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Five Ideas to Watch

The Hooters of Hair Care Bikini Cuts, a hair salon in Sandy, Utah, is changing the way men view their barber. Following a strategy that recalls a certain chicken wing chain, the shop’s (very male) clientele can look forward to a clip or trim from (very female) stylists who are clad only in bikinis. Despite criticism from city officials and some local residents, owner Bethany Prince has said the shop simply celebrates “summer all year round,” and that she has plans to open a second location soon. Clients can also watch sports on a flat screen TV or get a chair massage while waiting for their appointment. Labels Learn a New Language In yet another indication of the growing respect marketers have for Hispanic consumers, several California wine producers have begun distributing Spanish-label bottles. Beringer Blass Vineyards now ships cases of white Zinfandel bearing Spanish labels to Texas, Arizona, and California. Those states account for nearly a quarter of the company’s sales, says Beringer marketing director Sharon Goldman. A Black Box for Ambulances A concept common to air travel is gaining traction on highways. American Medical Response, the Colorado-based ambulance giant, is installing devices in roughly half of its 3,200 vehicles. AMR’s recently retooled box sounds an alarm when a driver speeds or rounds a corner recklessly. After 10 seconds, if the driving doesn’t improve, a second alarm sounds and the box records the incident. Now, a California company called Road Safety International has begun marketing black boxes to the parents of teen drivers. Put an iPod in the Jukebox, Baby Ecast’s MP3-playing digital jukeboxes now raise the roof at some 3,000 bars, and the San Francisco firm is deploying 150 new consoles every month. For $1, you can choose a song from 300 albums programmed on a local hard drive, or for $2, you can pick a tune from 11,000 albums hosted on corporate servers. Ecast’s quick success is due in part to record labels looking to make money from digital distribution. Replacing Passwords With Pictures A new password encryption program replaces letters and numbers with pictures of hearts and dogs. Images scroll on the screen of a PDA or laptop as they might on a slot machine. From a grid of mixed pictures, users select their sequence by tapping the screen or keypad ATM-style. Developer PointSec Mobile Technologies of Mokena, Ill., says the passwords are harder to hack.

Five Ideas to Watch

The Hooters of Hair Care Bikini Cuts, a hair salon in Sandy, Utah, is changing the way men view their barber. Following a strategy that recalls a certain chicken wing chain, the shop’s (very male) clientele can look forward to a clip or trim from (very female) stylists who are clad only in bikinis. Despite criticism from city officials and some local residents, owner Bethany Prince has said the shop simply celebrates “summer all year round,” and that she has plans to open a second location soon. Clients can also watch sports on a flat screen TV or get a chair massage while waiting for their appointment. Labels Learn a New Language In yet another indication of the growing respect marketers have for Hispanic consumers, several California wine producers have begun distributing Spanish-label bottles. Beringer Blass Vineyards now ships cases of white Zinfandel bearing Spanish labels to Texas, Arizona, and California. Those states account for nearly a quarter of the company’s sales, says Beringer marketing director Sharon Goldman. A Black Box for Ambulances A concept common to air travel is gaining traction on highways. American Medical Response, the Colorado-based ambulance giant, is installing devices in roughly half of its 3,200 vehicles. AMR’s recently retooled box sounds an alarm when a driver speeds or rounds a corner recklessly. After 10 seconds, if the driving doesn’t improve, a second alarm sounds and the box records the incident. Now, a California company called Road Safety International has begun marketing black boxes to the parents of teen drivers. Put an iPod in the Jukebox, Baby Ecast’s MP3-playing digital jukeboxes now raise the roof at some 3,000 bars, and the San Francisco firm is deploying 150 new consoles every month. For $1, you can choose a song from 300 albums programmed on a local hard drive, or for $2, you can pick a tune from 11,000 albums hosted on corporate servers. Ecast’s quick success is due in part to record labels looking to make money from digital distribution. Replacing Passwords With Pictures A new password encryption program replaces letters and numbers with pictures of hearts and dogs. Images scroll on the screen of a PDA or laptop as they might on a slot machine. From a grid of mixed pictures, users select their sequence by tapping the screen or keypad ATM-style. Developer PointSec Mobile Technologies of Mokena, Ill., says the passwords are harder to hack.

Hacked!

“The encryption has been broken,” said a foreign-sounding voice. At that news Ron Johnson and Lori Scherping found themselves in the middle of every business owner’s worst nightmare Ron Johnson and Lori Scherping live and work in their own small corner of paradise. They’re comfortably settled on three and a half acres in the Arizona desert, where they frequently rise at 5:30 a.m. to weight train on the covered patio of their 2,700-square-foot home while their dogs, Diesel and Ranger, frolic in the expansive backyard. The couple’s commute is about half a minute — the time it takes to walk to the converted garage where they run their Web-based business, UltiMutt. From there, the couple design and sell posters that combine their passions: dogs (Scherping) and motivational quotes (Johnson). Revenues are relatively modest ($300,000 projected for this year), but the company supports the two and gives them what many would consider an enviable life. But you would not have envied Johnson and Scherping last April. It was late in the day on April 10 when Johnson received a call from Jacqueline Haag, a customer in Colorado Springs, Colo. Haag had just finished an unsettling conversation with a “foreign sounding” man who claimed to be with “Web security” and identified himself only as Khalil. “I had ordered some posters from UltiMutt that night, and half an hour later I got this phone call from a very strange man,” recalls Haag. “His English was difficult to understand, but he blurted out my credit-card number. He said to me, ‘I’m a security person, and your card has been stolen. The encryption has been broken.” The man told Haag that her card had been stolen from the UltiMutt Web site and that she should call the company’s 800 number listed there. But Haag called her credit-card company first, only to discover that shortly after her $35 charge to UltiMutt had been processed, another charge for $658 had gone through. She canceled the card immediately, then called Johnson. Johnson didn’t quite know what to make of the call. Haag could have lost her card information someplace else. Maybe she didn’t really understand online ordering. And “the encryption has been broken” comment? It sounded like something out of a bad espionage thriller. Nonetheless, Johnson thought it best to be prudent. He called his Web host, Web2010, in Orlando. “I relayed the customer’s story and asked them to scan our logs for any unauthorized file access or any evidence of hacking,” says Johnson. A technical-support person promised to get back to Johnson by 7 the next morning. Next, Johnson decided, just as a precaution, to pull UltiMutt’s order-log file off the server and to give the new file a different name. In a final attempt to test the waters for signs of a security leak, Johnson logged on to his own Web site and placed an order, christening a brand-new credit card with no other charges on it. He would check it first thing in the morning. “I took a deep breath and said, ‘OK, it’s being taken care of,” he recalls. Exhausted, but confident that he had done all that he could for the day, Johnson crawled into bed and slept soundly. A less sanguine Scherping tossed and turned beside him. She would not sleep well again for two weeks. “I have a warriorlike mentality. I knew I needed to do four things: stop the hacking, understand it, find the thief, and control damages with our customers.” –Ron Johnson

An Ad Model That Works

realbusiness.com The Underwriter Banner ads were going to fund the entire Internet. Then they unceremoniously fell from favor, and for good reason. But not all advertising models are created equal Company: Healthcommunities.com, in Northampton, Mass. What it does: Hosts content-rich Web sites for physicians, sponsored by pharmaceutical and medical-device companies Number of employees: 60 Conventional wisdom: As deep-pocketed E-health sites like DrKoop.com gasp for air, small, privately held health sites are likely to drop dead in their tracks. Unconventional wisdom: An imaginative, sound advertising model has made the company consistently profitable. Revenue growth: From $2 million in 1999 to $5 million in 2000; $7 million projected for 2001 Profit profile: Profitable since day one Capital: $60,000 in personal funds Last year’s dot-com epidemic left one group of online businesses feeling particularly queasy: the E-health companies. Despite having former surgeon general C. Everett Koop at its helm, DrKoop.com saw its stock price, which had peaked at $45 in July 1999, trading below $1 earlier this year, putting the company in danger of being booted off the Nasdaq. Like many other content-based E-health sites, DrKoop.com relied on banner ads, a model that proved to be not only unworkable but unprofitable. So how is it that one health-information company has succeeded online by relying on corporate sponsorships to make money? Dr. Stanley J. Swierzewski III, CEO of Healthcommunities.com, simply prescribed himself a new model. In 1996, Swierzewski, a practicing urologist, paid a Web-development shop to create a site that would promote his practice. He reasoned that other urologists would benefit from a similar service. Swierzewski was keen on the idea of offering the service to doctors free of charge, but he had his doubts about whether banner ads could support such a business. So he drew up a business plan in which pharmaceutical and medical-device companies would sponsor Web sites for physicians. The sponsoring companies could then use the sites to market themselves and their products to doctors within the Healthcommunities network. How does Swierzewski’s idea differ from the direct-to-consumer banner-ad model? For one thing, it employs a different format. There are no banner ads on a Healthcommunities site; the corporate sponsors are mentioned only at the bottom of each page. But that exposure is precious for many businesses that covet face time with physicians. According to Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America (PhRMA), in 1999 a whopping $14 billion went into marketing drugs, and the majority of that money went to direct-to-physician campaigns, says Jeff Trewhitt, a PhRMA spokesperson. In addition to dropping off logo-splashed mugs and free product samples, pharmaceutical reps spend time explaining the therapeutic properties of various drugs to doctors, Trewhitt says. The thinking goes that if the doctors know about the drugs and have a chance to give their patients free samples, they are more likely to prescribe the medications. So far, Swierzewski’s model seems to be working. He says that last year Healthcommunities generated $5 million in revenues, all of which came from medical-product sponsor companies. Because the underwriters pay for all the sites before Healthcommunities even builds them, the company doesn’t have to worry about attracting users and then selling those eyeballs to advertisers. “Our motto is ‘We generate the income before we generate the expense,” says Swierzewski, referring to his company’s unusual status as having been profitable on the Web since day one. That sets Healthcommunities apart from E-health giants like WebMD Corp., which posted a 1999 loss of $288 million on revenues of $102 million. One customer that likes Healthcommunities’ model is Boston Scientific, a $2.8-billion medical-device company based in Natick, Mass., that markets, among other things, surgical equipment to urologists. By sponsoring Healthcommunities sites for urologists, “we don’t just go in and talk about our products; we can also consult with them on a practice-building basis,” says Beth Bronstein, director of communication in Boston Scientific’s microvasive division. “We can ask them, ‘How are you marketing your practice? How is your communication with your patients?” Another key to Healthcommunities’ success, Swierzewski says, was his decision to pitch his first batch of free sites specifically to urologists. Focusing on that relatively small market — about 8,000 physicians nationally — allowed him and his staff to further develop the company’s business model before branching out into other specialties. It also helped him begin to corner the market one specialty at a time. “We got the majority of urologists signed on within three months,” Swierzewski says. He is now taking the company’s concept to pulmonologists and will continue to add to the company’s canon, specialty by specialty. Swierzewski had doubts about whether banner ads could support his business. So he drew up a business plan that would. Unlike sites that post information straight from drug and device manufacturers, Healthcommunities gets its content from physicians, who contract with the company. The client doctors then work with Healthcommunities staff members to customize their own personal Web pages, offering such things as physicians’ biographies, office hours, and information about the procedures they use to treat their patients. Some sites provide medical forms that patients can fill out at home instead of in the waiting room. Site users can’t purchase anything, and they don’t see banners streaming across the page. According to Dr. Roscoe Nelson, a urologist in Scottsdale, Ariz., who signed on with Healthcommunities to produce a site for his practice, the fact that the actual commerce on his site is transparent to the user is significant. “The problem that I see with the Internet in medicine is that a large percentage of the sites are selling things,” says Nelson. He feels that for many patients such product pitches detract from the credibility of the information that’s being offered. Patients who visit his site and view the doctor-generated content before arriving at his office “come in with good questions,” he says. And because his patients learn a lot of basic information on the site, Nelson can spend more time talking with them about specific issues. “I can personalize the time I spend with them in the office,” he says. Although Nelson feels comfortable that his site isn’t acting as an electronic pitchman to needy patients, he does acknowledge the potential ethical conflict involved in being sponsored by a pharmaceutical company. But he doesn’t believe that he’s been unduly influenced by that connection. “They made me a no-strings-attached offer,” he says of his site’s sponsors. “I don’t think there’s been any effect on my prescribing or treating habits based on the time that I’ve spent with sponsors. I prescribe the drugs that are medically indicated.” Swierzewski is betting that both the physicians and the companies that are marketing to them will continue to see the value in his offering. And unlike the founders of some of the big-name health dot-coms, Swierzewski is growing his company organically. He started it with a personal investment of $60,000 and has relied solely on its revenues for growth — much to the chagrin of the capital community. “They told me that I wasn’t spending enough,” he says. Despite his lack of outside funding, Swierzewski expects to grow the company from 60 employees to 100 by the end of this month. All that growth, and Swierzewski still has time to remove kidney stones? Despite his foray onto the Web, the doc says he’s determined to maintain an active urology practice. “There may come a time when I have to choose,” he says. But for now he spends his days logging time both on the computer and in the operating room. Anne Marie Borrego is an assistant editor at The Chronicle of Higher Education. With no fanfare and little venture money, the companies profiled here are delivering real stuff to paying customers and making a buck in the process. There may not be any “new rules,” but there are rules, and we suspect every one of them will look familiar. DVD Empire: The Bootstrapper SitStay.com: The Mom-and-Pop Shoebuy.com: The Scorekeepers Accuship.com: The Traditionalist Fashionmall.com: The Conservative Healthcommunities.com: The Underwriter Commentary E-tailing Intermediaries The Markets Please e-mail your comments to editors@inc.com.

Web Awards 2000: General Excellence

Cruising for Profits General excellence: First place in Customer Service, ROI, and Innovation Company: Sumerset Custom Houseboats Web address: www.sumerset.com Why it won: The site has found innovative ways to maximize customers’ lifetime value to the company. Company revenues: $31 million Site-launch cost: $10,000 Judge’s view: “Sumerset creates a community between houseboat builders and owners that could never have existed without the Web. It has redefined the experience of buying a boat. The site transforms what might be a mundane activity into a highly engaging form of education and entertainment.” –Omar Wasow It could pass for time-lapse photography, Web-style. Digital photo 1, August 8: Houseboat #2896 has been in production for three hours. The hull, made of gleaming aluminum sheets, is complete. Digital photo 4, August 11: Welders lay down joists to support an aluminum subfloor. Digital photo 8, August 17: A dark, square hole gapes out of the reflective subfloor, into which the inverter batteries will be dropped. Digital photo 26, August 31: Carpenters erect a network of Georgia-pine two-by-fours and two-by-sixes as the interior framing. Digital photo 68, September 20: Installation of a four-burner stove and a microwave follows the wiring of the entertainment center. Digital photo 108, September 22: After a flurry of last-minute photo shooting, the finished 18-by-86-foot craft sets sail on a one-day test on the company pond. In a seeming sleight of hand, houseboat #2896 has come into being right before its owners’ eyes — and before the eyes of any other visitor to the Sumerset Custom Houseboats Web site. Providing digital snapshots of each in-progress houseboat is just one way that the $31-million boat manufacturer creates customers for life. It was also a primary reason that our judges gave Sumerset’s site top marks in three categories: Customer Service, Innovation, and Return on Investment. The judges were especially impressed with how CEO Thomas Neckel Sr. planned the site using the same goals that have set the company’s terra-firma operations apart in a highly specialized yet fiercely competitive field. The digital photos, for instance, are an extension of the individualized attention that Sumerset has traditionally given its customers — folks who are spending an average of $250,000 on their nautical escapes. The photos enable customers to stay in the construction loop after they’ve made their purchase — no matter how far they live from the manufacturing plant, in Somerset, Ky. And they help current and incipient customers garner design ideas for their own boats, which speeds up the production process. Our panel was also taken with Sumerset’s efforts, both online and off, to build a houseboating community, which not only brings in new customers and benefits current ones but also helps cement a long-term bond between the company and its clientele. The combination of customized information and an accessible Web environment even led judge Evan Schwartz to dub Sumerset “the Dell Computer of the houseboat business.” Selling a lifestyle Neckel knew from the moment he purchased Sumerset, in 1997, that the company needed to be customer focused. The staff readily agreed. “We’re not really selling boats — we’re selling a lifestyle,” says Cecil Helton Jr., Sumerset’s chief information officer. “The boats are a hideaway that lets customers recapture time with their friends and family. Our business philosophy is to do everything we can to restore time as well.” To hear customers tell it, the company has succeeded. “I’ve coded two-pound babies and felt less frightened than when I walked into Sumerset to design our boat,” says Debra Wollaber, a dean at a nursing college, who with her husband, Bruce, bought a three-bedroom, two-bathroom craft from Sumerset a year ago. “But Sumerset made it totally enjoyable.” Another customer, Joe Nunnelley, says he too went with Sumerset because of its culture. “They were definitely the most friendly,” he says. “They were persistent without being pushy, and they were always available.” For a Web site to fit in with that customer-centric culture, it would have to at least match, and ideally surpass, the company’s already stellar level of service. Which made Sumerset’s first foray into cyberspace a decided failure. In late 1997, Neckel invested in the company’s first Web site, which he says essentially amounted to a piece of static brochureware. “It wasn’t very well done,” he says. “I couldn’t even get page-view counts at first, and when I did, they weren’t consistent.” Fortunately, at about that time, Neckel met Helton, an economic developer and former hospital administrator with an M.B.A. and plenty of Internet savvy who was looking to make a career change into Web development. “Cecil’s not your typical geek,” says Neckel. “He’s a genius, but he actually bathes every day.” Neckel took Helton on as a consultant at first and within two months persuaded him to come on board full-time. Designing a customer-focused site Neckel and Helton’s first requirement for the new site was that it had to be interactive. “When customers look at Web sites, they don’t want to just see a picture,” says Neckel. “They want to have their questions answered and to get customized information.” Neckel knew that for Sumerset, that would be especially important during the sales process, given the complexity of the company’s product. But as he and Helton walked through the boat-building process, they realized that that kind of service was also critical after the orders were placed. “If I were building a home, I’d probably want to visit the site frequently to monitor the progress,” says Neckel. Why, he wondered, should building a house boat be any different? Since frequent site visits weren’t really practical for customers in the United Arab Emirates, or even Arizona, Neckel and Helton hit upon what they considered to be the next best thing: pictures posted on the Web site that charted day-to-day construction. “We figured if customers could watch their boats being built, we could maybe improve customer satisfaction,” says Neckel. The pictures would also pump up site traffic, which the company could take advantage of by adding new products and services. “What better way to get customers to visit every day than to show them something different about their boat every day?” says Neckel. And then there were the unexpected benefits of the visual chronicling. “There’s an interesting phenomenon in the houseboating world,” says Helton. “Bigger is better. We’ve had customers who asked to have their boat extended by one foot just to best another customer’s boat.” Helton tested the daily-pictures idea on a few tech-savvy customers. At first he thought it would be best to create a password-protected site for each customer. But when customers began asking to see other boats to get ideas for their own, Helton decided to give everyone access to all the photos and to protect customers’ privacy by identifying each boat not by its owner’s name but by a code number. “Some of our customers are country-western singers and movie stars, and they don’t want their name out there,” says Neckel. The new site was launched in early 1999, and within 120 days it was receiving 35,000 hits a day — up from the original site’s 200 a week. By October, the most recent version of the site was getting 40,000 to 50,000 hits a day. But the site has done more than simply increase the amount of customer contact. Neckel credits it with enabling Sumerset to put its business philosophy — to restore time for customers — into practice. “People used to make six or seven visits to the office after the initial design session,” he says. “We’ve managed to stop the follow-up visits almost entirely.” Helton adds that, in the long run, giving that time back to customers is often “even more important than cost savings.” Debra Wollaber says that the interactivity of the Web site helped seal the deal for her and her husband. She says that they were really excited when they finally got the online code for their boat (#2891). The couple began logging in regularly to monitor construction from their home, two and a half hours away from the plant. “It was a daily fix,” she says. “One day I asked for pictures of a specific part of the boat, and Cecil posted them the next day.” To Neckel’s surprise, the digital shots restored time for his company as well. For starters, because their output was visible for all to see, employees became more productivity conscious. “Nobody wants to have a picture be taken and not show progress,” says Neckel. And because customers were constantly checking in, mistakes were more likely to be noticed early. “Four months ago we were building a boat that had the wrong entertainment center,” says Helton. “The customer was able to stop us in time. Two weeks later, it would have been major dollars to fix.” Attracting customers With the new site up and running, Helton set out to spread the word to the houseboating public. Neckel encouraged him to be very selective about placing banner ads on boating-related sites. “We’re not trying to build numbers just to get numbers,” says Neckel. “We want to get our core customer. Someone who visits a marine site might only be in the market for a runabout. But someone who’s looking for information on taking a cruise — that’s someone who may be at our income level.” Helton also looked into placing ads and listing the company’s products on some heavily trafficked general-interest sites. America Online proved to be a particularly useful ad buy, he says. “As a test, we ran $3,000 worth of banner ads for three months,” he says. “AOL told us that normally a click-through rate of 0.5% is very successful, but we got 4.8%. And we sold two boats from that, which more than offset the cost.” He tapped into Amazon.com, too, one of the online companies Neckel admires most, by listing Sumerset boats for sale in Amazon’s zShops, a network of independent vendors that sell through the Amazon site. Helton admits that the company hasn’t yet sold a single boat through zShops, and that he didn’t really expect it would. “There’s something about the one-click process and a $200,000 boat that just doesn’t go together,” he says. But the zShop listings have generated interest. “It’s a good traffic builder,” he says. “We’ve probably had more than 5,000 visits from Amazon, which isn’t a lot, but it’s free. And we’ve had at least one sale from that.” Keeping customers for life Fully aware that banner ads take advantage of only a tiny portion of the Internet’s networking power, Neckel and Helton have put most of their marketing efforts into expanding Sumerset’s houseboating community. “We try to follow what Harley-Davidson has done,” says Neckel. “It has a production backlog and motorcycles that appreciate. So it maintains strong customer rapport to get that repeat business.” Integral to the strategy are the Harley “road shows,” events around the country to which the company invites Harley owners to show off what they have and trade up for what they want. One of the first things Neckel did when he bought Sumerset was to establish regular houseboating regattas, which now number six a year, to help the company build a Harleyesque sense of community. Sumerset now uses the Web site to publicize, and accept registrations for, the regattas. Customers who can’t attend can “watch” the goings-on over the Web, as Helton posts daily updates and digital snapshots. Neckel says that the seemingly passive form of marketing is actually very effective. “By bringing customers together as group, they produce their own testimonials,” he says. Debra and Bruce Wollaber are a case in point: Bruce placed their order at Sumerset’s Cumberland Regatta last May, after learning from others there about the boat-building process. The Web site has also sparked other, less obvious, strategies for generating customer loyalty. Among them is the company’s insurance program. Neckel knew how difficult it was for customers to find insurance for their houseboats and how prohibitive the premiums were once they did. So he negotiated with United Marine Underwriters, headquartered in LaGrange, Ky., to create a specialty houseboat-insurance product, which Sumerset now markets over its site. Both Sumerset and its customers appear to be happy with the deal. “Customers who were paying more than $3,400 for their previous insurance are now paying $1,200,” says Neckel. United Marine pays Sumerset a set fee to market its product on the Sumerset site. “That fee alone pays for the connectivity of our site and more,” says Helton. Warm-and-squishy aspects of building a customer community notwithstanding, what Sumerset is really trying to do when it aggregates past and potential buyers is sell them stuff — and as much stuff as possible. “In the grand scheme, this is still a niche market,” says Helton, who notes that Sumerset builds only about 150 boats a year. “There’s only so far it will ever grow. So you have to maximize the profit on the sales you make.” But with the Web site, the company has an opportunity to sell a lot more than just boats, Neckel says. To that end, Sumerset entered into an agreement in June with iiCaptain.com, a third-party online marine store, through which Sumerset’s customers can select from thousands of boating accessories, from depth gauges and fish finders to ropes, anchors, and engine parts. Sumerset gets a 20% commission on sales generated by the link. “We’ve probably done about $10,000 in sales, which isn’t a lot,” says Helton. “But that’s $2,000 we made without really doing anything.” Whitecaps along the way Of course, beyond the equipment cost of setting up the new site (which Neckel pegs at around $10,000), the company must factor in the cost of staffing it. In addition to Helton, three other employees contribute regular content. For Neckel, the biggest challenge to being a wired business in Kentucky is, well, being a wired business in Kentucky. With Lexington (the closest large city) 65 miles to the north, Somerset is hardly a nexus of Internet connectivity. “We have more T1 activity here than in the entire town,” says Neckel. He reports that it’s a battle just to keep the company’s Internet connection going. “We once had the site go down because someone hit the wrong switch at the local Dairy Queen,” he says. Neckel explains that the wires through which Sumerset used to connect to the Internet passed through a repeater switch in the rear of said Dairy Queen, with a piece of tape over the switch warning the soft-serve jockeys not to turn it off. “It wasn’t very professional,” he says. “We had to educate the provider on setting up multiple routes and doing maintenance.” Despite such minor setbacks, Helton has big plans for the future of the Sumerset site. He’s considering using video in addition to the digital photos to showcase the boat-construction process. But there are more stumbling blocks. Although the company has ample capacity for such a system, Helton is concerned that customers with a dial-up Internet connection will get frustrated waiting for the immense video files to download. And he and Neckel are also concerned about competitors’ looking in and stealing manufacturing ideas. Closer to fruition is an online houseboat-rental system, in which customers will be able to sign up for floating vacations aboard a boat from selected marinas with the option of putting the rental cost toward the price of a new boat. “We hope to have the whole thing up by the first of the year,” says Helton. But even if future enhancements don’t pan out, the Web site has already had a significant impact on Sumerset’s business health. Last year the company sold 44 boats through off-line broker-dealers — a system in which the boats are heavily discounted. “Now we’ve completely replaced those brokered sales with Internet sales,” says Neckel. “Cutting out the middleman increases our profits on those sales.” And overall sales just keep growing. Neckel projects that this year’s sales will nearly triple those of 1997. And all that from a simple URL and a little ingenuity. Christopher Caggiano is a senior staff writer at Inc. Annual Web Awards 2000 General Excellence Marketing Customer Service ROI Innovation Community Judges Please e-mail your comments to editors@inc.com.

MEMS the Word

Smart Machines MEMS devices may be almost too small to see, but they pack a wallop. MEMS, which is short for micro-electro-mechanical systems, are tiny machines — complete with minuscule mirrors, gears, and wheels — that are built on chips. In the future the technology may be used to construct microrobots that can move around inside your body to perform such tasks as cleaning up clogged arteries or taking a close-up view of your heart. Today MEMS are being used to make optical data switches that allow information to be transmitted at the speed of light. One of those new switches, the LambdaRouter, which was developed by Lucent Technologies, contains hundreds of tiny, movable MEMS micromirrors, each only a fraction of an inch in diameter. The mirrors beam high-speed data streams from one optical fiber to the next by quickly tilting in just the right direction. Brilliant, you might say — in more ways than one. But wait. Haven’t we seen similar devices before? Interestingly, the first instruments that transmitted data across beams of light were built and used more than a century ago, though of course they weren’t quite as sophisticated as the current batch are. Most popular in the early 19th century was the heliograph, which was invented in 1810 by the German mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss. The heliograph sported two mirrors that could be tilted by an operator to point in just the right direction. The first mirror reflected the light of the sun (or the moon) onto the second mirror, which was set up to beam the light to a remote observer. The operator interrupted the beam with a shutter to send a simple binary signal (zeros and ones) over a long distance, much as a modern data stream travels over an optical fiber. Charles Babbage, an Englishman who designed an early precursor of the computer, entered the optical-communications arena in 1851 with a plan for a light-flashing machine that he named the “occulting telegraph.” This is how Babbage described his device: “I then, by means of a small piece of clock-work and a lamp, made a numerical system of occultation, by which any number might be transmitted to all those within sight of the source of light.” Upon receiving a description of Babbage’s contraption, the U.S. Congress appropriated $5,000 — a considerable sum at the time — for occulting-telegraph experiments. It’s not clear what the outcome of the experiments was, but a couple of decades later the American army started using machines to transmit data across beams of light, most notably heliographs. In 1886, for instance, Nelson Miles, the general perhaps best known for his capture of Geronimo, the leader of the Chiricahua Apaches, used a network of heliographs to transmit messages to his troops while fighting various Native American tribes. His network comprised 27 signaling stations in Arizona, placed 25 to 30 miles apart. Records from that time indicate that between May 1, 1886, and September 30, 1886, a total of 2,276 messages containing 80,012 words were transmitted over the network. The average speed of the system was reportedly 16 words per minute, or roughly 10 bits per second. Clearly, the technology rewarded those who could express themselves succinctly. The Native Americans, of course, had their own optical-transmission system, which dated back further still. Most likely, the data rates achieved with smoke signaling could have rivaled those of Miles’s network. If you have a 56K modem on your PC, your messages travel more than a thousand times faster than those that were sent on the early optical systems, on both sunny and rainy days. The new micromirrored LambdaRouter MEMS data switch, operating at one terabit (1012 bits) per second, vastly outdoes even that: it could easily have transmitted Miles’s 80,012 words in one second — a million times over, that is. Gerard J. Holzmann is a researcher at Lucent Technologies’ Bell Laboratories in Murray Hill, N.J. Please e-mail your comments to editors@inc.com.

Got Money?

Ed Palmer might not think of himself as a pioneer. But he’s among the first wave of company builders to look for investors on the Internet without a middleman Ed Palmer is at his desk, bracketed by two Macs, poring over the number of hits received by the various components of his business’s Web site. The company’s only other full-time employee is a cubicle away, dashing off a string of E-mail notes from his computer. This could be almost any Web start-up, if it weren’t for the company’s only other room–a storage room across the hall–one that should be filled with humming servers and blinking modems. Instead, the room turns out to be littered with crates, pallets, and ungainly mechanical devices–an inventory of actual things. Palmer’s company, SolarAttic Inc., is not a flash-fire Silicon Valley Web start-up but a conventional small company in a Minneapolis suburb that has been engaged in a gritty, 13-year struggle to score with products that could at best be called medium-tech. What especially distinguishes SolarAttic from the typical Internet business is that despite the fact that sales have been taking off, venture capitalists, angels, and other investors have not been lining up to hurl money at the company to propel it into the next stage. As a result, Palmer has modified SolarAttic’s growth strategy to include an on-line wrinkle so cutting edge that few Web businesses have dared to try it. Namely, the company is trying to go public by finding its own $1,000-here, $500-there investors over the Internet. No investment banks, no brokers. The realization of ultra-low-cost, wide-open stock offerings–a pure, frictionless transfer of money from the public to a company–may ultimately become one of the most powerful applications of the Internet. It’s turbocapitalism: for ordinary investors, a chance to get in on the ground floor of even tiny, distant, or obscure companies; for underfunded, non-Web start-ups, an opportunity to get their story out to people who might be willing to take a modest gamble. Dozens of companies have already altered the conventional model of fund-raising to take advantage of the Internet’s reach and efficiency. But surprisingly few companies have tried to go all the way and strip their efforts down to a simple on-line proposition: send me money and I’ll give you a piece of my company. SolarAttic, as unlikely a high-tech pioneer as it may be, is one of them. The results have not been entirely pretty. Despite garnering a small sea of leads, the flow of actual on-line investment in the company has barely reached the level of a trickle. Among the challenges the company continues to face: getting the right people to its site, differentiating its offer from those of con artists, and slogging through a morass of state regulations. But SolarAttic is forging ahead, learning what works and what doesn’t as it goes along. As the company embarks on its third public offering–the second that is based on the Web–Palmer offers a simple explanation for why he keeps at it: he is convinced, as are many others, that this is just too good an idea to ultimately not work. Anyone who has ever climbed into an attic on a sunny day can appreciate the basic idea behind SolarAttic. Heat gets trapped up there. Why not put it to work? Palmer, for one, cannot abide the fact that energy is literally floating around the tops of homes while their owners pay good money for heat in other forms. Call it an engineer’s disdain for the inefficient. Palmer worked on guided-missile-system computers for the navy and later on civilian computers, before a friend’s offhand remark 16 years ago changed his life. The English, said the friend, often keep their water heaters in their attics not only for the pressure gain that gravity provides but also for the free temperature boost. Never mind that the English also eat meat in pies and beat one another up at sports events. Free energy was a good thing, Palmer declared, and worth following up on. Two years later, with salaried life permanently behind him, Palmer began his attic-heat-tapping experiments–ultimately taking over nearly two-thirds of the floor space in his Elk River, Minn., home, including the entire basement and garage. The goal: to figure out a way to transfer the heat to piped-in water that could then be pushed into a swimming pool. Since he didn’t own a pool, he set up a 125-gallon horse trough in the garage; to compensate for Minnesota’s frequent dearth of sunlight, he set up electric heaters in the attic to provide heat that he could then get rid of. His efforts fell short until he hit on the missing ingredient: a fan to blow the hot attic air over his boxed-in network of thin piping. Unfortunately, having a good product concept and moving a good product are two different things. At the rate Palmer was going, he had already run through his savings; he and his wife were living on $12,000 a year, mostly borrowed, and his wife was doing all their home maintenance and repair work. He went to a venture capitalist and was told to come back after he sold the first 100 systems. He went looking for angels but found himself in a geographical bind: investors based in mostly chilly Minnesota couldn’t relate to the pool market in general and to a solar-dependent product in particular; investors in warmer climes were not interested in a company that was so far away. He kept plugging away. “If you lose faith, that’s when things start to unfold on you,” he says. Finally, in 1986, Palmer wrote up a list of just about everyone he had ever known and sent roughly 700 of them a letter asking them to invest, valuing the company at $1 million. He was even willing to trade away majority ownership of the company if he could raise that much, since he figured he could exercise effective control with a concentrated 20% of the stock. In any case he raised a nonthreatening but badly needed $50,000. Palmer’s first sale wouldn’t come for three more years. In 1989 he finally sold a pool heater–to a reseller in Florida–for $1,600. And the feedback from that first sale was extremely promising. After performing a test, the customer reported that his pool’s water temperature had risen by 20 degrees to 98 degrees Fahrenheit. Even better, as the temperature in the pool went up, the customer’s energy costs to heat the pool went down. Typically, pool owners have reported costs as high as $300 per month to heat their swimming pools. By contrast, Palmer’s heater costs about $11 a month to operate, treating pool owners to a “warm pool without hot bills,” as Palmer puts it. Heating pools is not a quirky endeavor. According to Palmer, it is a $200-million annual market, based on the number and retail cost of pool heaters being sold. By the early 1990s, Palmer started thinking seriously about going public. It wasn’t grandiosity; he had simply recognized that the SEC had lowered the bar for small-company securities offerings a few years before by creating the small-corporate-offering registration, or SCOR, and so-called Regulation A offerings, both of which require no or minimal scrutiny from the SEC. Subject to state regulation, companies can raise up to $1 million in a 12-month period with a SCOR, or $5 million with a Regulation A offering. Palmer talked to brokers, but none were interested in taking part in offerings below $10 million (Palmer’s was less than $5 million) and the correspondingly small fees that their 10% commission would generate. No problem, he thought. He’d do it the way he had done everything else: on his own. In 1994, Palmer filed for a $1.5-million-minimum and $3-million-maximum Regulation A offering in Minnesota, and was promptly blindsided by state regulators, who told him he had only 180 days to raise the money–even though there was no such rule on the Minnesota books. Palmer eventually resolved the matter with state regulators, but the fight had been so time-consuming that the offering languished and ultimately fell short, necessitating the return of the $250,000 he had raised and placed into escrow. But Palmer walked away with a list of 1,000 interested investors, and to a few of them he sent a letter offering a private placement at a 20% discount from the public offering price, which generated $125,000. Two years later Palmer figured it couldn’t hurt to put up a Web site that provided sales and technical information about his company. It wasn’t long after the site’s debut that he realized the Web could be a big selling tool for SolarAttic. “People used to call about a product and ask something like, ‘What’s the PCS1?” notes Jim Stanley, Palmer’s half-brother and SolarAttic’s vice-president of sales and marketing. “Now they download the technical manual first, and then call and say, ‘Here’s my credit-card number.” By mid-1997, the site was pulling in as many as 40,000 hits a month (and it now pulls in roughly 100,000 a month). That was the good news. The bad news was that the company was now generating far more leads and opportunities than Palmer and Stanley could handle. Ultimately, Palmer wanted to hire more people–and he figured that with an expanding array of products, the potential market he could tap into could be worth as much as $10 billion. The capital requirements of that vision, combined with the fact that he was still living on fumes himself, meant that he needed another round of financing. Drawing on a heady brew of desperation, optimism, and masochism, Palmer decided to go back to the public offering well in a big way. While mulling over strategies for how to make things turn out better this time, Palmer stumbled across an article that told how Spring Street Brewing Co. had conducted a successful Regulation A initial public offering over the Internet. (See ” The Real Legacy of Spring Street Brewing.”) It all double-clicked for Palmer. To his engineer’s eye, using the Web to facilitate the transfer of small plugs of money to the stock of a small company whose potentially fabulous growth was being stunted by a lack of capital was like, well, using the PCS1 to transfer heat from a stuffy attic to a chilly pool. Three trends central to the recent evolution of our economy point to the likelihood that small investors will embrace Internet-based direct stock offerings from small companies: The small investor has become more independent of brokers and mutual-fund managers, less risk averse, and more enamored of IPOs. The Internet has gradually been greasing the gears of investment mechanisms, cutting commissions and making more investment instruments and professional-quality information about them directly available to anyone with a computer and modem. The country’s economic engine is increasingly fueled by small companies. Direct public offerings will provide opportunities far more interesting than today’s typical IPO. Currently, the vast majority of small investors are locked out of IPOs altogether, and anyone who does manage to buy in is paying not only for a piece of the company, but also for the underwriter’s 7% commission and at least 3% or so in other fees related to the costs of going public. What’s more, the companies represented by today’s high-profile IPOs have had their growth and market potential thoroughly plumbed by venture-capital and investment-banking pros; the chances that you’ll see something that everyone else has missed, and thus end up with a true bargain, are not good. Buy directly into a tiny, unsung company’s do-it-yourself Internet offering, on the other hand, and you’ve got a genuine, undiluted chance of surfing in front of a wave of growth that other investors–including the pros–haven’t spotted. Needless to say, the risks would be correspondingly high. To pick the gems out of what will likely be a field made up predominantly of losers, small investors will have to do what angels do today: apply careful analysis and good instincts. Except you won’t have to risk $50,000 or more, as you typically do today, to buy in at ground zero; $500 or so should do it. Welcome to the dawn of the micro-angel. What can small companies hoping to raise money through an Internet DPO do to connect with potential micro-angels? Unfortunately, you probably won’t learn much by examining the offerings out there today. I searched the Web using keywords and phrases like IPO, direct public offering, investors wanted, SCOR, and the like, and checked out dozens of small-business and capital-raising-related sites and bulletin boards. Of the 20 or so registered small-company stock offerings that I turned up, many appeared to be hybrids of one sort or another, depending at least as much on conventional techniques as on the Web to attract and convince investors. The bottom line: the pure Internet DPO is largely unexplored territory. On the other hand, three years from now it will probably seem like old hat, with thousands of small companies competing for investors’ attention. The ideal moment to strike will probably lie somewhere between now and then–and your guess is as good as anyone else’s. If there’s a shadow hanging over the on-line DPO market, it’s that being cast by securities fraud. Traditional stock offerings are heavily scrutinized by brokers and the SEC; typically, no one does due diligence on a DPO. DPOs that take place entirely on the Internet are ripe for con artists for the same reason that they are so appealing to legitimate companies: they are quick and cheap to set up. The SEC has charged 83 individuals and companies in the past year with Internet securities fraud, 26 of them for hawking entirely fictitious deals. Two years ago a company called Interactive Products and Services (IPS) Inc. rolled out a DPO to develop WebTV products; the offering was listed entirely on the Internet. IPS pulled in about $200,000 from small investors before California officials shut the operation down as a scam and sent its CEO to jail. Not surprisingly, con artists have figured out the kind of leverage they can achieve via the Net. In my search for offerings, I came across hundreds of bulletin-board investment solicitations in almost comically fishy-sounding ventures ranging from gold mines to magazines for “exotic models.” But only the most naïve investors would be taken in by those sorts of come-ons. On the other hand, what to make of a company like Fonecash.com? Listed on Direct Stock Market (DSM), a Web site that specializes in listing DPOs and private placements, as a developer of a credit-card-transaction-processing device, Fonecash.com is floating a $990,000 DPO. The Fonecash.com Web site consists of an “under construction” notice, and the company had not returned phone calls by press time. Another DSM-listed company, Specialized Autocore Services Inc., also failed to respond to a request for information, and the phone number of a third company on the site, the Gourmet Source Inc., yielded a “no longer in service” message. Investors aren’t likely to throw their money into an operation that doesn’t even answer its phone. In mid-1996, Ed Palmer decided to run a little test, putting up on the SolarAttic Web site the prospectus from his 1994 stock offering. Sure enough, he started getting E-mail requests for more information. By the end of 1997, his new offering was in place on the site. SolarAttic now had a better picture to present to potential investors. The company’s sales-growth rate was close to 80% and accelerating hard. A pool dealer in Arizona signed on as the first official SolarAttic regional dealer. But once again Palmer found himself facing off against state regulators. The offering met with relatively little resistance in Connecticut, New Jersey, and Rhode Island. Palmer also painlessly tacked on Delaware, Arizona, and Colorado because those states require almost no paperwork, provided that a company is going after only a limited number of accredited investors. But Wisconsin, representing seven midwestern states that allowed pooled registration, dictated that a minimum amount of money be raised. The funds had to go into escrow until the minimum was met; if not, the money had to be returned to investors. California refused to accept the filing as a SCOR offering, instead requiring that Palmer fill out a long questionnaire that addressed the same information. The Nebraska Department of Banking and Finance sent Palmer a letter threatening criminal prosecution for violating a state law against unregistered solicitation of funds because of the Web site, even though the site clearly stated that Nebraska residents were not eligible. But it was Minnesota regulators who again seemed to set out to prove themselves the pit bulls of the DPO world, demanding that the company set up an “independent, disinterested” board of directors and even issuing a stop order against the offering. Reflecting on those and other state regulatory hassles sends Palmer into a Lenny Bruce-like rant. “These regulators were engaging in illegal activities,” he fumes. “They were breaking their own laws. How is a company supposed to put together a disinterested board? Is that an oxymoron, or what?” He churned out a press release accusing one Minnesota regulator of imposing several illegal requirements on SolarAttic. And he ended up dropping most of the rule-mongering states from his offering. Palmer claims the battles with Minnesota regulators cost him in excess of $90,000 in legal fees and his time, and set the company back years. “The SCOR rules were supposed to make it easy for small businesses to go public,” he says. “It’s supposed to be uniform, but each state lobs its own preposterous things at you. They say it’s to protect the public from crooks, but crooks don’t care about the rules. It may seem strange to hear this from a small-business owner, but I wish the federal government would take over the regulation of these things.” When the regulatory hassles were finally behind him, Palmer started to focus on driving potential investors to his Web site. He started by analyzing statistics that told him where visitors were coming from and what they were doing when they got to his site. For example, 9% of visitors came to the site from a Yahoo search, and of those, 38% had included the word solar in their search, versus only 3% who had used accredited. Only 2.5% of visitors were examining the offering “tombstone,” and eight times as many visitors were downloading technical manuals as were downloading prospectuses. Conclusion: Yahoo searches were a great potential source of referrals, but they were sending over mostly potential customers, not investors. In light of that information, Palmer decided to sign up for a $4,500 banner ad with Yahoo. The ad would be displayed at the top of the search-results page whenever someone asked for such investment keywords as IPO, DPO, SCOR, and so on. But after studying stats revealing that after 20,000 showings the banner had enticed only 200 people to click to the SolarAttic site, Palmer discontinued the ad. Next, he contracted for 50,000 page views of an ad for his offering with the Wall Street Journal Interactive Edition–ads that, he says, would be shown only to the site’s 18,000 subscribers in New Jersey, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. But again, the results were disappointing: 200 hits, after subscribers had been exposed an average of three times each to the ad. “I realized that people don’t want to be distracted by banner ads when they’re on-line looking for information,” says Palmer. “It doesn’t make sense to pay thousands of dollars for 200 hits when I can generate 300 hits from a $90 Business Wire press release.” Palmer also tried talking up his offering in various newsgroups, on bulletin boards, and in chat rooms, posting nearly 7,000 messages. But most of the forums quickly erased his messages, presumably for the same reason cited by the Motley Fool when it erased the message Palmer had placed in the “Minnesota” section of that site: the site is for publicly traded companies only. The sites that didn’t erase his message generated mostly “nastygrams,” as Palmer puts it. By that point, he knew better than to try a mass E-mailing, a.k.a. spamming. “People don’t want unsolicited E-mail, period,” he says, noting that it’s difficult to limit such mailings to particular states. Instead, Palmer limited his mailings to “opt-ins”–Web surfers who indicated their interest in receiving them. Finally, Palmer says he spent $750 to place his offering on DSM. DSM has since turned over some 40 leads to him, but most turned out to be from states in which the offering wasn’t registered. Palmer says DSM and other sites like it can be useful; for one thing, such sites often offer mechanisms for investors to trade stocks originally offered in a DPO, providing much-needed liquidity to the investment. Other lessons: few people are interested in downloading an 82-page prospectus (a process that takes about 10 minutes via a standard modem connection), judging by the fact that only a small number of people ever bothered to download his; no matter how interested investors become in the stock, they’re more likely to call up to buy rather than plug in their credit-card number; and $500 is the largest acceptable minimum investment for most Web surfers, something Palmer figured out after starting off with a $3,000 minimum before dropping it to the lower figure. Oh, and one more thing: pioneering is hard, be it for attic-heat-transfer systems or Internet fund-raising. Palmer ended up raising a mere $20,000 on this round. On the plus side, the company got to keep the money this time around because it had avoided states that required a minimum level of funding–proving, at least, that some sort of useful learning curve is in effect. Even better, the company’s increasingly bright sales picture has helped Palmer bring the total amount of money he has privately raised to over $600,000. (He now owns no stock personally but through a family trust exercises control of 40% of the company.) The obvious conclusion: private fund-raising was the way to go for SolarAttic. But that wasn’t the way Palmer saw it. “I know we’re destined to be a public company,” he says. Ever the optimist, Palmer concludes, “We could grow to a hundred million a year, easy.” That’s a long way from the $118,000 the company brought in last year, but, on the other hand, revenues so far this year are up 250% over the same period last year. There are now more than 200 SolarAttic pool-heating units installed throughout 31 states. Buoyed by that growth rate, at press time Palmer was registering a $4.8-million Regulation A DPO in New York and–combative fellow that he is–Minnesota. He ticks off the reasons that things will be different this time around: he’s learned a lot of the ins and outs of marketing stock on the Internet; Internet DPOs are gaining credibility; and he knows how to keep the satanic state regulators at bay. He also says he’s going to try to play the affinity card this time around, using the Internet to zoom in on the environmentally conscientious. He’s also going for a reverse affinity play. “If you’re a pool owner who learns about our technology as a potential investor, I might get you as a customer, too,” he says. And if this round fizzles like the others? Then he’ll try again. “I go by the kick-the-can theory of money raising,” he says. “I won’t allow myself to think I have to have a certain amount or I can’t make the business go. That’s linear thinking. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this work.” You can almost hear the Minnesota regulators gnashing their teeth. David H. Freedman is a contributor to Inc. Virtual road show Clay Womack, CEO Direct Stock Market Launched: 1993 What Direct Stock Market is: A listing service for direct public offerings (DPOs) and private placements. Direct Stock Market provides an on-line community environment in which investors can discuss offerings, but they must do their own due diligence. Direct Stock Market also helps companies to put together Web-based “virtual road shows.” And isn’t: An automated system for filing a Regulation A or Regulation D offering. You still have to do all the paperwork yourself–off-line. The on-line advantage: Investors can scan the prospectuses of several dozen DPOs and private placements, and companies can get their offerings in front of thousands of small-business-friendly investors. “There are 80,000-plus businesses in the United States that are growing at a rate of at least 50% per annum, and the VCs are only doing 2,000 deals at any point in time,” says Womack. “I want the other 78,000 businesses on our site.” Your odds of finding funding: Probably better than if you posted the offering only on your own Web site. Womack has done a good job of generating publicity for the site. But mismatches are common. Interested investors may respond on-line from states in which your DPO isn’t registered. On the other hand, if Direct Stock Market becomes a broker-dealer as planned, your offering could find a much wider audience. (For a price.) Fee: From $2,500 to $4,000, depending on the size of the offering, for a 90-day listing. –D.F. We’re from the government. We’re here to help Terry Bibbens, Entrepreneur in Residence Ace-net Launched: 1997 What ACE-Net is: A Small Business Administration-sponsored listing service for companies that have completed the paperwork for a streamlined direct public offering (DPO). The Angel Capital Electronic Network (ACE-Net) was designed to make small offerings (up to $5 million) cheaper and easier to pull off by eliminating the need for a broker-dealer and lowering the legal barriers; a listing on ACE-Net satisfies many states’ securities regulations. And isn’t: A vehicle for launching a full-fledged DPO–you can’t sell stock to just anyone, only to “accredited” investors. The on-line advantage: “A single filing on ACE-Net suffices to exchange stock certificates and checks in multiple states. The offering document is created from a simple Q&A the entrepreneur fills out on-line. Your lawyer, accountant, and board can also log on and review the document and make changes in real time. And you can also quickly modify the offering depending on the marketplace. Rewriting the offer and refiling it is not hard to do on-line.” Your odds of finding funding: Until recently, dismal, if you hoped to do a national direct offering. Despite its government connections, ACE-Net has lacked crucial nationwide support and publicity. That’s slowly changing, now that 37 states and 1,000 investors are on board. In one recent six-month period, 20% of the 140 companies listed in ACE-Net’s national database had received financing. The DPO route hasn’t exactly caught fire, perhaps because it’s the wrong vehicle for appealing to angels. But you don’t have to do a DPO to tap local ACE-Net resources–and connections to angel groups. Fee: Up to $450 for an annual listing. –Susan Greco The IPO classifieds Stephen D. Pelletier, CEO Offroad Capital Corp. Launched: 1999 What OffRoad Capital is: A “placement agent” for established private companies seeking growth capital of $3 million to $15 million. Several thousand accredited investors–including angel groups and some VCs–are expected to kick in a minimum of $25,000 per investor per deal. Road shows will be real and virtual: CEOs make studio appearances and take questions from investors via E-mail or phone. “We’re not just a listing service. We help these companies get financed.” And isn’t: An underwriter of deals. The on-line advantage: The ability to create a public “marketplace” for vetting and selling private placements. “Real companies with real revenues and profits should be able to tap equity, not just debt. Within three years, it will happen,” says Pelletier. “We’re using the Internet to create a marketplace for growing companies.” Your odds of finding funding: Slightly better than at Garage.com if your annual sales growth is at least 20% and your company’s valuation is at least $20 million. You also need a clear exit strategy, such as a public offering, merger, or acquisition. Of 400 companies recently considered, 5 have received financing. All industries are welcome, but “don’t be surprised” if the first deals are Internet plays, says Pelletier. Fee: From 3% to 9% of any money raised. –S.G. A match made in . . . cyberspace? Guy Kowasaki, CEO Garage.com Launched: 1998 What Garage.com is: A matchmaker for company founders and sophisticated angel investors, select venture capitalists, and corporate venture-capital divisions. Entrepreneurs receive help with creating a management team or marketing strategy and with pitching their companies to the investors involved, who collectively have kicked in an average of $2.9 million per deal. “We’re a broker-dealer, quasi investment banker, and what I call a venture ‘gapitalist.’ We fill that gap from $1 million to $4 million,” says Kawasaki. “The bottom line is we’re trying to help two guys or two gals in a garage get seed capital. We find ‘em, fix ‘em, and fund ‘em.” And isn’t: The final word. “Angels have to do their own due diligence. There’s no on-line yenta yet.” The on-line advantage: “It’s compressing time to ‘high value’ money and providing a greater breadth of exposure for the entrepreneur. It’s all about opening up the channels. Taking information over the Internet is 100 times more efficient for us than taking a paper business plan. We determine the questions and how much space entrepreneurs have to answer each one–it’s all standardized. And the plans are searchable forever. All plans are created equal through the Internet. And we read every one of them.” Your odds of finding funding: Nil, unless you’re a hot start-up in high tech, biotech, or health sciences. Garage.com expects to close on 30 deals culled from a projected 10,000 business plans to be submitted by the end of the year. Fee: Typically, 5% of money raised. Garage.com also buys a small stake in the company at the “pre-deal valuation” price. –S.G. On the auction block Ian Zwicker, President WR Hambrecht & Co. OpenIPO Launched: 1998 What OpenIPO is: A process by which WR Hambrecht & Co., an investment-banking firm, takes companies public by auctioning shares over the Inte

Got Money?

Ed Palmer might not think of himself as a pioneer. But he’s among the first wave of company builders to look for investors on the Internet without a middleman Ed Palmer is at his desk, bracketed by two Macs, poring over the number of hits received by the various components of his business’s Web site. The company’s only other full-time employee is a cubicle away, dashing off a string of E-mail notes from his computer. This could be almost any Web start-up, if it weren’t for the company’s only other room–a storage room across the hall–one that should be filled with humming servers and blinking modems. Instead, the room turns out to be littered with crates, pallets, and ungainly mechanical devices–an inventory of actual things. Palmer’s company, SolarAttic Inc., is not a flash-fire Silicon Valley Web start-up but a conventional small company in a Minneapolis suburb that has been engaged in a gritty, 13-year struggle to score with products that could at best be called medium-tech. What especially distinguishes SolarAttic from the typical Internet business is that despite the fact that sales have been taking off, venture capitalists, angels, and other investors have not been lining up to hurl money at the company to propel it into the next stage. As a result, Palmer has modified SolarAttic’s growth strategy to include an on-line wrinkle so cutting edge that few Web businesses have dared to try it. Namely, the company is trying to go public by finding its own $1,000-here, $500-there investors over the Internet. No investment banks, no brokers. The realization of ultra-low-cost, wide-open stock offerings–a pure, frictionless transfer of money from the public to a company–may ultimately become one of the most powerful applications of the Internet. It’s turbocapitalism: for ordinary investors, a chance to get in on the ground floor of even tiny, distant, or obscure companies; for underfunded, non-Web start-ups, an opportunity to get their story out to people who might be willing to take a modest gamble. Dozens of companies have already altered the conventional model of fund-raising to take advantage of the Internet’s reach and efficiency. But surprisingly few companies have tried to go all the way and strip their efforts down to a simple on-line proposition: send me money and I’ll give you a piece of my company. SolarAttic, as unlikely a high-tech pioneer as it may be, is one of them. The results have not been entirely pretty. Despite garnering a small sea of leads, the flow of actual on-line investment in the company has barely reached the level of a trickle. Among the challenges the company continues to face: getting the right people to its site, differentiating its offer from those of con artists, and slogging through a morass of state regulations. But SolarAttic is forging ahead, learning what works and what doesn’t as it goes along. As the company embarks on its third public offering–the second that is based on the Web–Palmer offers a simple explanation for why he keeps at it: he is convinced, as are many others, that this is just too good an idea to ultimately not work. Anyone who has ever climbed into an attic on a sunny day can appreciate the basic idea behind SolarAttic. Heat gets trapped up there. Why not put it to work? Palmer, for one, cannot abide the fact that energy is literally floating around the tops of homes while their owners pay good money for heat in other forms. Call it an engineer’s disdain for the inefficient. Palmer worked on guided-missile-system computers for the navy and later on civilian computers, before a friend’s offhand remark 16 years ago changed his life. The English, said the friend, often keep their water heaters in their attics not only for the pressure gain that gravity provides but also for the free temperature boost. Never mind that the English also eat meat in pies and beat one another up at sports events. Free energy was a good thing, Palmer declared, and worth following up on. Two years later, with salaried life permanently behind him, Palmer began his attic-heat-tapping experiments–ultimately taking over nearly two-thirds of the floor space in his Elk River, Minn., home, including the entire basement and garage. The goal: to figure out a way to transfer the heat to piped-in water that could then be pushed into a swimming pool. Since he didn’t own a pool, he set up a 125-gallon horse trough in the garage; to compensate for Minnesota’s frequent dearth of sunlight, he set up electric heaters in the attic to provide heat that he could then get rid of. His efforts fell short until he hit on the missing ingredient: a fan to blow the hot attic air over his boxed-in network of thin piping. Unfortunately, having a good product concept and moving a good product are two different things. At the rate Palmer was going, he had already run through his savings; he and his wife were living on $12,000 a year, mostly borrowed, and his wife was doing all their home maintenance and repair work. He went to a venture capitalist and was told to come back after he sold the first 100 systems. He went looking for angels but found himself in a geographical bind: investors based in mostly chilly Minnesota couldn’t relate to the pool market in general and to a solar-dependent product in particular; investors in warmer climes were not interested in a company that was so far away. He kept plugging away. “If you lose faith, that’s when things start to unfold on you,” he says. Finally, in 1986, Palmer wrote up a list of just about everyone he had ever known and sent roughly 700 of them a letter asking them to invest, valuing the company at $1 million. He was even willing to trade away majority ownership of the company if he could raise that much, since he figured he could exercise effective control with a concentrated 20% of the stock. In any case he raised a nonthreatening but badly needed $50,000. Palmer’s first sale wouldn’t come for three more years. In 1989 he finally sold a pool heater–to a reseller in Florida–for $1,600. And the feedback from that first sale was extremely promising. After performing a test, the customer reported that his pool’s water temperature had risen by 20 degrees to 98 degrees Fahrenheit. Even better, as the temperature in the pool went up, the customer’s energy costs to heat the pool went down. Typically, pool owners have reported costs as high as $300 per month to heat their swimming pools. By contrast, Palmer’s heater costs about $11 a month to operate, treating pool owners to a “warm pool without hot bills,” as Palmer puts it. Heating pools is not a quirky endeavor. According to Palmer, it is a $200-million annual market, based on the number and retail cost of pool heaters being sold. By the early 1990s, Palmer started thinking seriously about going public. It wasn’t grandiosity; he had simply recognized that the SEC had lowered the bar for small-company securities offerings a few years before by creating the small-corporate-offering registration, or SCOR, and so-called Regulation A offerings, both of which require no or minimal scrutiny from the SEC. Subject to state regulation, companies can raise up to $1 million in a 12-month period with a SCOR, or $5 million with a Regulation A offering. Palmer talked to brokers, but none were interested in taking part in offerings below $10 million (Palmer’s was less than $5 million) and the correspondingly small fees that their 10% commission would generate. No problem, he thought. He’d do it the way he had done everything else: on his own. In 1994, Palmer filed for a $1.5-million-minimum and $3-million-maximum Regulation A offering in Minnesota, and was promptly blindsided by state regulators, who told him he had only 180 days to raise the money–even though there was no such rule on the Minnesota books. Palmer eventually resolved the matter with state regulators, but the fight had been so time-consuming that the offering languished and ultimately fell short, necessitating the return of the $250,000 he had raised and placed into escrow. But Palmer walked away with a list of 1,000 interested investors, and to a few of them he sent a letter offering a private placement at a 20% discount from the public offering price, which generated $125,000. Two years later Palmer figured it couldn’t hurt to put up a Web site that provided sales and technical information about his company. It wasn’t long after the site’s debut that he realized the Web could be a big selling tool for SolarAttic. “People used to call about a product and ask something like, ‘What’s the PCS1?” notes Jim Stanley, Palmer’s half-brother and SolarAttic’s vice-president of sales and marketing. “Now they download the technical manual first, and then call and say, ‘Here’s my credit-card number.” By mid-1997, the site was pulling in as many as 40,000 hits a month (and it now pulls in roughly 100,000 a month). That was the good news. The bad news was that the company was now generating far more leads and opportunities than Palmer and Stanley could handle. Ultimately, Palmer wanted to hire more people–and he figured that with an expanding array of products, the potential market he could tap into could be worth as much as $10 billion. The capital requirements of that vision, combined with the fact that he was still living on fumes himself, meant that he needed another round of financing. Drawing on a heady brew of desperation, optimism, and masochism, Palmer decided to go back to the public offering well in a big way. While mulling over strategies for how to make things turn out better this time, Palmer stumbled across an article that told how Spring Street Brewing Co. had conducted a successful Regulation A initial public offering over the Internet. (See ” The Real Legacy of Spring Street Brewing.”) It all double-clicked for Palmer. To his engineer’s eye, using the Web to facilitate the transfer of small plugs of money to the stock of a small company whose potentially fabulous growth was being stunted by a lack of capital was like, well, using the PCS1 to transfer heat from a stuffy attic to a chilly pool. Three trends central to the recent evolution of our economy point to the likelihood that small investors will embrace Internet-based direct stock offerings from small companies: The small investor has become more independent of brokers and mutual-fund managers, less risk averse, and more enamored of IPOs. The Internet has gradually been greasing the gears of investment mechanisms, cutting commissions and making more investment instruments and professional-quality information about them directly available to anyone with a computer and modem. The country’s economic engine is increasingly fueled by small companies. Direct public offerings will provide opportunities far more interesting than today’s typical IPO. Currently, the vast majority of small investors are locked out of IPOs altogether, and anyone who does manage to buy in is paying not only for a piece of the company, but also for the underwriter’s 7% commission and at least 3% or so in other fees related to the costs of going public. What’s more, the companies represented by today’s high-profile IPOs have had their growth and market potential thoroughly plumbed by venture-capital and investment-banking pros; the chances that you’ll see something that everyone else has missed, and thus end up with a true bargain, are not good. Buy directly into a tiny, unsung company’s do-it-yourself Internet offering, on the other hand, and you’ve got a genuine, undiluted chance of surfing in front of a wave of growth that other investors–including the pros–haven’t spotted. Needless to say, the risks would be correspondingly high. To pick the gems out of what will likely be a field made up predominantly of losers, small investors will have to do what angels do today: apply careful analysis and good instincts. Except you won’t have to risk $50,000 or more, as you typically do today, to buy in at ground zero; $500 or so should do it. Welcome to the dawn of the micro-angel. What can small companies hoping to raise money through an Internet DPO do to connect with potential micro-angels? Unfortunately, you probably won’t learn much by examining the offerings out there today. I searched the Web using keywords and phrases like IPO, direct public offering, investors wanted, SCOR, and the like, and checked out dozens of small-business and capital-raising-related sites and bulletin boards. Of the 20 or so registered small-company stock offerings that I turned up, many appeared to be hybrids of one sort or another, depending at least as much on conventional techniques as on the Web to attract and convince investors. The bottom line: the pure Internet DPO is largely unexplored territory. On the other hand, three years from now it will probably seem like old hat, with thousands of small companies competing for investors’ attention. The ideal moment to strike will probably lie somewhere between now and then–and your guess is as good as anyone else’s. If there’s a shadow hanging over the on-line DPO market, it’s that being cast by securities fraud. Traditional stock offerings are heavily scrutinized by brokers and the SEC; typically, no one does due diligence on a DPO. DPOs that take place entirely on the Internet are ripe for con artists for the same reason that they are so appealing to legitimate companies: they are quick and cheap to set up. The SEC has charged 83 individuals and companies in the past year with Internet securities fraud, 26 of them for hawking entirely fictitious deals. Two years ago a company called Interactive Products and Services (IPS) Inc. rolled out a DPO to develop WebTV products; the offering was listed entirely on the Internet. IPS pulled in about $200,000 from small investors before California officials shut the operation down as a scam and sent its CEO to jail. Not surprisingly, con artists have figured out the kind of leverage they can achieve via the Net. In my search for offerings, I came across hundreds of bulletin-board investment solicitations in almost comically fishy-sounding ventures ranging from gold mines to magazines for “exotic models.” But only the most naïve investors would be taken in by those sorts of come-ons. On the other hand, what to make of a company like Fonecash.com? Listed on Direct Stock Market (DSM), a Web site that specializes in listing DPOs and private placements, as a developer of a credit-card-transaction-processing device, Fonecash.com is floating a $990,000 DPO. The Fonecash.com Web site consists of an “under construction” notice, and the company had not returned phone calls by press time. Another DSM-listed company, Specialized Autocore Services Inc., also failed to respond to a request for information, and the phone number of a third company on the site, the Gourmet Source Inc., yielded a “no longer in service” message. Investors aren’t likely to throw their money into an operation that doesn’t even answer its phone. In mid-1996, Ed Palmer decided to run a little test, putting up on the SolarAttic Web site the prospectus from his 1994 stock offering. Sure enough, he started getting E-mail requests for more information. By the end of 1997, his new offering was in place on the site. SolarAttic now had a better picture to present to potential investors. The company’s sales-growth rate was close to 80% and accelerating hard. A pool dealer in Arizona signed on as the first official SolarAttic regional dealer. But once again Palmer found himself facing off against state regulators. The offering met with relatively little resistance in Connecticut, New Jersey, and Rhode Island. Palmer also painlessly tacked on Delaware, Arizona, and Colorado because those states require almost no paperwork, provided that a company is going after only a limited number of accredited investors. But Wisconsin, representing seven midwestern states that allowed pooled registration, dictated that a minimum amount of money be raised. The funds had to go into escrow until the minimum was met; if not, the money had to be returned to investors. California refused to accept the filing as a SCOR offering, instead requiring that Palmer fill out a long questionnaire that addressed the same information. The Nebraska Department of Banking and Finance sent Palmer a letter threatening criminal prosecution for violating a state law against unregistered solicitation of funds because of the Web site, even though the site clearly stated that Nebraska residents were not eligible. But it was Minnesota regulators who again seemed to set out to prove themselves the pit bulls of the DPO world, demanding that the company set up an “independent, disinterested” board of directors and even issuing a stop order against the offering. Reflecting on those and other state regulatory hassles sends Palmer into a Lenny Bruce-like rant. “These regulators were engaging in illegal activities,” he fumes. “They were breaking their own laws. How is a company supposed to put together a disinterested board? Is that an oxymoron, or what?” He churned out a press release accusing one Minnesota regulator of imposing several illegal requirements on SolarAttic. And he ended up dropping most of the rule-mongering states from his offering. Palmer claims the battles with Minnesota regulators cost him in excess of $90,000 in legal fees and his time, and set the company back years. “The SCOR rules were supposed to make it easy for small businesses to go public,” he says. “It’s supposed to be uniform, but each state lobs its own preposterous things at you. They say it’s to protect the public from crooks, but crooks don’t care about the rules. It may seem strange to hear this from a small-business owner, but I wish the federal government would take over the regulation of these things.” When the regulatory hassles were finally behind him, Palmer started to focus on driving potential investors to his Web site. He started by analyzing statistics that told him where visitors were coming from and what they were doing when they got to his site. For example, 9% of visitors came to the site from a Yahoo search, and of those, 38% had included the word solar in their search, versus only 3% who had used accredited. Only 2.5% of visitors were examining the offering “tombstone,” and eight times as many visitors were downloading technical manuals as were downloading prospectuses. Conclusion: Yahoo searches were a great potential source of referrals, but they were sending over mostly potential customers, not investors. In light of that information, Palmer decided to sign up for a $4,500 banner ad with Yahoo. The ad would be displayed at the top of the search-results page whenever someone asked for such investment keywords as IPO, DPO, SCOR, and so on. But after studying stats revealing that after 20,000 showings the banner had enticed only 200 people to click to the SolarAttic site, Palmer discontinued the ad. Next, he contracted for 50,000 page views of an ad for his offering with the Wall Street Journal Interactive Edition–ads that, he says, would be shown only to the site’s 18,000 subscribers in New Jersey, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. But again, the results were disappointing: 200 hits, after subscribers had been exposed an average of three times each to the ad. “I realized that people don’t want to be distracted by banner ads when they’re on-line looking for information,” says Palmer. “It doesn’t make sense to pay thousands of dollars for 200 hits when I can generate 300 hits from a $90 Business Wire press release.” Palmer also tried talking up his offering in various newsgroups, on bulletin boards, and in chat rooms, posting nearly 7,000 messages. But most of the forums quickly erased his messages, presumably for the same reason cited by the Motley Fool when it erased the message Palmer had placed in the “Minnesota” section of that site: the site is for publicly traded companies only. The sites that didn’t erase his message generated mostly “nastygrams,” as Palmer puts it. By that point, he knew better than to try a mass E-mailing, a.k.a. spamming. “People don’t want unsolicited E-mail, period,” he says, noting that it’s difficult to limit such mailings to particular states. Instead, Palmer limited his mailings to “opt-ins”–Web surfers who indicated their interest in receiving them. Finally, Palmer says he spent $750 to place his offering on DSM. DSM has since turned over some 40 leads to him, but most turned out to be from states in which the offering wasn’t registered. Palmer says DSM and other sites like it can be useful; for one thing, such sites often offer mechanisms for investors to trade stocks originally offered in a DPO, providing much-needed liquidity to the investment. Other lessons: few people are interested in downloading an 82-page prospectus (a process that takes about 10 minutes via a standard modem connection), judging by the fact that only a small number of people ever bothered to download his; no matter how interested investors become in the stock, they’re more likely to call up to buy rather than plug in their credit-card number; and $500 is the largest acceptable minimum investment for most Web surfers, something Palmer figured out after starting off with a $3,000 minimum before dropping it to the lower figure. Oh, and one more thing: pioneering is hard, be it for attic-heat-transfer systems or Internet fund-raising. Palmer ended up raising a mere $20,000 on this round. On the plus side, the company got to keep the money this time around because it had avoided states that required a minimum level of funding–proving, at least, that some sort of useful learning curve is in effect. Even better, the company’s increasingly bright sales picture has helped Palmer bring the total amount of money he has privately raised to over $600,000. (He now owns no stock personally but through a family trust exercises control of 40% of the company.) The obvious conclusion: private fund-raising was the way to go for SolarAttic. But that wasn’t the way Palmer saw it. “I know we’re destined to be a public company,” he says. Ever the optimist, Palmer concludes, “We could grow to a hundred million a year, easy.” That’s a long way from the $118,000 the company brought in last year, but, on the other hand, revenues so far this year are up 250% over the same period last year. There are now more than 200 SolarAttic pool-heating units installed throughout 31 states. Buoyed by that growth rate, at press time Palmer was registering a $4.8-million Regulation A DPO in New York and–combative fellow that he is–Minnesota. He ticks off the reasons that things will be different this time around: he’s learned a lot of the ins and outs of marketing stock on the Internet; Internet DPOs are gaining credibility; and he knows how to keep the satanic state regulators at bay. He also says he’s going to try to play the affinity card this time around, using the Internet to zoom in on the environmentally conscientious. He’s also going for a reverse affinity play. “If you’re a pool owner who learns about our technology as a potential investor, I might get you as a customer, too,” he says. And if this round fizzles like the others? Then he’ll try again. “I go by the kick-the-can theory of money raising,” he says. “I won’t allow myself to think I have to have a certain amount or I can’t make the business go. That’s linear thinking. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this work.” You can almost hear the Minnesota regulators gnashing their teeth. David H. Freedman is a contributor to Inc. Virtual road show Clay Womack, CEO Direct Stock Market Launched: 1993 What Direct Stock Market is: A listing service for direct public offerings (DPOs) and private placements. Direct Stock Market provides an on-line community environment in which investors can discuss offerings, but they must do their own due diligence. Direct Stock Market also helps companies to put together Web-based “virtual road shows.” And isn’t: An automated system for filing a Regulation A or Regulation D offering. You still have to do all the paperwork yourself–off-line. The on-line advantage: Investors can scan the prospectuses of several dozen DPOs and private placements, and companies can get their offerings in front of thousands of small-business-friendly investors. “There are 80,000-plus businesses in the United States that are growing at a rate of at least 50% per annum, and the VCs are only doing 2,000 deals at any point in time,” says Womack. “I want the other 78,000 businesses on our site.” Your odds of finding funding: Probably better than if you posted the offering only on your own Web site. Womack has done a good job of generating publicity for the site. But mismatches are common. Interested investors may respond on-line from states in which your DPO isn’t registered. On the other hand, if Direct Stock Market becomes a broker-dealer as planned, your offering could find a much wider audience. (For a price.) Fee: From $2,500 to $4,000, depending on the size of the offering, for a 90-day listing. –D.F. We’re from the government. We’re here to help Terry Bibbens, Entrepreneur in Residence Ace-net Launched: 1997 What ACE-Net is: A Small Business Administration-sponsored listing service for companies that have completed the paperwork for a streamlined direct public offering (DPO). The Angel Capital Electronic Network (ACE-Net) was designed to make small offerings (up to $5 million) cheaper and easier to pull off by eliminating the need for a broker-dealer and lowering the legal barriers; a listing on ACE-Net satisfies many states’ securities regulations. And isn’t: A vehicle for launching a full-fledged DPO–you can’t sell stock to just anyone, only to “accredited” investors. The on-line advantage: “A single filing on ACE-Net suffices to exchange stock certificates and checks in multiple states. The offering document is created from a simple Q&A the entrepreneur fills out on-line. Your lawyer, accountant, and board can also log on and review the document and make changes in real time. And you can also quickly modify the offering depending on the marketplace. Rewriting the offer and refiling it is not hard to do on-line.” Your odds of finding funding: Until recently, dismal, if you hoped to do a national direct offering. Despite its government connections, ACE-Net has lacked crucial nationwide support and publicity. That’s slowly changing, now that 37 states and 1,000 investors are on board. In one recent six-month period, 20% of the 140 companies listed in ACE-Net’s national database had received financing. The DPO route hasn’t exactly caught fire, perhaps because it’s the wrong vehicle for appealing to angels. But you don’t have to do a DPO to tap local ACE-Net resources–and connections to angel groups. Fee: Up to $450 for an annual listing. –Susan Greco The IPO classifieds Stephen D. Pelletier, CEO Offroad Capital Corp. Launched: 1999 What OffRoad Capital is: A “placement agent” for established private companies seeking growth capital of $3 million to $15 million. Several thousand accredited investors–including angel groups and some VCs–are expected to kick in a minimum of $25,000 per investor per deal. Road shows will be real and virtual: CEOs make studio appearances and take questions from investors via E-mail or phone. “We’re not just a listing service. We help these companies get financed.” And isn’t: An underwriter of deals. The on-line advantage: The ability to create a public “marketplace” for vetting and selling private placements. “Real companies with real revenues and profits should be able to tap equity, not just debt. Within three years, it will happen,” says Pelletier. “We’re using the Internet to create a marketplace for growing companies.” Your odds of finding funding: Slightly better than at Garage.com if your annual sales growth is at least 20% and your company’s valuation is at least $20 million. You also need a clear exit strategy, such as a public offering, merger, or acquisition. Of 400 companies recently considered, 5 have received financing. All industries are welcome, but “don’t be surprised” if the first deals are Internet plays, says Pelletier. Fee: From 3% to 9% of any money raised. –S.G. A match made in . . . cyberspace? Guy Kowasaki, CEO Garage.com Launched: 1998 What Garage.com is: A matchmaker for company founders and sophisticated angel investors, select venture capitalists, and corporate venture-capital divisions. Entrepreneurs receive help with creating a management team or marketing strategy and with pitching their companies to the investors involved, who collectively have kicked in an average of $2.9 million per deal. “We’re a broker-dealer, quasi investment banker, and what I call a venture ‘gapitalist.’ We fill that gap from $1 million to $4 million,” says Kawasaki. “The bottom line is we’re trying to help two guys or two gals in a garage get seed capital. We find ‘em, fix ‘em, and fund ‘em.” And isn’t: The final word. “Angels have to do their own due diligence. There’s no on-line yenta yet.” The on-line advantage: “It’s compressing time to ‘high value’ money and providing a greater breadth of exposure for the entrepreneur. It’s all about opening up the channels. Taking information over the Internet is 100 times more efficient for us than taking a paper business plan. We determine the questions and how much space entrepreneurs have to answer each one–it’s all standardized. And the plans are searchable forever. All plans are created equal through the Internet. And we read every one of them.” Your odds of finding funding: Nil, unless you’re a hot start-up in high tech, biotech, or health sciences. Garage.com expects to close on 30 deals culled from a projected 10,000 business plans to be submitted by the end of the year. Fee: Typically, 5% of money raised. Garage.com also buys a small stake in the company at the “pre-deal valuation” price. –S.G. On the auction block Ian Zwicker, President WR Hambrecht & Co. OpenIPO Launched: 1998 What OpenIPO is: A process by which WR Hambrecht & Co., an investment-banking firm, takes companies public by auctioning shares over the Inte