We were sitting at a table overlooking the Mediterranean, the French Riviera sun dancing on the water, gratefully reflecting on the lives we’d built in the real estate industry. It’s a memory I return to now that John Aaroe is gone.
At that moment, surrounded by the people we cared about, John wasn’t a “power broker” — he was just a man deeply in love with real estate and its people.
John Aaroe
John Aaroe was a rare breed in Beverly Hills. In an industry often defined by “takers,” John was a relentless giver.
While his portfolio included famous names and landmark estates everyone recognized, that wasn’t the John Aaroe I knew. He was humble to the bone.
In an era of digital vanity, you wouldn’t find John posting curated selfies or bragging about his latest deals. He let his work and his character do the talking.
He led with a decisive hand, but always from a place of service. He took advantage of opportunities not just for himself, but for those around him.
He was a personal and professional confidant. He respected the craft of journalism and was one of my most trusted sources. He didn’t just give me the “what”; he gave me the “why” of what was really happening in the market and the motivations of the people behind it.
I had the good fortune of speaking with him frequently toward the end of his life. We lived in a world of long voicemails and constant texts — a back-and-forth rhythm I’ve come to cherish.
There was something about his voice — warm, soothing and incredibly steady — that could ground a chaotic day.
His life was beautiful, engaging and surely complicated at times, as all extraordinary lives are. But through all the noise of the high-stakes real estate world, his grace never wavered.
Above all, I will forever be grateful for the way John treated my wife, Yaz. He was gracious and supportive of her; they had a special connection.
Every time we saw him, he brought Yaz a box of chocolate.
John Aaroe was more than a colleague; he was an exceptional human being. The skyline of our industry feels a little emptier without him, and I will miss him dearly.
