In Remembrance of a Stealthy Icon – The King

by Jeff Brown

Real Estate Investments Broker

Author website

I remember one day back in early 1974. I was sittin’ at my desk, a 22 year old pondering the future, as it was the first full time day after being part time since a teenager. We were in a recession, but I had less than a clue what that was. It was about six weeks ’till I was to be married, and I needed to figure out what to do no later than 4:30 PM yesterday afternoon.

As the son of the boss I had no dearth of available mentors. Hell, he spawned more successful new brokerages from 1964-75 than almost any two companies. Back in the period 1964-70 his East San Diego office was akin to the freakin’ ’27 Yankees for Heaven’s sake. Problem was, most of ’em were busy runnin’ their own firms now. Dad had hung up the semi-permanent Gone Golfin’ sign on his office door. He’d downsized from six offices plus an escrow to one office and no escrow.

What was left? Me, and the 8-10 loyal agents for whom he’d kept that lone remaining office open. So I started calling the OldSchool guys who’d mentored me as a snot-nosed teen who knew everything (not a damned thing). A couple hours later I was faced with a dilemma. Though the flavor of their advice had differed slightly, the crux had been the same — work harder than you ever have at anything, and see more people who can tell ya to ‘go to hell’ than the other guy. Lord only knows what magic elixir I was expecting them to serve up, but that certainly wasn’t it.

Of course, of all the agents who knew the generic answer before asking the question, I’d been given that answer countless times. Why even ask then? Cuz it’s human nature to want the easy way, when, paradoxically, the easy way is only easy to understand — not necessarily to execute. Lookin’ back, I guess a 22 year old searchin’ for the EasyButton isn’t exactly unique.

I got tired of hangin’ with the leftovers from a bygone era, and moved my license, with Dad’s encouragement, to a two-horse operation called King Milligan Real Estate. And yeah, King was his real name, from Ohio no less — a sixth generation son of a farmer — who WAS NOT gonna farm. He knew who Dad was, and my background. He said he’d take me on if I did exactly what he told me to do. I signed up.

King was one of the wisest, kindest, and goofiest guy I’d met in the business. Did I say goofy? Not only in personality, but looks. He made Homer Simpson look like George Clooney. He’d raised the first three of his six kids selling vacuum cleaners door to door. That’s a salesman. Folks loved him after knowing him for 10 minutes. He was possibly the least pretentious guy I’ve ever had the privilege to have know so well. He was also one of the five finest men I’ve ever had to honor to have known well.

His work ethic would’ve made Calvin blush.

He taught me so much. But the most valuable lesson he may have beat into my 20-something pea brain was that a poor plan executed with the single-mindedness of a dog with a bone, will generate far better results than no plan, or worse, a great plan not married to action.

Imagine how a 1970’s Sears appliance salesman dressed, and that was King. A Penny’s short sleeved shirt with a clip-on tie. Everybody dressed better than King, yet most couldn’t carry his jock when it came to producing listings and sales outa nothing more than his decision to make it so. He raised six kids and built two fine homes being his goofy self, executing the principles he would, for two of the luckiest years of my life, teach me.

For instance, one day he took me out with him to a randomly selected neighborhood. He was gonna show me how to knock doors to get listings. Yeah, sure King. Son of a bitch if he didn’t end up gettin’ a listing AND a sale from that one two hour walk, while talkin’ to complete strangers — mostly just laughin’ ‘n scratchin’.

Folks who say that can’t be done today are so full of **it their eyes must be brown. But, I’ve learned not to pound that subject too much, as folks get pissed when confronted with why they don’t/won’t do stuff like that — and no, it’s not cuz they’re kickin’ such major ass online. What a joke THAT is for most, but a different post for sure. They won’t do that kinda lead generation for one major reason — their tender little ego/psyche can’t deal with the remote chance of rejection of any kind, so they avoid it like they do the plague.

King? His plan was to talk with as many folks a day as he could. It didn’t matter to him how or where, just that the conversations took place — in great numbers. He cold called, knocked doors, did the expired listing thing, sent out hand written letters, and anything else he could think of. Wanna know how obsessed he was about it? His office was located in a regional mall — in a blue collar area. Once a week he’d ‘door knock’ the damn stores themselves. He listed or sold homes from those visits all the time. He made money doin’ things most brokers/agents would dismiss outa hand as a waste of time.

How effective was his mentoring? From roughly June of ’74 through August of ’76 I not only survived the two year recession gripping the country, I thrived. The only reason I left him, with his typical enthusiastic encouragement, was because I’d tired of the subjectivity of listing/selling homes, and longed for the investment side of the business. He completely agreed. In fact, he often said he thought of my time with him as my two year basic training course.

What a wise and selfless man he was.

King Milligan was a giant. To coin an oxymoronic phrase, he was a stealthy icon. Nobody came close to teaching me more than he did about what we do. It was hands on, no messin’ around, and never failed to produce the intended results. Though King died a while back, his stamp on me is permanent. He took me when I was a virtual blank chalkboard and wrote in the permanency of timeless principles. If I leave any legacy at all, I’d love it to be similar to King’s — a lofty goal if ever there was one.

I miss him.