Sun on the Harbor
Jim walked into his office at 7:30am and while he wheeled his carry-on bag to the back wall and took off his coat, it was hard not to notice the view. The history of the United States was virtually laid out before him. No joke. He was looking out over New York Harbor on a sunny early March morning and it was nothing short of spectacular.
Let me set the scene. To the right sat Ellis Island and Lady Liberty. To the left was Governor’s Island with its circular fort and colonial military base buildings. The Brooklyn dock on the Columbia Waterfront were slightly further stage left. In the distance was the Verrazano Bridge with its mile-long span over the narrows that defined the harbor. It connected Bay Ridge, Brooklyn with distant and almost foreign Staten Island. Meanwhile the Staten Island Ferry in all its orange glory, was positioning itself to dock at the modern ferry terminal while the opposing ferry chugged off into the distance headed for the five mile away ultimate outer-borough.
The harbor was always a beehive of activity on a sunny morning like this. It was too early for the Liberty Island ferries, but they were out there getting ready. The fast ferries heading off for the Jersey shore were making waves. It was too chilly for pleasure craft this morning, but the working barges were littered all over the harbor to either side of the main marked channel. At any given moment there were half a dozen aircraft overhead, some fixed wing and some helicopters. Jim loved this view and could stare out the window all day if given the opportunity.
This was a special office. Jim had been leading a company for a year that had taken a lease on the 19th floor of what may have been one of the great buildings in New York. The strange thing was that it was the same office he had occupied when he started his last initiative almost seven years ago. That effort had fallen short. It has failed. But it had not failed due to Jim’s inability to tell a compelling and investible story. He didn’t focus too much on the strangeness of that coincidence, and he certainly didn’t cathect about the prior project’s failure, but was just happy to have an office with such a great view.
Jim was heading out that night to Scotland, where the scientific team he was leading had its laboratory and test facility. Jim was not a scientist. He wasn’t even an engineer. That begged the question of why he was in charge of this effort. The business was focused on commercializing a new ceramics material and an electrochemical process that synthesized clean ammonia, a critical and valuable chemical in the here and now and an especially important chemical for the future of clean energy storage and generation. The amount of what he knew of this process prior to a year ago was close to nothing. But here he was now, making scientific decisions and motivating a team to change the world.
When Jim had started traveling to Scotland a year ago he stayed in a large golf resort hotel. He stopped doing that when the doorman bragged that he had just missed Mr. Guliani, who was in for a visit to Mr. Trump’s golf resort. Now Jim stayed at a Hampton Inn in the town where his facility was located. It was more convenient, cheaper and offended his liberal sensitivities less. He was going to Scotland to meet with several prospective investors doing due diligence on the science the company was pursuing. The company needed the money and Jim was pretty good at telling the story and explaining the financial projections.
Jim was 65 years old and spending more time thinking about retirement and all its attendant pros and cons. It was morning like this that made him straddle the fence. Getting on your horse and going on another business trip (even to a pleasant enough place like northern Scotland) was always less inviting on the day of departure. Going on another funding pitch mission was also not the greatest feeling in the world. Hat-in-hand Oliver Twist missions always seemed so desperate. The business of aligning the science and the commerce was hard enough with scientists demanding flexibility and submission to the whims of scientific hit-or-miss inquiry, and commercial folks demanding strict deadlines and clear deliverables. Jim had the task of balancing the competing interests and selling them with great confidence. He wasn’t sure if that was a young man’s game or a game better left to the old and wizened like him. He didn’t know if he could do this thing one more time. He didn’t know if he wanted to do this thing another time. No need for debate, he was on point again and that was that.
Venture capital is a story. There are people, ideas and money. I think Adam Smith laid that all out for us in his Wealth of Nations seminal treatise. Come to think of it, Smith was a Scotsman, so he probably knew exactly what Jim was dealing with. Free market capitalism is a grand undertaking, but make no mistake, it is a dispassionate beast. If you can tell the story well and convince the capital to apply itself to the people and ideas you espouse, it’s all good. If the story is badly told or the people or ideas are viewed as flawed, nothing will save the endeavor. It is totally Darwinian. I am reminded of the cartoon of the dinosaur speaking to a convention of dinosaurs. “The picture is not good, gentlemen and ladies, the world’s climate is changing, the vegetation is disappearing, meteors are hitting the earth and we all have a brain the size of a walnut.” Destiny favors those who can think on their feet.
Jim did well in a crowd. Mostly he believed in the vision and believed in his people. That belief translated into enthusiasm and enthusiasm is infectious. Put an enthusiast in the midst of non-believers and he will either get stoned or become their king. Jim was never scared to do battle in this way. His enthusiasm never flagged. It was his greatest strength and why his lack of scientific or engineering pedigree was less significant than his confidence.
Jim looked out the window at the sun on the harbor. It was always an inspiring sight. He thought of the early explorers entering this wondrous natural harbor. He thought of the abundance of the surroundings; the oyster in the sea beds, the game in the woods and the timber as far as they eye could see. He thought of Joseph Pulitzer raising the funds needed to erect the statue of liberty with an early version of crowdfunding. He thought of the immigrants craning their necks for a sight of Lady Liberty as they made their way to Ellis Island. There were fewer sights more inspiring than New York Harbor and with the sun shining on it, it was unbeatable.
Jim booked his car to the airport and girded his loins for yet another trip into the breach. He was a funding warrior and the battle was just. He knew he would prevail as he set off and he knew he would do this until his mission came to its natural end. Failure was never an option. The sun always shone on Jim’s harbor.