Jay taught me to use simplicity as a strategy. He had an uncanny ability to grasp an extremely complex situation and immediately locate the weakness. He always said that if there were twelve steps in a deal, the whole thing depended on just one of them. The others would either work themselves out or were less important.
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I was the pitchman. I went to each of the houses, sat on a lot of couches, and flipped through dozens of family photo albums as I explained to the homeowners that we were going to build student housing and they could either stay and put up with loud music at night and beer cans on the lawn, or they could move to the other side of Ann Arbor. It worked. I kept buying houses and eventually acquired one full block of land. They were all cash deals, $1,000 each to tie up the properties with deferred closings requiring around $20,000.
Once again, I listened as people told me I was nuts. Emerging markets were largely considered untouchable by foreign investors at the time. They were still under the shadow of loan defaults from the 1980s, and Mexico’s recent Tequila Crisis (the devaluation of the peso) had triggered widespread currency devaluation across Latin America. To top it off, many emerging market countries were reeling from the Asian financial crisis in 1997 and Russia’s default in 1998. Emerging markets at the time were not for the faint of heart. For me, of course, that presented an environment with no competition for assets.
Equity Office was the largest REIT in the country. We had spent a decade acquiring an irreplaceable collection of over five hundred of the best office buildings in every major market in the U.S. It was my baby. Truth is, had I kept the company private, I probably would have never considered selling. But when I took EOP public, I assumed a fiduciary responsibility to shareholders. In exchange for their capital, I made a commitment to give them the best return possible on their investment. That was my primary obligation. Nothing stood before that.
So I called Merrill Lynch and said, “I want to create an opportunity fund wherein investors put up cash to become my partners in the purchase of distressed real estate.” No one, including me, had done this kind of fund before, but they thought it was a great idea. They put up 5 percent of the first fund’s target and said they’d raise the balance of the capital. Six months later, we still had no commitments. Not one. So I took over the process and hit the road — from May 10 through June 30, 1989. I found that to raise money, I had to do it personally. I traveled with Merrill forty-two of those fifty-two days and did every single presentation — typically three to four a day in different cities.
I was targeting good real estate assets overburdened by excessive debt. Well, I began seeing similar scenarios unfold in the corporate world and realized I could provide equity to those companies for a stake at a discounted price, and that would help them position themselves for when the market recovered.
In 2006, China was suffering from a dearth of available investment capital. Locals were waving in U.S. and other foreign investors with open arms. As you know by now, I love a market or deal that is starved for investors. It creates an environment where sellers and partners are bending over backward for you. I discovered that advantage over and over in my career, and I’m always on the lookout for that dynamic.
I figured the deal was as good as done, and I returned to Ann Arbor and identified five houses that were all in the same price range for what I was going to pay for the land, about $32,000 to $34,000. These five houses were beautiful — every one of them was three times better than what Mrs. D lived in. One day I drove her around to see them. She walked through each one but never said a word. I couldn’t get any response at all. At the end of the day, I drove her back home. As we neared the corner by her house, we saw a man swaying and holding onto a lamppost. I pointed him out, and Mrs. D said, “Oh, that’s my brother. He lives with us and visits the bars every night. That’s why I don’t like any of the houses we went to see — because he can’t drive; he has to be within at least eight blocks of the downtown bars because he goes there every night, gets drunk, and then walks home.” That’s what we call the major unknown factor. “No problem,” I said to Mrs. D, for the first of many times.