We would drive out to the country and sit at what felt like our vacation home, only this vacation home needed a boatload of work. We would sit beside the fire and Jo would tend her garden. And then we would go inside and just mess around, trying to figure out what we could do with whatever money we had coming in.
We knew we needed to expand the house some. We were eventually able to figure out how to create a lot of room upstairs in the attic, which was unused space at the time. But before we built anything out, we ripped things apart hoping to find some old beams and hardwood floors. And when we tore off the drywall, we found shiplap everywhere. So I was instantly like, “We’re using that as our finished wall.” We painted it all white and didn’t bother filling in any of the nail holes or anything. The way I saw it, every one of those nail holes was a little piece of history, and they all added character to the home. And just as important, we saved eight grand in drywall costs right there.
We were always thrifty, and we loved using old materials, making our own things, doing the work ourselves when we could. It was our job. It was our passion. And this farm was our dream. We couldn’t wait until it was time to move in.
Back in the late 1800s, when a place like this was originally built, you had to work with what you had, and you had to figure stuff out. You certainly couldn’t Google it. You didn’t have Internet. You didn’t even have how-to books. You had to sit there and wrestle with it. You found this old spare part, you did this other thing, you hooked it up to a donkey, and you tried it out.
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But eventually you’d pop out on the other side and say, “I’ve got this.”
Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always solved problems like that.
It took us quite a while before we made things happen at the farm and got it to a point that it was move-in ready. Then we stopped and looked back at all we’d done, the good times and the bad. The times when we were literally flush with cash and the times we could barely pay our bills.
Did this mean we were finally out of the woods? It sure felt like it. We had managed to keep our heads above water through some really tough times. And even in those tough times our precious employees had continued to play a huge part in our business. They stuck it out with us.
Some of these employees went way back with us, all the way to the beginning. Most of the Boys who’d helped with my early flips were still around. You probably know a couple of them—Shorty and José—from the show. Even before that, one of the guys who mowed lawns with me, ironically, was Shorty and José’s father-in-law. His daughter was the first girl I ever hired to help run the little corner wash-and-fold business. She’s still with us today—we don’t own the wash-and-fold anymore, but she works for our company. So does Jo’s friend who worked with her before she decided to close the shop.
Looking back, it’s amazing to see how it all ties together. Those people had seen how hard we’d worked to always pay them first, no matter what, during all the tough times. Without even purposefully trying, just by being who we are and doing what we do, we’d created a Magnolia family.
The work we did managed to touch a lot of people’s lives, and it’s just not possible to put into words the gratitude we feel for each and every person who’s helped us along the way.
A couple of our suppliers bent over backward for us during those lean times too. A few of them gave us extra time to pay for some of the materials we needed in order to keep going.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’d like to amend that and say it takes a village to run a small business!
We are glad we doubled down on our renovation business during that tough period. We focused heavily on the real-estate side of our Magnolia Homes business, too, both listing and selling homes in and around Waco and helping buyers find the home of their dreams. We especially liked it when we could find our customers a home that wasn’t quite move-in ready but was in their price range. Then we could offer our renovation services as a way to turn that fixer-upper into a home they would love. Not only were jobs like that fun and fulfilling; they also allowed us to put all of our skills to work—and they were the jobs that kept us afloat financially.
Well, guess what? That evolving business model was just the thing that pushed the concept of a Chip-and-Joanna TV show over the top. The folks at HGTV loved the idea of following home buyers through the process from start to finish, from selection through renovation, with a big reveal at the end when they finally saw the finished product.
I find it interesting that the skills we honed flipping houses had prepared us for the grueling time commitments involved with filming client-based renovations for television. They said all this made for “great TV.” I mean, the timing of it all couldn’t have worked out any better. As with the sizzle reel, we couldn’t have scripted any of these things if we tried.
We didn’t know what made “great TV.” We were just trying to make a living and trying hard to honor the craft we had both fallen in love with over the years.
We’d been in business for more than ten years, and by then I think people in Waco had come to know who we were and what we were all about. So when some of this started hitting, Waco seemed to support us and protect us. We were not stars here. We were just the same Chip and JoJo they’d known and supported for years.
I also love the fact that we had never quit.
We fought like cats and dogs to the bitter end, and one thing led to the other. Next thing you know, the remodeling business was booming, our flips were flipping, rentals were renting, and banks started lending again. All that happened right around the time the TV show got picked up in 2013.
Then all of a sudden we had these camera crews around us, and all these assistant directors and sound guys and production assistants and network executives were telling us how unique we were, and how they loved our work, and how great this TV show was going to be. It was all just surreal, like one of those dreams where you can’t tell fact from fiction.
Honestly, I needed that boost after going through all of those ups and downs. I just felt vindicated. We’d spent all this time doing the best we could every day, and for people to notice it was just very rewarding.
It was certainly not about the money. There are very talented artists and craftsmen of all sorts who do amazing work and aren’t rich. But for us to come out on the other side having a little money again and having some accolades coming in—yeah, it was nice.
One thing we were excited to do was to get Peggy’s son his money, to refinance that owner-financed loan he’d been so generous to extend to us. He had been so patient, but now the Villas were in a great place. That made it much easier for the banks to take him out—finally. Which is exactly what he’d said would happen.
As things continued to improve and our business got healthier and healthier, we wanted to get one last thing cleared up. So, we called up the couple who had loaned us the $100,000 that allowed us to keep going during that terrible downturn. “Hey,” we said when they answered the phone. “We were in the neighborhood. Do you mind if we come by and say hi?”
We had originally told them that our intention was to pay that money back within a year. When that year came and went and we told them it would take a while longer, they didn’t fuss one bit. In fact, they reiterated their original position. Their generosity was crippling. In a world full of contracts and legalities, they could have chosen to throw the terms of this deal in our face, but instead they chose to be gracious and patient as we worked this out.
We stopped by that day and we handed them a check for $130,000.
I said, “Even though this is what we agreed on, I just want you to know I feel like I owe you infinitely more than that. You both have meant the world to us. We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.”