Those old spaghetti westerns cranked out for little money to splash on the big silver screen.
Many shot in Italy, across the puddle because of consistent weather, no black clouds or cold temperatures to interfere in the roll 'em. Quiet on the set, action. And cheap help, accommodations surrounding the 35 mm film productions.
You had wide open outdoors, add a couple horses, cows, actors like Clint Eastwood and you felt lucky.
No need to call anyone a punk.
Throw in some pretty women that must have continuous chest colds. A small town scared of some cattle rustlers.
A saloon, tinny sounding honky tonk piano playing, card shuffling and rifles, pistols.
Maybe a shoot out at high noon over principle, a line drawn in the sand.
Disrepect to a gutsy Annie Oakley type cast or sugar and spice, lots of lace little lady. A wrong being righted. As they shoot them up, hang them high around the out in the country real estate. The property collection of storefront, buidings to simulate a struggling community. Nip and tuck happening daily before the last guy out of town shut off the lights. Time for the it's a wrap party.
The theme about robbing a bank, hiding out, just passing through and needing a nickel bath, hot shave, home cooked sit down grub.
Cheating someone out of a farm property, mineral rights to some real estate.
To force passage of a future railroad over land of one of the last property hold outs.
To sign over the real estate they worked hard to til, fence for a song.
And a sense of justice wanting to be served before "The End" felt out in the audience.
The good guy wears the white hat.
All brought together to simulate hard real life in the untamed west for a fist full of dollars. Scratching out an existence and rising above. Keeping your head just above water level. Food on the table.
All set in a collection of small buildings, some real estate property arranged just so.
A Hollywood or wherever on the Earth the production was made for the amazing outdoor setting of rugged terrain. Lush green pastures or desert sand and scrub pines, cactus that hit or miss sparsely. But go on forever.
These buildings, the property set, real estate including a livery stable, barber shop, sheriff's office, hotel with bar and food. A general store, funeral director, maybe a doctor that was vet, emergency room and Dr Phil all rolled up into one. That made house calls with a horse, buggy, black bag. Good at removing lead, repairing bullet holes.
Paid for, the settling up with small cows, noisy chickens, big bushels of produce. Or gold, maybe silver nuggets. Do I hear the railroad train coming in and sound of wagon trains with the calvary rambling down main street? The only street winding around the property buildings.
Real estate is not a Hollywood set unless you are producing, watching reality real estate shows with intro, extro, two commecial cluster breaks.
The actual set is real World. Local, living and breathing communities. The property listings are not much good without people.
Buyers, sellers, someone to work with in the real estate list, market sell (repeat).
Not shells, just store fronts of a downtown building collection. And maybe a river to cross lots of times. A couple prairie homes to ride into, hop off and back on frisky horses. And mostly camping under the stars.
Using your saddle as your pillow. The blanket underneath it for covering warmth. While coyotes howl, the fire goes out, the moon and stars are your nightlight. For a little much needed shut eye on the trail. While the cold baked beans and hot fresh coffee, chewing tobacco and trail dust mix together, digest.
Because there are people, families, estates and divorces, relocation moves to work around, real estate is about people.
Looking to buy, sell, trade property listings. Folks that need those four walls, roof and address with space wrapped around it. In urban settings the lots measured in inches, feet. In country locations, property acreage happens instead.
Read full blog post article on "What can go wrong in listing, selling Maine real estate".