Our checks were in the bank, but we were morose. What the heck was that, I wondered?
Campbell had a better bead than any of us on what was happening. He knew he'd given up his baby, even as the rest of us were skirting around the edges of that loss. I later realized what a rare privilege it had been to work with this group of people, in a place of our own making that gave us the opportunity to reach and stretch, to have impact, and to be great. Building a $90-million-a-year, market-leading business was a hard thing to do. Claris gave us, as a team and as individuals, a platform for growing and a chance to build a legacy and a culture that would contain our DNA in its values for decades to come. You couldn't put a price on it, and I didn't realize that until our company was dead and buried.
BUSINESS, I told Lenny and Allison, is about nothing if not people. First, the people you serve, your market. Then the team you build, your employees. Finally, your many business partners and associates. Sever the chain of values between leadership and the people translating strategy into products and services for your customers, and you will destroy your foundation for long-term success. The culture you create and principles you express are the only connection you will have with each other and your many constituencies. It may not be Allison's utopia, but it was a far cry from Lenny's soulless machine.
As I talked, Lenny had been sneaking looks at his watch. “We'll have to continue this discussion another time,” Lenny said. They needed to be off to the airport for the flight home, to arrive in Boston at midnight. Coast-to-coast day-tripping was a hard life.
He and Allison stood and thanked me for my time and help.
“Lot to think about,” Lenny changed the subject. “I'm very optimistic. I believe this is going to happen. I can feel it.”
I wasn't sure he had heard a word I said.
Connie drifted by as they were walking away.
“Got the money, huh?” she said.
Clambering into his rental Neon, Lenny gave us a big grin and a thumbs-up.
I could only shake my head.
Chapter Eight
THE ART
OF
LEADERSHIP
I SPENT THE REST of the afternoon in a long, drawn out session with Chris, the founder of one of the companies I work with. He had enough problems and challenges to push any thoughts of Lenny temporarily from my mind.
Chris had done a terrific job building a core team, raising seed capital, developing patented technology, and launching an Internet service for the on-line searching of audio/video content. But the business wasn't happening, and he was not up to the task of bringing in strategic industry partners—big portals and entertainment sites. Sales were negligible. Chris was an engineer with a great concept, but he was running out of steam. His management team was having second thoughts, given the lack of progress in the market.
The company needed new leadership, badly. While Chris was able intellectually to concede this, it was hard for him emotionally to deliver his baby to someone else's charge. As much as the company needed a new CEO, it couldn't afford to lose Chris's creative vision and passion. I couldn't separate Chris's success from the company's success. We had come to that quintessential tough moment in a startup's maturation you hope won't occur: time for the founder to consider giving up the reins.
Silicon Valley veterans share a tacit understanding that what a startup needs isn't one CEO, but three—each at successive stages of the startup's development. Given my deep regard for man's best friend, I tend to think of each in terms of best of breed. The first CEO is “the Retriever.” From the muck she must assemble the core team, the product or service, and the market direction—all around a coherent vision. She must also raise the money and secure crucial early customers and partners. She is prized for her tenacity and inventiveness. The second CEO is “the Bloodhound.” He must sniff out a trail—find the market and prove the business. He needs to build an operating team and establish a market beachhead. He is prized for his keen sense of direction and company-building skills. The third CEO is “the Husky.” She must lead the team, pulling an operating company that grows heavier by the day with people and public company responsibilities. She is prized for her constancy and scalability. None of these, to me, is top dog. All are equal in importance, just different in skills and temperaments. I mentor the founding CEO so she can go as far as she wants or as far as her abilities permit. And when she decides to pass the mantle, I help with the transition to new leadership. We all hope, when that time comes, the company won't need a Saint Bernard.
After hours of discussion with Chris, there still wasn't any resolution. I didn't arrive home until nearly dinnertime, and I was mentally exhausted. I piled my stuff on the dining room table, patted the hounds, poured a glass of Merlot, and sank into my office chair. On autopilot, I hit the power button and logged on. My inbox held a message from Frank.
TO: randy@virtual.net
FROM: frank@vcfirm.com
SUBJECT: Deceased
Randy,
FYI, Lenny pitched the partners this morning. We'd like to do something with this market, but I think we're going to pass on Funerals.com. Lenny's probably got some potential, a diamond in the rough. Maybe too rough. He still doesn't seem to have a good way of coming to grips with this opportunity. Not sure he knows where to go with it. And if he doesn't know, we just can't get excited. Thanks for your help.
I have another deal I'd like you to look at. Gimme a call.
Frank
I wished Lenny were here now, so I could grab him by the lapels and tell him to pay attention.
Lenny was right in assuming that Frank and the other VCs weren't running charitable institutions. But the best learned through trial and error that investing in a passionate group of smart people, with a big idea for a big market, provided the greatest odds for success. Lenny was shortchanging himself and Allison by focusing on how to build an opportunistic business, a casket discounter. Sure it might work, but Frank and his partners had bigger fish to fry. Lenny needed to embrace his earlier, bigger idea. At least there was something in that to sink your teeth into, something worth working hard for.
TO: frank@vcfirm.com
FROM: randy@virtual.net
SUBJECT: A Second Life
Frank,
I understand completely and agree. Still, a second discussion with Lenny— along with Allison—makes me suspect that Lenny may be his own worst enemy. What if their business were about building communities for families and friends coping with the deaths of loved ones? A content site and directory of local services? What if it gave families a place to gather from wherever they were, anywhere in the world, where they could share their grief and help each other make arrangements and decisions? This could include family Web pages and chat. What if the revenues came not only from the commerce they're talking about now, but also from the advertising of support services, providing qualified leads to people who can help, and delivering premium on-line services to interested parties? I don't know what those are yet, but if the site got up and running, the users would tell us. This business could work in partnership with local providers of related services and funeral directors, and lock them all into a referral network.