"They rode their unicorns to fame and
fortune. In a rocky market, it got a little less fun.
SAN FRANCISCO — The young kings of
Silicon Valley are dismounting their unicorns.
They’re writing sentimental blog
posts that outline their legacies. They’re expressing hope for their companies’
prospects. They’re quitting their jobs leading the start-ups they founded.
In recent weeks, Ben Silbermann, a
co-founder of the digital pinboard service Pinterest, resigned as chief
executive; Joe Gebbia, a co-founder of the home rental company Airbnb,
announced his departure from the company’s leadership; and Apoorva Mehta, the
founder of the grocery delivery app Instacart, said he would end his run as
executive chairman when the company went public, as soon as this year.
The resignations signify the end of
an era at these companies, which are among the most valuable and well-known to
emerge from Silicon Valley in the past decade, and of the era they represent.
In recent years, investors have dumped increasingly large sums of money into a
group of highly valued start-ups known as unicorns, worth $1 billion or more,
and their founders have been treated as visionary heroes. Those founders fought
for special ownership rights that kept them in control of their companies — a
change from the past, when entrepreneurs were often replaced by more
experienced executives or pressured to sell.
But when the stock market fell
dramatically this year, hitting money-losing tech companies especially hard,
this approach began to change. Venture capitalists pulled back on their
deal-making and urged Silicon Valley’s prized young companies to cut costs and
proceed cautiously. The industry began to talk of “wartime C.E.O.s” who can do
more with less, while bragging about lessons learned from previous downturns.
Patience for visionaries wore thin.
Founder-led companies started to seem like liabilities, not assets.
“All of that changed in the last 90
days, and it’s not coming back anytime soon,” said Wil Schroter, the founder of
Startups.com, an accelerator program for young companies. The “we’ll figure it
out later” story is no longer attractive to investors, he added.
In addition to Mr. Silbermann, Mr.
Gebbia and Mr. Mehta, founders at the top of Twitter, Peloton, Medium and
MicroStrategy have all resigned this year.
They’re not leaving on a high note.
Shares of Pinterest are down 60 percent from a year ago. Elliott Management, an
activist shareholder known for pressuring companies to make big changes,
recently took a stake in the company. Airbnb shares are down 25 percent from a
year ago. And Instacart lowered its internal valuation almost 40 percent in
March, as it prepares to go public in a hostile market.
“It’s surely less fun being a C.E.O.
when markets are down, the economy is trending negative and regulation is increasing,”
said Kevin Werbach, a professor of business at the Wharton School of the
University of Pennsylvania. “If you’re as already rich, famous and successful
as these guys, there usually comes a point where staying in the saddle is less
appealing than riding off into the sunset.”
In start-up lore, Mark Zuckerberg
pioneered the modern boy boss. Carrying business cards that read, “I’m C.E.O.,
bitch” and ruffling Wall Street feathers with his “disrespectful”
hoodie, he demanded investors let him keep a controlling interest in Facebook
as it grew, ushering in today’s era of “founder-friendly” deal-making. Young,
ambitious men like Mr. Zuckerberg received similar protections and leeway as
venture capital firms rushed to appear as accommodating as possible, lavishing
the entrepreneurs with perks (dinners, jets, celebrities) and services
(recruiting, public relations, design). One firm even publicly pledged to never vote against a
founder on company matters.
“It inspired our whole generation to
believe in the impossible that they could start companies,” said Trace Cohen,
34, an investor in very young start-ups.
Founders took advantage of their
upper hands. They stayed in the top jobs, even when the companies outgrew their
skills as managers. And they kept their companies private for as long as
possible, avoiding pesky business realities like turning a profit. They were
given the benefit of the doubt — something female founders rarely got.
As the tech sector became a dominant
force in our economy, the cult of the start-up founder made its way into
popular culture via celebrities like Ashton Kutcher and TV shows like the HBO
satire “Silicon Valley.”
Some founders of this era took their
latitude too far. Adam Neumann’s spending and partying got him forced out of
WeWork in 2018, even though he held a controlling stake in the company. And
Travis Kalanick’s aggressive tactics at Uber resulted in his ouster in 2017,
despite his super-voting shares.
The rest mostly held on through the
companies’ initial public offerings. But it turns out that running a publicly
traded company, with its attendant fiduciary duties, analyst calls and slog of
quarterly earnings, is a far cry from the hustle and thrill of start-up life.
Now, as troubles mount amid a market meltdown, they’re giving up the power and
control they once fought for.
In his announcement, Mr. Silbermann
said that running Pinterest had been “the gift of a lifetime.” Mr. Gebbia, who
will become an adviser to Airbnb, posted an effusive
reminiscence of the company’s early days, alongside photos, nicknames of his
co-founders (Brian “Jet Fuel” Chesky and “Indiana Nate” Blecharczyk) and
lessons about the goodness of humanity. (Mr. Chesky remains its chief
executive.) Mr. Mehta tweeted that he “cared deeply” about Instacart — the “one
thing I have thought about for every waking minute of the last decade.”
Leaving as billionaires, they have
emanated Silicon Valley’s relentless positivity. Pinterest “is just getting
started,” Airbnb “is in the best hands it’s ever been in” and Instacart has a
“enormous opportunity ahead,” the founders wrote. Both Mr. Mehta and Mr. Gebbia
said they had plans for new projects.
Investors say they anticipate more
of these resignations from founders who are realizing they now have to work
harder for less (relatively speaking). “Now, they can let some executives step
up, take over and grow it with different incentives,” Mr. Cohen said.
Last week, Brad Hargreaves, the
founder of Common, a start-up that operates communal living spaces, announced
he would step down as chief executive, becoming chief creative officer. The
company’s head of property, Karlene Holloman, a hotel industry veteran, will
take over as chief executive.
The market downturn factored into
Mr. Hargreaves’s decision. In flush times, he said, it’s good to have a founder
at the top of the company who can sell investors, employees and customers on a
grand vision. “Operations don’t really matter that much,” he said. “No one’s
really watching the bottom line.”
Today’s environment requires someone
with Ms. Holloman’s extensive experience and operational skills, he said. “In a
tighter time, when operations matter a lot and nobody’s buying into any grand
visions, you want an operator in that seat,” he said.
“A lot of founder-C.E.O.s stick
around too long,” he added.
The founders who have so far stayed
on amid the downturn — and there are many, including at Stripe, Coinbase and
Discord — can expect greater demands and more pressure. The stock trading app
Robinhood has laid off more than 1,000 employees this year as it loses active
customers. Dan Dolev, an analyst at Mizuho Securities, said several investors
had privately suggested Robinhood bring in a more seasoned executive to help
its co-founder, Vlad Tenev. Mr. Tenev cannot be forced out, since he and his
co-founder, Baiju Bhatt, together hold a controlling stake in the company.
“They’re typical founders where
they’re very good at the ideas and creative stuff,” Mr. Dolev said, “but could
use help with operations.”
A Robinhood spokeswoman said the
company had recently undergone a reorganization and pointed to executive hires
from TD Ameritrade and the Securities and Exchange Commission.
Making matters worse, start-up founders
have lost their halo of positive cultural cachet — a trend that began during
the tech backlash of 2017 and that has grown with the release of devastating
books and TV shows about WeWork, Uber and other tech darlings.
“Once you’ve made a certain amount
of money, you’re playing for status, and the status isn’t there,” Mr.
Hargreaves said.
Still, there’s always the comeback
story. If the market gets worse and companies start seriously tanking, we could
see the reverse dynamic of founders returning to right the ship, said Mr.
Werbach, the business professor.
It would be a throwback to the
original cult-hero founder, who commanded admiration long before unicorns
roamed the Valley and who even inspired Mr. Zuckerberg’s swaggering business
cards. He was, perhaps, the original boy boss: Steve Jobs."
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