SAN JOSE, Calif. — Handol Kim smiles ruefully as he looks back on his
two years playing gatekeeper to the stream of Canadian companies seeking
money from venture capitalists in California's Silicon Valley.
From early 1999 until early 2001, during the biggest venture capital
giveaway in history, Kim was Canada's consul and trade commissioner in
the valley's heart, the city of San Jose.
"When I was at the consulate, I was pulling my hair out, because I was
going `Hey, we're leaving so much money on the table!'" Kim recalls,
referring to the dozens of companies he knew did not have a hope of
wooing what valley people call "the VCs," the venture capitalists.
Those Canadian companies may have had great technologies, great people
and great ideas but, for the most part, the California VCs weren't
interested.
"The thing that makes it so easy (for many people) to get deals done in
Silicon Valley is that Silicon Valley is so used to doing deals," says
Colleen Sato, a Toronto native in her early 30s and now a partner with
Newbury Ventures, based in Los Altos., Calif.
"The lawyers understand, the accountants understand, the VCs understand,
the entrepreneurs understand what a start-up is and how it works. (But)
I don't think Canada is quite there yet."
Venture capitalism is an industry that invests money in projects
involving a substantial element of risk. Usually, the money is put up
for a new venture, or for the expansion of an existing business, in
exchange for shares in the business.
Because of the risk factor, the failure rate is high. But companies that
win often win big.
Venture capital has launched some of the world's biggest companies,
including Intel Corp., Microsoft Corp., Cisco Systems Inc., and Sun
Microsystems Inc. More than in any country on earth, venture capital is
an integral part of the U.S. economy. The U.S. National Venture Capital
Association estimates that its 450 members back companies that account
for 3.3 per cent of all jobs in the United States and 7.9 per cent of
the gross domestic product.
Between 1995 and 2000, at the height of Internet euphoria, the venture
capital pot grew at an astonishing rate — from $6 billion (U.S.) to $104
billion.
Some venture capitalists were able to deliver staggering returns to
investors, sometimes hundreds of times their initial investment. When
the market cooled, many investors went bust but many others plowed their
profits back into new venture funds.
They continue to do so. The National Venture Capital Association says
venture capitalists raised more than $6 billion during the third quarter
of 2001 and invested almost $8 billion. Compared to the boom years of
1999 and 2000, those figures might represent a massive slump. But they
far exceed the money raised and invested in any other year.
Canadian companies may have missed the boat earlier, but in some ways
conditions are good for them now. Venture capitalists say they are
paying attention not so much to fast talkers now but to companies
offering value, revenue and prudent management.
"Proposals from people who were rushing to get through business school
so they could put their fraternity buddies together to start the next
dot-com — we don't see those anymore," says Sato of Newbury Ventures,
who came to California via Newbridge Networks in Ottawa.
"Quality is much, much better."
Sato is among the 16 members of the Canadian Venture Capital Advisory
board, launched by Handol Kim at the Canadian consulate in 1999. It
meets four times a year to vet business plans and refine pitches from
promising Canadians firms. The aim is to help them entice VCs into
putting up money.
"The venture capitalists who are on Canada's advisory board control $17
billion in venture funds," Kim says. "That's more than double all the
venture capitalists in Canada combined."
Last month, 375 Canadian companies attended a two-day venture capital
seminar sponsored by the consulate on how to woo VCs.
Rule Number 1: Think big.
That's what Ray Thackery did a few years ago when he co-founded
SeeUThere Technologies, a company that streamlines the cost of business
travel and meetings. Thackery, a former Digital Equipment executive from
Ottawa, moved to California specifically to raise venture capital.
SeeUThere raised $34 million in Silicon Valley, enough Thackery says to
take it to profitability and an IPO perhaps late next year.
"In the U.S. alone, the amount of revenue that we touch is $100
billion," he says. "We can demonstrate that we can create a savings of
around 7 per cent to 10 per cent in total corporate travel and expenses.
Those are very big numbers."
Having a big idea is one thing. Having the management team needed to
execute it is another. Venture capitalists in Silicon Valley use a
simple method to assess good management. They like to back proven
winners. Canadian companies often come up short.
"(Canadians) may know the stuff and they may know customers, but maybe
they were only manager of a certain regional company in Canada," says
Kim. "It's different when a former vice-president from Oracle is going
to start a company. The VCs think, `Wow, he was at a big company. He's
more likely to succeed.'"
Thackery assembled the right stuff.
"We didn't have much of a problem, because — between us — our management
team had taken, either at senior executive or a director level, probably
five companies public."
But Thackery now admits that his company stumbled by missing a major
selling point for Canadian firms. Canada is cheap. SeeUThere
Technologies initially set up solely in the Silicon Valley and Thackery
regrets that.
"I think we would have done better if we had spent most of our money in
Canada," he says, "if we had done most of our hiring there, and just had
sales and support in the States.
"We have been pretty frugal but when I look back at what we spent in
rent, and the cost of engineering, we actually could have had a few more
million cash in the bank if we had done it another way."
SeeUThere Technologies has since opened a Vancouver office for customer
support and engineering.
Such dual-nation operations are becoming more and more common with
Canadian firms, particularly if they want money from U.S. VCs.
As Sato explains, "If we've invested in a (Canadian) company, we say —
`We like your company, keep your R&D where you are, but set up your
headquarters with your sales and marketing in the United States. That
requires a lot more travelling for the founders but that is a model that
can work. Keep part of the team where it needs to be.'"
Canadian nationalists might call that a deal with the devil but for a
U.S.-based venture capital fund, it has obvious advantages. VCs do not
simply want Canadian firms to follow the American business model. They
also want those firms to be, for financial purposes, U.S. companies.
"If a Silicon Valley or a Boston VC invests in a Canadian company," Kim
says, "they want the Canadian company to create a U.S. parent and they
want the Canadian company to be a wholly owned subsidiary."
If the company goes public, VCs want it to be on the Nasdaq, not the
Toronto Stock Exchange. From the moment a company is founded, employee
stock option pools, or ESOPs, should follow generous U.S. models, rather
than the typically stingy Canadian variety. Failure to do so kills
potential deals.
"People here were saying to Canadians, `You can't attract the best and
brightest in Silicon Valley (if you keep) your ESOP that low,'" says
Jeanne Weaver, head of the Canadian consulate's new-venture program.
"You have to restructure the company, pay hundreds of thousands of
dollars in legal fees to address some of these problems."
If a Canadian firm can show it's got the market, the technology, the
management and the financial structure to succeed, chances are good that
it still won't get funded.
The economy is slow at the moment. VCs who couldn't produce winners
during good times are not anxious to try when times are bad.
More than half of all venture capital investments during the third
quarter — $4 billion — went to what's called "expansion" of existing
portfolio companies. Often that means propping up companies that have
run out of money and the VCs are not yet willing to write off their
investment. Less than 1 per cent, a paltry $74 million, got earmarked
for start-up companies.
Jim Orlando, for one, doesn't sound worried.
Originally from Timmins, Ont., and a former Nortel Networks executive,
Orlando is among a handful of Canadians in Silicon Valley with their
fingers on VC cash.
He's a principal with Battery Ventures, a San Mateo firm with $1.8
billion in assets. Sure the recession hurts, he says, but it has a
silver lining.
"Every big company in the communications industry has announced
layoffs," Orlando says. "With that, you now have a lot of people who are
interested in starting their own companies."
Orlando has helped Battery Ventures make early investments in a couple
of Canadian companies, notably Akara, an optical network firm
headquartered in Ottawa that also has offices in Boston. Battery also
partnered with a Vancouver VC firm, Greenstone Ventures, to form Inkra
Networks, a California-based computer firm with 35 per cent of its
employees in Canada.
Newbury Ventures, where Sato works, has gone one step further, setting
up a subsidiary office in Ottawa, operating under the name of Eagle One
Ventures. In September, Newbury and Eagle One joined a $24 million
(Canadian) investment in Kanata-based optical network firm Meriton
Networks.
"There are a lot of institutional investment houses in Canada that want
to learn, replicate the Silicon Valley model of doing things, and make
investments in Canada," Sato says. "We are co-investing with these
groups, which I think will be good for Canada in the long run."
Handol Kim, the former consul, is now an entrepreneur wooing Silicon
Valley VCs on his own behalf.
"A lot of people were out there scoring big and making success," he
says. "I wanted to try it."
Kim joined Coradiant, an Internet company that had raised $24 million
(U.S.). It was founded by Canadians, is headquartered in Boston, has
offices in Silicon Valley and New York, and runs an R&D centre in
Montreal.
How does Kim enjoy the switch?
"It's been a wild ride, I'll tell you," he says. "It's been rough but,
man, it's good."
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Bob Nixon, now a California-based business reporter, created the first
streaming video business show on the Web and is the former host of a
daily technology program with CNBC Asia. |