$100,000 Loss in Value?

I'm sorry, but I refuse to believe my primary residence (pictured) in the Forest Glen/Sauganash area of Northwest Chicago has dropped $100,000 in value since the purchase in September of 2007. Say it ain't so, Joe.

Cut me some slack, Jack. I sold it to myself. I did the comps. I know my market. Hell, I even talked my wife into it. So, wassup with the Bank Appraisal?

Just so you know, my Lender is a little reticent about allowing us to refinance right now. Something about reduced LTV (Loan to Value), a Declining Market, Back End ratios and other sundry real estate talkspeak. Oh yeah, and the fact that I'm a Realtor. Ironic huh? I'm having my best year since 2006 but hey, The Ministry has spoken. Okay, fine. I'll play along for... another 12 months.

But I'm going on record now to my current Mortgage Holder---and you may or may not know who you are: When this whole credit crunch blows over.....it's HASTA LA VISTA, BABY. (and I won't be back.) No way, Jose...


ps...enjoy the extra $50,000,000,000 you just received from our favorite uncle Sammy. All I received was a letter from you saying....ah, forgetaboutit!

Geno Petro



pictured: 'our house, is a very very very fine house...'

iLife

This is my iLife in a screenshot---From Left to Right & Top to Bottom:

No Service=I'm so screwed.

6:33 PM=Haven't eaten and the day is still not over.

Battery Low=I'm so screwed.

Touch to return to call=Sure, (if only that function actually worked).

14:54=Elapsed time of important conversation just a nano-second before I dropped my iPhone into the gutter at 6:33 on Thursday, the 24th, starving to death.

Calendar=The Here and Now of it all at my fingertips.

Stocks=I'm so screwed.

Notes=My deepest random thoughts.

Photos=What I thought I saw.

You Tube=My comic relief and mindless willing suspension of disbelief.

Maps=How I get to where I'm going from Chicago.

MSNBC=What I deny 24/7/365. Oh, the spin.

Facebook=How I mingle with people I've either never met or haven't seen in 35 years.

Flashlight=How I roll in the dark.

CHE.com=My Mothership website where I sink 30% of my after tax income.

ConnectMLS=Chicago real estate world in my pocket.

Twitter=How I say it in 140 characters or less.

Real Estate=How I feed the bulldog, shelter the wife, get my fix and send my clients GPS Chicago Real Estate links via Smarter Agent .

Phone='Leave a message, maybe I'll call.'

Email=My electronic voice.

Google=My continuing education.

Text=? U C is ? U get

Camera=What I think I see.

...And that's just the main screen of my iPhone. I have two more just like it on the tarmac jammed full of apps.

post script: "What was iLife like before Apple?" Eve seductively asks Adam on the 8th Day or thereabouts.

Geno Petro

photo: an image that mysteriously appeared on my screen at 6:33PM on Thursday the 24th, when I accidently dropped the phone into the gutter outside my garage and instantly broke my Lent promise of no profanity and only pure thoughts for 40 days and 40 nights. (I'm such a recovering Catholic. I'm so screwed...)

It's 'Match Day' For The Medical Profession

Calling all Medical Residents planning their housing futures: Doctor's Loans, Doctor's Loans

Sunday, March 1st is 'MATCH DAY' (reprint)

I was working with an out-of-state client last summer who had just completed the last stage of his Medical Residency and was planning a move to Chicago. He was hoping to purchase a condominium along Lake Michigan that was walking distance to his new hospital and priced around $300,000. The two big, lingering questions on his mind were:

1) 'How would his accrued Medical School debts affect his ability to purchase a first home?'

and

2) 'How much down payment and closing cost money would be needed for such a purchase?
I immediately shot off an email to Edwin Hahn at Bank of America, the only professional source in Chicago I know of who specializes in such a program.

This is what I found:


While some loans are available with No Money Down, a nominal amount of capital (3-5%) is generally required. Still, this is far less than many conventional conforming loans on the market today.

PMI (Private Mortgage Insurance) is usually NOT required.

Student Loans are NOT counted in the Debt Ratios.

Flexible Loan Programs (such as ARMS and Interest Only) are available.

This program is available to Medical Residents, Medical Doctors, Licensed Dental Surgeons specializing in oral and maxillofacial surgery and full-time Medical Instructors who are Licensed Doctors.

Feel free to comment below or simply email Edwin Hahn at:

edwin.c.hahn@bankofamerica.com

Bank of America

10000 Skokie Blvd,

2nd Floor Skokie, IL 60077

Equal Housing Lender

or call him direct at:

847.676.5414

Geno Petro

Spykers, Models, and Egg Foo Young

I was strolling through the Chicago Auto Show at McCormick Place this morning, flanked on either side by office mates Joe Pinto and Petey Basili (my friend Janis Lee calls them my 'bookends'), when I came across this strange, hand crafted beast on display (pictured above); a Spyker. (Notice the sick, sick air dam on the roof.) My guess is it's fairly quick not to mention...ahem... pricey. There was no sticker in the window but hey, if you have to ask...

Anyway, I tried to grab Petey to have him take a gander but he had wandered off and was fixated on the supermodel hawking the new Ford Taurus SHO one section over. Joe was on his cell phone the entire time and was concerned with neither cars nor girls but rather, you guessed it, a New Construction Condo deal. An hour later we were all in Chinatown eating dim sum like fat Americans. Halfway through, I gave up and asked for a fork.

So now you know what Fridays are like for me in the Chicago Real Estate market these days. Oh yeah...it's snowing again. And an FHA loan just got declined after 75 days in Underwriting. And the Loss Mitigation Department at Countrywide won't return my calls. And every Listing Agent I ran into this week wants 'feedback.' And it's a Buyer's market, baby...


Geno Petro


photo by geno petro

Fulton Market Nighthawk

I've always enjoyed the dark and sullied gangways of Chicago's West Loop neighborhood...from a comfortable distance, to be sure. The angle of the downtown skyline from this iron bound perspective is both fresh and gritty at the same time. The Meat Packing District, with its alleys of bumper to bumper empty and open delivery trucks parked in formation under sodium-sulphate street lights, is at its silent brooding best between the dusk and dawn hours.

I came upon the corner pictured above just after sundown last Saturday night. The Fulton Market landscape struck me immediately as an Edward Hopper scene study, particularly the way the back light was pooling on the sidewalk as I rolled up to the dead end stop sign on west May Street. I put the vehicle in PARK, jumped out, and quickly snapped the above image with my iPhone before I lost the frame in my mind forever.

I spent the next twenty minutes looking for parking and a decent place to eat.


Geno Petro


photo by geno petro

VOTE FOR MARIA PINTO

2009 Oscars Dress Designer Finalist

YO CHICAGO, VOTE MARIA PINTO!

Subject: VOTE! Maria Pinto Oscars

CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING PRESS RELEASE:

I would appreciate your help on an exciting development. And, in these challenging times, it is nice to have the opportunity to focus on more positive matters.

I am forwarding to you an exciting announcement concerning my good friend, Maria Pinto. She has been chosen to participate in the Oscars Designer Challenge. As explained in the following message from her public relations office, she is one of seven designers competing (the original field consisted of over 200 nominees).

We, the public, have a chance to vote and participate in the Academy's decision on the best designer. The winning designer will have her dress/model as the 'trophy girl' during the most watched award show of the year! In a nutshell, here's how you can participate:

The public can vote once a day for Maria's design starting NOW through 5 p.m. on February 17 at:

<http://www.oscar.com/>

Click on Oscars Designer Challenge in the lower left corner of the page.
Please vote (each day for the next seven days!). Also, we would appreciate if you would forward this on to your contact group and ask them to cast votes for Maria Pinto. Please help us send her on to the next leg--THE OSCAR RED CARPET!

Thank you all,

Friends and Family of Maria Pinto


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE CONTACT: Mark Davidovich MarkD@Studio-PR.com Maria Pinto In Emerging Designer Competition Consumers can vote at

http://www.oscar.com/

(FEBRUARY 10, 2009) Los Angeles, CA -The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences selected Maria Pinto to be one of seven emerging designers to showcase an originally designed gown at its annual Oscars® Fashion Preview. Pinto and others are competing for the chance to have their gown worn on the 81st Academy Awards® telecast. The public can vote once a day for Maria's design beginning at 3 p.m. PT on February 10th through 5 p.m. on February 17 at


<http://www.oscar.com/.


This is Maria Pinto's first time participating in the Fashion Preview held at the Academy's headquarters in Beverly Hills, CA. The designer who receives the most votes will have his or her design worn onstage by one Awards Escort during the Oscar® telecast, which airs live on ABC Sunday, February 22, from the Kodak Theatre at Hollywood and Highland Center®.

Even though Pinto's luxurious women's accessories collection debuted at Bergdorf Goodman in 1991, she debuted her first ready to wear and evening collection in 2004. However most consumers didn't know her name until Michelle Obama started wearing her dresses on the campaign trail in 2007.

For more information about Maria Pinto, log on to http://www.mariapinto.com/ <http://www.mariapinto.com/> or contact Studio PR, 212-696-1321.

Geno Petro

Dear Assh...uh...I mean neighbor,

This is just one small example of the residual fallout that can occur after a condo owner pays upwards of $50,000 for a deeded parking space in Chicago (See the picture). And no, this was not directed at me---I found it laying on the icy sidewalk before a showing---although, I did once receive a similar love note from a married couple upstairs demanding me to stop smoking cigarettes in my duplex.

I believe the husband's exact words to me began with, "Just so you know, I am an attorney" to which I promptly replied, "What a coincidence, I have an attorney..." and on it went for several months. They ended up selling their condo and moving away and I shortly thereafter, kicked the habit for good. I also brought the buyer for their unit. So there, I won on all counts. It's one of my favorite real estate agent/condo living/unfriendly neighbor stories.

Now I don't know Javier & Laura personally but I do know the River North building they live in and yes, 50K buys you an 8 by 17 foot patch of individually taxed and assessed concrete in the bowels of their garage. It's sick when you start doing the $$ math per square foot for unlivable space. Unbelievable, really.

...And thus, it really pisses an already heavily mortgaged condo owner off when someone else in the building parks his Hummer over the surveyed yellow line and onto their assigned (and also mortgaged) parking space. It makes for unfriendly condo association cookouts on Sunday afternoons in the summer. It makes for dead silence and lack of eye contact during the long elevator rides up to the Eighth Floor. It calls for nasty notes like the one above to make a point. It can even culminate in...yes, fist-a-cuffs.

I've noticed on the news that more than a few people have been clobbered over parking space incidents in this white city since I arrived a dozen years ago. The truth is, guys like Javier can only take so much inconsiderate neighbor-related angst before they snap. It can turn poor girls like Laura into instant median strip mud wrestlers with one honk of the horn too many in rush hour traffic. I've seen it and it ain't pretty. It makes city dwellers in oversized SUVs (which I love by the way---the vehicles, not the people) vessels for bad condo karma, dude.

It makes relying on the CTA for urban transport sound like a good idea. All you have to worry about then is how to spend the extra 50K you pocketed...and of course, all the lunatics on the bus.


Geno Petro

Gold Coast Trash

I pulled up behind this experiment in socio-economic human squalor (pictured) the other morning near the intersection of Goethe and LaSalle in the Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago. I couldn't tell if an actual person was buried beneath all the trash inside or if the vehicle was just being used as an alternative composte bin by an eccentric limestone entried resident. But then again, I didn't get that close.

I looked up and down the sidewalk to see if I could match a house or condominium with the vehicle. Nothing meshed. Little if anything in this particular area sells for less than a million dollars even in the worst of real estate markets. Rents hover above $3,000 per month as well. Heck, even garbage pick-up (referred to as 'scavenger service' here in Chicago, can run a couple bills per week for a medium sized condo association). Still, that's no reason to live in it, I thought to myself....

Then I recalled a time in my own life, in a world far far away and long long ago, when my car was too, my castle for a brief period of time. I was in between room mates in college at the time or more accurately, between NDSL student loan distributions. My only credit card was Sears--good for plaid shirts, beef jerky from the Camping Department, and tires, but not much else. Oh, I did have an ATM card too, with a balance of $7.00, but I'll be damned if they ever let me withdraw it whenever I tried to use the machine bolted to the outside Bank wall.

I smugly referred to my roving address during this stint as 1972 Riviera, Slippery Rock, PA. Zip Code...depends. But unlike my slovenly subject pictured above, I made it a point to at least park behind the coin-operated car wash on the edge of town at night so I was always close to a trash bin, slightly running water, and the occasional discarded 'New Car Smell' thingy jiggy you hang from the rear view mirror. After all, Cleanliness is next to Godliness, even in a declining housing market.


Geno Petro

Rabbit R.I.P.

He was truly a man of letters. He won two Pulitzers. From essays on baseball to short stories in The New Yorker, he continued to publish long past the point where he ever needed the money---or the recognition. He had been my favorite writer since undergraduate school. John Updike, of Rabbit Run, Rabbit Redux, Rabbit is Rich, and Rabbit at Rest notoriety, is dead...and I feel saddened today by the loss.

For my 52nd birthday I received the above mentioned Rabbit Angstrom tetralogy in a single bound 1500 page hardback. I've been reading (re-reading actually) a little bit at a time since last August. I pick up the book now and notice I'm on page 1314, almost done with the final novel. It's the only American publication in its genre written entirely in the present tense. It unfolds like a screenplay in real time; four screenplays written over four decades--one book every ten years, streaming through the base and mosaic mind of Harry 'Rabbit' Angstrom, protagonist/antagonist/hero/anti-hero flawed post World War Two modern Man.

I have a theory. When great thinkers pass on, exceptional humanitarians die, or virtuoso guitarists crash and burn, their extinguished super-talent gets somehow spread among the living and everyone left behind gets just a tiny bit better. And this is the only thought that keeps me from being any sadder right now. In the present tense, today, like it's supposed to be.

I suppose now he knows...

Geno Petro

Chicago Cold Snaps

Pictured below are a few frames of interest that made me pull over in traffic, jump out of the vehicle, and risk my life on the streets of Chicago as I snapped away on my iPhone camera. I don't know why....maybe looking at all those National Geographics as a kid imprinted a latent desire to be a photojournalist (although I've yet to run across a naked Watusi---which is the reason, of course, any American 10 year old boy would even be looking at NG to begin with).

1) Ouch!


This guy was really pissed because he drove his truck under an overpass on Clybourn Avenue...almost. He is pictured letting the air out of the tires so he can hopefully back out of the....ahem....jam. Both he and the approaching Chicago city policeman at the bottom left told me to "GTFO" which I did at my own pace. Hey, I'm a Cook County property tax payer. I have the right to investigate which rocket scientists are running their trucks into our bridges and who's being paid to Serve and Protect us. My comment back to them...

"Close, but no Watusi."


2) Irony!


I heard someone crunching up behind me on one of the "M" streets in Jefferson Park the other morning asking "Can't you read the GD sign?"

"Why, is that your sign?" I asked old Mr Grumpy Retired City Worker.

"GD right it is." said he. (What is with all the potty mouth this week?)

"I don't see any grass..." I muttered as I walked away.

"That's because #%$%#s like you can't KEEP OFF IT," said the Last Word Grump.

And he was right. I just couldn't resist.


3) Enough Already!


I learned my lesson back in 1994 when I had an Ollie North sticker pasted on the back of my own Jeep bumper and birds kept pooping on my hood. Anyway, the owner of this traveling think tank was a little put off when she came out of Jenny Craig on Diversey and caught me snapping a shot of her Jeep's rear end. Yes, I said her Jeep's rear end. (I noticed a box of Ho Ho's on the back seat but kept my mouth shut not really expecting the situation to Change. Besides, anyone who has a WTF sticker on their car is fair political game in my yet to be written book.)


Geno Petro


photos by me

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (shelter)

A Real Estate contract is generally not enforceable in the great state of Illinois unless it is a) Written, b) 'Signed-off ' on by competent parties (Acceptance), and c) Some form of Consideration ($$$) is placed in an escrow account to show 'Good Faith' on the Buyer's part. Think of it as the Holy Trinity of the home buying experience.

It's the 'Good Faith' part of the experience I wish to address here. The truth is, most of the negotiation process in this North Side Chicago market takes place verbally. Once a written Offer is submitted to the Seller's side of the deal, the details usually get hammered out by the respective Realtors involved via cell phone, text messages and email. Sometimes we are The Negotiators, other times, mere Messengers. Either way, there are at least four channels of emotion, rationality and objectivity that need to be successfully navigated--the Seller, the Listing Agent, the Buyer, and the Buyer's Agent-- not to mention the chorus, and supporting cast of Attorneys, Home Inspectors, Lenders, Appraisers, and Blood Relations waiting in the wings for Act II to begin. Once there is signed Agreement the 'experience' as it were, takes off in another direction altogether. Another story for another day.

So here's the scenario: A potential Client sits at her computer, Googles 'Search Chicago Real Estate' and of course, lands on Page One. After surveying the first 10 choices she decides to click on ChicagoHomeEstates.com because...well, it just sounds so right. Chicago...Home, no...even better... Estates. She then decides to choose an Agent so she can Register on the site for greater access, picks the best looking one and Voila!...she arrives at my Home Page. Once registered, she is free to search the Chicagoland area for a home or rather...an estate of her dreams. She requests a showing for a Condominium that piques her interest. I respond.

Now this is where the afore mentioned 'Good Faith' begins. Our website Features our own Listings while at the same time providing a Search Engine for the entire MLS of Northern Illinois. This is provided under under the guidelines of Broker Reciprocity and is about as clear as clear can be, in my opinionated opinion. Every Listing that is not in the Chicago Home Estates personal inventory has a clearly marked icon (a little house button to click for more info) stating so.

There is a question asked and a response box to be checked: Working with a Realtor? YES or NO.

Check NO, and I'm her guy.

Check YES, and her own Realtor will need to show her the requested property (and should probably also invest in his own website with advanced Search Engine capability). Just so you know, there are only two sides of any Real Estate transaction as far as Realtors are concerned--the List side and the Buy Side. There really isn't any more room in a deal for a third Realtor. We have a name in the business for such a soul. We call him 'The Unpaid One.'

It is at this point in the experience that I make it crystal clear to my potential Client that her Request For Showing either is or is not my own Listing (I have no intention of ever being The Unpaid One) and I proceed from there.

Now let's just say that we meet at the property, introduce ourselves to the Listing Agent, and take the tour. Thirty minutes later she decides the place is perfect and wishes to make an Offer. Whether I write the deal or not I have established what is called Procuring Cause on that particular property, thus avoiding any possibility of becoming The Unpaid One. We soon thereafter fill out an approved Board of Realtors contract, sign and initial all the appropriate spaces, forward it on the the other side of the deal, and wait for a counter-offer.

It is at this point that the verbiage begins. Several phone calls back and forth between all parties involved and hopefully, a middle ground can be found. Let me walk you through the dialogue of a recent negotiation attempt that mirrors my example above. The gender has been changed to protect the idiot...I mean innocent..

"The List Price is $639,000," I said. "I suggest we come in around $605,000 and hopefully get this deal done under $620,000. " Just so you know, while aggressive in negotiations I am not a bush league 'low baller.' If the List Price is ridiculous then that's another story but even in this somewhat flat North Side Chicago market, most properties still sell within 5% of the Asking Price in less than 180 days.

"We are obviously not on the same page," says my Client. "I will not consider offering anything with a 'six' in it. Tell them $550,000 and we'll close in three weeks." (In case math wasn't your best subject in grade school, that's $89,000 under List Price.) I put on my Messenger outfit and prepare to deliver the news.

"Good news is...we have an Offer for you!" I say to the happy, happy Listing Agent. "Bad news is we are coming in 15% under List." Actually, I don't really say any of this. Instead, I just let the ink on paper speak for itself.

As expected, our opening Offer was met with dead silence by the other side. After 10 minutes of verbal resuscitation and another 3 or 4 minutes of 'point and counterpoint' with the Listing Agent I was finally able to persuade him to just give us a counter-offer. He called back an hour later. "$625,000. March 30th Close." This was good.

"Not good enough," was my Client's response. "$565,000 and we want our February Close date..."


FAST FORWARD ...

THREE MORE COUNTERS AND 72 HOURS LATER...

"They are willing to spilt the middle and come down below their 'Drop Dead Number,' I inform my Client. "$600,o00." I deliver the news feeling more like The Negotiator than the Messenger for the first time in a couple of days. I know that I am but $1 away from getting a deal done with no 'six' in it. I am indeed, the man.

"Okay, but I want $10,000 more back in the form of a Closing Cost Credit paid to me at the settlement table," demands my Client. "Net sale price of $590,000. It's my final Offer. Make it happen Geno!" Grabbing with both hands from the candy dish. (Gimme Gimmee Gimmee)

'Bad Faith Bad Faith Bad Faith,' I think... but I do as directed.

And I do get it done, feeling a little uneasy about throwing in a Closing Credit curve ball so late in the negotiation (poor form, to be sure). The Sellers however, eventually agree after several more hours of persuasion, and I forward the good news to my Client.

And then within a matter of hours my Client bails out of the deal totally. The reasons and excuses were numerous but the real reason (and thus the point of this sad but true essay) is she could. The original contract was written over the phone and faxed to all parties (not unusual for people with busy schedules and allowable by law), no Initial Earnest Money check was ever collected (again, the initial check is but a token gesture and is not needed until Signed Agreement occurs), and the motivation to Sell was greater than the motivation to Buy in this case. My internet Client was just fishing around the bottom of the lake seeing what she could snag on the cheap. Looking back, it was just a lot of words accompanied by very little action, not the least important of which was the Seller's signature. Lots of talk with no accompanying walk.

Postscript: As it turns out the Buyer (no longer my Client at this point) tried to go around me and cut a deal with the other side on her own shortly before this all even started. When that didn't fly she then tried to persuade me to take my commission out of the Listing Agent's portion hoping to keep the Buy-Side Co-op for herself. Again, failure to launch.

In the end, she had just agreed to use my proffered services as the great Negotiator/Messenger I am, and waste my time for half a week ultimately doing what she felt was in her own best interest. And I'm actually cool with that. Thus is the nature of the beast we call the internet.

The other three deals I'm presently working on (all internet Registrants on our site) are as sweet as blueberry pie--the people couldn't be nicer. Half of my annual business comes from a mixture of the ChicagoHomeEstates.com website and the Blog you are presently reading. The other half is made up of past Clients and referrals. And only a few deals a year come from people who can't talk and walk at the same time. C'est la Vie, say I.


Geno Petro


image clearly courtesy of weirdthings.org

Change for a Buck

I spoke briefly with this gentleman (above) today as he stood near the corner of Irving Park and Elston Avenue on Chicago's near northwest side. He mentioned that this gig was not his chosen profession and that he and all the other hired statues were indeed, hoping for at least some kind of career change with the coming Administration. I felt it was my civic duty to step up and fill him in with the real scoop. After all, I am a blogger and if nothing else, I have an opinion.

You see, I'm not sure Obama's new Jobs Initiative Proposal has a place for this guy (or his co-workers) but then again, there's probably not a spot carved out in it for me either. Sorry folks, I am not working on roads or bridges (vertigo) for a living. It's better for everybody, believe me.

I still owe my college, Slippery Rock, a library fine from two decades ago (over $300 interest and penalties as of this writing. I can pay it any time...but I won't. I'm leaving it to them in my will, I've decided) and they wont release my transcripts---so I can't be a teacher. I tried to explain this to my new friend...you know, as an example...so as not to get his hopes up with all the political rhetoric he's been hearing on the Chicago sidewalks these past several months. It was my intention to simply help prepare him for yet even more career disappointment. He just shrugged and told me his boss was hiring if I was interested. I thanked him and politely declined an interview. (I'm still reeling from the last time I wore a costume for a paycheck: the bad Easter Bunny at Neshaminy Mall back in 1976.)

I think back on the things I, myself, have done for a buck: I was a morning paperboy for most of my early teenage years (and thus, I am wide awake at 4:45AM, even to this day), I've picked tobacco in North Carolina (2 days), worked in a warehouse loading 120 lbs boxed dumbell sets into a semi truck all day (okay, half a day...once), painted apartments (okay apartment) with a recently released, convicted, practicing alcoholic felon who stole my radio when I went to the bathroom (again, one half day and I left at lunch after he accused me of calling him a thief and wanted to fight me.), the afore mentioned Easter Bunny gig (one long alcohol induced week) and an insurance salesman (15 even longer alcohol induced years). So I offered Mr Liberty a buck for a snapshot, you know...to be polite. He held out for a five note. Come to find out, he didn't really want change after all. Or at least, not the kind of loose change I had in mind. He smelled a little boozy, too. I told him he didn't have to drink, that his life could get better---maybe even shed the costume one day, but this is about the time his mood changed for the worse and I decided to split before I got into a fight and he stole my iPhone and my radio.

Anyway, I hope this serves as a symbol of how great a country we live in. Remember, in just a few quick months and a corporate mandate here or there, any one of us can find ourself standing on a corner getting patronized for a buck or two. Now that is what I call liberty and justice for all...if not, good old American equality.


Geno Petro

Chill Chicago, Chill

I strolled into the garage this morning bundled up like Randy in "A Christmas Story," jumped into my vehicle, and stared at the dashboard through frosted eyelashes. It was so cold the radio didn't come on. I cranked Old Paint and she coughed and choked before rattling to life and I almost fumed myself into the next 'Kingdom Come' waiting for the interior compartment to warm up as I sat there idling.

I finally pulled onto the street and glanced up at the Forest Glen Metra platform. My wife stood there shivering beneath her Orbitz backpack, hooded dog walking coat (warm but not pretty) and snow boots (cute). The temperature was well below Zero and her train was already ten minutes late. We made eye contact. My iPhone immediately rang.

Ten minutes later I'm driving her to work downtown in bumper to bumper to bumper traffic. I snapped a shot of my instrument panel (above); 6MPH and Minus 8 Degrees Below Zero... Fahrenheit. The radio finally came on and we listened to a preacher ask for money on a Bible station for the next forty-five minutes. This will serve as church for us for the next 6 months. We made dinner plans, kissed each goodbye and went on our separate ways for the day--her to the world of travel, me to the world of Chicago real estate. An hour later we were chatting on Facebook. Hey, it's Winter, it's Friday.... and I'm FMAO. I always fancied myself more of a Summer Realtor anyway. If you want to see one of my Listings, call for the Lockbox number. BTW, this is the last time I'm mentioning the weather (or traffic) until I can see the grass below my hammock.

Geno Petro

Forest Glen Freeze Out

Inside looking out from my second floor window in the Forest Glen neighborhood of Chicago. Sunday morning.


Also...check out my latest post on Bloodhound Blog.



Geno Petro

Chicago B.L.U.E.S. on Halsted

I stopped in for an icy shot of Blues this past weekend at, where else?... B.L.U.E.S. on Halsted Street. It's been my favorite live musical joint ever since parking my own U-Haul sideways in a Chicago alley one snowy December night some 13 years ago and unloading once and for all. Whenever things aren't low down, dirty, or tattered enough in my own life as a Chicago realtor, I just pop into B.L.U.E.S. for a reminder of how sad it really can be. On this eve it was Carlos Johnson, on a vintage left handed Gibson, and his band dealing out the pain shooters. As usual, Big Time Sarah was hunkered down at the main bar, bellowing her own crushed rock baselines above the amplified Peavys. The place, as always, was jammed to the rafters.

One man was missing though; in mortal body anyway. And if Chicago guitar legend Chico Banks was indeed in the room, which I believe he just may have been, it was in spirit and memory only. The audience learned from an overwrought Carlos Johnson that the 47 year old virtuoso had just unexpectantly passed away. Johnson gave a checkerboard bluesman's eulogy to a now hushed crowd, raised his snifter to the Heavens, took a sip of cognac, then immediately ripped into a 15 minute jam that tore the wallboards from the studs. And I mean that. Each musician in the tightly wound quartet tore...it...up. The dude on keys, the brother on bass, the monster on drums, and CJ out in front. Shredded it. I raised my own club soda from a stool against the wall in back and silently toasted Life in general. I got the fix I subconsciously came cruising for.

Women were crying. Men were choking. Big Time Sarah was howling on the floor. The crowd was emersed, swallowed by the sound and the soul of the Blues. And not the weak ass, watered down swill they serve up across the street at Kingston Mines but the real deal. The kind that comes out indigo when you cut. The kind that pumped through the veins of Chico Banks until a few days ago.


Geno Petro


I snapped the shot of Carlos Johnson (but I did not shoot the deputy)