The Business That Almost Killed Me.

This one is hard for me to write. It hurts.

It's a story of failure—a lesson in the danger of having too much passion for a project. I've agonised about this, and frankly, I almost didn't write it all. But, it's time.

You're about to read the story of the business that almost killed me. The project almost cost me my relationship with my brother. And the MBA that I earned, but didn't know I needed, from the University of Life.??

Like Magic.

It rained so hard that I couldn't see more than a few meters outside the parked car. Mr Stephenson had stopped under a tree to protect his vehicle from the hard rain. The rest of our convoy had attempted to do the same, but there was little reprieve from the pelting.?

The under 13 rowing team from Parktown Boys High School had gotten up at the crack of dawn. Willing and unwilling parents, Mr Stephenson included, had shuttled ten of us to Roodeplaat Dam for a weekend training session ahead of SA Championships. And now, we sat under a tree, hopeful that the rain would clear.

Just two weeks earlier, I'd abandoned the cricket team with the promise of medals. My friend Douglas Stephenson had said:?

"What do you get when you win a cricket match? Oranges! That's what you get. WE (rowers) get medals!"?

It was barely 6 am. I was tired and doubting my decision to join the rowing team when suddenly there was a knock on the driver's window. It was our head coach, Stephen Hemp. Hunched over, with the neck of his jacket pulled over his head as added protection from the rain, he said:

"Let's give it 10 minutes. It should clear up pretty soon."

Mr Stephenson nodded stoically.?

Ten minutes later, the rain stopped just as our coach had predicted. Who was this guy? How did he know that would happen??

As the rain passed, the wind dropped, and Roodeplaat Dam began to reveal itself. The water was like glass. A warm mist was rising and hovering before slowly dissipating.?

"HANDS ON!" was the call as we prepared to carry our boat down to the water.

"LIFT AND SLIDE... GO!"?

"HANDS ACROSS. ABOVE HEADS ... GO!"?

"TAKE SIDES FROM THE FRONT... GO!"

"SHOULDERS... GO!"?

"Okay, boys, let's go to the first jetty."

Once we reached the jetty, a similar series of commands followed. Each met with swift, disciplined actions. And finally:

"LOWERING TO THE WATER ... GO"?

The wooden hull of the 1970's Sargent and Burton Quad made a slapping sound as it lowered to the water. Who knows how the ancient Australian built boat ever made its way to South Africa. All we knew about her is that she was called ARISE 4.?

"Slow to get going but fast after the start".?

Well, that's what our coaches, Stephen Hemp and Sven Zimmermann, kept telling us. It was a psychological game designed to help overcome the fact that?everyone?else had better boats than we did.??

It didn't matter. She was beautiful. She was ours. And we loved her.?

As we pushed away from the jetty and settled into our seats, the water rippled, and mist swirled. The green algae floating beneath the surface were almost neon.?

It was magic, and I was?all?in.?

All Consuming.

I loved rowing. It consumed me.?

It's one of those sports that consumes everyone associated with the rower too. Parents play shuttle, tow boat trailers, spend hours on the bank waiting for their kids to have a couple of 5 to 8-minute races, and pat themselves down for the ever-elusive size ten spanner. If the young rower has siblings, they either rowed or spent hours playing amongst the boats at the regatta.?

I was never a terrific oarsman, but I loved everything about it. Especially the boats. Seeing a new boat arrive at a regatta was a rare privilege. We'd pour over it for hours between races. Asking the boat builder and the new owners questions about the design while admiring the carbon fibre, kevlar, honeycomb, gleaming riggers and excellent paintwork.

I admired the boat builders skill and wished I could be one too.

My parents recognised my passion and supported me at rowing. And, after yet another equipment failure in the boys under 14 C single skulls, they decided to buy me a boat.?

A brand new J-type built by John Waugh. It marked a turning point. It gave me confidence. And, it gave me an advantage over the other kids in my category who were relegated to using club boats and eating my wake.?

My parent's personal and financial sacrifice resulted in many wins for me in that boat. But it only served to fuel my fanatical passion for high-end rowing craft.?

John Waugh.?

John was a craftsman. And as with any great artist, he was quirky.?

His attention to detail and desire for everything to be perfect were amongst his best traits. His temper and management style was not.

He was the lone boat builder in South Africa for many years. Without him, the sport would've struggled to sustain itself. Imported boats were unaffordable, and although his boats weren't exactly cheap, they were 30% to 50% less than an imported equivalent, mainly due to the lack of shipping costs and customs duties.?

He offered me a holiday job in 1996.?

I think John was impressed with the state of my now 4-year-old racing single that looked as good as new. Either that or he needed cheap labour to sand the 18.9 metre (62 foot) racing Eight that he was building for St Stithians.?

After my second week of sanding the boat's gunwales for yet another coat of varnish, I wasn't sure which possibility it was.?

Despite sanding for 8 to 10 hours a day, my passion for boat building only increased.

A holiday job became a part-time job and rapidly progressed to full time.

I earned R2100 ($425) a month. That covered my petrol to and from work for the month.

We built great boats. Schools, Clubs, the National Team and even international rowers looking to train in South Africa over our summer, ordered boats from John.

I made hundreds of beautiful wooden seats and fitted out boats, some even destined for the St. Katherines World Championships in Canada.

John preferred to focus on the local customers and never drove an export strategy. I always felt that was a mistake and could never convince him otherwise. Secretly he didn't believe his boats were entirely at the international level.?

When he finally did try export, his agent never paid for the boats on consignment. It reinforced his reluctance to focus on export.?

My vision was to build boats for World and Olympic champions. John suggested I buy his business. He changed his mind before we got to the offer stage. So, we parted ways, and I went on my own.?

My Vision.?

Slade Rowing was born. And, along with it, the Vision Racing Single.

My dad bought into the vision and invested hard-earned money into my venture.

We commissioned Dudley Dix, an award-winning yacht designer based in Hout Bay South Africa, to create the new racing single. Dudley and I measured up many existing designs and painstakingly transferred them into his computer modelling software.?After a few months, a brand new design was ready. This unique boat would make us one of only six boat builders who designed and manufactured their own boats. Most people, including John, would copy moulds off existing designs.

The Slade Rowing Vision Single was born, on paper at least.?

A plumb (square) bow to slice the water and a transom stern to generate additional speed without the increased drag. A unique fin placement for stability and speed. And a two-part construction for increased stiffness. All unparalleled at the time, but common place in world class boats since 2012, the transom stern being the only exception.

The Vision was a Gold Medal boat. I could feel it!?

We commissioned experts to transform the paper Vision into the plug and mould needed for the aerospace composite construction. And many months later, they arrived in Johannesburg for production to begin. Each mould weighed in at almost 350 kgs to take the revolutionary high-temperature curing process.?

A Family Affair.

My dad and my brother, Richard, were conscripted as labour after hours and on weekends.

They didn't need much convincing.

I taught them the fundamentals of laminating composite materials, and we set to work building the first single.

A maniacal attention to detail and a learnt management style (we emulate those we admire, and I admired John Waugh) were put into full use. It wasn't pleasant to work with me. But, somehow, my dad and Richard persevered.

When the first shell was complete, she was beautiful in "RAL2011", a.k.a. Orange. Much like Henry Ford, I insisted that all boats were one colour only. No option for customisation.?

Rather than testing the boat on the local market first, we packed up Vision #1. Together with the boat, I set off for Ireland to launch our assault on the export market.

The International Launch.

A few days later, we launched our campaign. A display in front of the Guarda (Police) Boat House in Dublin. Everyone at the regatta came to look at the boat. They admired the construction and asked puzzled and amusing questions about the design. The "cut off" stern caused the most considerable stir.?

The Irish lightweight men's world champion spent 30 mins learning about the design and then suddenly turned to his teammate and shouted:?

"Connor. Get da hacksaw and cut da end of our boat off. Dis fella says it'll go faster. If he's right, we may not even need you in the boat at all!"

These were all good signs! Right? ... right??

I returned home without a single order.?

Only a Matter of Time.?

No doubt, the success of the Vision was only a matter of time. So we set about building the next shell.?

This time we planned to show it to the South African rowing community. How proud everyone would be of a local lad designing and building world-beating shells.

Richard continued to help me part-time while he studied. He became somewhat of an expert laminator and was solely responsible for the very tough transom stern layup.?

My maniacal attention to detail was equalled by his. And we constantly debated over how to build a better boat. When I say debate, I mean argue as only brothers can.

I was the expert. He was just helping me out. I knew best and didn't need suggestions. I just needed someone to follow orders and get on with them. And yet, Richard continued to show up at the tiny factory and work well into the night on our boats.?

The South African launch Vision was ready. We made the long trip out to Roodeplaat Dam and set up the display.?

It was a perfect day for rowing. An ideal day to launch a new boat.?

The first crews launched for their races while the smell of bacon and egg rolls wafted over the paddock.?

We removed the cover from the boat. Proud of what we'd built.

Local Isn't Lekker (Nice)?

It didn't take long for a crowd to gather around the Vision.?

Young rowers and their parents admired the boat, much the same way I did as a youngster. They?oohed and aahed?at the details. Until one influential parent asked:?

"Where in the USA is this boat built?"

Puzzled by the question, I countered that it was a locally built boat. That we'd designed it and made it in South Africa.?

The crowd around the boat seemed to recoil in horror. The information I'd just shared appeared to reduce the value and intrigue of the beautiful craft on display.?

It didn't matter that we used better materials than the competition. Or that we'd developed a manufacturing process that would make sure the boat stayed stiff and fast for many years to come.

My brother and I looked at each other in shock.?

Only a trickle of interest showed up for the rest of the day.?

We returned home without a single order.

Denial and Success (Sort of).?

Our confusion didn't last long.?

We invented many reasons for the limited progress. I decided it was due to the lack of understanding by the local market and the need to build an even better version of the Vision single.

I must've been right, I told myself, as two surprise orders finally came in.

Vindication at last!?

One order for a customer in South Africa and the other for a customer in Holland.

Finally! We were on our way.?

We dove headfirst into the shallow opportunity. My brother had a gap year coming up and agreed to spend it helping me at Slade Rowing.?

By "helping me", I mean working for free with the expectation that he'd generally do what I asked. An unfair expectation on every level.?

The Customers.

The South African customer?had driven past our workshop one afternoon.??

Having rowed at school in the 1960's he wanted to capture the feeling again. He cut us a cheque for the total amount and left. A month later, we met him at the dam for the maiden voyage.

He managed a few strokes in the high-performance racing shell and then tipped out.?

From that day on, the boat hung from the ceiling in his home as a work of art.??

The Dutch customer?had followed our journey on REC.SPORT.ROWING. An online bulletin board. There was no such thing as Facebook back then.?

He wanted his boat?ASAP. And insisted that it be flown out to him via Airfreight. Two months later, I flew to Holland to meet the boat and my new customer.?

Disaster!?

When we opened the crate, there were billions of tiny pin-head-sized bubbles on the surface of the shell. The pressure changes from the airfreight process had somehow affected the surface of the precision construction.

We used up all the profits from the sales to repair his boat at no charge. During the repair, he chose to paint the boat red. Sacrilege for my vision. But it wasn't a time to argue.?

The RED Vision was undefeated in the Men's Masters category for just over two years. Some payback, at least.?

A Few More Orders?

Slowly, a couple more orders came in.?

Bought by outliers. People who weren't part of the traditional rowing community. And in some cases, they allowed others to race in the boats too.?

Ryan, a talented 17-year-old, borrowed a boat and won SA Schools Champs in a personal best time. He went on to place 3rd in the elite Silver Skulls event against South Africas best senior oarsman. A feat that hasn't been equalled before or since by a schoolboy.?

Tim rowed his orange rocket named Tigger to a personal best at SA Junior Squad selection. He was 41 seconds faster than his previous best.?

Regardt, the first owner with significant international racing experience, showed just how fast the heavyweight hull design actually was.?Seeing the joy on his face as he returned to the jetty at Roodeplaat is an image I'll never forget.

Shane, an Irish international, borrowed the lightweight boat and absolutely annihilated the competition in a regatta running up to the World Championships. We couldn't match his sponsorship deal from an Italian boat builder in the end and couldn't keep him in the Vision.

Ross, a national team athlete, Olympian and our most significant supporter in South Africa, raced in the demo boat any chance he got. He was an outstanding brand ambassador, and I never thanked him enough for that.?

And finally, Boston.

A Vision (or Two) for Boston.?

The business struggled to stay afloat (pun intended).?

The costs were too high, a byproduct of the insane drive to create the best racing single in the world. Our material costs per shell were higher than the sales price of our nearest competitor.?

The order book was still on page one.?

We were taking on any work just to keep the lights on. Old boat repairs. Building a few cheap fibreglass kayaks, but my heart was never in it. I even fixed a fibreglass children's slide to get some petrol money.?

My brother and I fought frequently. We both suffered from burnout. He wanted to get on with his life and the end of his gap year was fast approaching.??

I was sleeping at the factory on occasion. And a diet of white bread and instant coffee was typical. No wonder I had constant chest pains.?The kind that are reserved for out of shape men in their 50's.

We decided to make one last push. A final effort to rachet the business up. My dad provided a further loan, and I bought the materials needed to produce two more boats. My brother said they would be the last boats he would work on. I couldn't blame him.?

This time we would be sending the Visions to the most prominent head race globally, The Head of the Charles River (HOCR) in Boston. We secured a booth at the Saddle Area and set about preparing for the event.

I stayed at the factory for almost a month. Working 20 plus hour days to get the boats built. Every minor imperfection in the design was addressed. I even invented and built brand new carbon fibre wing riggers for the boats, sculpting the plug and moulds by hand.?

Permanent dark rings framed my sunken eyes. But, finally, they were done.?

These two boats were the pinnacle. The absolute best boats we'd ever built.?

We closed the crates, and they began their seven-week journey to Boston. This time by sea freight.?

The Last Stand.

I set up the display stand under the Fall oaks. Their leaves were a myriad of reds, oranges and browns.?

Other manufacturers did the same, and I was horrified to see who they were. The best of the best. Resolute. Empacher. Filippi. Van Dussen. Vespoli.?

Their teams rolled out all the gear. Flags, display cases, carpets, boats, accessories.?

I hung up my black and orange vinal sign. It looked lonely. I put on a warm jacket and prepared to take my last stand.

?I returned home without a single order.?

The End. Almost.

I didn't admit it at the time, but that was the end for the Slade Rowing Vision and our attempts to build boats for World and Olympic champions.?

My passion made me blind to the realities in front of me. And, my ego made me ignore the lessons that would be so painfully obvious with hindsight.?

The same painfully obvious lessons you've no doubt identified if you've read this far.?

In summary:

_ Don't let passion help you explain away the facts.?

_ Listen to your prospects and customers. Then decide whether your course of action still has merit.?

_ Never underestimate marketing investment. Especially if you're creating a new product category.?

_ Know your competition.?

_ Always iterate, test, learn and adapt. Going "all-in" without proof is for gamblers.?

_ Take time to listen to your team. Work with them as equals, even if you have more experience. In fact, especially if you have more experience. Their naivety may spark true innovation by testing your norms.??

_ Step back from your work from time to time. Detaching will allow you to see it for what it really is. It's the perspective that you need.

_ Accept help from the people who love you but never take their sacrifice for granted. If you do, it's a debt that you won't be able to repay.?

_ Do hard things. But for goodness sake, don't make it harder on yourself; let people choose a colour other than orange!?

Other notes and the time I met the founders of Facebook:?

Wisdom.

Graham King, Ted Van Dussen and some of the worlds most respected boat designers and builders visited my stand over the four days at HOCR.

They discussed and debated design and construction in depth.?

They stopped by often. On occasion, they even brought me coffee and food. I was really thankful for their kindness but couldn't understand it.?

Graham explained it:

"This business is impossibly difficult. The fact that you're even here is impressive. We're the only ones who understand what you've had to do to get to this point. You'll probably never make any real money from this game. It's a labour of love."?

All Was Not Lost. The Facebook Founders.

A tall, imposing gentleman visited the display.?

He introduced himself as Howard and shook my hand firmly.?

Peppering me with questions about the Vision, he obviously found it fascinating. He asked several questions about South Africa and our labour costs. He wanted to know where I was staying while in Boston.

Towards the end of our conversation, his twin sons Tyler and Cameron came over. He introduced me to the giants and told me that they rowed crew for Harvard.

Finally, they said goodbye and walked away.?

That evening my host and friend, Bill McGowan, called me up from the basement guest suite.?

"Hey, son, Howard Winkelvoss is on the phone for you."

Howard wanted to know if Slade Rowing would be able to produce 5000 boats a year. He wanted to know what I thought of the Chinese boat builders and what might help their quality issues.?

We had a great chat. We said goodbye, and I put the phone down. Swivelling out of Bills office chair, I saw him standing in the doorway with bated breath.

"Well? What did he say? Why is?THE?Howard Winkelvoss calling you?"

If the names sound familiar, that's because Howard's sons Tyler and Cameron are the co-founders of Facebook. They're also characters in the movie "The Social Network".?

It turns out that phone call was the only thing that helped Slade Rowing survive for just a while longer.?

Howard combined forces with the Xiong's at Flying Eagle Boat company in Hangzhou, China. He brought in top designers and engineers to create Wintech Rowing.?

Slade Rowing partnered with Wintech and brought boats into South Africa. Finally, the local market had a product that they wanted. Well built. Well priced. Well supported locally.

And for the first time in its history, Slade Rowing had a few Rand in the account. My health began to recover. Richard and I worked together on weekends and had fun.?

I closed the factory, paid the outstanding rent. Cashed out a few gold shares that I had forgotten about. And, bought an engagement ring for the girl who stayed with me through the darkest days. The best decision I made the entire time I was running Slade Rowing.?

My parents, my brother, and my girlfriend (soon to be fiance) put up with me through all the madness. They supported me (sometimes too much) while I got my MBA from the University of Life the hard way.?

A debt that I can never repay but will continue to try.

FYI ...This article is part of the?"Love of Labour" series, started here .