlement and with government vendor finance available, you made your next payment in 12 months which was another 10%. Dad and I both bought lots out of the 30 available.

 

Funnily enough, I was first at the princely sum of $32,500 and the cheapest in the estate – an early lesson that sticks to this day. So here it gets interesting; Dad’s terms were payback in 12 months. Some maths, earning approx. $18,000 p/a paying half in board & food, I had 12 months to save $3,250 to the government, plus another $3,250 to my folks. I recall doing a budget where after allowing all expenses, including $20 beer money (well, I was a trainee policeman), I was $20 a week short. But fear not, in December I would graduate from the Academy and my earnings would increase – the plan was laid! I tell this for fun and nostalgia but also a lesson; really, who would do this or especially allow their children to do it? I’m blessed that my parents did, and the rest of this story is, of course, that I saved hard, had the cash to pay the government plus my folks, and all was rosy…

 

Hmm, ahhh, no. That didn’t happen. I graduated, but as my early mentor Noel Whittaker (from books) said ‘I don’t trust you to save a single cent, but I do trust you to pay your bills, hence go create good wealth creating bills,’ or something to that effect. So, two months from due date and the $20 beer budget didn’t play the game. And while I had some savings, it wasn’t yet enough. What to do?  After a surf trip to Coolum to inspect my fine piece of dirt (I still have the soil sample), I walked into the local agent – a franchise of The Professionals to look at selling. On arrival, as a scruffy young surfer, I was instantly sent to the rentals counter. ‘Um, no, I want to sell a property...’ Their attitude changed after that. ‘Oh, sorry sir, please come this way.’ Another early lesson indeed. I turned around walked out and the next agent was my guy, Allan Olarenshaw from Keith Gorrie Real Estate. In a matter of weeks, he got me a sale contract of $47,500 – some nice profit thanks to the state government. I thought, ‘How does this work? They just sold it to me!’ It turned out that the housing commission were looking for more sites and mine fit the bill. However, two weeks later they withdrew the offer, as they already had another site in the same street and it was too close. Six weeks to go... what next?

 

I thought long and hard, and it seemed to me that the value of the property had increased since the people who sold the land to me were willing to pay $47,500 to buy it back, and as so I decided to ask my bank (the Queensland Police Credit Union) for a loan to pay out the government loan, thus saving me the lump sum payment imminently due. Oh, and while they were at it, could I please also borrow enough to build a home on the land? Somehow, the bank and the valuer agreed, and for no more money (equity) in, I was able to undertake my first project while simultaneously paying my folks their loan from my saved cash. I could skip here to total project cost of just under $90,000 (again, remember this was 1992), and valuation upon completion at $132,500, and even that I eventually sold it for over four times that amount even if it did break a little piece of my stone heart. However, I’d rather finish the story. This was my first house.

 

I grew up in homes continuously under renovation or being ‘value added’ by my parents. Painting, moving walls, driveways, re-carpeting, tiling, you name it. So, on my first house I saved some $10,000 by painting the home myself while sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag; I laid the driveway and patio floor (which is still there and seriously the worst driveway you have ever seen), built a pergola, letterbox and did all the landscaping. It wasn’t pretty, but I got it done and made enough money and learnings to start an equity base that would lead to the further purchase of over 100 homes, and still counting.