
Instead, he died owning two houses with a combined value of less than $200,000, with almost no cash in the bank, and living mostly off Social Security.
Dad was a sort of real estate pioneer. He was smart, a millionaire back when a million dollars was real money, one of the founders of Cincinnati REIA, and the teacher of what was probably the most popular real estate investing class in Southern Ohio.
Through DECADES (he bought his first apartment building in 1964 and his last rental house around 2004) of work and sacrifice, he built a portfolio of about 100 apartments and 150 single-family houses.
And then he got Alzheimer’s.
Long before the official diagnosis, we could all see that something was wrong with his executive functioning.
A roof would leak, and he would spend weeks waffling about whether it needed to be repaired or replaced. Properties sat vacant longer and longer and deteriorated further and further. The manager of one of his apartment buildings essentially stopped managing it, leaving a heavily mortgaged building with a broken boiler and only two tenants in 13 units—one of whom wasn’t paying.
Dad knew, at least off and on, what needed to be done.
But increasingly, he couldn’t make himself do it.
And because his entire identity was wrapped up in being the brilliant real estate expert and self-made millionaire, he became fiercely protective of his right to keep running the business. Even after he understood that he had Alzheimer&rs ... Read More…