Opinions
of Value
One
of the things about becoming a broker is the basic appraisal course which
arguably allows one to value properties from different perspective. A friend
and client of mine who worked for a financial investment organization had a
wide network of clients in the Whiteshell chain of lakes, he himself owning a
cottage on Lee River and being involved in all kinds of recreational
activities. How he became a client of mine and how we struck up a friendship is
a story for another time.
In
this case however, we were dealing with a tax situation involving capital gains
on cottages after 1972. What was needed was a valuation to be declared for the
purpose of recording such capital gains after that date. It was called
valuation day or V-day. As a real estate broker, I was allowed to give my
valuations on cottages or secondary homes (but not other properties requiring a
licensed appraiser) at a pittance of the cost of a licensed appraiser.
My
financial friend did a good job of setting me up with a number of appointments
so I got busy designing forms to use in the exercise. This was going to be some
adventure. Of course, these appointments had to be on the weekend while people
were at their cottages. It would cut into my regular real estate business, but
it was regular money and it was a chance to explore the chain of lakes traveled
by the Ojibway of the long distant past.
So,
bright one Saturday morning I set off past the Sagkeeng First Nation, turning
east up Hwy. 317 at Libau and heading into lake country. Each of the lakes was
rather small and somewhat enclosed by bush and trees, surrounded by cottages
and trailers. It was an idyllic setting. I went to work with my brand new forms
and it turned out well. Within half an hour I was out of there and on my way to
two lakes further down. It was such a beautiful sunny day that I almost missed
my turn off into the next lake which was larger and more treed. It was
obviously a more popular lake.
I
pulled up to the address I was given and couldn’t believe my eyes. Here on the
front porch was old George Mathers sitting in a chair beside an aluminum
ladder, a paint tray and roller on the table beside him, having a cup of
coffee. George was a painting contractor I had known for years when I was in
the glass business. I hadn’t seen him for a long time, yet I recognized him
immediately. He hadn’t hardly changed at all except maybe a little more grey
hair. By now he must be in his mid nineties, yet here he was, painting the
eaves around the cottage.
“Just
what in the world do you think you’re doing?” I blurted out.
George
just smiled. “You’ve got to keep things up you know. The kids are inside waiting
for you.” Well he was never much of a conversationalist. I went inside to see
his daughter and son-in-law who were well into their seventies and seniors in
their own right.
Once
I got done at the Mathers’ place I headed straight for Falcon Lake to my next
appointment. There was no problem finding the place. It was a giant edifice on
the lake front begging an invitation. The owner’s name was Johnston. There was a great big “Dorwin” sign on the
property, so I knew immediately who it belonged to. The old man was long dead,
so this must be the son. The place had all the attributes of somebody who knew
how to make a buck.
Don
Johnson was waiting for me at the door and on my introduction got right down to
business. He told me this was serious
business and asked if I was a straight shooter. I had expected this and replied
that all my life I had never knowingly lied to anybody . . . . until I met his father.
“WHAT?”
he exploded, although there was a smile on his face.
“He
was the king of all liars and he could do it so well, it took me a while to
catch on.”
“How
did you know him?” Don wanted to know.
So
I explained to him how we were working at competing glass companies and we used
to check our glass quantities with one another to make sure we didn’t really
make a mistake. If we found that to be true, we’d simply withdraw from the
bidding (which was allowed) leaving the other bidders in place to take the
contract. Once I caught on to that it became a contest of who was the bigger
liar.
The
grin on Don’s face broadened considerably. “Yup, that was dad alright”, he
confessed. Well after that we got on like a house on fire and the visit became
longer than intended.
It
was strange that my visits crossed paths with so many people out of my past,
but it was a good time with lovely scenery and a good income. What more could
you want?
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