Finding My Virginity: The New Autobiography

by Richard Branson

  I was intrigued. The invitation had come somewhat out of the blue. I turned up to an apartment that was undoubtedly opulent, but not as flashy as I had anticipated. That was not the only part of the lunch that didn’t turn out as expected. Even before the starters had arrived, Donald was warming to what he wanted to talk to me about: the various people he was planning to take revenge on for refusing his request for help.

  “I phoned ten people for financial help when I was in trouble,” he said. “Five of those people said they wouldn’t help me.” This rejection had not gone down well: Donald went on to spend the rest of this bizarre lunch telling me how he was going to dedicate his life to destroying those five people.

  “I don’t think that’s the best way of spending your time,” I told him when I could get a word in. “This is going to eat you up, and do more damage to you than them. Isn’t this just a waste of time and effort? You’d be far better forgiving them.”

  Donald just shook his head and carried on explaining at length how and why he was going to destroy each of them in turn. “These people didn’t help me when I needed them. They turned their back on me,” he continued to vent.

  “That’s a shame,” I offered. “But isn’t life too short to waste on petty squabbles?”

  As I tried to eat my chicken soup, I couldn’t help questioning why on earth he was telling me this. As he continued to run through his list of main offenders in detail, I wondered if he was going to ask me for help. If he had, I would have become the sixth person on his list.

  “I really don’t think these people have done anything to deserve this,” I said. “There must be a better way to occupy your life?”

  I came to regret those words later, when he announced he was going to run for President!

  As I went down in the lift, I had an idea for making a film about a businessman out to destroy five people, and the methods he uses. But I decided that it would be too far-fetched, and no one would believe anybody could be so crass. I remember contrasting it with a subsequent lunch I had with Hillary Clinton, which we spent talking about education reform, drug policy, women’s rights, conflicts around the world and criminal justice reform. She was a great listener as well as a very eloquent speaker.

  As far as Donald Trump is concerned, the meeting was a completely wasted opportunity. I left his apartment feeling quite sorry for him.

  —

  I didn’t hear from Donald Trump after that meal for over a decade. Then, in 2004, my television show The Rebel Billionaire went on air.

  I’ve always had a love of adventure, whether that was climbing trees as a child or mountains as an adult. That has fed into my working life, too: adventure has always been a huge part of the Virgin brand, and one of the main reasons why we have been able to expand so widely and continually for so long. So when Fox offered me the opportunity to host a TV show designed to encourage the adventurous streaks in other entrepreneurs, it was an easy decision to accept.

  The Rebel Billionaire was a business reality show with a twist. While I appreciated shows such as The Apprentice for bringing the idea of entrepreneurship to a wider audience, I had never wanted to get involved myself. Shows like this tend to be edited to focus upon people’s worst, most negative characteristics. The Rebel Billionaire, by contrast, promised to be different. Rather than setting the contestants business tasks, I would instead be able to share my experiences through extreme adventures.

  Videos started flooding in with participants pitching why they should be on the show. One of the applications stood out right away, from a woman called Sara Blakely who had started a new company called Spanx in her basement. She was concise, had a clear vision for her business and seemed like fun. Another excellent video came from a guy called Shawn Nelson who ran a versatile, modern furniture company named Lovesac. They both made the list of the sixteen final contestants.

  We started filming the twelve shows in November 2004. We began by assembling all the contestants at Heathrow in London, where they were met by an elderly taxi driver, who was to drive them to my then home in Oxford. The taxi driver, who had a very bad limp and a walking stick in his hand, observed the contestants closely. When the contestants arrived in Oxfordshire, he surreptitiously took notes on which of them made him carry the luggage out of the taxi. Were they friendly, or were they rude? Did they engage in conversation or ignore him? Then, that evening over dinner, the taxi driver walked in to meet everybody. He pulled off his mask to reveal . . . it was me all along! There were gasps from the contestants, especially the two who had been most unpleasant to the man they thought was just a taxi driver. Sixteen contestants immediately became fourteen and they found themselves driven back to the airport (though not by me this time).

  The series took myself and contestants around the world, with the challenges continuing everywhere from Morocco to South Africa. All the while, I whittled down the contestants based on their decision making, bravery and leadership skills. The last characteristic was particularly important, as I had kept the grand prize a secret. As well as winning $1 million, they would be handed the keys to the whole Virgin Group, becoming president for three months. This also upped the stakes for me—I had to find somebody who could help us run hundreds of companies.

  A particularly telling episode took place at Victoria Falls, on the Zambezi River, on the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. The point of the exercise was to see if the contestants had the courage and good sense to say no. It is very important to take risks in life and business, but they need to be calculated—there is no point risking your neck for something with little chance of success (as I’d learned the hard way in Vegas!).

  I asked one of the contestants, Sam Heshmati, to join me in a special NASA-designed barrel and plunge 170 feet over the waterfall. Sam hardly blinked as a crane lowered us down into the river’s rapid current. We counted down from ten for the barrel to be released, sweat pouring off our faces. As we reached five he exhaled deeply, a look of fear in his eyes. I realized he was willing to go through with it. A split second before we were due to drop, I screamed “Stop!” I made Sam look down and stare at the rocks below, which would have ripped our bodies to shreds.

  “You were three seconds from death,” I told him, before sending him home. “Question things more! You shouldn’t blindly accept a leader’s advice.”

  That wasn’t even the most dangerous challenge: that dubious honor goes to walking a plank between two hot-air balloons while flying 10,000 feet above the ground. After most of the contestants made it across, Tim Hudson and Sara hesitated and opted to use the safety wires instead. To allow them to redeem themselves, I challenged them to climb a ladder up to the top of the balloon, where I would meet them.

  This meant that I had to haul myself up a swinging 100-foot rope ladder as well. With nothing but the distant ground beneath my feet, my heart was in my mouth as the rope wobbled in the wind. It was as though the ladder had concertinaed out, hundreds of rungs long, and seemed tougher than any mountain I’d ever climbed. I made it to the top, though, where I composed myself in the manner of an English country gentleman, sat down at a table and poured three cups of tea. Tim climbed up next, without too much drama, but Sara was afraid of heights and struggled terribly. Just as she was about to reach the summit, she slipped and almost fell through a vent. It was with some relief that we all were able to sit down, hurl the now lukewarm tea down our necks and race back down before the balloon ran out of fuel.

  Sara had impressed me with her attitude as much as her business plans, and it was no surprise that she made it to the final. But in the end, I decided Shawn could benefit most from winning, as his talent was so raw. As we stood on the balcony of the Great House on Necker, however, I had a final twist in store for him. I took out the $1 million check and held it just out of his reach.

  “You’ve got a choice,” I told him. “You can take the money, or toss a coin for an even bigger prize.”<
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  Shawn’s final dilemma summed up the show. The program had been about adventure, but also about understanding the risks, and learning when to say no. It’s one thing being bold; it’s another altogether risking your future on pure chance.

  Shawn, I could see, was torn over his decision. “What would you do, Richard?” he asked.

  “It’s up to you,” I replied.

  To me, the answer was obvious, but it was for Shawn to work out for himself. As he paced up and down the terrace, I could see he wanted to show off (and make better television) by gambling. But was that moment of adrenaline really worth throwing away the chance to transform his company, and the lives of his employees? Finally, he was ready.

  “I’ll take the check,” he told me.

  I gladly handed it over. “If you had gone for the coin toss,” I told him, “I would have lost all respect for you.”

  Shawn learned a lot on the show, and took his experiences back to Lovesac, which has grown into one of the world’s top furniture companies. And while Sara didn’t win the show, I gave her an additional $750,000 to start her own foundation supporting women through entrepreneurship and education. As well as growing her charity, Sara built her business, Spanx, into an industry creating a “shapewear” brand. They sold $4 million worth of products in their first year without even having a website and Sara became the youngest woman in the world to create a billion-dollar company on her own. She has gone on to become the first individual woman to join Bill Gates and Warren Buffett’s Giving Pledge (my family and I have also joined, pledging to give half of all proceeds we take out of Virgin Group to good causes). Not bad for someone who started her company because she “wanted to make her butt look even better!”

  Sara and I are now good friends and she joined me on the judging panel for Virgin Media Business’ pitching contest for start-ups, VOOM. It was really satisfying seeing her pass on the expertise she has learned from her years in business.

  “It’s just like the old days,” I told her. “Except we’re on the floor—not the top of a balloon.”

  —

  While The Rebel Billionaire was an absolute blast to make, was a beneficial experience for all the people involved and, hopefully, made for some entertaining television, not everyone was impressed with the show. Donald Trump, by now the host of The Apprentice, did not take kindly to having a rival, however friendly and well-meaning.

  When I did the press rounds to promote the show, I was inevitably asked how my program differed from The Apprentice.

  “It’s more about adventure and entrepreneurship than confrontation and boardroom dealing,” I’d explain.

  I was also regularly asked how my management style compared to Donald’s. Each time, my answer was the same: we had very different personalities. I didn’t say anything false or mean about him, merely pointing out our contrasting personas. Donald, however, didn’t see it that way. He began making horrid, personal comments about me in the press. When I ignored these, he wrote to me directly, firing off the following letter on 12 November 2004:

  Dear Richard,

  . . . now that I have watched your show, I wish you came to me and asked my advice—I would have told you not to bother. You have no television persona and, as I found out with others a long time ago, if it’s not there there’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.

  At least your dismal ratings can now allow you to concentrate on your airline which, I am sure, needs every ounce of your energy. It is obviously a terrible business and I can’t imagine, with fuel prices etc., that you can be doing any better in it than anyone else. Like television, you should try to get out of the airline business too, as soon as possible! Actually, I wonder out loud how you can be anywhere close to a billionaire and be in that business. Perhaps the title of your show, The Rebel Billionaire, is misleading?

  In any event, do not use me to promote your rapidly sinking show—you are a big boy, try doing it yourself!

  Sincerely,

  Donald J. Trump

  I couldn’t help but respond to that. As politely as possible, I replied five days later:

  Dear Donald,

  Thanks for your note. I think if you look carefully through the press cuttings, I have actually avoided “nasty” comments. I have enjoyed the time we have spent together and would not denigrate you personally.

  Having said that, every interviewer has asked what differentiates us. Since I disagree with some of your 10 rules for success, I’ve cited two of those. Your advice for people not to shake hands—and your advice that you should go all out to get your own back on anyone who crosses you. I believe my thoughts to be honest, fair comment. I told you the same when we had lunch together and you told me that you were going to spend whatever it took to get your own back on those who had not returned your calls and had not helped you when you were near bankruptcy. I believed it was a waste of your talent and energy and is not the best advice to give budding entrepreneurs.

  I have read what I believe can be construed as “nasty” comments from you about myself in the press over the last couple of weeks and—although tempted—have to date decided not to respond to them and to rise above them. Suffice to say that I have created six billion dollar empires in six completely different sectors and I think that that qualifies Fox to title this show “The Rebel Billionaire” (in the airline business alone—that you cite—I have made over $2 billion in personal shares I have sold in Virgin Atlantic and Virgin Blue and still own 51 percent and 25 percent respectively). Perhaps you could re-read what I have said to date and decide whether it’s worth us remaining as friends—or alternatively, you adding me to your list of enemies! It’s your call.

  Kind regards, Richard.

  I didn’t get a reply for another decade. I guess my name was added to that list!

  —

  It wasn’t until 2015 that I heard from Donald again. Now he was making headlines for a different reason: as a candidate for the Republican nomination for President of the United States. Whenever I saw Mr. Trump’s rabble-rousing speeches on television, or heard his poll numbers were surging, I thought back to our bizarre meeting. Then I remembered our later correspondence. Could this man really be a serious contender for the White House? It appeared so.

  On 22 September 2015, I received another note from Donald Trump’s office. I was sitting at the Temple on Necker Island when I opened it, with some apprehension: “Good afternoon Mr. Branson. As per Mr. Trump’s request, please see the attached note. Thank you!” I looked at the sender’s name, took a sip of tea and opened the attachment, wondering what on earth it could be. Inside, I found an article from the 15 September edition of the Los Angeles Times about the burgeoning commercial space industry. Under the heading “Astronomical Undertakings,” Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk and I were profiled. Donald Trump had taken a black Sharpie pen and drawn a big arrow pointing at my photo, before writing the words “RICHARD—GREAT!”

  My immediate suspicion was that Jeff and Elon would have received identical notes. Laughing, I turned to my assistant Helen Clarke and said: “You have to take your hat off to Donald for having the time to do things like this!”

  More notes of a similar nature followed, including invitations to his box at Flushing Meadows for the US Open. Normally, I’m a great believer in people befriending those they’ve fallen out with, but on this occasion I must admit I was skeptical of the timing. If he’d sent his note any time during the decade before his presidential bid, I might have attended. Donald seemed to have forgotten his nasty earlier letters. Instead, he seemed so keen to recruit high-profile people to support his presidential bid that he had taken to flattery via e-mail. If he had taken a quick look into my advocacy work on anything from refugees to drug reform, gun control to climate change, he would have realized I was one businessperson his divisive rhetoric and bullying behavior would not impress.

  I suspect he never anti
cipated his presidential campaign would go as far as it did, and was as surprised as anybody when he began to look like a serious candidate for the presidency. There have been times throughout history when fears about immigration and unstable economies have been exploited by demagogues, using falsehoods and hate to stir up unrest. This was no different. “I would like to see an entrepreneur become President one day,” I wrote. “I believe entrepreneurial thinking is incredibly valuable in leaders, and there are many entrepreneurs who I would be delighted to see in power—just not this one.”

  Would I ever support Trump? No. But would I try to talk to him about issues I care about, from climate change to criminal justice reform, and encourage him to take a better approach? Of course. As I told him all those years ago, life is too short for enemies and the spirit of forgiveness is far stronger than the spirit of revenge.

  Would Donald agree? Sadly, I doubt it.

  CHAPTER 13

  Crossing the Channel

  Dover, June 2004. It was a glorious summer morning as I crunched my way down onto the beach, feeling somewhat overdressed. As the seagulls circled and squawked overhead, I hoped that they would decide not to treat my black dinner jacket and bow tie as target practice. The same went for the equally black vehicle waiting in front of me: the sleek, top-of-the-range, open-top sports car design of the Gibbs Aquada. On land, the vehicle had an amazing turn of speed, and, as I climbed in, I turned the ignition to hear the low, powerful thrum of its engine: this was a vehicle that could accelerate into the distance at the tap of the pedal. But the car’s speed wasn’t its defining feature. After a quick rev, I waved to the assembled crowd of well-wishers and then, feeling only slightly nervous, drove it straight into the sea.

  Ever since I had watched Thunderbirds as a teenager back in the 1960s, I had wondered when aquatic cars would become a reality. Now, forty years later, the amphibious cars of the show had been turned from toys into something real. I’d wanted to do something special to mark the twentieth anniversary of Virgin Atlantic’s launch, and this seemed the perfect opportunity to fulfill a childhood dream. We’d borrowed Gibbs Technologies’ Aquada and now the challenge was set: not just to see whether it would float, but whether I could make it into The Guinness Book of Records for the fastest crossing of the English Channel by an amphibious vehicle.