A little history
theCHIVE’s existence as you know it today hinged on a moment. This one-in-a-million shot we call theCHIVE is not some premeditated social network backed by millions of Venture Capital dollars. It’s creative purpose was to be a beachside corner market of the internet, a place to stop in for a 10-minute distraction and some beer. Once upon a time, its future hung by a thread. This is the story of those bygone days in Venice Beach.
Our initial internet preneurships yielded little success. We failed at everything from a photoshop blog for actor head shots to celebrity satire blogs. But we learned everything about blogging from those early failures. When we purchased theCHIVE.com on GoDaddy for $9.99, we were poised to get it right. We could feel it. Unlike our other attempts, theCHIVE was an instant hit.
theCHIVE’s immediate success was our biggest problem. In late 2008, Leo, my cousin Bob and Rick, Patty, and two buddies were squeezed into a 3 bedroom ranch home on Rose Ave in Venice, California. We saw traffic flooding into our themed photo galleries, but serving that many images proved to be a massive hosting expense. At the time, I recall we were eating a lot of bean burritos from Taco Bell. If somebody splurged on the beef burritos, we’d chide them as the Nouveau riche, King of Burrito. One time, when Rick tore his favorite cargo shorts, he cinched the hole up with duct tape. That same month our hosting bill on theCHIVE was $16,000. We were fucked.
The vultures swirled. That’s the trapping of success with no cash reserves to sustain your growth. The “institutional money” puts you in their crosshairs. Looking back, we must have looked like a prize pig ready for slaughter. I remember the offer was as alluring as it was depressing. In exchange for low-six figures, the VC’s would own 51% of the company. Afterwords, we would have little say in the direction theCHIVE could turn its sails after that. We would be sellouts – the literal kind – not the kind that trolls call you in the comments. We had maxed out our credit cards, exhausted our bank accounts, and in front of us lay a bundle of paperwork that, if signed, would make Leo and I a lot less poor. It was a tough call.
Leo and I drank a lot of Jim Beam that night, more than usual. At night, our cousin Rick (theBRIGADE) used to walk around in a leopard-print vest with a guitar strap wearing a sombrero and his duct taped cargo shorts. Strange, if for no other reason than Rick did not play guitar. “Rick, why do you wear that ridiculous getup every night?” Rick turned slowly and spoke, “Because I’m an American who appreciates a good sombrero.” Rick didn’t give a fuck what anybody thought of him. To this day, I wish I was more like him. Leo and I looked at Rick and it all made sense. With friends like these, who needs money? We burned the papers in the fire pit in the backyard.
We didn’t know it at the time, but that drunk decision would ensure theCHIVE would remain a privately-held, family-owned company. Given the size of theCHIVE, we are the first and last of our kind.
We took on a small investment from one of our best friends – enough to keep the lights on for a few more months. There was this small t-shirt shop in Venice called The Avenue. We printed theCHIVE slogan on a simple black t-shirt. Leo and I expected it to take a few months to sell them all, if they sold at all. But we had to keep trying. The first 200 shirts sold out in a minute.
We were floored. The Avenue didn’t have many black t-shirt blanks so we drove all over town buying as many as we could and used The Avenue’s digital printer to print out theCHIVE logo. 200 more shirts sold in minutes flat. My point – it was not Leo and I that saved theCHIVE. We took it as far as we could take it, I guess. Ultimately, it was theCHIVERS who saved us, buying that simple Chive Logo tee. That’s not revisionist history or opinion, that’s a fact from where my brother and I sit. Without you, I’d be an employee for an indifferent internet conglomerate, a line item on a quarterly earnings report.
Thank you.
That’s the Reader’s Digest version of where we came from. Here’s a look at which direction we’re turning the sails. I hope you find it informative…
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