theglobe.com

This is the story of two young men who were among the first to perceive the Internet opportunity. They started a company, became multimillionaires, and then saw much of it slip away. In this book such stories are beginning to sound familiar, and yet remain surprising and even fantastic.

Starting from Cornell

Todd Krizelman, a biology major from San Francisco, and Stephan Paternot, a computer sciences major from Switzerland, discovered chat rooms while undergraduates at Cornell University in 1994. They believed these chat rooms had many uses and would become popular. In their junior year of college they borrowed $15,000 from friends and family, and designed a Web site that had all the available tools for building Web “communities,” but let users decide how to use the tools. theglobe.com, Inc. became, as the company Web site described it, “a virtual community.” The company later grew into the emerging video game industry, publishing game information online and in print magazines.

Good fortune was on their side. They met fellow Cornell alumnus Michael Egan from Dancing Bear Investments who invested $20 million in 1997 and became chairman of the firm. “I had no reservations about investing so much in a company run by kids,” Egan told a reporter.[91] The company also received smaller investments from David Horowitz (former MTV CEO), Bob Halperin (former Raychem vice chairman), and David Duffield (chairman and CEO of PeopleSoft).

Seeking capital from venture firms, theglobe.com endured an extensive process of due diligence, something which later in the Internet bubble would be much abbreviated. Todd Krizelman described the venture firm's due diligence process: “It was so substantial. For people on the outside, it's probably hard to imagine. A team of accountants went back to inception to see that every last thing we had said was true, and that we had accounted for everything. A group of lawyers worked to make sure that all the contracts we had written with our advertising clients as well as our subscription agreements, everything, were alright. The venture firm brought in a very top tier consulting firm to come in to do more diligence. They did a valuation model and said 'hey, this is right, these guys are right, these guys are on to something'—giving us an outside seal of approval. And then finally, the venture firm had one or two people from its office quite literally live in our office for about two months to really go over all the nuts and bolts of how we marketed the product, where we thought we'd build the product, and how we might spend additional cash.”

Diligence coming to a successful end, the entrepreneurs and the venture capitalists began to discuss financing—not just the terms, but how much. “In the beginning,” Krizelman reports, “the venture guys had to convince us that we needed more capital. So there was a lot of time spent saying, “Hey, I bet if we put more money into this we could really grow this thing much larger.” We were very concerned with this idea of dilution and giving up control. We really didn't start this to become millionaires. This was our company. We spent a lot of time negotiating over control rights over the company as we accepted the investment. And ultimately it's a main reason we ultimately did retain control of the company.”

Going public

The company was incorporated in 1995 and went public three years later on November 13, 1998. It was the 48th company to go public in the Internet space. The decision to go public was not a simple one, but there were good reasons. As Krizelman says, “For a salesperson to go out and say 'The company is doing so well we can go public, you can look us up on the NASDAQ,' was immensely powerful. Even from the time we filed, sales ramped. In the year we went public we did $6 million in sales, and I think something like a third to half of it happened in the last four months.”

The company made stock market history by appreciating over 900%, from $9 to $97 in its first day of trading, leaving Krizelman, then 25, with a stake of $73 million, and Paternot, then 24, with $78 million.

The bankers left too much on the table

But this was not as good a fortune as it then appeared to be. Krizelman says, “When we went public and the stock went straight up we were very upset. It meant that our bank had left a lot of money on the table for us and had not serviced us well. It did not mean that we had personally capitalized, because management is locked up. This created a public relations problem immediately. The next morning you saw in the New York Post and others that I was worth this much, when in fact you're not worth anything. We were locked up for about a year.”

Stock analysts demand more losses from the company

The pressure to spend the company's money quickly was great. “You really would go into a meeting with stock analysts and one would say, 'You're not losing enough money,' and you would say, 'I think we're losing plenty.' And they would say, 'Your peers in the space, your competitors, are willing to lose twice as much as you. What are you going to do about it?' and you'd say, 'Nothing, I'd rather have the money.' And they'd say, 'Then we'll downgrade you.'”

Much of the money the company did spend went into advertising. Theglobe.com's strategy was to start building its brand name in second tier markets, such Miami, Atlanta and Chicago—rather than New York and Los Angeles. They put a lot of money into branding early on, because the rate of return was great. However, in 1999 and 2000, the rate of return on investment in branding weakened, because of fierce competition. Thus, theglobe.com started to limit its advertising in the second half of 1999.

The business press drives the business

Theglobe.com also took advantage of public relations created by the financial press. “You learn that the great news is that you can get so much press that you can drive your business. We had upwards of twenty million people visiting our site monthly, and it was mostly generated by just a few people in our PR department. Conversely, when the press was negative you had 10 negative articles a day coming out on the company,” says Krizleman.

“In early 2000, the company enjoyed four million viewers a month and was counted by Jupiter Media Metrix as one of the 100 most-visited sites. But audiences and advertising dollars came in far more slowly than predicted, and acquisitions were difficult to absorb. By the end of the year, with its shares trading well below $1 each, theglobe.com reported a loss of $103.9 million and revenue of $29.9 million.” (“After Soaring IPO and Fleeting Fame, What Comes Next?—theglobe.com's Founders Hit Midlife Crises at Age of 26,” by Ianthe Jeanne Dugan and Aaron Lucchetti, The Wall Street Journal, Europe, May 3, 2001)

The end of the story

The end of this story is now familiar. In 2000, Krizelman and Paternot handed control of their company to Chuck Peck, former senior vice-president of the American Institute of Certified Public Accountants. In April 2001, the staff was reduced to approximately 100 employees. While smaller, the company is now close to cash-flow break even. The stock was taken off the market on August 3, 2001, at $.15 a share.

Contribution: theglobe.com

Highlights of an interview with Todd Krizelman, Co-founder, former co-CEO of theglobe.com October 30, 2001

Many believe venture capitalists and investment bankers somehow caused the Internet mania of the late 1990s. While they certainly played a part, it was only a supporting role. Financiers are in the business of trying to find returns for their investors. In this context, they were not acting irrationally or immorally by pursuing investments in the Internet; they were simply doing their job. All financiers will pursue the highest returns and the Internet provided that. Venture capitalists, investment banks, and fund managers probably didn't act too differently in the Internet bubble than they have acted in the past. The biotech craze of the 80's comes to mind.

What did change dramatically was the public's perception of how easy running a company might be. The press glamorized Internet companies, made them look fun and created idyllic representations. Of all perceptions, it became common for people to believe they could create substantial wealth instantly. As a result, thousands of people actively left their jobs to take a chance being an entrepreneur. What they did not know were the difficulties running or working within a start-up.

Start-ups are high risk, even in the best of situations—and the role of the entrepreneur is equally as exhilarating as it is terrifying. It's as if disbelief was suspended in this time. During 1998 and 1999, many people with low appetites for risk, without good ideas and without experience, established new firms and raised capital. The result was a substantial decline in quality of new companies and a saturation of competition. This is a stark contrast to the earliest Internet companies. In the beginning, start-ups were mostly run by management teams with smart capital behind them. More importantly, there was limited competition, and the growth rate in Internet usage was rising sharply (making it cheaper and faster to find customers). This made it possible for companies to grow quickly and allowed room for mistakes along the way. Conversely, by the end of the century, usage growth was diminishing, user loyalties were already established, and the substantial competition caused the market to suffocate (think Thomas Malthus on population). This made it difficult for both bad companies and good companies to survive.

What made people forget about risk?

I think they looked at the press and saw time after time the press talking about some star that made tons of money, or how Jim Barksdale's secretary made a couple million. Those stories become pervasive. It is the American story. It's very Americana. Rags to Riches. And there was enough of that in the press that people said “You know what? I can be in any field and I can just jump into this Internet thing.” And I think this idea of low barrier to entry is a huge difference between the high tech and the Internet. In high tech in the past, like hardware and real software development, as well as in bio tech, as well as most of the fields you associate venture capitalists with, there's a real barrier to entry. If you didn't have experience in engineering you weren't going to understand it. You're never going to start Genetech unless you're a biologist with four years of undergraduate work and a Ph.D. So suddenly this new field comes along, where you can, by 1999, buy off-the shelf software to set up your own site. You have tons of companies trying to sell bandwidth, so it's easy to set up your business. And so because there aren't these barriers, a lot of people thought, “I can do this,” and I think a lot of people were probably very surprised.

Didn't giving stock options to employees imply get-rich-quick?

In the beginning that's what I thought. But you want to tell people that it's going to be bad. I liked to sensitize people before they were hired by saying, “I don't want to dress this up. This is going to be hard.” We were building a company that was going to be a long-term investment of their time. It was a very quick way to self-select in the hiring process. We were very selfish with the options—or I'm sure that's how it would have been perceived. But it was more than that. It was to enforce that we were building a culture that wasn't falling all over itself to get rich.

For us there was this fear of failure. When you start hiring 100 people, and they have kids and families and health care, this is your family. You don't want to screw over someone in your family. We wouldn't so much say, “We're going to fail,” but we would certainly tell them a lot about how the job actually would be. When you came to our offices you did not see fancy chairs. It wasn't highly decorated. Our first administrative person came in our fourth year. We really went a long way to say, even when we didn't have to be that way, even when we had a lot of money, “Let's still be paranoid and frugal.”

One of your early investors, David Duffield [founder and CEO of PeopleSoft], said “I can't honestly say I understand their products”—this was some time after he wrote a $2M check. This is someone early on who didn't understand the risks. What do you think led him to invest?

The article in which David was quoted was written in 1997. The company had been in business for three years at this point.

Most venture capitalists, especially with very early investments—some look at specific products—but most look at people—the quality of people, the team of people. That's our relationship with David and some of the other early investors. When you are dealing with very new technology and you have a passive investor, you want to be able to evaluate the integrity of the management team: Are they in a position to evaluate and see trends before they hit the mainstream? And that was consistent with our relationship with him. That was not a negative comment, especially in 1997 when the Internet was new enough that people didn't know in general how it was going to change society. They didn't know that the Internet was going to shift Dell's whole model online. You didn't know all these variables.

If you go back in 1999 and read The Wall Street Journal or The New York Times, you would believe that 50% of the U.S. GDP was being produced by start-up companies, based upon the amount of space they were allocated in The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal. That was the predominant topic. In the case of The Times, they actually added a new section, “Circuits,” just to accommodate it, in addition to still seeing it all over the paper. So I think a lot of people really did jump in during those years and, as a result. the price to run your company escalated, both to retain employees, to attract employees, and to purchase insurance. All the costs that are cost components into your business rose dramatically.

How did you go about selecting bankers?

As an entrepreneur, especially when you're doing an IPO, the prestige of your bank doesn't matter as much. When you're looking to raise $30–$50 million, you go to people who are going to get you public first, and who are going to charge least to do it. Those are the qualifications.

Some people say, “If you go with Merrill or Goldman this makes a big difference.” But in fact it doesn't make a big difference.

For those who believe that Merrill or Goldman are going to support your stock in the aftermarket, you're going to have a rude awakening. You're only important so long as you are the current client. As soon as you are the former client, it just doesn't matter.

What was the nature of their questions?

Research analysts egg you on to increase your numbers, but they don't tell you to change your model.

Did the institutional investors ask the right questions, knowing what you knew about the business and what your worries were? Did they serve their clients well?

I think for us, they did. I wonder if that was true for other companies. We went public in 1998, early in the bubble, so there was still a sense that there weren't companies going public every day. It was not a free-for-all at the time we went public. Some people spent a lot of time with us. Bankers were pretty thorough with us. Some invested. Some didn't invest. It was the way I would have imagined it being.

People would argue that these mutual fund guys just rubber-stamped a whole bunch of companies and got screwed afterwards. I didn't have that feeling at all. They were doing models on us, research on us. Certainly, at each mutual fund there were some about whom you said, “That guy was a great analyst,” and others, “This is just an average analyst.” But this kind of inconsistency is going to be in any environment.

Is there a fault anywhere among the key players?

I would certainly take the financial press and say, “These guys played a much larger role than I bet they believe.” This idea of the Fourth Estate was very powerful, as I'm sure you can imagine. For years we had about 10 articles a day coming out on our company. We thought long and hard about PR. It wasn't something we took lightly. We hired some good people.

We used the press because we thought it would be cheaper than using cash dollars in marketing. I assign financial press a different blame than just press. Press is under no obligation to be accurate or right, whereas the financial press does have some obligation to its readership to be accurate. We were spared the brunt of this inaccuracy. You saw a huge number of errors in the financial press. As well, you had the financial press taking an opinion that was consistent with this idea of, “How much is right?”judging for themselves what is right and wrong for companies. If the financial press didn't like your product, then you didn't have a company.

So I do assign some blame there. I also say that because there are some times when the financial press in the early days would say, “This is a great business. Got to buy in! Got to buy in!” and people would do it. One of the scariest things is that you have CNBC, who has investment fund managers to talk about what they like, and of course those fund managers are buying that stock, and they stand to gain by hyping.


It's interesting to compare and contrast Todd Krizelman's comments in this interview with what we've described in the previous chapters of this book. Krizelman believes the venture funds hadn't changed their modes of behavior for the bubble, but they had. He views the mutual funds as carefully analyzing his firm, but little of this analysis seems to have made its way to mutual fund investors. And he sees a significant role played in the bubble by the business press, as we do.

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