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82岁风投老兵,眼光和晚辈有什么不同?

82岁风投老兵,眼光和晚辈有什么不同?

Jeff John Roberts 2018-01-14
他82岁,是美国最早一批风投资本家,曾投资《纽约》杂志、苹果、美国在线、 Venmo等,半个世纪的从业生涯中一直紧随技术发展的浪潮。

薪火相传:帕特里考夫(中)与合伙人伊恩·西佳洛(左)和戴娜在格雷克罗夫特纽约办公室里。年青一代合伙人日渐主持起公司的大生意。罗宾·特伍梅

克罗斯比街酒店的大堂家具考究,装饰充满现代工业气息,很有2017年的感觉。阿兰·帕特里考夫穿着肥大的西装,顶着一头银发,很有1967年的感觉。近日一个阴云密布的早晨,高耸敞亮的大堂里挤满了银行家,在论坛上焦急地寻找投资媒体的机会,说起来有点怪,但帕特里考夫的气质在这种场合下十分搭调。

82岁的帕特里考夫缓缓穿过酒店餐厅,一路上跟身边各色衣着考究的人士打招呼,转过身握握手谈两句媒体圈八卦。即便不认识的人也忍不住注意到他;大家都把他当成“某位大人物”。他终于走到我身边,在小桌旁坐下,点了杯茶,接下来一句话仿佛在提醒我他享受这种待遇已经多年。“《纽约》杂志下周就满50年了,”他说,“届时到场庆贺的人里只有两个创刊时就在,我就是其中之一。”

帕特里考夫向《纽约》杂志投资后,原本发行量极小的圈子杂志如今成长为艺术和政治领域重要的媒体,这笔投资是他第一次出手,从中可窥见他在风险投资圈传奇的敏锐嗅觉。从那之后他协助创立过上百家公司,包括苹果和美国在线等,他曾在美国最早的风投公司之一工作,后来在全球最大的私募股权基金之一安佰深集团担任联合创始人。

The lobby of Manhattan’s Crosby Street Hotel, with its industrial chic and just-so designer furniture, is very 2017. Alan Patricof, with his loose-fitting suits and mop of gray hair, is very 1967. But on a cloudy recent morning, as the high-ceilinged room buzzes with bankers on the hunt for media deals at a conference, Patricof fits right in.

As he wends his way through the hotel restaurant, the 82-year-old exchanges warm hellos and swaps media gossip with well-heeled movers and shakers. People who don’t know him notice him; people who do treat him like The Man. And after he joins me at a small table and orders tea, Patricof drops a hint about just how long he’s enjoyed that status. “New York magazine is celebrating its 50th anniversary next week,” he points out. “I’ll be one of two people attending who was there when it opened.”

Patricof’s investment in New York, which helped turn a small-circulation pub into one of the most important media voices in art and politics, was one of his very first, and it showed the acumen that has made him a legend in venture capital circles. Since then he’s helped build hundreds of companies, including the likes of Apple (AAPL, +1.94%)and AOL—as one of the country’s first VCs and then as cofounder of Apax Partners, one of the world’s biggest private equity firms.

2017年11月16日,阿兰·帕特里考夫在曼哈顿办公室里。罗宾·特伍梅

2006年,71岁的帕特里考夫做了件新鲜但又熟悉的事,他跟风投界年轻人合作创了新公司——格雷克罗夫特投资公司。近12年后已经成功投了一些创业公司,例如支付平台Venmo,娱乐公司Maker Studios,还有男性时尚服务公司Trunk Club等,看起来毫无要休息的迹象。每天早上他都第一个上班,最近还首次投资了比特币相关公司。采访结束后,他还要去酒店大堂赶着跟一家发展迅速的网络电视创业公司Cheddar聊一聊。“虽是耄耋之年,但他比我认识所有人都显得年轻,”伙伴传媒创始人麦克·拉泽洛说,这家公司也是格雷克罗夫特成功退出的案例。

帕特里考夫已经没有什么需要证明了,但他和年轻(按年龄看)合伙人还在努力做大事。他们想告诉世人,虽然当今是估值数十亿美元的独角兽频出的时代,但高端小众的风投公司也能为投资者和创始人创造附加价值。不同年龄段的人可以互相学习,帮助企业不断发展又保持灵活。风投行业变化迅速,但帕特里考夫创建的公司基础稳固,离了他之后年轻一代接班人也能让公司蓬勃发展。

格雷克罗夫特在纽约的办公室在中央车站上方,每周一早晨团队都会开例会:迅速过一遍最近需要钱的新公司。帕特里考夫和其他合伙人都会出席,包括35岁的艾丽·威勒和38岁的伊恩·西佳洛。NBA前主管大卫·斯滕也受邀出席,是会议室是少有的银发人士之一。

格雷克罗夫特主要投资对象是成立不久的小公司,主要做“种子轮”或“A轮”投资,意思是大部分公司目前都只有几名员工,梦想远大,但几乎没利润。(他们也有两只成长基金,主要做后期投资。)团队迅速拿起创业公司名单开始讨论,仿佛挑剔的厨子为做饭选购食材一般。筛掉几家公司后,一家用创新方式帮顾客在线点午餐的公司让他们眼前一亮。在座有几位指出这家公司发展迅速,而且商业模式利润较高,认为有前景。但威勒泼了一盆冷水。“他们不像能改变世界,”她说。“我会去当用户,但不愿意投资。”

接下来是一家虚拟现实公司,但帕特里考夫不喜欢,因为这家公司寻找担保人的动作很慢。(对帕特里考夫来说,如果找不到其他创始人担保,就没法继续谈。)但其他人对一家创业公司自称“网络界的Axios”非常感兴趣。因为这家公司致敬的Axios是各类克罗夫特投资过的新媒体公司,11月中旬刚融到2000万美元。“看起来不错,”帕特里考夫说。他喜欢Axios是因为产品质量很好,以后没准可以用来收取高额费用:“以前有公司想变成‘某某领域的爱彼迎’,现在居然有公司说要成为‘某领域的Axios’。”威勒也挺喜欢这家网络安全公司,列入了约见面的单子。

就这样,格雷克罗夫特团队不到一小时就看了几十家公司,其中挑出几家感觉不错的,不过这只是过了第一关。接下来还得让洛杉矶办公室的合伙人看一遍,洛杉矶也有自己的初审名单。两边都通过之后,创业公司才会获邀去办公室做正式的介绍。之后各类克罗夫特会启动“模式匹配流程”,分析人员有时会采用秘密统计模型审查创业公司团队和成长轨迹与之前成功案例是否匹配。

闯过所有关卡之后才能让格雷克罗夫特掏钱,一般投资规模不到3000万美元,而且会跟其他风投一起投。流程听起来是很繁琐。但在风投圈里,投出去数百家才能投中一家Facebook,所以格雷克罗夫特投出任何资源,包括资金之前,都要尽可能找到理由。这里的资源还包括付出大量精力以及搭建社交网等等。

很少有人能拥有帕特里考夫的广博人脉。用他自己的话来说,从大学起他就特别热衷做生意,大学期间就经常在联谊会上卖派对小礼品和领带。投资《纽约》杂志成功后他声名鹊起,后来在他上世纪70年代末创立的安佰深集团执掌业务。安佰深旗下基金多达数十亿美元,业务也扩展到全球。

1979年帕特里考夫投资了苹果,当时Mac还没造出来,1985年投了量子电脑公司,后来创始人史蒂夫·凯斯把公司名字改成美国在线。之后帕特里考夫的触角伸向兼并和杠杆收购,包括2005年收购丹麦电话公司,当时是欧洲最大规模的杠杆收购案。

帕特里考夫说,生意规模越做越大,乐趣却没有随之增加。大批律师开始介入做很多核心工作,他也没时间跟灵感四射从零开始建立公司的创始人们打交道。“我决定回归老本行,”他表示。“我觉得要从错误中吸取教训……还是要做小公司。”

所以他做回了最热爱的业务,就是帮助创始人成功。他的风格比较亲力亲为。在格雷克罗夫特投的创业公司里,好几位首席执行官都经历过帕特里考夫一天到晚打来电话或发来邮件,都是兴奋地分享想法。环球旅行公司BitPesa主营业务是利用区块链技术帮助非洲和亚洲商人降低汇率费用,创始人是伊丽莎白·罗谢洛就表示曾经发现收件箱里塞满有关比特币的新闻,都是帕特里考夫在媒体和金融简报上看到的。

罗谢洛还经常收到另一种帕特里考夫最重要的“财宝”:在职业圈子之外搭建关系网的建议。每年格雷克罗夫特都要举办几十次联席会,还在洛杉矶和帕特里考夫在纽约东汉普顿宅邸举办年度“峰会”,会上有来自科技界、媒体圈和政界顶尖级别的演讲嘉宾和客人。(帕特里考夫是民主党内知名企业家,他的办公室里还有跟克林顿夫妇和奥巴马夫妇的合影,私交都不错。)

格雷克罗夫特少数几家总部不在硅谷的风投之一,也因此享受到一些优势,因为硅谷基本上是红杉资本和安德森霍洛维茨的天下。2006年,帕特里考夫在美国成立格雷克罗夫特时,很少有人认为纽约能搭建适合科技人才发展的生态。帕特里考夫非常感谢前市长迈克尔·布隆伯格,因为他为改变人们的偏见做出不懈努力,不仅帮助了格雷克罗夫特,也为其他几家风投铺平道路,包括现在很出名联合广场投资公司。

但其他风投也对帕特里考夫充满敬意。“如果没有阿兰,纽约风投圈可能是另一番景象,”布隆伯格政府办公室主任布莱德利·塔斯克说,如今他也掌管着一家风投公司。“格雷克罗夫特态度非常友善,对同行也超乎寻常地慷慨。”领导总部位于科罗拉多的晶圆集团的著名投资人布拉德·菲尔德说,帕特里考夫是“风投世界的缔造者之一。”

帕特里考夫希望保持小规模,所以格雷克罗夫特主要做早期投资。比起其他风投其融资规模也要小一些,目前基金不到11亿美元。这种模式也意味着通常特别吸引风投眼球的巨型独角兽,例如Uber和爱彼迎都不适合格雷克罗夫特。

“如果没有阿兰,纽约风投圈可能是另一番景象。格雷克罗夫特态度非常友善,对同行也超乎寻常地慷慨。”

——布拉德利·塔斯克,风投投资人

跟其他同行一样,他们也不怎么公开谈回报率。不过外部数据显示收益较为可观,后来伊恩·西佳洛也确认:据研究公司Pitchbook调查,如果算通常用来衡量私人公司业绩的内部收益率(IRR),2015年至2017年间格雷克罗夫特头两支基金年度收益率约为19.5%,在风投公司里排中等,但比起同期标普500指数年化收益率几乎多了一倍。

西佳洛还补充说,如果其他已投公司能顺利退出的话最终内部收益率还会更高。“截至2017年底,格雷克罗夫特有30个成功退出案例,为有限合伙人实现收益近4亿美元,”他在邮件中告诉《财富》。

当然了,格雷克罗夫特遇到过不少失误,也有些亮眼成绩。目前最成功的“退出”案例当属2012年以8亿美元将一家社交媒体管理平台——伙伴传媒卖给Salesforce。另外就是2014年将Maker Studios出售给迪士尼,作价6.75亿美元。2017年9月也有个重要的退出案例,将食材创业公司Plated以3亿美元卖给食品连锁超市爱柏森。

当然也有不少错失的良机,让合伙人们忍不住扼腕。“有些案例因为我们没出手亏了很多钱,”西佳洛说。“没在A轮投上Twitter亏了10亿美元。”西佳洛还认为太快卖掉Venmo是公司最大的失误之一。现在移动支付应用Venmo掌握在PayPal手里,可以轻松卖出10亿美元,而2013年格雷克罗夫特卖出时才2700万美元。(可以安慰的一点是:格雷克罗夫特也持有Braintree股份,很快易趣出资8亿美元收购。)

在洛杉矶布伦特伍德的高档餐厅Baltaire,十几位创业公司创始人坐在单间里,参加格雷克罗夫特组织的联谊活动。晚宴上大家一边喝着纳帕谷梅洛红酒,一边交流创业。至少有三位是女性,在男性绝对主导的风投圈里算是比例很高。创业公司涉及领域也很广,从婴儿摇篮到数据科学都有,另一些参与者则是格雷克罗夫特召集的投资人、律师,还有擅长搞定事的高手。如果某位创始人在销售或招聘等方面需要帮忙,或是要疏通某个重要关系,很可能饭局上就能找到能帮忙的人。

创始合伙人戴娜·赛特尔把格雷克罗夫特的关系网成为“成功秘诀”。但Baltaire这场晚宴也能看出赛特尔本人的影响力。赛特尔四十多岁,气质沉着,经常一天内飞往纽约再飞回,她本人也是位交际大师。年轻时她在家附近的太平洋海边钱,大学毕业后在印度帮电信巨头克雷格·麦考卖频谱。2007年加入格雷克罗夫特后,她主持了几个重要的案例,包括Maker Studios和Trunk Club,2014年诺德斯特姆以3.5亿美元收购了Trunk Club。

赛特尔把帕特里考夫当成导师,两人共同创办公司,但她也在发挥自己的影响,拓展了帕特里考夫的视野。以前帕特里考夫一直认为洛杉矶是“蛮荒之地”,根本不适合风投投资。他聘请赛特尔之后就极力邀请她去纽约。赛特尔拒绝了,帕特里考夫也意识到可以考虑在东西海岸各建分公司。如今格雷克罗夫特在这两个城市都站稳了脚跟,业务比红杉和凯鹏华盈等硅谷大公司要好。“阿兰、伊恩和戴娜人脉都比其他公司广,” Trunk Club和服饰连锁品牌Bonobos创始人布莱恩·斯帕利表示。

在自传《硅谷男孩》中,已故的汤姆·珀金斯描述了上世纪70年代初,他跟合伙人尤金·克莱纳创立凯鹏华盈时美国风投圈的情况。“当时美国所有风投公司资金加一起都不到1亿美元,所有从业者聚会的话,一间不太大的屋子就能装下。”

现在跟当初相比堪称天翻地覆。仅2016年,风投资本家投出的资金就达到创纪录的691亿美元。美国有数百家风投公司,还有各种新成员加入,外国政府、大型科技公司和共同基金都想加入分一杯羹。结果是,现在想投下一个Facebook或Uber变得越发困难,尤其以往只投后期创业公司的风投也纷纷将目光转向早期公司。“后期投资人之所以转向前期,是因为觉得后期价位太高了,”格雷克罗夫特合伙人威勒解释说。火热氛围下,不少创始人也想赶紧拿到钱证明自己的实力。

“西岸的大风投都喜欢高回报。其他大部分公司都没法竞争。”

——伙伴传媒创始人迈克·拉泽罗(格雷克罗夫特投资公司)

实际上,这些趋势下A轮投资金额已经大为膨胀,从以前的300万美元左右增加到现在的2000万美元,“种子轮”以前只要数万美元,现在也得上百万美元了。格雷克罗夫特之类规模较小的风投就遇到些问题,因为没有大量资源去追明星创业公司。“西岸的大风投都喜欢高回报。其他大部分公司都没法竞争。” 伙伴传媒的迈克·拉泽罗表示。

不过,不管是拉泽罗还是其他熟悉格雷克罗夫特的人,也包括投资人和被投公司首席执行官们都认为,只要其能保持高端,专注提供人脉和辅导,再保持合伙人容易相处的好名声,坚持下去没什么问题。格雷克罗夫特跟很多风投不一样,不会坚持让被投企业提供董事会席位或指定自己为领投方。格雷克罗夫特不阻止并购机会,不会紧抱着等高价再卖出,他们还鼓励投资人之间合作,合伙人马克·特比克称之为“联合模式”。

其他在格雷克罗夫特工作的人认为,保持小规模也能避免一些行业痼疾。西佳洛表示大基金里容易出现人云亦云的现象,为了安抚急躁的投资人会有压力美化结果。“想把一个没有流动性的项目推出去有很多很多方法,所以真实盈亏情况出来前很难判断某人做得怎样,”他表示。相反,格雷克罗夫特的氛围出了名的直接,所以有限合伙人都一年一年持续投资,包括华特·迪士尼公司和康桥汇世集团等。

格雷克罗夫特的文化还比较包容开放,在很多风投公司面临仇视女性和性别歧视指责的当下,这点越发重要。公司高层就有赛特尔和威勒等合伙人发挥关键作用,显示出对女性的尊重。采访中,女性企业家和记者都对格雷克罗夫特称赞有加,该公司也支持数十位女性创始人和首席执行官,包括BitPesa的罗赛洛和Clique Media的凯瑟琳·帕沃尔等。Clique Media是一家时尚媒体兼电商公司,收入已接近1亿美元。

“要说在公司工作很开心好像有些老套,但公司氛围确实让人舒服。”

——格雷克罗夫特联合创始人兼董事总经理阿兰·帕特里考夫

帕特里考夫表示他一直努力营造的氛围是,人们都能直言不讳,不存在种族歧视和性别歧视。“一开始我就定下规矩,不互相讨论,也不允许背后中伤,”他表示。“要说在公司工作很开心好像有些老套,但公司氛围确实让人舒服。”

现在帕特里考夫直接负责的项目比较少,更多留给西佳洛和赛特尔之类年轻合伙人,他为公司赚的收益也没年轻人多了。这样的机制下年轻一代成长明显。西佳洛说工作的第一家风投公司里,年轻人根本没有发言权;他想起以前发现交易有问题,想提出反对也没机会。帕特里考夫恰好相反,他鼓励团队培养自己的人际网,加强互相合作,投资人也确实关注到这点。“有限合伙人都很看好伊恩和戴娜,”格雷克罗夫特投资人之一,风投公司Greenspring的阿仕顿·纽霍尔表示。

投桃报李,帕特里考夫组建的团队也在努力帮他站上金融和技术的前沿,而且可以在喜欢的工作上想做多久就多久。面对桌上摆满过去的辉煌记忆,他向我们简单介绍了自己的哲学:“多阅读。多去参加论坛。努力站稳脚跟。”他还缩短了采访时间,匆匆赶去参加另一家创业公司的介绍会。

50年辉煌历程

阿兰·帕特里考夫是美国最早一批风投资本家,半个世纪的从业生涯中他一直紧随技术发展的浪潮。以下是一些他最著名的案例。

1967年

《纽约》杂志

那一年,《滚石》杂志和音乐剧《长发》诞生,帕特里考夫选择投资了一家“全新新闻主义”先锋。后来《纽约》杂志成为美国艺术和政治领域重要声音;1977年帕特里考夫退出。

1979-85年

苹果和美国在线

上世纪70年代末,帕特里考夫执掌全球私募股权基金安佰深集团。不过他仍然在硅谷做些早期投资。他是苹果公司第二轮投资人(第一台Mac诞生五年前)。他还看好史蒂夫·凯斯的量子电脑公司,后来改名为美国在线。

2001-06年

欧洲杠杆收购

安佰深后来以杠杆收购闻名,尤其在欧洲。2001年安佰深收购了黄页公司,2005年又出资153亿美元收购了丹麦电话公司TDC,当时是欧洲最大规模的杠杆收购。

2006年

赫芬顿邮报

成立新公司格雷克罗夫特后,帕特里考夫重回早期投资领域。他还是青睐新媒体:赫芬顿邮报第一轮500万美元融资里就有帕特里考夫参与,六年后另一家他参与早期投资的美国在线以3.15亿美元收购。

2007-17年

Venmo等等

在新一代合伙人协助下,帕特里考夫带领的格雷克罗夫特成为纽约和洛杉矶顶尖的风投,这两地都是硅谷大拿没覆盖到的地方。其中最有名的早期投资之一就是热门的支付应用Venmo(虽然合伙人都很后悔卖早了)。其他成功案例还包括电影公司Maker Studios(卖给了迪士尼),还有食材O2O平台Plated(卖给了食品连锁超市爱柏森)。(财富中文网)

本文另一版本将刊登于2017年12月15日出版的《财富》杂志,标题为《不服老的风投传奇迎来事业第二春》。 

译者:Feb

In 2006, at age 71, he sought something both new and familiar, collaborating with a younger generation of VCs as cofounder of a new firm, Greycroft Partners. After nearly 12 years there, studded with successful investments in startups like payment platform Venmo, entertainment firm Maker Studios, and men’s styling service Trunk Club, the patriarch shows few signs of slowing down. He’s first into the office every morning, and he recently made his first bet on a Bitcoin company. As our interview wraps up, he’s in a rush to rejoin the confab in the lobby to parlay with Cheddar, a fast-rising web TV service. “Alan in his eighties is younger than everyone I know,” says Mike Lazerow, founder of Buddy Media, another of Greycroft’s successful exits.

Patricof has nothing left to prove—but he and his (chronologically) younger partners are still trying to accomplish something significant. They’re striving to show that a boutique VC firm can add value for investors and founders in an era of multibillion-dollar super-startups. They’re demonstrating how different generations can learn from each other and help a company evolve and stay nimble. And at a time of rapid change in the venture business, the hope is that, when Patricof hangs it up, they’ll prove that this famous builder of companies has constructed his own firm to flourish without him.

In its offices high above Grand Central Terminal, Greycroft’s New York team begins a Monday morning ritual: speed-vetting a list of young companies that want money. Patricof is there, with other Greycroft partners, including Ellie Wheeler, 35, and Ian Sigalow, 38. David Stern, the former NBA commissioner who has a standing invitation to join the meeting, is one of the few other gray-hairs present.

Greycroft’s bread and butter is early-stage companies, typically in “seed” or “Series A” rounds, meaning that most firms on today’s list have a handful of employees, big dreams, and little in the way of profits. (The firm also operates two growth funds for later-stage investments.) The team gets right to it, picking apart the roster like fussy chefs shopping for just the right ingredients. After casting off a few candidates, they alight on one that gives customers a new way to order lunch online. Several in the room see promise, pointing to the firm’s rapid growth and high-margin business model. But Wheeler tosses on some cold water. “This just doesn’t seem like it’ll change our world,” she says. “I might be a user but not an investor.”

Next on the list is a virtual reality firm, but Patricof shoots it down because the company has been slow to produce people who can vouch for it. (A lack of references from other founders is a deal breaker for Greycroft.) But the table becomes outright enthusiastic about a startup that bills itself as the “Axios of cyber.” It’s a nod to Axios, a new media venture that counts Greycroft as an investor and which in mid-November raised $20 million. “This is a good thing,” says Patricof. He’s a fan of Axios because it offers a high-quality product whose owners hope to someday put it behind expensive paywalls: “We had companies that wanted to be the ‘Airbnb of this,’ and now they want to be the ‘Axios of that.’ ” Wheeler likes the cybersecurity firm too, putting it on a list for a meeting.

So it goes as the Greycroft gang whips through dozens of companies in under an hour. For the handful that get the table’s blessing, this is only the beginning. The standouts must survive scrutiny from the firm’s Los Angeles partners, which also have an initial screening roster of their own. Startups that get a thumbs-up from both coasts may get invited to make a formal presentation. Then they’ll run through Greycroft’s “pattern-matching process,” during which quants sometimes employ dark statistical arts to see if a company’s team and trajectory match up with previous successful startups.

Only after this rigmarole will Greycroft open its purse and bless the startup with an investment of anywhere up to $30 million, made in federation with other VC firms. The process may sound obsessive. But in venture capital, which produces hundreds of failures and fizzle-outs for every Facebook (FB, -0.02%), Greycroft needs every edge it can get before it lavishes a firm with something just as valuable as its money—a prodigious amount of attention and networking.

Few people have a network with as many branches and nodes on it as Patricof’s. By his own description, he has been a hustling dealmaker since college, when he worked his way through college by selling party favors and neckties to fraternities. The success of his New York investment elevated his stature and eventually led him into private equity at the helm of a firm he founded in the late 1970s, Apax Partners. With funds in the billions to play with, Apax became a global force.

Patricof invested in Apple in 1979—before there was such thing as a Mac—and in a company called Quantum Computer in 1985, before Steve Case changed its name to America Online. His repertoire eventually expanded to include takeovers and leveraged buyouts, including a takeover of a Danish phone company in 2005 that was Europe’s biggest LBO at the time.

But as the deals got larger, Patricof says, the satisfaction he got from them did not. Armies of lawyers got the important work done, and he was no longer spending time with inspiring young founders who built companies from scratch. “I decided to go back to how I started,” he says. “I thought I’d learn from my mistakes … I wanted to go back to being small.”

So he returned to what he loves, which is helping founders get a foothold. His style is remarkably hands-on. Several startup CEOs in Greycroft’s portfolio recount getting calls and emails at all hours from Patricof in his excitement to share an idea. Elizabeth Rossiello, the globe-trotting founder of BitPesa, a firm that uses blockchain technology to help merchants in Africa and Asia lower their money-transfer fees, describes watching her email in-box fill with tidbits about Bitcoin that Patricof had seen in media and finance newsletters.

Rossiello also received regular installments of one of Patricof’s most treasured currencies: advice about building relationships outside her own professional circles. Greycroft holds dozens of networking events every year, including annual “summits” in Los Angeles and at Patricof’s own estate in East Hampton, N.Y., with speakers and guests drawn from the top ranks of tech, media, and politics. (Patricof is a prominent Democratic rainmaker, and his office is adorned with personal photos of the Clintons and Obamas, whom he knows well.)

Greycroft gets a competitive edge by being one of relatively few prominent VC firms not based in Silicon Valley, where juggernauts like Sequoia Capital and Andreessen Horowitz define the scene. In 2006, when Patricof launched Greycroft in New York, few took the city seriously as an ecosystem for tech talent. Patricof credits former mayor Michael Bloomberg with helping to change this perception and paving the way for Greycroft and a handful of other New York City firms, including the now high-profile Union Square Ventures.

But other VCs pay similar homage to Patricof. “It’s possible New York would not have a tech scene without Alan,” says Bradley Tusk, a chief of staff during the Bloomberg administration who now runs his own venture firm. “Greycroft was welcoming and generous to us when they didn’t have to be.” Brad Feld, a prominent investor who now runs Colorado-based Foundry Group, describes Patricof as “one of the foundational members of the VC universe.”

Patricof’s desire to stay small has kept Greycroft focused on early-stage investments. It raises less money than many other VC firms—it currently oversees a total of just under $1.1 billion. This approach has meant that the mega-unicorns that bring VCs the most attention—giants like Uber or Airbnb—have been absent from Greycroft’s stable.

“New York might not have a tech scene without Alan. Greycroft was welcoming and generous when they didn’t have to be.”

- Bradley Tusk, venture capital investor

The firm, like most VC operations, is reticent about publicly discussing its returns. But outside data, subsequently confirmed by Ian Sigalow, shows healthy results: According to research firm Pitchbook, the internal rate of return (IRR), a measure of performance in private companies, for Greycroft’s first two funds hovered around 19.5% annually from 2015 through 2017, squarely in the midrange for VC firms but about twice the annualized return of the S&P 500 over that stretch.

Sigalow adds that the final IRR figures will be higher if and when other portfolio companies enjoy a profitable exit. “By the end of 2017, Greycroft will have generated nearly $400 million of realized gains for LPs [limited partners] from 30 profitable exits,” he told Fortune by email.

Greycroft’s performance, of course, encompasses many misses and a few big hits. Its greatest “exits” so far include the $800 million sale of Buddy Media, a social media management platform, to Salesforce in 2012, as well as Disney’s acquisition of Maker Studios for $675 million in 2014. Greycroft notched another notable exit this September when grocery giant Albertsons bought meal-preparation startup Plated for $300 million.

There’s also no shortage of lost opportunities that partners rue. “We’ve lost more money by not doing stuff,” says Sigalow. “Not investing in a Series A in Twitter cost us a billion.” Sigalow counts selling Venmo too soon as one the firm’s bigger missteps. The ubiquitous payment app, which is now owned by PayPal and could easily fetch over $1 billion, earned Greycroft just $27 million when it sold in 2013 to the merchant banking service Braintree. (One consolation for Greycroft: It also held a position in Braintree, which eBay bought soon after for a reported $800 million.)

At Baltaire, a swank restaurant in the Brentwood section of Los Angeles, the founders of more than a dozen startups are gathered in a private room, networking on Greycroft’s dime. Over dinner and bottles of Napa Valley merlot, they swap stories about building companies. At least a third are women—an unusually high ratio in the often hyper-male VC world. The startups span a diverse range of businesses—from baby cradles to data science—and they’re all getting attention from Greycroft’s network of investors, lawyers, and all-around fixers. If one of the founders needs help with a sales or hiring issue, or is seeking a crucial introduction, chances are good someone at the table will be able to lend a hand.

Founding partner Dana Settle calls Greycroft’s web of connections its “secret sauce.” But the Baltaire dinner also testifies to Settle’s own influence. A poised fortysomething who often flies to New York and back on the same day, Settle is a master networker. She earned money as a girl selling shellfish from the beaches near her home in the Pacific Northwest, and after college she sold spectrum in India for the telecom tycoon Craig McCaw. Since joining Greycroft in 2007, Settle has engineered some of the firm’s most successful bets, including Maker Studios and Trunk Club, which was acquired by Nordstrom (JWN, +0.15%) in 2014 for $350 million.

She has also influenced Patricof, her cofounder and mentor, in ways that have expanded Greycroft’s horizons. Patricof says he once thought of L.A. as a “wasteland” for VC investing. When he first hired Settle, he initially insisted she move to New York. She declined, and Patricof realized it was indeed possible to build a bicoastal firm. Now Greycroft has a strong presence in two cities where big Silicon Valley firms like Sequoia and Kleiner Perkins are less well established. “Alan, Ian, and Dana have access to contacts that other firms don’t,” says Brian Spaly, founder of Trunk Club and clothing chain Bonobos.

In his autobiography, Valley Boy, the late Tom Perkins describes the venture capital landscape at the time he and partner Eugene Kleiner started their iconic, eponymous VC firm in the early 1970s. “The total pool of venture capital at the time … has been estimated to have been much less than $100 million throughout the United States, and all the practitioners could easily be assembled into one moderately sized room.”

It’s an understatement to say things are different today. In 2016 alone, venture capitalists invested a near-record $69.1 billion. There are hundreds of VC firms in the U.S., and newer players, including foreign governments, big tech companies, and mutual funds, are jockeying to join the scene. The upshot is, it has become much harder to get an early bite of the next Facebook or Uber, especially as VC firms known for investing in later-stage startups move their money into younger companies. “All of the later-stage investors are moving earlier because they think their perch is overheated,” explains Wheeler, the Greycroft partner. These same forces also pressure some founders to seek more money sooner, to prove that they’re players.

“These massive West Coast VC firms want huge returns. The vast majority of other firms won’t be able to compete.”

- Mike Lazerow, founder, Buddy Media (a Greycroft investment)

In practice, these trends mean that Series A funding rounds have ballooned from $3 million or so to as much as $20 million, and that “seed” rounds that once leveled off in the hundreds of thousands now hit the millions. That creates problems for smaller firms like Greycroft, which don’t command the resources that imbue a startup with star status. “There are these massive West Coast firms that want huge returns. The vast majority of other firms won’t be able to compete,” says Lazerow of Buddy Media.

Still, Lazerow and others familiar with Greycroft, including investors and CEOs of its portfolio companies, think the firm will hang in by being high-touch, offering connections and coaching, and a reputation as an easy-to-work-with partner. Unlike many VC firm, Greycroft doesn’t insist portfolio companies assign it board seats or name it as the lead investor. The company boasts that it doesn’t block acquisitions to hold out for higher prices, and it encourages partnerships among investors, in what partner Mark Terbeek calls a “federated model.”

Other Greycrofters argue that being small helps the firm steer clear of some of the industry’s abuses. Sigalow says giant funds can create a me-too mentality and pressure to juice results to placate impatient investors. “You have the ability to market an illiquid portfolio a thousand different ways, so it’s very difficult to know if someone’s doing a good job or not until the gains or losses are realized,” he says. In contrast, Greycroft’s straight-shooter reputation has led its limited partner investors, including the Walt Disney Co. (DIS, +2.48%) and Cambridge Associates, to reinvest year after year.

Greycroft also strives for an inclusive, open culture that’s taking on growing importance at a time when venture capital is confronting ugly undercurrents of misogyny and discrimination. The presence and influence of high-ranking women like partners Settle and Wheeler set an important tone. In interviews, female entrepreneurs and journalists spoke highly of Greycroft, and the firm has backed dozens of women founders and CEOs, including BitPesa’s Rossiello and Katherine Power of Clique Media, a fashion media and e-commerce company that now approaches $100 million in revenue.

“It’s too corny to say it’s a happy place, but we built a good environment where people like to work.”

- Alan Patricof, cofounder and managing director, Greycroft Partners

Patricof says he worked to create an environment where people are encouraged to speak their mind, and where racist or sexist attitudes have no place. “I made a point from the beginning that we don’t talk about each other, and that we don’t tolerate backbiting,” he says. “It’s too corny to say it’s a happy place, but we built a good environment.”

These days, Patricof leads fewer investments than his protégés, Sigalow and Settle, and he brings in smaller returns than they do. The younger partners are clearly thriving under that arrangement. Sigalow says his first experience in venture capital was at a firm where junior people didn’t speak; he recalls watching bad deals where he wanted to object but could not. Patricof has set the opposite tone, encouraging the team to cultivate their own relationships and collaborate, and investors are noticing. “LPs are making a bet as much on Ian and Dana,” says Ashton Newhall of Greenspring, a VC firm that is one of Greycroft’s investors.

In return, Patricof gets a team that keeps him up to speed on finance and technology—helping him remain a player for as long as he chooses. Speaking from behind a desk crowded with mementos, he lays out his philosophy in simple terms: “You have to read. You have to go to conferences. You have to stay relevant.” He also has to cut the interview short: He’s rushing off to attend another startup’s big presentation.

A FIVE-DECADE HIT PARADE

Alan Patricof, one of the country’s first venture capitalists, has been a deft trend-spotter through a half-century of technological change. Here are some of his more notable bets.

1967

New York Magazine

In a year that saw the launch of Rolling Stone and the musical Hair—Patricof invested in a pioneer of “new journalism.” New York would go on to become one of the most important voices in American arts and politics; Patricof exited in 1977.

1979–85

Apple and AOL

By the late 1970s, Patricof was steering a global private equity firm, Apax Partners. But he still left his stamp on Silicon Valley as an early-stage funder. He was a second-round investor in a startup called Apple (five years before the release of the first Mac). He also bet on Steve Case’s Quantum Computer Services—which soon changed its name to AOL.

2001–06

Euro-Buyouts

Apax becomes a force to be reckoned with in leveraged buyouts, ¬especially in Europe. The firm lands the 2001 purchase of Yellow Pages and the 2005 buyout of Danish phone company TDC for $15.3 billion¬—the biggest LBO in European history at the time.

2006

Huffington Post

Patricof returns to early-stage investing with his new firm, Greycroft Partners. New media remains a passion: Patricof is part of a $5 million first round into the Huffington Post—which is bought six years later by another of his early investments, AOL, for $315 million.

2007–17

Venmo and more

With the help of a new generation of protégés, Patricof’s Greycroft becomes one of the leading VC firms in New York and L.A., where Silicon Valley giants cast less of a shadow. Hot payment app Venmo is one of its best-known early bets (though the firm’s partners kick themselves for selling too soon). But it also scores with film company Maker Studios (sold to Disney) and meal-prep startup Plated (to Albertsons).

A version of this article appears in the Dec. 15, 2017 issue of Fortune with the headline “An Ageless VC Gets an Act Three.”

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