BILL CHERRY'S GREATEST DALLAS PARK CITIES REAL ESTATE BLOG: September 2007

Some years back, Patty and I were in Manhattan when the worse snow storm to come there in many years paralyzed the city.  Fortunately we were staying in our usual spot, the Essex House on Central Park South, so we were able to walk to restaurants, the museums, the opera and the theater district of Broadway.

While many of those businesses gave up and went home for the storm's duration, enough braved the weather and kept their doors open to those of us who bundled up and went there.

The most interesting day was Sunday.  We got up and walked to a 5th Avenue Episcopal Church, Saint Thomas, a Gothic building that had to have been standing there for generations.  Oddly, the place was packed with worshipers.  We remarked that most of those in attendance didn't live nearby, yet they had come anyway.  We wondered why.

And then the pastor, a fellow with a big brain accompanied by a bit of an English accent began the sermon.  It was then we knew why there were so few empty places among the pews.  His message was worth far more than the inconvenience of the snow, taxis not running, and in a city that could only walk.

Afterwards, we learned that his sermons were mailed to a subscription list of people all over the world, people who couldn't attend. Many were members of his church.  And I thought to myself that was the answer to spreading The Word that few churches participated in.

With the advent of the technology of the blog, things have changed.  I would like for each of you to click on the two sites I've listed below.  And I would like for you to share these great adventures with your pastor or rabbi.  This is how it ought to be done.

http://www.trinitygalv.org     

http://www.e-piphanies.com/

Fr. Ron Pogue is the Rector of Trinity Episcopal Church in Galveston, one of the oldest churches in the Diocese of Texas.  He and his wife Gay are our dear friends and he remains our spiritual advisor even though we now live in Dallas.  You'll especially enjoy the videos of his messages.

He's known around here as the Money Doctor, and in reality he is a doctor, a Ph.D., and his name is W. Neil Gallagher.

And the picture to the left is of Doc and Steve (the engineer) and me doing the weekly hour long radio show on KAAM-AM Legends 77 here in the Dallas Ft. Worth Metroplex.

Doc's group, Gallagher Financial, manages some $500 million for his clients, and has provided the financial education for some 12,000 clients over the past twenty-two years.

About four times a month, he has free dinner parties at nice restaurants in the Dallas- Ft. Worth area.  And he does his much differently than the others do theirs.  All you have to do is make a reservation with his office.  Before you even meet or see Doc, you've been served your dinner.

Just as everyone is finishing, he comes in and greets everyone. Then he says that there is going to be a stretch break.  Those who just came for dinner are free to leave.  His associate, Ron Coleman, CLU, CSA, CRFA, then gives the blessing, and then it's the intermission-stretch break.  Those who are interested in his thirty minute presentation will want to be back in ten minutes.

His thirty minute presentation should be titled, "What Your Stock Broker, Banker and Insurance Salesman Don't Want You to Know."  And everyone who is concerned about their future after retirement - whether they are going to retire or are already retired - needs to consider what Doc teaches.

Doc has me there to answer questions about real estate, and there are always a bunch of them. 

While Doc Gallagher has about six books and booklets that he's written and that discuss the various facets of getting older and addressing personal and financial health issues, there is one that should be in everyone's library.

                       The Money Doctor's Guide to Taking Care of Yourself When No One Else Will.

Realtors should have it as a ready reference for assisting their senior citizen clients.  It's available at Barnes and Noble or from Doc's office at http://www.docgallagher.com/.  I think it's less than twenty bucks.

And if you're in the Dallas area, we'd love to see you at one of Doc's dinner parties.  Again, they really are absolutely free, and you'll like this former Texas Christian University ethics professor.

When Doc finishes his presentation, he has the waiters bring in dessert and coffee for everyone, he then bids everyone good night and he leaves for home.  Like I said, there isn't any pressure here.  Nevertheless, Ron and I stay awhile to answer questions.

A friend gave me a subscription to an interesting weekly news magazine called "Bottom Line Personal"

The September 15, 2007 has a couple of suggestions in its House Buying column.

For this one, they say the source is "The Wall Street Journal":

"Ask for rebates from real estate brokers now that the housing market is cooling off.  Some firms offer as much as 75% off their commissions to potential buyers.  Others sweeten the pot by giving large denomination gift cards or airline mileage awards."

Let me get this in print right away so there are no misunderstandings.

• I have never and I won't now give rebates. 
• I will not discount my fees. 
• I won't violate the Texas real estate laws by giving "large denomination gift cards or airline mileage awards,"
• And if I catch you doing it, I'm going to turn you in.

Got that, Buster? 

Now please cancel my subscription to the Journal.  It's something I should have done a long time ago anyway. 

No wonder their ad revenues continue to fall.

                                                        By Dallas Broker-Realtor Bill Cherry

Forty-eight years ago this past Mother's Day, a Baptist minister with degrees from John Brown University and Northwestern Baptist Seminary, left the security of his Houston church and founded a nondenominational church in an abandoned feed store in north Houston. His name was John Osteen, and he named his church Lakewood.

The Baptist church had decided to make life hard for him because he had recently divorced, and because he had become lenient on those who wanted to worship by speaking in tongues, a way of worshiping usually associated with Pentecostals.

At the time he calculated that if worshipers were packed in really tight, the feed store would hold 200. But then having 200 at a service, much less ever outgrowing the building, Osteen knew, could only come if God were to shine His light of favor on the new ministry.

John Osteen prayed and persisted. Cheap bumper stickers, an awful shade of blue with non-artistic lettering, began appearing, mostly on one junk car after another. Soon you saw them all over Houston and Texas.

They said "Lakewood Church. An Oasis of Love." You were probably right to figure the car's gas tank didn't have more than a buck's worth in it, for in the main, the people Lakewood was attracting were poor.

And Lakewood Church wasn't any more financially prosperous than the members. Most area theologians thought that John Osteen's message was probably as close to bankrupt as that of his supporters' bank accounts, so they ignored him.

But with the passage of a mere forty years, denominational Christian churches in Houston and nearby had to accept that Lakewood Church and others that sprang up like it, were exponentially siphoning their congregants, leaving them with scores of empty pews and bare bones operating budgets.

Denominations that stretch back centuries - Catholic, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Episcopal, Baptist and the like -were, and still are, finding their expressions of theology and worship are now appealing to fewer and fewer.

It was just a matter of time before John Osteen had built a 7,800-seat sanctuary and soon it was filling-up three times every Sunday, plus there would be a good showing at the Spanish service. That meant more than 25,000 people were worshiping in person at Lakewood every Sunday, and several million throughout the world did because of its television broadcasts. Most of the people came from other churches.

Today more people throughout the world watch Lakewood's television broadcasts than those of any other ministry's.

And they have new bumper stickers with slick visual graphics that say "Discover the Champion in You. Lakewood Church." This time they are on more late-model Lexus and Mercedes and Fords and Hondas than they are on junkers from Honest Frank's Used Cars.

John Osteen died in 1999. His family decided that his son Joel should be his successor. Most nondenominational churches die a quick death when the founder dies. However, in four years, Joel Osteen, who is about forty-five, and his team have increased the membership of Lakewood to more than three times the size that it was when his father died. It is now the largest nondenominational Christian church in the world.

About four years ago when a good part of Houston flooded from persistent rain storms, Lakewood Church gave a million dollars to help the flood victims, and they did it without taking up a special offering.

So what is the draw of Lakewood and its sisterhood of mega-nondenominational churches? At Lakewood, you are considered a member if you adopt it as your church. There's no formal initiation into the club.

Each service starts with an hour of incredible spirit-building music by an orchestra and choir. The entire congregation stands and sings throughout it all. The half-hour sermon comes at the end.

Susan Rice of Tie Dyed Production, a company that handles the sound for rock concerts and the like, says that the music, the technology and the production at Lakewood are equal to or better than any major rock concert. It's very high energy, she says. It's what young people, even their parents, are used to and want.

And then there's Pastor Joel Osteen. He is probably the most talented and accomplished public speaker of all of the television ministers. His sermons and teachings follow cognitive therapy to the letter:

God wants nothing but the best for you. It's there for you if you won't let the Enemy (the devil) get in the way. Here's how you keep the Enemy from getting in the way. Do that and you can defeat him so that you can live the life of the champion that God has in you.

Lakewood Church has now converted the huge Houston Compaq Center into its new church. They budgeted $75 million to do that. When I contacted Joel Osteen's office, his assistant Noel Wright told me that they already had all of the money committed to meet that budget.

The Rt. Rev. Roger Howard Cilley was once a Shakespearean actor in New York, before he found his way to join the Episcopal clergy and later became one of its most prominent bishops. He understood show business. I once asked him why the Episcopal church didn't have a television ministry.

"Bill," he said, "It's not that it wouldn't be a good idea. In fact, we've thought about it. The problem is we can't agree on which of us will be the star."

Gigs for Italian singers had been terrible for a long time. But then out of nowhere came "That's Amore," "Mel Blu di Pinto di Blue," and "Al di La." And things got very good for them.

And that's when Macino Rapuchi, with his invented star-studded billing, "the International Continental Stylist," hit Dallas with his guitar and accordion, and found his way to headline at Gringo's. For the first time in a long time, business at the club got really good, and it was because Macino knew those songs, and he sang them over and over again as he paraded around the room strumming his guitar or squeezing his accordion.

Macino was tall and good looking and was full of personality. He spoke broken English. The girls loved him.

When he'd finish a tune, he'd yell, "Ecco! Ecco!" That was notice for the audience to clap their hands off.

Men had no choice but to take their dates to Gringo's to hear Macino Rapuchi, the International Continental Stylist. Drinks were 75 cents a piece and you had to tip Macino a buck every time he sang a line or two at your table. Macino could make it by your table with his hand out at least a dozen times a night. Be prepared for that date to cost 30 bucks.

Now you remember me telling you about wise guy Joe Pajucie with his cheap looking girls in their Frederick's of Hollywood bullet bras and Carmen Miranda wedge shoes, all piled in his two-payment past-due used red Cadillac convertible from Papa Joe's Motors, don't you?

Well, on this Friday night on Labor Day weekend, Joe was in the mood for some loving. So he picked up his cheap looking girls from the bar at the Derrick Club, loaded them in the red Cadillac convertible and headed downtown to Gringo's. He figured he'd finally be able to hit a home run and get in some smooching with at least one of the three if he took them to see Macino Rapuchi, the International Continental Stylist.

Macino was singing "Al di La" when they walked in.

Al di la, del bene plu prezioso, ci sei tu, ci sei tu

Al di la, del sogno plu ambizoso, ci sei tu, ci sei tu

By then Gringo's carpet was worn thin, and the black light on the murals couldn't hide the years that had past since it had last been redecorated, and the odor of Pine ‘o Pine coming from the restrooms was far from subtle.

Nevertheless on the way over, Joe Pajucie had convinced the girls that Gringo's in its earlier days had been the place where new talent was auditioned for the chance of a future engagement at the Sands in Las Vegas. After all, that's where Trini Lopez had started out, he said, and he was now a big Las Vegas star.  And what about Kirby St. Romain, he added.  "He's on his way."

They sat down, ordered, and the waitress brought them their drinks along with a small bowl of Goldfish crackers. Macino was on to "Volare," and he was whaling his lungs out and the accordion was huffing and puffing trying its best to accompany him.

Macino finished, and went into his ending, "Ecco! Ecco!" The audience, especially the women, started clapping their hands off.

And that's when one of Joe Pajucie's cheap looking girls, Madeleine was her name, started slowly rising like a human Phoenix out of the banquette and she looked Macino square in the eye and said for him and everyone else in the room to hear, "I love you!"

With that and without saying a word, Macino set down his accordion in front of him on the dance floor, went to a juke box they had there,  threw in a quarter, and quickly punched up six tunes, one of them the real "Al di La" by a fellow named Emilio Pericoli.

Then he came to the banquette, took Madeleine by the hand, and they walked out of Gringo's arm and arm as the audience, realizing what was probably going to happen soon, started laughing and chanting "Ecco! Ecco!"

Joe Pajucie and the two remaining cheap looking girls couldn't believe their eyes. In an attempt to save the night, Joe Pajucie said to them, "Let go to the Big Boy for a steak." When they got outside and got into the two payment past due red Cadillac convertible, wouldn't you know that the battery was dead. The girls caught a cab back to the Derrick Club.

Joe Pajucie started walking toward the Boiler Room to see if the boys would let him play a hand or two in the card game that they usually had going on in the back room.

When he got there, the place was dark.

Copyright 2007 - William S. Cherry

THINGS I KNOW THAT I DIDN'T LEARN IN HEBREW SCHOOL

1. The High Holidays have absolutely nothing to do with marijuana.

2. Where there's smoke, there may be salmon.

3. No meal is complete without leftovers.

4. According to Jewish dietary law, pork and shellfish may be eaten only in
Chinese restaurants.

5. A shmata is a dress that your husband's ex is wearing.

6. Anything worth saying is worth repeating a thousand times.

7. Never take a front row seat at a Bris.

8. Next year in Jerusalem. The year after that, how about a nice cruise?

9. Never leave a restaurant empty handed.

10. WASP's leave and never say good bye; Jews say good bye and never leave.

11. Always whisper the names of diseases.

12. If it tastes good, it's probably not kosher.

13. The important Jewish holidays are the ones on which alternate side of
the street parking is suspended.

14. Without Jewish mothers, who would need therapy?

15. If you have to ask the price, you can't afford it. But if you can afford
it, make sure to tell everybody what you paid.


SIGNS ON A SYNAGOGUE BULLETIN BOARD

1. Under same management for over 5763 years.

2. Don't give up. Moses was once a basket case.

3. What part of "Thou shalt not" don't you understand?

4. Shul committees should be made up of three members, two of whom should be absent at every meeting.

JEWISH COMMENTS

1. My mother is a typical Jewish mother. Once she was on jury duty. They
sent her home. She insisted SHE was guilty.

2. Any time a person goes into a delicatessen and orders a pastrami on white
bread, somewhere a Jew dies.

3. It was mealtime during a flight on El Al. "Would you like dinner?," the
flight attendant asked Moshe, seated in front. "What are my choices?," Moshe
asked. "Yes, or no," she replied.

4. An elderly Jewish man is knocked down by a car and is brought to the
local hospital. A pretty nurse tucks him into bed and says, "Mr. Gevarter,
are you comfortable?" Gevarter replies, "I make a nice living...."

5. A rabbi was opening his mail one morning. Taking a single sheet of paper
from an envelope he found written on it only one word: "MUMZER." At the next
Friday night service, the Rabbi announced, "I have known many people who
have written letters and forgot to sign their names, but this week I
received a letter from someone who signed his name.... and forgot to write a
letter.

6. Three Jewish women get together for lunch. As they are being seated in
the restaurant, one takes a deep breath and gives a long, slow "oy." The
second takes a deep breath as well and lets out a long, slow "oy." The third
takes a deep breath and says impatiently, "Girls, I thought we agreed that we
weren't going to talk about our grandchildren."

7. And one final favorite: A waiter comes over to a table full of Jewish
women and asks, "Is anything all right?"

I just thought of this story as I was driving home with a signed earnest money contract tonight.  Don't ask me why, but I did.

It happened one Christmas Eve about 10 years after the war.

There was a fellow from a good Catholic family who had two talents. One was shoplifting and the other was picking pockets. The downtown merchants referred to him as Gonif, a Yiddish word that means "thief." The night people called him Ducky Wucky.

Now I can't exactly lay my hands on one distinguishing feature that made him resemble a duck, but there was no doubt. The guy looked like a duck.

A lot of people made their living off the streets back then. People like dirty little unshaven Pee Wee, who sold yesterday's newspapers, and Crazy Frank, who made believe he was photographing you and your car for some secret police agency when you passed him by, and Dirty Gertie, the newspaper vendor who sat on a canvas stool in front of the cafe, and Yaga Man, the black fellow with the big toothy grin who would yell "yaga" if you didn't flip him a dime when you passed him by. All were harmless.

It was cold and damp and it had been all that pre-Christmas week. Ducky knew he'd be at midnight Mass with his family on Christmas Eve. It would make God, his mom and Father Dan happy, and it would be profitable because he'd bump into old friends on the way to the communion rail, and by the time he'd get back to the pew, he'd be a few watches and wallets richer.

But what about Pee Wee, Crazy Frank, Dirty Gertie, Yaga Man and the others, he worried?

Miss Jesse was one of the town's best hustling ladies' madams, and she had a big brick home. Every year she'd hang strands of Christmas lights all over it, and she'd up put a huge Christmas tree in the front yard.

Cops, cab drivers, bellboys, waiters and waitresses who had helped Miss Jesse's business during the past year, would drive by on Christmas Eve night, look under the big tree, and find the present from the liquor store that Santa Claus had left especially for them.

So that year, during the days just before Christmas, Ducky went through the downtown dime stores in his big overcoat with the concealed pockets.

He picked up rings, watches and wallets as he bumped into the Christmas shoppers, and he stuffed the big pockets full with this and that from the stores' counters. He took it to his room and wrapped each in Christmas paper and then put name tags on them.

Christmas Eve afternoon, he took a cab out to Miss Jesse's and put the packages he'd wrapped along with hers under the big tree in her yard, then the cab took him on to a neighborhood bar called the Metropole Club.

He knew Arthur Clardy would be there for his after work toddy. Clardy ran a forwarding company, and one of the things his company did was move bailed cotton from the sheds to the wharves on trains of flat wagons pulled by farm tractors. Ducky profusely shook Clardy's hand wishing him and his family a Merry Christmas. All the while Ducky was picking Clardy's car and office keys from his pocket.

Ducky had a 7-Crown and Coke, kibitzed with attorney Sherwood Brown, bar owner Dorothy Graham and pianist George Bushong, then he nonchalantly left.

The door of the club had barely closed before Ducky was swiping Clardy's car and was on his way to the sheds where the tractors and cotton trailers were stored. When he got there he had good fortune. On a table in the shed was a Santa Claus suit that had been used in the downtown Christmas parade.

Ducky grinned as he put on the suit, cap and beard. Then he fired up one of the tractors and hooked it up to a couple of the flatbed trailers. He drove downtown where he picked up Crazy Frank, Pee Wee, Yaga Man, Dirty Gertie and the others.

As they rode down the main street on the flatbed trailers toward Miss Jesse's, Santa led them in carols. He parked in front. Everybody got off and Santa led them to the tree, saying "Ho, ho, ho," over and over again, as authentically as he could, the ever present Old Gold cigarette drooping from the left side of his lips.

As Santa passed out the presents from under the tree in Miss Jesse's yard, the cops, taxi drivers, bellmen, waiters and waitresses started stopped by to get theirs, too. Not one of them saw anything strange about Ducky Wucky being dressed as Santa and his elves being Pee Wee, Crazy Frank, Dirty Gertie and the others.

After all, this was just another Christmas Even in this wacko Texas town.

Copyright 2007 - William S. Cherry