Tag Archives: Minnesota

Web of Lawyers

our beautiful site

Ah, technology. It has brought vast seas of information to our fingertips, lowered the cost of doing business, created services unimagined a decade ago, and placed any company’s products a mouse click away from customers around the world. Well, here’s one more of technology’s fruits, and one that’s often overlooked: It has made it much easier for you to insult, frustrate, cross, infringe upon, transgress against, or just plain piss off individuals, businesses, and governments anywhere on the planet. In other words, new technology sets you up to be sued by almost anyone. Thanks to the simple act of putting up a website, you and your actionable offenses are just a Google search away. That’s what Shane McKenzie, a.k.a. the Sunglass Man Online, found out last year when the legal eagles at fashion apparel company Burberry dropped him a line. McKenzie, who operates an online sunglass retailer and two other merchandising websites out of Sarasota, Florida, sells both genuine top-name sunglasses, including models from Burberry, and logoless, perfectly legal replica glasses in similar styles. After finding McKenzie’s site via Google, Burberry demanded, for starters, that he turn over his stock of the replica Burberry glasses, as well as the name of his supplier. “I called them and tried to reason with them, but they wouldn’t back down,” says McKenzie. He eventually hired a lawyer to put an end to the threats and agreed to no longer use the Burberrian term “check print.” Similarly, when MNSpeak.com, an independent, quirky website that covers goings-on in Minnesota, offered T-shirts parodying Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion radio show, Keillor turned out to be a good deal less appreciative of parody than one might have expected. His lawyers fired off a threatening letter and wouldn’t relent even after the website informed them that its inventory consisted of about 10 T-shirts. Have your employees launched blogs to give customers and others a window onto the company? Eric Goldman, director of Santa Clara University’s High Tech Law Institute, notes that the contents of the dinky informal blog put up by Mel in shipping could end up being read back to you as evidence in a courtroom, especially if it includes negative comments about a person, business, or product. Or if the blog drops references to information that you later try to protect as a trade secret or with a patent. Or if customers decide your product or service is in any way less than implied on the blog. “Your liability can be the same as if you had taken out an ad with the same information,” says Goldman. And if you’re thinking about getting in on the social networking craze by encouraging people outside the company to post information to your website or blog, bear in mind that many website owners have been sued over defamatory comments posted by third parties. MySpace has been sued over the contents of its members’ pages, and last year a Pittsburgh man sued the operators of DontDateHimGirl.com, a dating website for women, after users posted comments suggesting that he is gay and has a sexually transmitted disease. Indeed, you might be surprised at the trouble your website can get you into. Posting photos on it can get you up close and personal with a threatening lawyer, even when you’ve paid for the photos. That’s because the fine print in photography rights often excludes permission to post them online, and don’t think the photographers won’t notice: They frequently embed searchable code in the images that makes it a snap to police for improper usage. If you want to play it safe, it’s tempting to skip all content and offer nothing on your website but links to other webpages. Unfortunately, even that won’t do it. Google itself has been sued more than once by companies that don’t like the idea that Google makes money by providing access to their pages. And if you pay Google to display paid listings on searches of keyword phrases, you’d better make sure no one else has any claims on those phrases; that could be trademark infringement. You also can be sued simply for doing business on the Web under your own name. Country music star Keith Urban went after a visual artist named Keith Urban for selling his paintings at KeithUrban.com, a website the artist Urban had set up long before the singer Urban became well known. Here are a few other Web-related activities that have led to lawsuits or threats thereof: blocking pop-up ads; misusing intellectual-property protection software; and posting a review of a software product from a company that prohibits product reviews in the fine print of its contracts. If you’re doing business in multiple states–and it’s hard not to when you’re on the Web–you’d better study up on each state’s wildly varying privacy laws, lest you get slapped for failing to store customer information in encrypted form, printing a customer’s full credit card number on a receipt, e-mailing a customer who doesn’t want to be e-mailed, or failing to notify customers that a hacker may have gotten a peek into your computers–all transgressions that have led to legal action. And if you think you’ve got the U.S. and state regulations satisfied, get ready to be sued by European government agencies, which enforce far stricter regulations, including a prohibition on comparing your product to that of a competitor. You don’t need to put up a website for the Web to bring out the worst in someone else’s lawyers. Employees with Internet access can do it for you. We all know that an employee who openly surfs pornography sites can get a company sued for sexual harassment. Less commonly known is that getting rid of an employee who ignores warnings to stop viewing sexually explicit material on the Web may be an even better way to get sued. IBM learned that in February when it was hit with a $5 million lawsuit by a dismissed employee who claimed the company should have instead offered him treatment for being addicted to Internet sex. And forget the sex–just being addicted to plain old Web surfing will soon become the stuff of a new wave of employee lawsuits, predicts Gayle Porter, an associate professor at Rutgers Business School. “Many employees are becoming consumed with technology to the detriment of the rest of their lives,” Porter says. “And some of them are going to turn around and say they have psychological or health problems because of it, and then they’re going to look for someone to blame.” Suing employers for enabling their harmful overattachment to computers, she says, is no more improbable than suing a tobacco company for promoting smoking or suing a fast-food company for encouraging unhealthful eating. If all that has you thinking you might want to monitor employees’ Web-surfing habits to watch for signs of addiction, make sure you don’t extend the policy to any employees in Canada and Europe, where you can be slammed by regulations that limit electronically peering over an employee’s shoulder. If you do end up firing an employee, try to get his or her name off your website in short order–failure to do so got a Connecticut business sued in 2005. And avoid giving employees the bad news over a cell phone while they’re driving, given that at least a dozen companies have been sued over blabbing-while-driving accidents. What can you do to lower your legal exposure in this lawsuit-happy world? A good start would be to run your website and Web-related employee policies past a lawyer who specializes in Internet law. Unfortunately, most lawyers aren’t yet up to speed on this stuff. That’s what Bob Reno, who chronicles the misadventures of athletes at his website BadJocks.com, discovered when he received an eight-page contract from a large corporation that wanted to buy a domain name from him. “My lawyer just shook his head and said he had no idea what to make of it,” recalls Reno, who was ultimately warned off of signing the contract by Clarke Douglas Walton, a Las Vegas-based attorney whose practice is focused entirely on Internet-related law. Walton, who founded the popular casino poker information website AllVegasPoker.com while in law school (he still runs it and has yet to be sued by a casino), notes that many website owners fail to even take the basic step of throwing up a “terms of service” statement that specifies which state’s courts would have jurisdiction over any related lawsuits. But Walton also is fond of pointing out that Web law cuts both ways. “Usually when an entrepreneur first contacts me it’s because he’s received a threatening letter from a larger company,” he says. “But given how fast Internet companies can grow, it’s only a year or two before they’re the ones sending the cease-and-desist letters to a smaller Web company.” That’s paying it forward in the Internet era. Contributing editor David H. Freedman (whatsnext@inc.com) is a Boston-based author of several books about business and technology.

Mistakes Were Made

I’m a licensed pilot, and I once managed to land a small plane on the wrong strip at a small airport. I could have gotten in pretty big trouble for it, so you might have thought my best move would have been to keep my mouth shut and hope the FAA wouldn’t find out. But I couldn’t wait to report my screwup to the government. I wish I could say it was because I’m such a conscientious fellow. But the truth is, I fessed up fast because the U.S. government rewards pilots for quickly owning up to their mistakes, agreeing to waive punitive action if they report themselves. In fact, most pilots carry the self-reporting form with them in their flight kit, just in case. Why the free ride for confessors? Because the government wants pilots to learn from one another’s mistakes in an effort to keep accident rates low. Indeed, the flood of self-reports–nearly 3,000 a month on average, including confessions from air traffic controllers, aircraft mechanics, and flight attendants–are gathered by NASA and selectively published in a monthly newsletter, “Callback,” that’s a must-read for 150,000 pilots and other aviation personnel each month. In the August issue, for example, a commercial airline pilot admitted that he failed to position the flaps at the back of the wings correctly at takeoff, nearly causing the plane to plunge. The pilot of a business jet described how he didn’t hit the right buttons for the cabin pressurization system, which could have left crew and passengers starved for oxygen at 22,000 feet. Neither pilot was fined or punished. You can’t stamp out mistakes at your company, no matter how good a manager you are or how brilliantly you hone your processes. Essentially, you can do one of two things: create an environment in which mistakes are seen as shameful and counterproductive; or create one in which each mistake becomes a collective learning experience. To me, the choice seems obvious. Do employees at your company point out their own screwups–even the ones that might not otherwise have been discovered by management? Probably not. But let me suggest an easy way to fix the situation: Blog it. We’ve heard a lot about blogs over the past few years, and it’s clear that corporate America is in on them. Many corporate blogs are sanitized, public-relations-oriented affairs intended to create bonds with existing and potential customers. Others serve as internal message boards to keep employees up to date. But I’m proposing something else: a blog that encourages employees and managers to tell their peers what they themselves have done wrong. It’s an easy step that could quickly effect a large, positive change in your corporate culture. Such blogs are rare. But they do exist. The Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, for example, has set up a system in which medical residents electronically log their mistakes or any other problems they see so the hospital can analyze the errors and look for fixes. It’s more of a database than a blog, but any resident can post to it without fear of recrimination. (The residents identify themselves on their reports, but are only publicly named if they’re getting credit for coming up with a solution to a problem.) “The residents are in the trenches seeing what’s going on, and they pick up on things we may not be aware of,” says Furman McDonald, a faculty member in internal medicine. “We’re trying to get across that people can present their mistakes in a forum that won’t leave them feeling chastised.” Because residents are promised that what they confess to the Mayo stays at the Mayo, the clinic wouldn’t share an example of a confessed mistake. (We may be better off not knowing.) But feedback from residents has led to some significant changes at the clinic. It’s improved the gathering of information about different drugs prescribed by different doctors to the same patient to avoid problematic drug interactions. It has also enabled doctors to do a better job of picking up on obesity-related complications and created a safer way to deliver some medicines to diabetic patients. The U.S. Department of Energy, meanwhile, is pushing its contractors to gather and share goof-ups via so-called “lessons learned” databases accessible to employees at all of its contractors. Fluor Hanford, an engineering firm that is tackling one of the world’s toughest environmental cleanup sites in Hanford, Washington, has been particularly enthusiastic about getting its employees to fess up. Tony Umek, Fluor Hanford’s vice president for safety and health, says that the database led to the discovery that a number of employees were going around standard company purchase procedures to buy their own electrical equipment–and that some of the equipment was flawed. Everyone involved was thanked for their honesty. “The best people make mistakes, and that’s a fact of life,” says Umek. “We want our people to see the mistakes coming and report them, so we don’t have to lament a debilitating injury after the fact.” Of course, the culture of hiding error to avoid blame and punishment is ingrained in most of us from an early age and perpetuated in companies because managers tend to whack employees who mess up. Managers themselves don’t go around blabbing about their own errors because they want to be seen as role models for the highly effective. Some organizations, including the U.S. Marines and aerospace maverick Burt Rutan’s Scaled Composites, have created cultures that celebrate honest mistakes and confession, but they are exceptions and are not easily replicated. Deep down, people want to confess their mistakes. And that’s more true than ever in the Internet age. And this is where the specific appeal of piggybacking on new blogging technology comes in. It’s fine to include an error-confession session in meetings, on databases, and on suggestion slips. But blogs are tailor-made for sharing screwups because they’re conversational, intimate, low key, and usually easy to read or post to. It’s also a perfect format for small companies. A blog with, say, three or four posts a day is a lot easier to maintain than one with 60 posts a day. Blogs are cheap–many blogging tools are free–and can be set up in a few hours. A confessional blog can provide real benefits in a matter of weeks, if not days. As great as we are at learning from our own mistakes, you can learn almost as much from the mistakes of others. Don’t take my word for it. Research recently published in Nature Neuroscience by a team of Dutch scientists indicates that “similar neural mechanisms are involved in monitoring one’s own actions and the actions of others.” In other words, watching your colleague blow a sale has much the same effect on your brain as hearing yourself do it. Afraid someone will leak the contents of your confessional blog to the public? As the saying goes, just hope the blogger spells your company’s name right. Any customer of yours that stops doing business with you because it is shocked–shocked!–to learn your employees make mistakes on occasion probably was pretty precarious to begin with. More likely, your customers will admire you for your candor. (I’m assuming here that your employees do not regularly make mistakes of the criminal variety.) I also believe that deep down, people want to confess their mistakes. And that’s more true than ever in the Internet age. Sure, much of what you see in online forums is whining and blaming, but increasingly, personal bloggers are coming forward to talk about how they screwed up–and often in business situations. These what-I-did-wrong tales so far are disproportionately focused on software projects, Web businesses, and, fittingly, blog development because that’s where you find people who are most comfortable sharing information online. But why wouldn’t it work just as well for an insurance company or building contractor? My only specific recommendation: Encourage everyone to keep it breezy, even fun. Believe it or not, the NASA aviation reports are almost always framed in a humorous light, and they’re a blast to read. The hardest part, of course, will be sticking to your promise to not bring down the hammer on those who confess to good-faith mistakes. That’s not to say you need to let everything slide. Make it clear that confessions of malfeasance, real damage, and repeated offenses don’t merit get-out-of-jail-free cards. (The FAA gives pilots one freebie every five years, and there’s no amnesty if a crime is committed or something gets smashed up.) Not everyone will be happy about where you draw the line, but it’s easy enough to draw it and to make clear that anyone who doesn’t cross it will truly be appreciated for sharing. By the way, my flying mistake apparently wasn’t deemed instructive enough to make the newsletter. However, a warning was added a bit later to the aviation map for that airport to alert pilots to the very mistake I had made. I like to think of it as my contribution to aviation. Contributing editor David H. Freedman (whatsnext@inc.com) is a Boston-based author of several books about business and technology. His latest, A Perfect Mess, co-authored with Eric Abrahamson, will be published by Little, Brown in January.

Wi-Fi for the Masses

It looks like a large Styrofoam takeout container. The 14-pound box would fit into a backpack were it not for the two antennas, set well apart. It can withstand subfreezing temperatures and 165-mph winds; it’s even lightningproof. With the lid bolted down tightly, the box offers no clue as to what’s inside. But disassembled, it reveals intricate innards that look like nothing so much as a city viewed from a plane: A million tiny wires crisscross like streets and weave among square parks the size of your thumbnail. The magic of the box occurs when you mount it on the horizontal arm of a city lamppost, so that its long ears reach up to the sky. Install 30 of them per square mile (which isn’t hard, since an installer using a single tool can put up a unit in 15 minutes) and they immediately begin communicating with one another via radio waves. Data, the same information that flows through the wired Internet, begins traveling between them. Establish some hub connections to usher the data back onto the Net and you’ve created a wireless network that can transmit signals all over real, life-size cities–into parks, schools, juice joints, bars, offices, playgrounds, and homes. The boxes, known as routers or nodes, are made by Tropos Networks, a Silicon Valley upstart that’s landed in the middle of a burgeoning movement among U.S. cities to create municipal wireless networks, or metroscale Wi-Fi–essentially, an effort to deliver wireless bandwidth to the masses. Since Tropos began selling its equipment in 2002, dozens of municipalities have signed up. The Twin Cities suburb of Chaska, Minnesota, built a wireless network to cover its 16 square miles and serve all 18,000 of its residents. Corpus Christi, Texas, bought 300 Tropos nodes to cover 24 square miles and has since decided to expand to 147 square miles. As it rebuilds in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans plans to cover the whole town with a Tropos network. This summer, Anaheim, California, will hit the switch, giving 325,000 citizens across 50 square miles ubiquitous broadband Internet access. Tropos-powered networks also are in the offing in Philadelphia and San Francisco. Launched with what Bill Gurley, a Silicon Valley venture capitalist and early Tropos investor, calls “four guys under 30 and an algorithm,” the Sunnyvale-based company spent less than $3 million getting its first product to market. Since then, it has grown into the leading equipment provider in this incipient market, with more than $15 million in revenue in 2005 and a projected $45 million in 2006. It has had roughly 350 customers to date–including some in far-flung locales such as Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, and Doha, Qatar–and partnerships with EarthLink, Google, Motorola, IBM, and others. Given its recent contracts, the company is well ahead of competing equipment makers. Yet Tropos faces some difficult tests before it can realize its vision. The new, large-scale projects in San Francisco and Philadelphia will get the technology out of dress rehearsal and in front of a major audience. These launches will be key to the company’s fate. As hundreds of other cities look on, contemplating whether to install their own cheap broadband, and as a phalanx of massive data carriers like Verizon and Comcast glower over what may be a new threat, Tropos will march out onstage. Says CEO Ron Sege: “The best thing we can do is make sure the big cities do well, for everyone to say, ‘Oh, my God, it works.” “What Stops the Internet From Being Everywhere?” In San Francisco, there is a new café every year that has “the best coffee in town.” At the moment, it’s Ritual, a chic place in the Mission District with leather couches, wireless Internet, and PowerBooks on every table. The two founding engineers of Tropos–Narasimha Chari, who goes by “Chari,” and Devabhaktuni “Sri” Srikrishna–are sitting at a small table, drinking lattes and reflecting on recent news. About a year ago, the mayor of San Francisco put out a request for proposals, looking for the optimum plan for “unwiring” the city–that is, for creating a citywide Wi-Fi network. Just the day before, out of a half-dozen contenders, the selection had been announced–and Sri and Chari’s list of big wins had gotten one municipal contract longer. But the two men, both 32, scarcely stopped to rest. That’s because each successive contract brings them closer to answering a question that’s intrigued them since they met as undergraduates at Caltech about 15 years ago: “What stops the Internet from being everywhere?” The magic of the box occurs when you mount it on a lamppost. Install 30 of them per square mile, and you’ve created a wireless network that can transmit data all over a city. The inquiry arose out of mutual concerns about India and other developing countries. As a brainy boy growing up in Calcutta, Chari would take long excursions through the city searching for textbooks containing just the kind of math and science materials you can download in seconds today from the Internet; he knew that connecting people in poor and remote regions could be a profound form of change. Sri, for his part, had a deep desire to be useful and an appetite for solving engineering problems. So while attending graduate school in the late 1990s (Sri at MIT, Chari at Harvard), the two men would hang out in the bars around Cambridge and talk about how to get the Internet everywhere on the planet. The intellectual challenge soon became as enticing as the moral one. It was a problem of cost efficiency: How could you bring the power of computer networks to villages hundreds of miles from the nearest cable TV, places where people can’t even afford phones? It was a technical problem, of bouncing signals around in the air over large areas and then back to the nearest data wires. And finally it was a problem of overcoming natural physical limitations: the distance transmitted signals could travel, for one, and the amount of stuff that can be sent simultaneously. “It’s just a very fascinating subject,” says Sri. “We never really set out to start a company.” Any solution had to be dirt cheap. Even in the United States, broadband is so expensive, both to provide and to purchase, that its growth has not kept up with consumer appetites. Today many rural areas around the country have no high-speed data services, simply because it costs so much to dig up the streets and lay wire. Jupiter Research, a market research firm, estimates that 35 percent of Internet users in exurban or rural areas can get only dial-up connections. In some cases, the necessary conduits reach town, but jackhammering the last bit of pavement to serve a smattering of houses is more of a burden than it’s worth. “There are some places where the economics are prohibitively expensive,” says Brian Blevins, a Verizon spokesperson. For Chari and Sri, the alternative to digging would have to be radio, and while drinking beer and poring over dense technical books, they came across a radio technology developed in the 1970s for military uses. The technology worked on battlefields, but its inventors and the engineers who came after assumed that it wouldn’t scale. Sri and Chari thought otherwise. They suspected that if you could program the nodes of these radio networks cleverly enough, teaching them to move information around quickly, you could make the network as big as you wanted. Their idea was a variation on the principle of the bucket brigade or steppingstones. If you can’t get the signal to reach all the way to the wired Internet, make it hop from one transmitter to another until it does. And give it some basic rules for finding the most efficient pathway there. Here at Ritual, for instance, e-mail data comes in over wires to a base station or router somewhere in the room and then heads through the air to the nearby laptop. Everyone in the café is just one hop from the wired Net. This configuration requires every user to be within about 100 feet of the device that’s plugged in, and it’s why wireless broadband is generally limited to offices and cafés. But what if you told that router to select another router for passing along its message, and told that router to select yet another after that? If you taught those routers to make efficient choices that wouldn’t require arduous processing, eventually the Internet would spill out into the streets. Sri and Chari got hold of some Wi-Fi gear–a cheap type of radio technology recently introduced to the enterprise market for office environments–and started playing with their routing ideas. They mounted antennas on cars and tooled around Cambridge, testing the performance of nodes programmed to obey their new steppingstone rules. “When we started doing this,” Chari says, “people laughed at us, saying Wi-Fi is an indoor technology. But our approach has always been, don’t take anyone’s word for it.” The two men soon realized that they were no longer solving a math problem: They were developing a product. So they picked up and left Boston for northern California. They hooked up with two friends of friends who understood finance and formed a company. It was not a particularly opportune time. “In 2001, we were out there looking for funding. It was awful,” says Chari. But Bill Gurley, whose firm, Benchmark Capital, invested early in companies such as eBay and Red Hat, liked their ideas. “I don’t think anyone at that time was thinking about municipal wireless,” Gurley recalls. “But what was keeping Wi-Fi from going outside?” Even in the united states, More than a third of Internet users in exurban or rural areas can get only dial-up connections. Well, nothing. In the United States, most towns already own the infrastructure for suspending 14-pound boxes in the sky: lampposts, traffic lights, telephone poles, city buildings. The Tropos routers themselves cost only about $3,500 each. So with 30 per square mile installed in a city like San Francisco, you’d spend about $5 million on boxes to serve more than 700,000 citizens. According to a report by PricewaterhouseCoopers, building a fiber network costs $2,000 “per home passed,” in the industry’s argot; providing DSL costs a few hundred dollars. Compare both with Philadelphia’s estimate that the cost per home passed of its Wi-Fi network will be $30. On the user end of the equation, the hardware economics look even better. The Wi-Fi cards that early adopters were sliding into their laptops in 1999 went for about $2,000 apiece. Today the devices are preloaded into nearly all new computers and cost less than $10 each. Right now, as Chari and Sri drain their lattes at Ritual, there are an estimated 50 million Wi-Fi-ready computers out there. So Bill Gurley got onboard. He liked the open standards of Wi-Fi technology and how quickly the price on the user’s side was dropping. He loved Chari and Sri’s vision of teaching routers with limited range and capacity how to build bucket brigades and choose the most promising pathways, based on the condition of the network. “It’s very elegant,” Gurley says. He also liked the growth potential of the market and the focus on software. “As a venture capitalist, I love everything about the Tropos model,” he says. In January 2002, Benchmark Capital ponied up $2.2 million for the young company to work with. Other VC firms followed, including the Intel Communications Fund and Siemens Venture Capital. And so did Ron Sege. Good Enough Beats Best Ron Sege (pronounced seh-gee) is a tall stick of a guy with blue eyes and blond eyelashes, whose elaborately stitched jeans were meant for a younger man. At 49, he is on his second wife, his second batch of kids, and the fourth small company he intends to make large. In a sense, Sege is a Web 2.0 guy all around, bringing hard-earned experience to a young company with a still-unproven business model. As he puts it, “I’ve seen this movie before.” Sege began working in technology in the 1980s, but really hit his stride in the ’90s, as a manager at 3Com, the company that spawned Ethernet technology. 3Com had a few hundred employees when he perspective, good enough beats best,” he says. Ethernet, the protocol that allows office PCs to share databases and printers and storage in a small local network, was far from perfect. “But it was inexpensive, easy to use, and anybody could design to it.” Sege learned the beauty of this approach to business–float a quick and dirty product, let users and other product developers improve on it, and push it as a dominant shared platform. “Wi-Fi has many of the same attributes,” he says. After 3Com, Sege took a job as executive vice president of Lycos, one of the first Internet portals, where he helped engineer an Internet-bubble buying spree that included acquisitions of Matchmaker.com, Quote.com, and Wired Digital. “That was my media mogul period,” Sege says with a laugh. He left Lycos in 2001 and joined Ellacoya Networks, a company based in Merrimack, New Hampshire, that creates software to help broadband providers ease congestion in their networks. Bill Gurley, tipped off by a Benchmark partner who’d worked with Sege in the past, saw in the Ellacoya CEO someone who’d ridden small companies through significant growth and who understood a good deal about data networks. He contacted Sege and told him about Tropos. The company made sense to Sege. Taking off-the-shelf indoor base stations and sticking them up on power poles–that was a formula he understood. Sri and Chari had already come up with the tricks, the proprietary algorithms for handling data traffic and monitoring the system from one main PC, which would set Tropos apart from its direct competitors. (The company has 30 software patents and patents pending.) In 2004, Sege came onboard–”to do all the stuff not involved with writing software.” At first, that meant selling Tropos boxes and software to a small but eager market the start-up had identified: police and fire departments. After September 11, the consequences of poor emergency communications became painfully clear to city leaders nationwide, and many municipalities were attempting to do something about it. What few civilians realize is that their heroes with hoses and their men and women in blue have always relied on only one of their senses for passing information: their ears. They use the same two-way radio technology today that police departments adopted in the 1930s. Some forces have introduced computers into their cruisers for searching DMV or criminal databases, but these hookups are as slow as your first dial-up modem. Forget about downloading a mug shot. Maps, surveillance videos, traffic updates, real-time messaging? Impossible. What emergency responders need is broadband. And it has to be broadband that’s everywhere, broadband that moves. Tropos could deliver that. Sege traveled the country, giving presentations to police and fire departments, steadily signing up customers. Oklahoma City bought Tropos technology to build a network for its police department covering 620 square miles. In Milpitas, California, about 10 miles from the Tropos headquarters, a 40-node Tropos mesh allows police to look up DMV photos and monitor video surveillance of high-crime areas. So Sege and his team were surprised in the spring of 2004 when they got an order from Chaska, Minnesota, a Twin Cities suburb that wasn’t looking to serve its police force. The town’s city council wanted cheaper connectivity–for all of its residents, who were stuck paying $45 per month for high-speed access from Sprint and Time-Warner Cable. The goal was to provide broadband access for all of its citizens for no more than $20 a month. “Tropos was selling a system for public safety departments. Our IT guys thought, ‘Why couldn’t you do 3,000 connections instead of 300?” says Chaska’s city administrator, Dave Pokorney. For Tropos, this was exhilarating. Chaska had come up with this plan on its own, with no help from Tropos, which was focusing its efforts on public safety. The company had helped create networks designed to serve the general public, but only in parks or other circumscribed areas. Chaska was out ahead of them–and within three months, the city had a real-life metroscale network available to anyone in town. Sleeping Giants Everyone at Tropos agrees on what made the company take off. It happened in August of 2004, when Philadelphia, the largest municipality to date to do so, announced plans to blanket the city with Wi-Fi. The idea was to deliver cheap, and possibly free, broadband Internet access to the 1.5 million souls–digital haves and have-nots alike–who lived within the city’s 135 square miles. This was a bold, pioneering step, lauded by civic groups and techies around the country. But the news hit one party particularly hard: Verizon. At the time, the vast majority of Philadelphians who wanted fast connections to the Web had been coming to Verizon for DSL. Now the company would have a new competitor. The proverbial sleeping giant was caught off guard. It’s one thing to build a wireless network for 8,000 households in the suburbs of Minnesota. But it’s something else entirely to do so in one of the nation’s biggest metros. Verizon’s lobbyists marched straight to state lawmakers in Harrisburg and demanded action. And they got it. A telecommunications bill that had been lingering around the capital for more than a year suddenly came up for a vote, and it had a brand-new provision attached to it. The measure said that Pennsylvania cities intending to create high-speed data networks must give the dominant local phone company the right to build first. If the incumbent proceeded within 14 months, the city would be required to drop its plans. For the leaders of Philadelphia, that meant doing nothing for more than a year before getting their project under way. It also meant that cheaper service–some subsidized for the poor–would happen only at the whim of Verizon. But the prospect of an Internet cloud floating through every park and into the city’s overlooked neighborhoods had already intrigued many Philadelphians, and the state legislature’s intervention galvanized people to protect the idea. “The school district, the nonprofits that wanted to serve poor neighborhoods, even our tourism organizations saw the potential,” says Dianah Neff, Philadelphia’s chief information officer and a 14-year veteran of Silicon Valley businesses. “When the legislation came up, we put the pressure on. We had 3,000 people call, write, and e-mail the governor.” Tropos, which already had been tapped to install two pilot projects in public parks, watched the events unfold. Sege hired a Washington lobbying firm, which showed up in Harrisburg, attempting to sway leaders to spare local governments from restrictions. In late November 2004, just as the bill was approved, Philly’s Wi-Fi enthusiasts got a break. “It was almost like diving to get the catch in the end zone,” says Sege. The state agreed to exempt Philadelphia from the requirements. (All other Pennsylvania municipalities remain bound by it.) The way Sege sees it, Verizon’s in-your-face tactics were the best thing that had ever happened to the start-up. The giant telecom’s reaction made dozens of other cities take notice. If Verizon was so ruffled, people seemed to think, then Philadelphia must have been on to something interesting; the technology’s potential must be real. “The phone was ringing off the hook,” says Sege. Cities around the country, from Minneapolis to Tempe, Arizona, began announcing plans for wireless networks. Several months later, the technology was validated by another waking giant when Cisco announced it would begin building routers for muni Wi-Fi. Tropos sales went from 90 municipal clients in all of 2004 to 75 in just the first half of 2005. The next step in the Philadelphia project was to respond to the city’s RFP, and Tropos now had to get down to details. The company had the gear and the software for monitoring and troubleshooting the network, but there was a lot the small company was lacking. Customer service for one thing. And billing. And consumer sales. Rather than build those capabilities in-house, Sege began searching for an established Internet service provider with which to partner. EarthLink fit the bill. The ISP, based in Atlanta, had thrived as a middleman, buying wholesale dial tone, wrapping it up in an attractive brand, and selling it to Internet surfers. But as the world shifted to faster wires and fiber optics, EarthLink had little to offer. Unlike the phone companies, it owned no connections into the home. In January 2005, Bill Gurley paid a visit to EarthLink’s board of directors. He presented his case for a partnership, in which Tropos would provide infrastructure–the actual broadband network–and EarthLink would handle customer support and sales. In response to Gurley’s presentation, EarthLink sent a team to visit Chaska to see for themselves if the new technology worked. The group toured the town and climbed under tables testing the network’s reliability. They interviewed folks in bars. And they were sold on it. “Municipal Wi-Fi is really important for us,” says Donald Berryman, EarthLink’s president of municipal networks. “It’s one of the top three investments we’re making in future products. It can help us control our destiny because we’ll own the network.” Tropos and EarthLink have since landed deals with five cities and have proposals out to five more. But Will It Really Work? Not surprisingly, the Bells and other data-access providers haven’t backed down. Since the maneuver in Pennsylvania, giants like BellSouth and Comcast have fueled a fight against muni Wi-Fi across the country. Lawmakers in Ohio, Virginia, Kansas, and Oregon, among others, have proposed legislation to keep local governments from building their own networks or at least make it more difficult for them to do so. Fourteen states, including Florida and Colorado, have already passed restrictions. “We have not supported a ban on municipal networks,” says Verizon’s Brian Blevins. “But we’ve felt where there’s vibrant competition, the networks can undercut and disrupt a market that’s working very well.” Critics of muni Wi-Fi argue that if local governments participate in building broadband networks, they’ll exploit unfair tax and regulatory advantages, irresponsibly drain public coffers, and mismanage the services. To counter the legislative gambit, Sege and others have taken to evangelizing in Washington, D.C., and state capitals. They’ve made some progress. In June 2005, Republican Senator John McCain of Arizona and Democratic Senator Frank Lautenberg of New Jersey introduced a federal bill in answer to the activity in the states. The Community Broadband Act of 2005, still in committee, would “preserve and protect the ability of local governments to provide broadband capability and services.” Says one Lautenberg staffer: “The senator doesn’t think there should be obstacles–we’re 16th in the world in terms of broadband penetration.” A bill awaiting a vote by the House, on the other hand, would create barriers–for instance, requiring cities to partner with a private company. A restriction like that, though seemingly innocuous, would have prevented Chaska from building its network. These policy struggles are not the only hurdles Tropos is facing as it lunges for profitability in 2007. There are big technical questions. It’s one thing to build a wireless network for 8,000 households in the suburbs of Minnesota. But it’s something else entirely to do so in one of the nation’s biggest metros. “Nobody’s demonstrated that you can have 135 miles of Wi-Fi,” says Julie Ask, a research director at Jupiter Research. Radio signal is notoriously unpredictable. When your cell phone drops out every time you round the corner of Elm Street, that’s because the mobile provider didn’t predict a problem there. Home devices from cordless phones to baby monitors might cause interference. Tempe, Arizona, where Tropos competitor Strix Systems provided 500 wireless routers, discovered that signal wasn’t getting through house walls beyond 150 yards from the routers. Many Tempe users found they needed an additional $100 device to receive and send data from indoors. Tropos could face similar problems. Dozens of municipalities have joined in, but there is not much of a record. “As a mayor, why wouldn’t you say, ‘I want to bridge the digital divide’?” says Ask. “EarthLink wants to point to Philadelphia and say, ‘Hey, it works,’ but until there’s proof…” After a city government invests $20 million, no users will be happy if their connections go down or their webpages load slowly. The last thing Tropos needs is for annoyed customers to head back to Verizon. Another looming question is what business models will work. Will consortia like the EarthLink-Tropos team for San Francisco prove easy for cities and profitable for the participating companies? Will the Bells hedge their bets and start offering their own systems? Will cities build their own public Internet utilities, just as many today deliver power without the help of private entities? In any of these scenarios, Tropos’ business doesn’t change. The Bells, the city governments, the ISPs–they’ll all need to buy boxes from someone. As experiments are made and the best models emerge, Sege insists that Tropos will stay relevant. First, of course, he has to deal with Philadelphia, which is building its 15-square-mile test area this summer and plans to roll out the full network in 2007. “I honestly believe that a lot of people are waiting to say, ‘We told you it wouldn’t work,” Sege says. Philadelphia CIO Dianah Neff doesn’t seem to mind that tension. “There’s a lot of pressure on Tropos and EarthLink. But that’s to our benefit because they’re trying really hard,” she says. “It’s like you live in a fishbowl. It’s not just other cities, but the world that’s watching.” Martha Baer is co-author of Safe: The Race to Protect Ourselves in a Newly Dangerous World. This is her first story for Inc.

What FACTA’s Latest Disposal Rule Means for Businesses

The latest ruling by the Federal Trade Commission governing the ‘Disposal of Consumer Report Information and Records,’ also known as the Disposal Rule, came into effect on June 1, 2005, amending the Fair and Accurate Credit Transaction Act (FACTA) of 2003. Intended to help combat the series of identity theft cases lately occurring in U.S. courts, the Disposal Rule requires that when any individual or company with “consumer information for a business purpose” disposes of such data, they do so in a way that prevents unauthorized persons from accessing and thereby misusing it. The FTC expects almost all businesses, from consumer reporting agencies to automobile dealers or attorneys, to be affected. So what does that mean for your business? First, know exactly what the rule covers. “Consumer information” covers any details that could identify an individual, such as social security number, phone number, physical or e-mail address; in other words, information drawn or extrapolated from a consumer report. On the other hand, “information that does not identify individuals, such as aggregate information or blind data, is not covered by the definition of consumer information,” according to supplemental information on the rule provided by the FTC. If you have this data or regularly gather such information, you likely will also dispose of it at some point. That’s where the law comes into the picture. When disposing of such data — either by discarding it or by selling, donating, or transferring the medium in which the consumer information is stored — FACTA says companies must take “reasonable measures” to protect it. Whether a company’s disposal methods are “reasonable” depends on, among other things, how sensitive the information is, the nature and size of the company’s operations, and the cost of various disposal methods. Taking cues from the application of other security-related laws, lawyers and industry experts alike expect the courts’ interpretation of the above phrases to be strict and advise companies to play it safe. Companies caught for noncompliance could face an array of costs. Civil action suits could result in damage compensation, attorney fees, and even civil penalties of up to $1,000 per person affected, which swiftly add up when you consider that a single computer might contain 20,000 such violations. But the real burden of a lawsuit, according to Jeff Zellmer, vice president of sales for QSGI, a data-security firm based in Eagan, Minn., is that the FTC may require the company to perform a full IT security audit for several years thereafter, incurring staffing and other costs. To comply with the Disposal Rule, companies should take a number of steps: Take an audit: Determine where consumer information may reside. “You need to know whether the records are physical or electronic, as well as who has access to it physically,” says Steven Hastert, vice president of operations at DataGuard USA, a data security firm based in Denver, Colo., asserting that 70% of fraud in the U.S. remains internal. Potential culprits are often in the human resource, marketing, and accounting departments. Define a disposal strategy: According to FACTA, paper documents ought to be shredded, while electronic data must either be erased or the hardware containing the data destroyed. Various methods exist for the lattermost option — while the most common is to use an industrial shredder, some drive screwdrivers through their hard drives or throw them in salt water. Zellmer himself advocates using erasure software to perform a three-time overwrite of hard drives, which would comply with U.S. Department of Defense 5220.22-M standards. Reformatting the hard drive is insufficient, because it merely removes the pointers that indicate where the data resides in the drive but does not remove the data itself, Zellmer says. A one-time overwrite similarly leaves traces of data that an expert can retrieve. Depending on the size of the hard drive, erasure may cost two to three times more per drive than industrial shredding. Still, Zellmer argues, shredding produces industrial waste, which costs money to dispose of, while erasure may allow the company to recoup costs by donating, reselling, or trading-in the hard-drive. Document the process: While Hastert feels that physically destroying the drive is more secure, he and Zellmer agree that the most important safeguard is to document the disposal process. “Instead of letting vendors pick up the PCs and then not knowing what happens to them, you want comprehensive, unimpeachable documentation,” Zellmer says. He believes the company should then keep the disposal records for seven years, mirroring the length of time companies must store audit documents under Sarbanes-Oxley, as good business practice. Hastert echoes, “It’s always good to have something in hand when the FTC commissioner calls you up.”

Data Disasters

Hurricanes. Floods. Tornados. Fires. Earthquakes. Explosions. Extended power outages. Disgruntled employees. Hackers. And, most recently, terrorist attacks. Those are just 10 examples of circumstances that could disable your company by damaging your computer systems and destroying your valuable data. They’re also 10 good arguments for having a comprehensive, constantly updated disaster-recovery plan. Need a few more reasons? Blizzards. Forced evacuation due to toxic contamination (remember the anthrax scare in 2001?). Vandalism or theft. Civil unrest. Computer viruses. And the list goes on. Naturally, nobody can plan for all those eventualities. But too many small to midsized companies don’t plan for any of them. The Small Business Pipeline, a technology-related Web site and newsletter, found that nearly three-quarters of the 237 SMBs it surveyed in April 2004 had no written disaster-response strategies. And the penalties for being unprepared can be mighty steep: The American Red Cross, among others, estimates that as many as 40% of SMBs simply never reopen after a disaster such as a flood, tornado, or earthquake. In many of those cases, of course, insurance covers replacement of physical assets. But if companies haven’t protected their digital assets, such as critical financial and customer information, they may be out of luck — and out of business. Most entrepreneurs now understand the importance of network security. But shielding your systems won’t do much good if, in the worst-case scenario, they no longer exist. And if you back up information but store the duplicated materials onsite or in an adjacent building, as some downtown Manhattan businesses did before the terrorist attacks of September 2001, you won’t be any better off in a disaster that affects an entire region. For those reasons, the cornerstone of any successful disaster-recovery — or, in more positive parlance, business-continuity — plan is at least one offsite data center anywhere from a few miles to a few states away. At the very least, the distant site should contain complete, constantly updated copies of all company information; preferably, it’s more than a repository — it’s a mirror image of your main system, set up to let you easily access, search, and retrieve data from afar. Ideally, it should be a “fail-over” set-up, meaning that, when disaster strikes, your systems switch to the remote site, allowing you to run your company from there. Technologies that can help ensure business continuity during a catastrophe include: Tapes. You can rely on the old standby of duplicating data onto tapes, then transporting them to an offsite facility — either your own or a service provider’s. (At many small companies, somebody often just takes the tapes home — certainly not the best way to safeguard information in the event of widespread disaster. Better to rely on a storage site that’s at least 50 to 75 miles away. Disks. A newer option, offered by companies such as IntraDyn Inc. of Edina, Minn., lets companies to back up data onto disks, which, they say, are easier to search, cheaper to transport and store, and more durable than tapes. The Internet. Thanks to increased bandwidth, you can also do ever-larger backups online, either sending data to your own remote site or to that of a service provider. In either case, your budget will determine whether you’ve got a “cold” or “warm” backup — which cost less but can take days to fully restore operations — or a more expensive “hot” one, which should put you back in business within minutes or a few hours. Meanwhile, companies like Connected Corp. of Framingham, Mass., offer software or services that automatically back up small companies’ individual PCs. That’s a particularly useful option for smaller-scale problems, such as a single hard-drive failure or a power failure affecting just a few users. (My next column will take an in-depth look at storage options.) But before making any technology choices, it’s important to craft an information disaster-recovery plan — a formal written policy that’s part of a comprehensive company-wide business-continuity strategy. To start, appoint an information crisis-response team. Assign each member specific responsibilities, but allow for overlap: At least two people should be assigned to every major task. Provide all members with multiple ways to contact each other in a disaster. Install a voice mailbox on a remote system in case your own telecommunications system is down. Designate an outside gathering place in case you can’t access your building. Then, take inventory of your company’s information assets, recommends Elaine S. Price, CEO and president of CYA Technologies Inc., which makes business-continuity and collaboration software. Go beyond the network: Remember to account for data stored in e-mail, on individual desktop and laptop hard drives, on intranets and extranets, or in remote offices. Rank each component according to its current relevance and importance to business processes, Price recommends. For instance, ask “Could my company function without access to this particular data?” Obviously, if the answer is no, that information gets the highest rating. Critical financial documents, competitive data, and confidential customer records should also receive top-priority status, as should anything you’re required to keep by law. In contrast, promotional materials, historical sales data, and materials from past projects and initiatives probably deserve lower ratings. Focus on the top-ranked data first. Back it up constantly — preferably several times daily in at least two locations — and choose storage methods that let you quickly find and retrieve what you need in a crisis. Calculate the costs of recreating critical information — and, if applicable, the potential damage from data that’s permanently lost. The Federal Emergency Management Agency recommends examining both temporary and permanent replacement costs. The numbers may be frightening, but they provide a good gauge for determining the potential ROI on your storage and data-recovery solutions. Choose a remote site that’s far enough from your primary location that it’s unlikely to be affected by the same disaster, but close enough so you can get there in a hurry. For instance, one Inc. 500 CEO set up a disaster-recovery center in an outbuilding near his vacation home, about 45 miles from the high-tech company’s headquarters; he already knows how to reach that site by either the main highway or the back roads. Tip: For the best chance of quick recovery, select sites or providers beyond your company’s own power grid. Update the plan constantly to account for personnel changes, process improvements, increasing amounts of data, emerging technologies, and, sadly, any new threats. Sidebar: Resources Following are some resources for learning more about business continuity and disaster recovery: WEB SITES American Red Cross Resources to help businesses prepare for and respond to disasters Institute for Business & Home Safety Resources to help SMBs prepare for and respond to disasters Open for Business: Disaster Planning Toolkit for the Small Business Owner (free 39-page PDF document developed with U.S. Small Business Administration) The Hartford Financial Services Group , Small Business Insurance Center Free online template for a building a disaster-response plan The Small Business Administration Disaster-preparedness and recovery information VENDOR WHITE PAPERS CYA Technologies Inc. (several selections) Business Continuity Doesn’t Have to Break the Bank, by NSI Software (registration required) Guaranteed Backup for Small and Medium Businesses, by Live Vault (registration required) Six Tips Small and Medium Businesses Can Use to Protect Their Critical Data, by NSI Software (registration required) BOOKS Avoiding Disaster: How to Keep Your Business Going When Catastrophe Strikes, by John Laye (John Wiley & Sons, 2002). The Backup Book: Disaster Recovery from Data Center to Desktop, edited by Dorian Cougias, E.L. Heiberger, and Karstan Koop (Schaser-Vartan Books, 2003) Contingency Planning and Disaster Recovery: A Small Business Guide, by Donna R. Childs and Stefan Dietrich (John Wiley & Sons, 2002)

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

The Metamorphosis

Editor’s introduction: Sometimes it seems as if the Web has turned the world upside down. In the hype-ridden landscape called “dot-com,” it’s easy to assume that only the young, the new, the original idea conceived by two kids in their basement will survive. Out with the old. How untrue that is. The two companies profiled here — Plural in “The Metamorphosis” and Camera World in ” When Something Clicks” — are hardly start-ups. Their leaders have been running steady, profitable companies for years. They’re taking those years of experience managing entrepreneurial brick-and-mortar companies and using every ounce of their knowledge to transform their businesses into winners in the online world. CEO Roy Wetterstrom, never a guy to fear change, is rebirthing his 11-year-old company to take great advantage of the new economy. And Camera World has built on its 22 years of experience fulfilling customers’ expectations to transform itself into an E-commerce business. BRAVE NEW COMPANIES One morning Roy Wetterstrom awoke to find that his company had been transformed into an underdog. To get the buzz back, he’s remaking his business from top to bottom Roy Wetterstrom grew up on a 60-acre farm in Ham Lake, Minn. As legend has it, he sold eggs by the side of the road at the tender age of 11. At 14 he used his egg money to buy a chain saw and switched to selling firewood. Even then, apparently, he was willing to give up a good thing to hatch something new. That long-ago gambit pales in comparison with what Wetterstrom has at stake these days. He’s spending millions of dollars on the risky proposition that he can reshape Micro Modeling Associates — his rock-solid $54-million client/server consulting business — into a company at the leading edge of the dot-com revolution. “We’re going to transform ourselves into a top-tier Internet services, strategy, and development company,” states the 35-year-old CEO. The agenda is bold, but then again so is the individual behind it — a lanky, quietly intense man with dark hair and a slight midwestern accent. Eleven years ago he left a cushy job in Minneapolis, not far from where he grew up, to start a company. He moved his wife, Emily, and their West Highland terrier to a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan’s Battery Park City — on Christmas Day, no less. In the cramped quarters of the second bedroom, Wetterstrom launched his new business. It grew so rapidly that in 1992 he snapped up a lease on lower Broadway in what eventually would become prime Silicon Alley rental space. But all that — in Wetterstrom’s take-big-risks world — is ancient history. Today he is remaking his business into an adviser to dot-coms and corporations moving online. To underscore its new mission, the company will even junk its old name. As of March 15, 2000, Micro Modeling will be known as Plural. To get to this point, Wetterstrom has hired three image-building consultancies, is recruiting three new senior executives, and is on track to add 185 employees to his company of 375 by year’s end. He has added a creative group and a management-consulting practice, reined in his sales force from selling the same old client/server stuff (the equivalent of ditching the egg business), dismissed his public-relations firm, and even started exploring potential acquisitions. And he’s done all that while commuting weekly from Minneapolis. (He and his wife moved back in 1994, when they decided to have a family.) On Monday evenings, when he boards the flight to LaGuardia, he says good-bye not only to his wife and three-year-old son, David, but also to his baby daughter, Margaret, who was born in April 1999, in the middle of all the madness of turning Micro Modeling into something entirely new. Brawny upstarts have been grabbing Internet work from Micro Modeling’s longtime customers. Wetterstrom’s vision for transforming Micro Modeling into Plural boils down to this: First, the company is forgoing all new client/server work — the work that made it a star — in favor of all-Internet projects. Second, the company will risk being unprofitable for the first time in its history. To make matters trickier, the company will soon find itself under the microscope of the unforgiving public markets. “We’re driving ultimately to an IPO, and that is bringing a lot of issues to the fore,” Wetterstrom says. For the CEO and his peers in the high-tech consulting world, the pressure to author a shrewd Internet strategy can be particularly brutal. Investors — as well as employees and customers — often push consulting companies’ CEOs to build Web practices. Of course, although that process is stressful, the potential upside is enormous. The companies that the new Plural will compete with have been soaring in the public markets despite being relatively young and small. Old-line technology-consulting companies like Micro Modeling don’t make waves on NASDAQ. Wetterstrom would like to grab a larger share of the Internet consulting business — and he believes that a big shake-up is needed to do it. “We want to put a stake in the ground and say, ‘This is who we are,” he says. It’s also who they have to be. Brawny upstarts like USWeb/CKS, Razorfish, Proxicom, Viant, Sapient, Scient, and iXL have been grabbing Internet work all over the place, including from Micro Modeling’s longtime customers. And there are signs that steady client/server work is starting to tail off. In contrast, the sheer volume of Internet consulting is increasing more rapidly than any other kind of tech consulting, says Wetterstrom. Other key trends: companies are moving funds once earmarked for Y2K problems over to Web development; the market for Web consulting is highly fragmented; and the financial-services industry — Micro Modeling’s turf — is particularly bullish on the Web. “I saw after doing an analysis of the market and making a judgment on the market opportunity that this was a no-brainer,” Wetterstrom says. A no-brainer, indeed. “If Micro Modeling hadn’t made the transition, growth would have been a challenge,” observes Edward S. Caso Jr., a securities analyst following the IT-services industry and senior vice-president at First Union Securities, in Baltimore. “A service company has to offer what the client wants, and in IT what they want is constantly changing.” Roy Wetterstrom and a partner (who has since left the company) started Micro Modeling in 1989, with the intention of customizing Microsoft Excel for financial-services companies. Merrill Lynch was the business’s first customer, and it went on to work with 23 of the 25 largest investment banks. Revenues grew at a brisk pace, landing it on the Inc. 500 in 1997 and 1998, with an astonishing five-year growth rate of 814% in 1998. Wetterstrom claims that Micro Modeling’s annual operating profit has been about 15%. In late 1998, Wetterstrom raised $20 million in capital from TA Associates, a Boston concern that invests in late-stage private businesses, and $15 million in credit from Fleet Bank. He began staying up nights, thinking seriously about an initial public offering. He started schmoozing potential underwriters. He felt sure that he’d take Micro Modeling public within 12 to 18 months. But a funny thing was happening on Wall Street. The gap between valuations for client/server consulting companies and Internet consulting companies suddenly widened. “Clearly, we began to see that there were haves and have-nots when it came to market value,” Wetterstrom recalls. Regardless of profitability, he says, “traditional consulting companies were trading at around one times revenues, while Internet consulting companies were trading at 20 times revenues. The market was sending us a loud and clear message.” Micro Modeling already possessed some Internet expertise. One particular coup came in 1997, when the NASDAQ Stock Market engaged the company to create a password-protected extranet for listed companies. Not only has the (ongoing) project been lucrative, but Micro Modeling’s employees loved the work. Given a taste of the hype-ridden Internet world, staff programmers wanted more. Wetterstrom provided training for his technologists in anticipation of Web-related work. But it didn’t come. Wetterstrom and his team hadn’t sold their message – We can handle your Web projects – the way the upstart Internet consulting companies had. By early 1999 the CEO had come to believe that the Web was the future of his company, that client/server work was its past. The sooner the company moved wholeheartedly into the new space, the better. On August 31 of last year, Wetterstrom attended a clubby one-day analyst conference hosted by First Union Securities’ Ed Caso. The CEOs of nine public Internet consulting companies spoke, as did Wetterstrom and three private-company peers. “It was a pretty interesting and crystallizing event,” he recalls. “Clearly, the capital markets were viewing us as being well positioned in this space.” But he found his competitors’ presentations even more interesting than the offhand comments of admiring investment bankers like Caso. As the other CEOs described their companies, he slipped into a reverie about Micro Modeling’s future: “It just became so clear that (a) this was obviously the right space to be in, and (b) we were positioned to win this space. But I also realized that being positioned to win and winning were two different things.” Wetterstrom decided to beat the Scients and Viants of the world at their own game. That would mean making some brutal decisions. It would mean dumping Micro Modeling’s solid PR company, despite an amicable relationship, and replacing it with not one but three hot image-building companies from Manhattan’s chatty Internet clique. It would mean infusing the company with new talent — some of it taken from the Internet creative world, a world that the client/server programmers had had little to do with. And it might mean letting some of the new folks run roughshod over Micro Modeling’s 11-year-old culture. It might not be fun. But it might do the trick. Micro Modeling’s most obvious challenge was to lose its clunky name. “One thing that all of the public companies in this space have in common is an extremely strong brand,” the CEO says. “I wanted to see a much, much bolder approach to raising brand awareness.” He’d already tried rebranding the company once. But he’d taken a halfhearted approach by changing “Micro Modeling Associates” into “MMA” — attempting to keep old customers happy while moving toward the new. The $250,000 transformation failed. “We wanted to keep our options open,” he says. “We had very strong brand recognition within certain circles — good circles, like Wall Street and Microsoft. But I came to the conclusion that ‘MMA’ raised more questions than it answered.” The questions were as fundamental as “What is MMA?” and “What does it want to sell?” The business was suffering an adolescent identity crisis. Managers talked about providing creative and strategic consulting, but technology consulting was the company’s only real strength. Most employees were “champing at the bit” to diversify into creative and strategic work, but there were still pockets of resisters, says Wetterstrom. Customers, too, were recalcitrant. “Their natural tendency is to continue to call us for the same type of work. I’ve been trying to transition away from that for six months,” he says. Frustrated, the CEO devised a comprehensive plan to transform MMA into a full-service interactive strategy and development company. “We were only going to become a top-tier player by being much more aggressive,” he recalls. “And we could only accomplish that by sending a really, really loud message to the world that we were something new and something different.” Wetterstrom looked hard at his management team. He realized that he needed more talent — leaders who could re-create the company from the inside out. He also needed to free himself up from the demands of the day to day. He hired a search company to recruit a president (he will remain CEO) and a chief marketing officer. But perhaps the most dramatic change would be the one his younger brother, Derek, would make. Derek had been with the company almost from its inception, and, as chief financial officer, had helped Roy grow the company at its remarkably steady pace. Now he would take over the top corporate-development role, so that the company could hire a CFO with IPO and public-market experience — a new manager who could take the transformed company public. The next step was to identify a leader who could take charge of the complicated brand-building project. Wetterstrom found William Luddy, a caustic showman who plied his trade at Agency.com, a respected Web-design and marketing shop. Luddy would establish the revamped company’s new creative capability — Wetterstrom hired some 30 new employees just for that purpose — and today serves as acting chief marketing officer. Though Luddy’s brash style stands in stark contrast to Wetterstrom’s midwestern reserve, the CEO embraces Luddy’s New York sensibility. “Bill’s quite a passionate person, which I think is good. If he went off into the corner, I don’t think we’d be able to get where we need to go quickly enough,” says the CEO. What Plural needs to do is dazzle investment bankers on a visceral level. A larger-than-life character, this one man — this outsider — will have a disproportionate impact on the rise or fall of the company. First off, he’s been leading the charge to change its name. Last September he hired Lippincott & Margulies — the Park Avenue corporate-image company that handles Coca-Cola and Amtrak — to create a new identity. Over the course of the next three months, L&M vetted a series of names in foreign languages, with trademark lawyers, and in front of focus groups. Around Thanksgiving, Wetterstrom signed off on Plural. “I like it because it means working together with our customers and with our partners,” he says. “And I was thrilled that we could get a six-letter Internet address in English.” As if renaming the company isn’t enough, now Luddy has set his sights on adding a touch of dot-com chic to its entrenched techie culture, both to increase visibility and to help attract and retain the new employees the growing business needs. “Roy was primed for me to come in the door and say we needed to change things out of some prima donna prissiness that’s perceived to be part of creative services. But I think I caught him flat-footed when I said we needed to change things for the sake of recruiting and retention,” says Luddy. “Bill is not shy at all about letting us know what types of cultural issues we need to be thinking through,” Wetterstrom says. “For example, he’s told us that we have to be sensitive to physical-work-space issues. The traditional corporate office — a cube environment — doesn’t play well in the creative world, so we’re looking into different furniture layouts and a more warehouse-like environment.” The new Plural culture will feature more than just exposed brick. The company is working with clientele it has never served before. To get the new dot-com customers he wants, Wetterstrom is offering them discounted rates and making up the difference by taking equity. His goal is to build a “mutual fund” of pre-IPO dot-coms and use that equity to retain current employees and to attract new talent. His new client roster includes an online grocer SimonDelivers.com as well as Web sites AtYourBusiness.com, Easyrebates.com, and TechnologyNet.com. Of course, taking on the dot-coms means that Plural will expand its focus beyond financial-services companies — its bread and butter since Merrill Lynch first signed on. But Wetterstrom foresees using the dot-com portfolio to sell Plural’s new service offerings back to the financial-services companies whose business made him successful in the first place. Amid all of that activity, the CEO’s biggest concern is getting enough oomph out of the Plural name launch to ensure that good customers start knocking on his door. To that end, Luddy has devised a three-inch-thick project plan of marketing milestones. Nothing is being left to chance. Helping Luddy execute his plan is the company’s polished in-house publicist Connie Hughes, an elegant Manhattanite who is as meticulous in her choice of words as she is with her attire. In hopes of burnishing the Plural rebranding campaign, Hughes replaced MMA’s Minneapolis-based PR company with Neale-May & Partners, which handles several top dot-coms, including E*Trade. She is also working with another firm, Farago + Partners, the creators of Barnes & Noble’s advertising. “It helps if you have partners who are part of the momentum,” says Hughes. “They’re really psyched about this, and we feed on that.” At a mid-December holiday party, Wetterstrom unveiled the new name internally. This month, the company will hold “Plurums” — meetings with customers and partners — to explain its new positioning. Still, despite the best-laid three-inch-thick plan, the rebranding effort remains challenging. “All sorts of questions come up,” Hughes says. “There was an event in late February with a sponsoring opportunity. It would have been perfect for us, but it was too close to the name change. It’s a balancing act. We want to capture mind share, but then if we do that as MMA, we’ll have to reeducate the market later.” And what if the name doesn’t work? “I’m still chewing on whether I like the name or not,” says First Union’s Caso. “It has an Internet feel without the obnoxious dot-com after it, but I think I would have liked Wetterstrom Inc. or something like that. But that’s a personal, Ed Caso bias.” Doubts like those create anxiety, and they’ve taken a toll on the company. So has the latest financial wrinkle: though Wetterstrom publicly predicted that revenues would jump by 50% in 1999 — on CNNfn no less — they grew only by 14%. And profits dropped below 5% for the first time in years — and may stay there. “The mode that we’re in now, it’s not realistic to be at or even near historic levels of profitability,” he says. “Our goal is to remain profitable at much lower margins.” And there’s still that small matter of Plural’s IPO. Wetterstrom would like a late 2000 offering, capitalizing on the momentum of the new-name marketing campaign, which in turn would get a boost from an impending IPO. Whether all of this will play for the public markets is “the $64,000 question,” says Caso. “Micro Modeling could have gone public two years ago, but the multiples are meaningfully higher for technology-service companies today in this new format — with strategy, creative, and technology together.” Cut through the investment banker’s jargon, and what the company really needs to do is dazzle the bankers on a visceral level. It needs to project that this is the deal they need to get in on, and quick. Ironically, the company that was in Silicon Alley before the Alley was a golden name among hungry VCs now has to act as if it belongs there. It needs to recapture the buzz it had back in its heyday, when customers were beating down its door, when revenues were growing exponentially. To do that, it needs smart strategic thinking and managers who can lead split-second change. And it needs tough people who can stay one step ahead of burnout. Wetterstrom has found that level of enthusiasm in his new managers. But even they can’t sustain that frenetic pace forever — at least not without a break. Already Luddy says, “I’m going to be burned out, but that’s life. That’s part of the ride. That’s what I signed up for.” He jokes that he’s going to Hawaii, posthaste. And Hughes has booked a day at a spa. Only their CEO doesn’t seem tired or anxious. His energy seems to come from some deep reservoir of entrepreneurial ambition. The same urge that compelled him to buy that chain saw to sell firewood is pushing him forward now. “Part of me is sad to see the Micro Modeling name retired,” the CEO admits. He’s quiet for a moment. “But a much bigger part of me is excited and energized by Plural.” Mike Hofman is a staff writer at Inc. The New Math As Roy Wetterstrom’s company has evolved,Wall Street has changed the way it does its algebra: FINANCIALS 1998 MICRO MODELING 1999 MMA 2000** PLURAL Revenues $47.4 million $54 million $81 million Profits* 15% Below 5% 4%-8% Inc. 500 growth rate 814% 565% 485% *Profits refers to operating margin, not net income **2000 financials are projected Source: Plural Wall Street Valuations: Ed Caso from First Union Securities gave us a formula for the Street’s valuation of companies like Roy Wetterstrom’s. We plugged in Wetterstrom’s numbers: Micro modeling: 1998, $23.7 million to $94.8 million (0.5 to 2 times revenues) Plural: 2000, $405 million to $2.4 billion (5 to 30 times revenues) Roy’s Rules If you’re like Roy Wetterstrom and you’re transforming your company, you have a lot to think about. Here are Wetterstrom’s rules for revamping: 1. Make sure your employees are happy before you hire new ones. There’s no surer way to piss off your employees (read: lose ‘em) than to forget about them when you pass out those juicy stock options to new recruits. Wetterstrom started giving stock options to every employee two years ago. If you haven’t been doing the same, you’ll have to improvise a new plan that weds the equity needs of both new recruits and tenured employees. 2. Push responsibility down the chain of command to free up your time. To make a big strategic shift, you’ll need to take a breather from the day-to-day stuff. Wetterstrom’s solution is to make each of Plural’s regional offices responsible for individual profit-and-loss reports. That way, local managers are more likely to come up with innovative, profitable ideas on their own — leaving Wetterstrom to be the corporate visionary. 3. When you radically alter your product mix, keep a sharp eye on pricing. It’s hard to know how best to price new products — and it’s equally difficult to know which of the new offerings will be the most profitable. Wetterstrom has hired a chief knowledge officer , Jon Powell , who will study how to price and sell different Internet consulting packages and thus maximize margins. 4. Finally, think about your next iteration. Wetterstrom decided specifically not to call the company Plural.com for fear that the ubiquitous suffix would pigeonhole it in years to come, the way Micro Modeling had done in the 1990s. “We see the market changing, and I’m not sure that ‘dot-com’ will have the same resonance in 2005 that it has now,” says marketing guru Bill Luddy. “There might be a fin de siÈcle attention to dot-coms” that won’t last, he adds. Read about another Brave New Company in ” When Something Clicks“

When Something Clicks

Editor’s introduction: Sometimes it seems as if the Web has turned the world upside down. In the hype-ridden landscape called “dot-com,” it’s easy to assume that only the young, the new, the original idea conceived by two kids in their basement will survive. Out with the old. How untrue that is. The two companies profiled here, Plural in ” The Metamorphosis” and Camera World in “When Something Clicks,” are hardly start-ups. Their leaders have been running steady, profitable companies for years. They’re taking those years of experience managing entrepreneurial brick-and-mortar companies and using every ounce of their knowledge to transform their businesses into winners in the online world. CEO Roy Wetterstrom, never a guy to fear change, is rebirthing his 11-year-old company to take great advantage of the new economy. And Camera World has built on its 22 years of experience fulfilling customers’ expectations to transform itself into an E-commerce business. BRAVE NEW COMPANIES Over 22 years Camera World Co. honed its expertise in fulfillment, customer service, and supplier relationships. Today, as Cameraworld.com, it can teach Internet start-ups a thing or two about what matters most It’s a sodden, gray pre-Christmas workday in Portland, Oreg., but the jeans-sporting photographers who handle incoming calls at Camera World Co. (a.k.a. Cameraworld.com) are oblivious to the weather. Sitting in their white cubicles, they dispel the clouds with their cheerful “Thanks for calling Cameraworld- dot-com!” They repeat order information and occasionally murmur soothing guidance to Ansel Adams wanna-bes on the other end of the line, who need to know things like the difference between the Hasselblad 203FE Medium Format Chrome single-lens reflex camera and the 202FA model. In the 20,000-square-foot warehouse behind the front office, 15 workers scurry down long concrete aisles, clutching sales orders fresh off the network printer. To the casual observer, these warehouse folk seem to have X-ray eyes. Quickly scanning the metal racks loaded with thousands of indistinguishable-looking boxes of equipment, they have an uncanny ability to tell a box holding a $10,000 lens from a virtually identical package bearing a $1,000 one. When they locate the box they’re after, they place it in a plastic tub; a bar-code check at the packing station ensures that the order is complete. There, a young man nodding to rock music on a boom box pours Styrofoam peanuts into labeled cardboard shipping boxes and then seals the goods with a deft pull and twist of tape. Camera World’s order-fulfillment and delivery systems have stood the company in good stead. During the 1999 holiday season many of the company’s stalwart 300,000 customers came back and spent an average of $600 a pop. And thanks largely to the explosion of interest in digital cameras, sales soared last year, growing from $80 million in 1998 to more than $115 million. Last December the company’s Web site handled an average of 25,000 unique users a day, and Web sales rose by 245% over the previous year’s figure for the month. (At the same time mail-order business shot up 67%, and sales at the company’s downtown Portland store were up 22%.) Some 90% of Web and mail-order shipments left the warehouse within 24 hours. Return rates for Web sales hovered around 4%, paralleling the rate of returns from the store and the mail-order business. “We maintained heavy inventories to ship on time, and it all worked pretty well,” says Camera World’s new CEO, Terry Strom. “But one thing’s for sure: the Internet is raising the standard of performance for any retailer.” No kidding. This past Christmas season, during which shoppers spent an estimated $6 billion online, saw many a Web site disappointing customers. According to a November 1999 report by the New York City Internet research firm Jupiter Communications, 46% of business-to-consumer Web sites took five or more days to respond to a query, never responded, or failed to post an E-mail address on the site for customers’ inquiries. “If we didn’t make our goals,” says Walt Mulvey, “we couldn’t make payroll.” “An awful lot of Web sites don’t realize that customer service should be a priority,” says Jupiter analyst Cormac Foster. “They focus on customer acquisition but don’t spend time on the unsexy stuff, like customer-support infrastructure. Infrastructure doesn’t get you headlines, but if you don’t have a staff of people to take care of business behind the firewall, you won’t get much.” Case in point: Toys “R” Us, whose online subsidiary ToysRUs.com (announced with great fanfare in June 1998) found itself suffocating under the rush of online holiday traffic and was unable to fulfill orders on time. The company’s back-end infrastructure was built to send truckloads of products to hundreds of stores — not to ship single orders to millions of consumers. Don’t call Camera World a “click-and-mortar” or an old-fashioned retailer with a Johnny-come-lately Web site. Call it, rather, a dot-com with lots of back-end “not-com” experience. Camera World has long known that the boring stuff — attention to the fine details of customer service, simple and solid fulfillment processes, and trusted supplier relationships — is what really matters. Unless you master those three areas well before you put up a Web site, no amount of bells and whistles or transactional and design prowess online will make the Web component of your business successful. To understand how Cameraworld.com operates, view the company through a wide-angle lens. Founded in 1977 by a Korean-born businessman, Jack Shin, Camera World began as a 4,000-square-foot mom-and-pop shop for shutterbugs in a musty downtown area of Oregon’s sprawling, river-straddling city. Shin had come to Portland by way of New Jersey, where for about two years he’d owned a camera store that catered to well-heeled amateur photographers with National Geographic daydreams. From the moment he began his business until the day he said good-bye to Camera World in 1997, Shin refused to sell the cheap “gray market” goods that many dealers were hawking at the time — a practice that stood him in excellent stead with his suppliers. ( Gray market refers to goods that are not meant to be sold in the United States and generally are not covered by warranties.) Building on the relationships he’d established in New Jersey, Shin developed close contacts with executives from Fuji, Canon, Nikon, and the other rulers of the photo world. Ultimately, he constructed an intimate universe comprising 15 primary suppliers. “The gray market is a big problem for the industry,” says Eliott Peck, director and general manager of the camera division of Canon USA. “Canon has had an excellent relationship with Camera World because the company adds value to our products. It’s always provided the best customer support, sold only fresh merchandise, stocked all our products, and had very loyal repeat customers.” On a scale of 1 to 10 among camera dealers, Peck adds, “I’ve always given them a 10.” In return, the manufacturers saw to it that Shin was first in line to receive new or on-order stock. The Internet is raising the standard for retailers. Shortly after opening the retail store, Shin added a mail-order component to the business. “Mail order was easy — we didn’t have to speak much English,” explains Young Ui Shin, who acted as her husband’s business partner and interpreter. The Shins and Young Ui’s brother ran the mail-order business in a space five floors above Camera World’s street-level retail store, which also doubled as a warehouse. Their goal was for customers to receive their merchandise within five days of placing their order, compared with the standard mail-order lag of three to six weeks. Within 10 years the company was earning close to 70% of its revenues from the distant customers it reached through back-of-the-book advertisements in magazines like Popular Photography. On the back end, Shin put together a supersimple order-fulfillment and shipping infrastructure that the company still uses today. Prior to computerization, sales staffers would write a phone order on paper, then send along a copy to the warehouse for picking, packing, and shipping. Working with those paper “pick tickets,” warehouse workers would pull the cameras and lenses (and occasionally camcorders and televisions, which Camera World also sold) from the shelves and place them in plastic tubs. Before the items were packed, other workers checked to make sure that the products matched the order, recorded the product serial numbers, and filled out a receipt. Then shippers packed the items and loaded the boxes onto a waiting UPS truck, which carted off the packages every afternoon. If an item was out of stock, the warehouse workers would pass the information along to the sales reps, who would find out from Shin when the shelves would be replenished, so they could tell the customer when to expect the order. Returns were handled similarly: When a customer called, a sales staffer issued a return number and ordered a UPS pickup at the customer site. When the product came in, the return number was recorded; if the package had been opened, the product was sold at discount, since it could not be returned to the manufacturer or sold as new. The paper-based system stayed in place until 1992, when Shin discovered that a networked computer system could increase efficiency. He purchased a set of Compaq 386 computers, one of which was installed in the warehouse area, and a Platinum database-management system for which he had a consultant design a unique order-fulfillment, inventory, and shipping program. Using the new system, salespeople keyed in orders on PCs at their desks. Hourly, a warehouse worker would download and print out a batch of orders for picking and packing. The computerized system allowed Camera World’s sales reps to maintain an easy-to-access record of customer purchases; it also allowed Shin to keep better track of inventory and to speed up deliveries. The Shins’ five-day shipping goal had become a consistent reality. Shortly thereafter, Shin added a bar-coding system. By passing a wand over the various products prior to packing them up, workers were able to match orders in the database to actual shipments, and the inventory manager was able to see which models had gone out the door. From the get-go, Shin went the extra mile for his customers, retail and mail-order alike. He staffed the phones with a sales force of professional photographers (or photographers with day jobs), who could guide callers through the technical complexities of camera selection. If customers weren’t happy with their purchases, they could return them for a full refund, no questions asked. In one instance, a company selling five-year extended warranties on Camera World’s equipment went belly-up. Though Shin was under no obligation to do so, he set up a fund to cover the cost of repairs for the customers who were left hanging. “We make customers very happy, and they remember we give service, service, service. Repeat customers big part of our business,” Shin recalls in emphatic, if stilted, English. “We never cheat. If customers happy with service, they trust us.” “We had to completely change the mentality of the organization,” says Mulvey. In the early 1990s, despite Camera World’s computerization, a confluence of external and internal problems began to slow the company’s growth. The market for the high-quality 35mm single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras in which the company specialized had flattened by the late 1980s and stayed that way, thanks to a saturated market and a recession. Until digital cameras appeared on the scene, in 1998, the market for SLRs never moved substantially beyond the 700,000-units-per-annum mark. By 1999, according the Boston-based market-research firm Lyra Research Inc., the number of 35mm SLRs sold in the United States had actually declined to 600,000. Shin’s management style also kept Camera World from rising off that plateau. His operations gave new meaning to the phrase lean and mean. He selected office supplies, shipping companies, telephone services, and other necessities on the basis of low price, and replaced equipment only when it fell apart. The company had long outgrown its warehouse, but Shin balked at moving from the low-rent building. “Mr. Shin ruled with an iron fist,” says the company’s longtime buyer, Shawn Weishaar. From a glassed-in loft perched above the retail store, Shin would keep a sharp, Big Brother­like eye on his workers’ activities. Employees did stay — they were well paid by Portland standards — but because promotions were few and far between, their motivation waned as the years passed. “Mr. Shin had great insight, but he didn’t allow mistakes,” says Weishaar. “He wanted full control over everything.” In 1996, frustrated by flat sales and worn out by the demands of the business (according to company veterans, Shin never took a day off in all his years at Camera World), Shin decided to sell. He hired a retail-management veteran, Walt Mulvey, to help ready the company for sale. A former banker who’d had experience in helping stagnant companies improve their operations, Mulvey saw a profitable company with a good reputation — but one with cramped quarters and lackluster employees. Mulvey reorganized, setting up an incentive program and a “no-blame” management system that allowed workers to air problems openly. Within a year, sales had climbed 31%, and Mulvey helped Shin put out the word that the company was for sale. Word of the sale reached Alessandro Mina. A gentle native of Sweden who’d lived in Italy, Switzerland, and France, the multilingual entrepreneur came to the United States in 1989, at the age of 27. While working on his M.B.A. at Stanford, he embarked on an investment project with two fellow European students. In 1993 the trio founded Sverica International, an investment fund designed to help transform old-fashioned companies into aggressive-growth companies and often into Web-based businesses, and rounded up contributors. Camera World “fit all our criteria,” Mina recalls. “It was profitable. Sales were stagnant, but there was growth opportunity. The owner was retiring, and there was a successful mail-order business in place. It had a huge database of happy customers who came to Camera World in the same way people go to Amazon.com for books or Dell Computer for computers — they go there pretty much knowing what they want. I held the view that Internet and mail-order sales are basically the same that way, so I thought it had all the ingredients for a great Web business.” Another plus: Camera World had a sound infrastructure; there was no need to develop one from scratch. The company had already figured out how to take in orders, process them, and ship them out. Moreover, Shin had long-established relationships with top-tier suppliers and innovative systems in place to provide customer service. The company even had a Web site, though visitors couldn’t use it to buy products. And unlike any pure-play dot-com, Camera World had the unheard-of pedigree of profitability. “We saw this terrific sleeper and thought we could turn it into a full-fledged Net business,” Mina recalls. Mina and his colleagues bought Camera World Co. and named the online arm Cameraworld.com. Temporarily taking over the reins as CEO, Mina — along with Mulvey, who stayed on as chief operating officer — set about morphing the company from a primarily mail-order business into a primarily online business, knowing that companies like Dell (which had gone from no revenues to $26 billion in 15 short years) had followed the same path. As Mina had predicted, the path was clear of the thorny issues that trip up novices. The niche was already nailed: unlike pure dot-commers, he didn’t have to spend time and money on brand development, market research, and focus groups. Mina and company preserved and expanded the long-standing relationships with suppliers and customers that Shin had built. “We made it a point to visit every supplier personally, take them out to dinner, and assure them that the business would continue,” Mina says. “Walt and Alessandro had a vision,” says Canon’s Peck. “At first we had some doubts about their ability to take over the business and move it to the Net, but they were able to build on the infrastructure to handle it.” The nitty-gritty back end has come to matter enormously to investors. In forging a new business plan for the company, Mina spelled out his goals. For starters, the company’s Web pages would have to be transformed from simple brochureware into a true transaction site. And its back-end systems would have to be married to whatever happened on the Web. The company itself would have to move into a larger, better-organized space, with a warehouse that would allow orders to be shipped within 24 hours, as opposed to the five days required by the mail-order business. “We wanted to one-up everyone else,” Mina says. “To speed everything up, we had to cut out obstacles. We needed to staff up, to fix the bugs in the computer systems, to upgrade the telephone systems for more lines. In the past Mr. Shin had to check everything. Things were duplicated. We decided to streamline processes and empower people.” The toughest challenge was time. Mina wanted Cameraworld.com to become the leading online vendor of cameras — before a competitor could. “We had to completely change the mentality of the organization, from collect-a-paycheck mode to survival mode,” says Mulvey. “We ran the company on two urgent premises: We assumed that there was a competitor out there who would beat us to market with the biggest Web site in the world. And we told ourselves that if we didn’t make our goals, we couldn’t make payroll.” Camera World moved to a less expensive location in Portland four times the size of its former quarters. Though the order-fulfillment process remained the same, Mina and Mulvey reorganized the warehouse to speed up shipping. Frequently ordered products, like film, were kept closest to the packing and shipping stations, while rarely ordered equipment was kept in the back. The company added inventory and packing stations; instead of one packing station, for example, it now had four. And it upped the number of PCs in the warehouse from one to five. The move, Mina estimates, saved the company $7,000 a month in rent and about $4,000 in reduced manpower requirements in the shipping, receiving, and returns departments. (The displaced employees were reassigned elsewhere in the company.) “Because the warehouse was larger and better organized, we made more shipments on time with fewer errors,” he says. To turn the existing, 300-visitor-a-day Web site into an E-commerce factory, Camera World hired the company that had designed its original Web site, Web Northwest. With just six months in which to transform the site, Web Northwest owner Pete Chiboucas teamed up with a Camera World veteran, Internet administrator Gil Rocha, and together the pair hand-coded the pages as Active Server Pages to create a visually appealing, highly interactive site. Visitors could click on an image of a camera, a lens, or another product and order it using a shopping cart. The Webmeisters also cranked up the fire under the site, spending $20,000 to install a network of six high-powered Windows NT-based servers that could handle thousands of concurrent users at a time. Today Camera World’s site, which costs roughly $10,000 a month to maintain, handles at least 15,000 unique visitors and 400 transactions a day. It’s now a full-fledged community for shutterbugs. It keeps visitors interested with increasingly snazzy features — 3-D images of featured products, an online auction area, forums, online chats with celebrated photographers, a selection “wizard” that helps customers choose the right camera by assessing their expertise and frequency of use, and so on. Customers can also get quick answers to their E-mailed questions. Professional photographers respond to them by E-mail or phone — and customers even receive a notice via E-mail showing them where their question is in the queue. (“We try to get back to them within 24 hours,” says Rocha.) And for those who eschew telephone handsets, an Internet-telephony feature lets customers whose computers are equipped with a sound card and a microphone connect over the Internet to talk with the sales and support staff. When a customer orders a camera through the Web site, the transaction is zapped from the servers to the order-fulfillment database via a dedicated high-speed T1 line. A software interface between the Web site and the database reads the order and translates it into the order-entry system. Sales reps, customer-support personnel, and shippers and other warehouse workers can review the order by tapping into Camera World’s database from PCs. Every few hours, warehouse personnel print out a batch of 50 or so orders. Rush orders are printed on red paper; white paper signifies a standard UPS ground order. After a worker locates the correct product and places it in a plastic tub along with the paper order, he carts it to the shipping station, where the bar-code checking occurs. If the bar code doesn’t match the order, a computer screen at the station notes the mismatch. If the match is correct, the inventory database records the product model number; when inventory reaches a low-enough level, Camera World reorders. Once the product is packaged for shipping, it’s loaded onto a waiting UPS van, which departs at the end of the day. Meanwhile, an E-mail message is sent to the customer, noting the time the package is scheduled to ship. Using a confirmation number supplied by the company, the customer can check the Web site to track the order. Picking and shipping, of course, are hardly sexy stuff. But in the crazed world of cyberspace, the nitty-gritty back end has come to matter enormously — especially to prospective investors. “Back in 1996, when I was looking at Camera World, the guiding principle for Internet start-ups — according to venture capitalists — was to start from scratch with the model based on the new paradigm, and everything traditional was bad,” Mina recalls. “Early on, VCs were not interested in us because we had a history. But now infrastructure, customer service, and the ability to ship on time with inventory on hand are all key elements when the VCs come knocking.” So far, Camera World is keeping customers happy. “The consensus is that there are a few retailers out there that have a great reputation and that Camera World is among the few,” says Richard Rabinowitz, vice-president and group publisher of Popular Photography and American Photo. One of the happiest customers is Aneel Bhusri, who — like Victor Kiam of the old Remington razor commercials — liked the company so much that he bought (into) it. Bhusri is a partner with Greylock, based in Palo Alto, Calif., one of the six venture-capital firms that have just poured $60 million into Cameraworld.com. (The other major investor is Technology Crossover Ventures, also of Palo Alto.) Bhusri also happens to be an amateur wildlife photographer and a repeat customer. “I bought my first camera from them four years ago, and their staff were very helpful in explaining the pros and cons of the different models,” he says. “I found it unique that their customer-service people were trained professionals.” Last summer, when Greylock was looking for a photography Web portal to back while casting an eye at a future initial public offering, Bhusri remembered Camera World. “I gave Alessandro a cold call,” he recalls. “I said, ‘I’ve been a customer for a while. Are you interested in outside capital to help the business?” The infusion from Greylock was welcome. The cash, the executives say, will allow the company to move to an even larger physical site this year, add more products to the 7,000 items it currently offers, hire 20 more sales and support people, and keep the computer system shipshape. The marketing mix will remain roughly the same as it has been for years — mailing out catalogs and advertising in photography publications, on the radio, on television, on the Web, and on outdoor billboards — “but it will scale up,” says vice-president of marketing Tom Steele. The venture funding also frees Mina, the serial entrepreneur, to hatch another company. “Alessandro did a fantastic job of running the company, but his goal was never to run Camera World for the rest of his life,” says Bhusri. “So he helped us look for a new CEO.” Bhusri and Mina chose a man who had lots of experience with fast-growth and Internet companies: Terry Strom, who had been the CEO of Egghead Software and the marketing vice-president for Digital River Inc., a Minnesota service provider for E-commerce sites. (Bhusri is now chairman of the board, and Mulvey has moved to the president’s office.) Mina, now living in Boston, is glad to let others grow the company. “Aneel, Terry, and Walt can take the company from an Internet start-up to an established E-commerce player,” he says. “I can go back to what I do best — finding good companies to invest in.” For his part, Bhusri is thrilled to be the rudder of a company that, as he says, “gets it.” “If you look at what makes a Web site successful, most of it is logistics,” he says. “Camera World had this figured out a long time ago. Why don’t others? I honestly don’t know the answer. These guys are rare. I think they can be the Dell of the camera business.” Bronwyn Fryer is a contributing writer for Inc. Technology. Read about another Brave New Company in ” The Metamorphosis“