Posted on: Friday, October 15, 2004
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HAWAIIAN STYLE
Realtor proudly sells homely — not homey — abodes
He says it plainly — and proudly:
"I SELL UGLY HOUSES!" reads Realtor John Riggins' newspaper ads and mailings.
Whether it qualifies as a dog house — or is just as homely as one — Riggins will get someone to buy it: 99 percent of his listings since 1977 have sold. All the ones dubbed "ugly" have.
Born in Maryland, with stops in Georgia and Kentucky in addition to military service in Korea and Vietnam, Riggins arrived here in 1977. Serendipity put an introductory real estate seminar come-on in his path.
He marketed his business creatively, mailing post cards to prospective clients — both buyers and sellers — and knocking on people's doors. Driving around, he'd stop at well-kept houses, thanking owners for improving their neighborhoods — and dropping off a card asking them to call if they ever wanted to sell.
He reveled in helping people buy their first home, like the couple where the wife operated a shave ice truck and the husband was a bread deliveryman.
"I like to say I work with normal people ... a lot of blue-collar clients, those working two and three jobs just to make ends meet," he said.
While continuing to stretch his creative real estate genius, he took on a property that stumped him.
It was a " three-bedroom, shaggy dog" in Makakilo, he remembers, "but with the heart of an ol' hound." He could see that with "a bath" and some tender loving care, the hovel could "be real pedigree."
Termite damage rendered support beams precarious. There were weeds up to Riggins' waist and blackout drapes pulled across all the windows.
"You almost needed a shovel" to clear it out, he said.
So he encouraged the bachelor owner to bring it up to market standards. Riggins even helped the guy get a $10,000 loan, and scared up contractors willing to work on the house.
Time went by — and nothing, said Riggins. So he called to find there was a new problem: The guy had gone to Vegas and blown the renovation money.
So now it was Riggins who took the gamble: With the owner's permission, he advertised the house as "EL DUMP-O."
The creative marketing worked. "People were tearing the doors down," he said. "The ad even stated there'd be no open house for safety reasons."
The house sold the first week. "It was a minister and his wife," he said. "God works in mysterious ways."
Crunching the numbers, Riggins realized that going this route probably netted the seller more than paying for extensive repairs to make the house more presentable.
"What really surprised (perspective buyers) was — we were honest," he said. In addition, the curiosity of prospective buyers pulled them in.
The "EL DUMP-O" marketing concept had worked "waaaaaay better," he said, than the usual "Handyman's Special" come-on.
Riggins remembers another particularly "style-challenged" condo that was painted gold, with huge, gaudy stenciled landscapes on the walls.
"It was full of junk," he said. "All the lights were red, yellow and dark blue — it was a surfer's pad."
By 1992, still specializing in residential real estate, Riggins opened his own office. By last year, his trademark "I SELL UGLY HOUSES" slogan began to replace "EL DUMP-O" in ads in The Advertiser, post-card mailings and community publications. He had found his niche.
He still canvasses neighborhoods for business, noting addresses of "ugly duckling abodes" to send his post-card mailer.
And after the sales of these dilapidated digs, "The neighbors are always the first to thank me," he said.
Wade Kilohana Shirkey is kumu of Na Hoaloha O Ka Roselani No'eau hula halau. He writes on Island Life.
