Two weeks ago, I read a second biography about Albert Lasker, The Man Who Sold America. It mentioned how Lasker worked with Adolph Ochs, who owned The New York Times, to free Leo Frank, who had been charged with the murder of Mary Phagan in Atlanta in 1913. Lasker and Ochs, both Jewish, felt Frank was being wrongly accused because he was Jewish. Learning how Lasker and Ochs created a sophisticated media campaign to draw attention to this case nationally was fascinating.

I’d never heard of Ochs, but I was curious about his journey and how he became the owner of The New York Times. This week, I began reading a biography about him, An Honorable Titan, by Gerald Johnson.

I’m early in the book, but I’ve already been surprised by Ochs’s history: The publisher of a nationally recognized and New York–based newspaper dropped out of school at 14. He wasn’t from an elite family or background. He had to start working full-time at 14.

Adolph began his career as an information entrepreneur in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where he sold a directory at age 19. In 1878, he and a partner created a directory of all the businesses in Chattanooga. This was a manual effort requiring them to canvass the entire city house-by-house to collect the information before they compiled it in a book.

The benefit of this grunt work was that Adolph developed a detailed understanding of the town, its businesses, and the entrepreneurs who owned them. His directory became a valuable resource that allowed him to establish relationships with all the entrepreneurs in town and add value to them by providing aggregated information about where to buy goods and services.

Adolph was selling information that, for the most part, was readily available to everyone in Chattanooga. But by compiling it and making it easy to use, he created something of value that others were happy to pay for. It’s not exactly the same, but it reminds me of how Michael Bloomberg took publicly available bond market data, centralized it, and made it easy for people to make buy-and-sell decisions around bonds (more here). The information product is still, as of this writing, the anchor of his empire and over $100 billion fortune.

It’s interesting how these two information entrepreneurs took a similar approach when they started out though there’s a 100-year gap between them.

I’m curious to learn more about Ochs and how all this led him to The New York Times.

Yesterday, I shared what I read in the Netflix biography That Will Never Work about how cofounders Marc Randolph and Reed Hastings divided equity and how the first financing round led to Reed owning 68% of the company to Marc’s 30%. I shared all the math in this post.

The interesting outcome of that scenario was the ownership, voting control, and control of the board. Marc was CEO, but he owned a minority 30% stake in the company and didn’t have voting control. He also didn’t control the board because he wasn’t the board's chairman. Reed wasn’t an employee of the company but owned a majority 68% stake in it, which meant he had voting control. He was also chairman of the board, so he effectively controlled the board, too.

Marc and Reed were friends and had worked together at another company. They spitballed ideas until they landed on the idea that became Netflix. So they were used to working together and being brutally honest with each other.

In the fall of 1998, about a year into the company’s life, Reed sat Marc down and told him that he’d done some good things. Then he added, “I don’t think you’re a complete CEO” and “A complete CEO wouldn’t have to rely on the guidance of the board as much as you do.” Reed proposed that he join the company full-time and become the CEO. He suggested Marc become the president and that they run the company together as a team.

Reed had voting and board control, so technically he could have forced this decision on Marc. Instead, he left it up to Marc. Marc thought about it and in the end decided that Reed was better suited to be CEO and that he himself was better suited to work alongside someone disciplined like Reed. They divvied up duties. Reed focused on what they called “back-end” functions such as finances, operations, and engineering. Marc handled customer-facing things like PR, web design, movie content, partnership relations, and customer service.

With the changes agreed to, there was one last issue: compensation. Reed surprised Marc by requesting that the two cofounders redivide their ownership. Reed wanted 2 million more shares—and he thought they should come from Marc.

Marc doesn’t share exact numbers in the book, but he does say, “In the end, I’d agreed that a third of the shares Reed wanted, if he was to come on as CEO, would come from me. The other two-thirds he was going to have to ask the board for. Which he did – and which he got.”

In the end, roughly one year after the birth of the company, Marc relinquished the CEO title to Reed and Reed received additional shares. By this point, they’d raised an additional $6 million from Institutional Venture Partners, a prominent VC firm in Silicon Valley at the time. I’m not sure what the exact ownership split between the cofounders was, but I’d assume Reed had a significant, majority ownership stake in the company.

That’s the story of how Reed Hastings became the CEO of Netflix, as told from Marc Randolph’s perspective.

I’m making my way through That Will Never Work, a biography about Netflix’s origin. I finally got to the part I’ve been curious about. Marc Randolph is the author and was the first CEO and cofounder of Netflix, along with Reed Hastings. I’ve always considered Reed the founding CEO, and this book is helping me understand why.

A little bit of background first. When they started the company in 1997, Marc and Reed each received 50% ownership. They valued the company—an idea and two guys—at $3 million (pre-money). They issued 6 million shares, with each share valued at $0.50. Here’s how the ownership looked at this point:

• Reed: 3m founder shares *$0.50 per share = $1.5m (50%) ownership stake
• Marc: 3m founder shares *$0.50 per share = $1.5m (50%) ownership stake

To capitalize the company, they raised $2 million from investors. The company was worth $3 million (pre-money) and raised $2 million from investors, so its post-money valuation was $5 million (pre-money plus cash raised). For their $2 million, investors were buying 40% of the company. Here’s the math:

• $3 million pre-money valuation + $2 million raised from investors = $5 million post-money valuation
• $2 million raised from investors / $5 million post-money valuation = 40% ownership

Six million founder shares already existed. To give investors 40% ownership, the company issued 4 million investor shares, increasing the total to 10 million: 6 million founder shares split between Reed and Marc and 4 million investor shares.

Marc had a young family and was working full-time in the business, while Reed was part-time and had ample liquidity from selling another company. Reed believed in the idea and invested $1.9 million of the money they needed, and angel investors contributed the other $100k. Marc didn’t invest any capital. Here’s how the 4 million shares issued to investors were split between Reed and the angel investors:

• Reed: 3.8m shares ($1.9m / $2m = 95%) * 4m investor shares
• Angels: 0.2m shares ($0.1m / $2m = 5%) * 4m investor shares

This is where the ownership between the two founders changed drastically. Reed was a cofounder and investor, while Marc was just a cofounder. Here’s how their ownership changed after this fundraise was completed:

• Reed: 68% = 6.8m total shares (3.8m investor shares + 3m founder shares) / 10m total shares
• Marc: 30% = 3m founder shares / 10m total shares
• Angels: 2% = 0.2m investors shares / 10m total shares

Even though they were cofounders and Marc was CEO, Reed had a majority 68% ownership position in the company and was also the Chairman of the Board. Marc was CEO but had only a 30% ownership.

In the next post, I’ll detail how the ownership and other dynamics led to changes in leadership titles.

I’m still reading That Will Never Work, a biography about Netflix’s origin. The author, Marc Randolph, shares his perspective on the early days as cofounder and the first CEO of Netflix.

Netflix is a household name worldwide. It’s the go-to streaming service for people to watch movies, shows, and other television content. The company is publicly traded and has a market capitalization (valuation) of over $410 billion.

But things didn’t start that way. The company was born in 1997. Users could buy or rent DVDs by placing an order on its website. The orders were all fulfilled via snail mail from its small office in Scotts Valley, California. The launch of Netflix was a big deal that included tons of press. It was so successful that on the first day, the company servers crashed multiple times and the team had difficulty keeping up with and fulfilling all the orders.

What surprised me was how many orders the company processed that day: 137, which seemed low to me. Given the amount of publicity they'd generated before launching, I expected them to have done hundreds or even thousands of orders. But it was only 137, and that exceeded their initial expectations. They thought 15 to 20 people would order DVDs that day.

When I read this section, I thought about where the company is today and that first launch day. My takeaway is that everything starts not just small but really small. It takes time to make people aware you exist, even if you have a great solution. It’s the discipline to get a little better and compound your learning and growth consistently every single day that leads to massive outcomes over a long period. Being a breakout success on day one is the exception, not the norm. Most companies we consider wildly successful started small and got better every single day, year after year.

For the last year, I’ve been enamored with media entrepreneurs and biographies about them. This week, I started reading That Will Never Work, a biography about Netflix’s origin story. It’s written by Marc Randolph, the cofounder and first CEO of Netflix. I always think of Reed Hastings as the first and only CEO—I had no clue Marc was the founding CEO.

I’m early in the book, but I’m enjoying Marc’s recounting of the early days and how he overcame early obstacles.

One thing that resonated with me was his approach to naming the company and the concept of a beta name. Fun fact: the company was originally named Kibble. The logic behind the name was based on an old advertising and marketing saying: “It doesn’t make a difference how good the ads are if the dogs don’t eat the food.”

Marc chose this name because he wanted to remind the team that if the product was lackluster, it wouldn’t matter how well they sold it. He picked “Kibble” as a placeholder to remind his team to focus on building an amazing product that people would love.

Marc realized that picking the right name can take months and that you must give yourself time for serendipity to kick in. Instead of forcing a name at founding, he chose a beta name—a working name you use to get the company up and running (email, bank accounts, website, etc.). The key to a beta name is that it must be something so bad that there’s zero chance you’ll keep it. If you pick something tolerable, he said, your exhaustion and familiarity six months down the road may lead to your just keeping it. But, if you pick something awful, you’ll be forced to rename the company.

Ultimately, his team wanted one word that combined movies and the internet: Net . . . flix.

Marc detailed how hard it is to pick a good name. Here’s what to think about:

• A good name rolls off the tongue. One- or two-syllable words are best; ideally, the emphasis is on the first syllable. His examples: Google and Facebook.
• Too many syllables, too many letters, and people might misspell your website. Too few and they might forget the name.
• A name isn’t great if someone else already owns the domain or the trademark. Double-check before settling on a name.

Even a good name might not be an immediate slam dunk. Marc’s team didn’t initially like “Netflix” because “flix” made some team members think of “porno” or “skin flicks.” When the team was down to the wire and had to decide, they slept on it for a night and agreed it was their best option.

Naming is hard, but it shouldn’t stop you from moving the company forward or building your product or solution. Beta names give you a placeholder and time to find the right name. Marc’s beta name approach is great, and I plan to use it.

One of my favorite entrepreneurs is John H. Johnson. He was a publishing entrepreneur who created Ebony and Jet magazines. Both were iconic magazines in the Black community for several decades. Johnson bootstrapped his company, and by 1987 it was doing over $174 million in annual revenue—almost $481 million in 2024 dollars. Johnson’s autobiography was one of my favorite reads last year. I bought several copies and wrote a five-part deep dive on it (see here).

I wanted to learn more about Johnson and found Empire: The House That John H. Johnson Built, a biography of him. It was written by Margena A. Christian, who used to work at Johnson’s Johnson Publishing Company.

I’m still reading the book, but a few things have caught my attention:

• Start-up capital – Johnson “borrowed” the customer list (20,000 names) of the insurance company that employed him. He then wrote a letter to every customer asking them to prepay for a subscription to a magazine he hadn’t created yet. Three thousand people agreed to pay $2, giving him $2,000 in start-up capital—more than $100,000 in 2024 dollars. This biography highlighted Johnson’s copywriting in that letter. He worded the sales letter in a highly effective way and made people want to buy, sight unseen. Johnson noted that this letter was so unique that he could never replicate those results.
• Curation – Johnson’s first magazine, Negro Digest, didn’t include any original articles. He aggregated all its articles from various publications about Blacks. Making information readily available in a single place made his first magazine successful.
• Cloning – Johnson didn’t try to reinvent the wheel or create something new. He “borrowed” from successful magazine formats and used them to communicate to the Black community. Life magazine was a picture-based magazine that was wildly successful. Johnson used that format when he launched Ebony magazine.

Those are some of my early takeaways from the book. I’m looking forward to reading the rest of it.

Early-stage founders often take one of two paths. Sometimes they lived a problem and used their experience to build a solution and market it to people like them. Other founders learn about a problem and then must learn more about it to figure out what solution to build. You can do both, too, but that happens less frequently.

If a founder has lived the problem, they are the customer. They’re building something for themselves and people like them. If founders haven’t lived the problem, they need first to understand it from the customer’s perspective. To do this effectively, ideally before they start building, founders would be well served to do customer discovery interviews. Simply put, they should interview customers to understand a problem from their perspective and, ideally, uncover unique insights about a problem. When done correctly, customer discovery saves time and resources by preventing founders from building something customers don’t want.

Customer discovery is more difficult than it sounds because founders want to tell everyone about their ideas. This process isn’t about the founders’ ideas; it’s about the customers’ problems. So, founders have to go from sell mode to listen-and-learn mode, which isn’t always easy. Ideally, the founder’s ideas shouldn’t even be mentioned during customer discovery conversations.

Luckily, there’s a great book written for founders that details a framework for conducting effective customer discovery interviews. It’s called The Mom Test. I’ve read it a few times and gotten value from it each time. Whenever I want to learn about a problem, I refresh myself on the framework. It reminds me how to ask questions in a way that leads to my gaining a better understanding of the problem, which leads to unique insights and creative ideas about how to solve the problem.

This week, I caught up with a founder friend. His company is early-stage, and he’s at an inflection point. They have early customers, and revenue is growing at a moderate clip. But he has a nagging feeling that his market isn’t the ideal market to build a company in. There are lots of competitors, and prices are going down quickly, which is pressuring his margins. His customers could build a comparable solution in-house, but they use his solution because it’s cheaper, for now, than building it themselves. Translation: his customers will build something in-house if they start spending too much with his company. Last, his customers view his solution as a nice-to-have, not a must-have.

The founder is trying to figure out whether he should keep pushing through with his current product. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s giving up too early.

I thought about Felix Dennis and his book How to Get Rich as we chatted. The book is about how to succeed as an entrepreneur, which leads to wealth—it’s not just about how to get rich. One thing Dennis shared was that entrepreneurs need to be persistent. They need to have conviction that they’re right and will be proven right (hopefully shortly). Conversely, though, Dennis said that entrepreneurs shouldn’t be stubborn, which means you’re persisting even when there’s plenty of evidence that you’re wrong or that you shouldn’t persist. In a post about this book (see here), I shared the following:

Acknowledging a mistake and realizing a new plan is needed are signs of clear thinking and help focus your persistence on the right activities. The most successful people I know are persistent but also rational and clear thinkers.

I’m not sure what my friend will do, but I shared with him that giving up on something doesn’t mean you aren’t persistent if the data and the market are telling you it isn’t working. It’s an opportunity to redirect your energy and persist toward the right thing.

My takeaway from this chat and Dennis’s book is that I want to be persistent but not stubborn. I want to think rationally in choosing what to work on and be persistent about the right things.

When I chat with other founders about what I’ve learned from biographies, I try to understand how they learn and ask them about their reading habits. Many have said they want to read more but don’t have the time or haven’t made time. In other words, entrepreneurs have an execution problem around reading. They know the benefits and want to do it, but picking up a book and reading is challenging.

This weekend, I was thinking about the focus sessions I’ve been doing with my developer friend (see here). They’re scheduled execution sessions on video that are focused on deep work. I love them because they’re about executing on something high priority, they add accountability and a feeling of teamwork, and they’re scheduled.

I started wondering if this format could be useful for entrepreneurs who want to find solutions to their most pressing problems by reading (not leisure reading). Could bringing entrepreneurs together early mornings on video to read books help them overcome their execution problem around reading?

I did some research and found groups that are doing something similar: scheduled video sessions for people who want to be more productive and do more deep work. One group has over 1,500 paid members around the world.

I’m going to do more customer discovery on this execution problem entrepreneurs have around reading to understand what a solution to the problem could look like. Maybe it’s focus sessions; maybe it’s something else.

This weekend, I finished reading Direct from Dell: Strategies That Revolutionized an Industry, which is the autobiography of Michael Dell. The book was first published in 1998, so it covers only Michael’s (remarkable!) early journey. Michael turned $1,000 in 1984 into a company doing over $12 billion in revenue during the fiscal year ending February 1, 1998. That’s an astonishing level of growth in 14 years.

Michael is an incredible entrepreneur. He was in his early thirties when this book was published. A lot of Dell’s success can be attributed to him as its leader. (Side note: He’s still CEO over 25 years later.) But in the book, Michael highlighted another factor that led to Dell’s success: the PC market. In 1984, Michael unknowingly stumbled into a market in its infancy that exploded in growth for various reasons (including the internet) over the next 14 years. Dell rode the wave of the personal computer market (later, servers too). Michael’s genius was in combining explosive growth in a new market with an innovative business model (selling direct). He realized what Charlie Munger calls a Lollapalooza effect. The result? Dell became a massive company that grew at a torrid pace for 14 straight years. And Michael amassed a sizeable fortune, $125 billion per Bloomberg as of this writing.

The lesson learned is that markets matter a lot. A rapidly growing market is an ideal place to build a business because it usually means the number of people experiencing the problem is growing rapidly too. In that type of market, a company’s solutions don’t have to be stellar. They need to not suck. If companies can check that box, the demand from the market will yank them along. In this type of market, there’s enough business to go around, so there likely isn’t much price competition and margins and profits are healthy.

Michael Dell built, and still runs, a juggernaut of a company. Dell is a textbook example of why entrepreneurs want to start businesses in markets that are—or will be—growing rapidly.