How successful I’d be in that market is open to debate. My friend Elon Musk notoriously told Management Today in 2014 (though he’s since assured me he was misquoted!) that I lack practical technological skills: “I like Richard and I think he’s doing some cool things. But technology is not really his whack.” To a degree, he was right. We have very different brains, which is part of the reason we get on so well. He has a lot more technical knowledge than me and is very detail-focused, while I think in broader strokes. We’d probably make a good team. As I once joked while he was holidaying on Necker: “If you don’t have your own ventures one day, you’re welcome to come and run one of mine—just brush up on your people skills.”
What I am good at is coming up with interesting ideas and then finding amazing people to turn them into reality. I see investing in start-ups in the same way. I’m not always caught up in the details of what a particular app will or won’t do; I’m more interested in the personalities behind the companies, and the purpose within their visions. I’d happily invest in a company that ends up failing in order to find a young entrepreneur who will go on to change the world. Entrepreneurs are the job creators and innovators of the future; it’s up to those of us who have been fortunate enough to have some success to give them all the support we can. It’s a privilege to see so many entrepreneurs taking their start-ups to the next level and transforming the way the world lives, thinks and does business.
When I meet entrepreneurs, especially in tech, I am often struck by how young they are. But then, when I started out, I was a teenager. The only other entrepreneur people had heard of (though nobody used the word “entrepreneur”) was Body Shop founder Anita Roddick. There was British Airways, British Steel, British Telecom, British Coal, British Gas, British Rail—the government ran everything, and poorly. Entrepreneurship wasn’t something “proper” people did. It was seen as a dirty business, as if the idea of creating and making money from it was beneath people.
Over the last fifty years, thankfully, that has changed and there are new, exciting breakthroughs all the time. Today I wore a pair of Snapchat Spectacles on the tennis court to film my game, then took an update call about M-Kopa, the East Africa solar energy provider we have invested in. Tomorrow there will be another breakthrough. Entrepreneurs are now everywhere, and society is benefiting.
There is a popular sentiment that if you haven’t made it in tech by the age of twenty-seven, it’s unlikely you’ll make it at all. The same used to be true in music, though, of course, many artists haven’t made it past the age of twenty-seven. It is wonderful that so many young people are succeeding in business and I hope they will have progressive attitudes and use their wealth and influence for good. One has to hope they have the maturity to look after their companies and, most importantly, their people well. In my experience, some have that, some haven’t. Like lottery winners, entrepreneurs who make huge amounts of money overnight can be slightly confused about what to do with it. I met the WhatsApp founder Jan Koum in San Francisco after Facebook bought his app for $19 billion. He was so rich so young and hadn’t given much thought about how it was going to change his life. But, thankfully, he did want to look after his team and use his money as a force for good—I’m sure he will. After five decades, I have much experience in how to use my wealth, know what I want and have more understanding about what causes to focus on.
Does this focus on non-Virgin companies mean I’m less focused on my own brand? Not at all. When I wrote Losing My Virginity, we were still fighting to survive and that book documented all the struggles. In the last twenty years it would have been extremely stupid of me to let the Virgin Group go under, as we’ve built up such a strong brand to play off of. I’ve been able to spend a lot more time speaking out on issues I care about and encouraging others to do the same. But I do worry about Virgin not continuing to take risks in the way we used to. We now have the resources to do things with a long-term perspective for the first time. We can consider building hotels, cruise ships and spacelines that will take years to come to fruition, rather than needing to get records sold each week to balance the books, or an airline up and flying in six weeks to stay in business. Now, it’s absolutely critical to keep that early hunger I had. I mustn’t get complacent; I’ve still got to be fleet of foot and quick to jump upon opportunities. There is a danger Virgin could become too risk-averse without me. It is easier for me, as the founder, to be risky. When you’re CEO or a board member, it is more difficult, as you are playing with somebody else’s money. But I have every confidence the adventurous streak that Virgin was built on runs deep, alongside the shrewd business sense. With a sound investment strategy and a great team, our success rate should keep going up—but only if we keep sticking our necks out.
—
At the same time as we were preparing our flotation of Virgin Money, similar plans were also in line for Virgin America. While Scotland had proved to be an issue for the former, for the latter our challenge was epitomized by the second-largest state in the Union: Texas.
The first time we’d landed in Dallas in December 2010 on our inaugural flight from Los Angeles, I’d thrown on some leather, spurs and a cowboy hat to wrangle a herd of Texas longhorns. After a few attempts I was cow-herding like John Wayne (or so I thought.)
“This is the most unique airline inaugural Dallas has ever seen,” the airport manager told me, which you could take both ways.
“I don’t know if you mean that as a compliment,” I smiled, “but I’m certainly going to take it as one!”
Still wearing my cowboy gear, I was introduced to Willie Nelson, who was fresh from being arrested for having marijuana on his tour bus. He was performing for us at the Dallas Opera House that night (our Free Willy party!) and invited me onto his tour bus. Let’s just say that by the time his set began we were both very, very relaxed!
While we were proud to be serving Dallas/Fort Worth, we also wanted to fly into Love Field, a downtown airport more convenient for business travelers. Love Field had not been open for business for many years. In 1979, the Wright Amendment was enacted, heavily restricting air traffic at Love Field and allowing hometown business Southwest Airlines a monopoly. The result was that, with a lack of choice, consumers were quickly being ripped off. Fares rose 37 percent over five years, the largest increase anywhere for an airport of its size.
When the Wright Amendment was lifted in October 2014, we seized the opportunity to bring fair competition to the market. We weren’t asking for much—just two gates. We got approval to fly from the Department of Justice but, as ever in the airline industry, it wasn’t that simple. Southwest wanted to keep their monopoly and, as the hometown airline, wielded a lot of power. To get round this, we hatched a plan to take Dallas by surprise, holding an impromptu landing and press conference. I raced over from Necker and tried to liven up the political debate going on behind the scenes for control of the gates. We started selling tickets to destinations we planned to service, from New York to DC, San Francisco to LA. Sure, we didn’t actually have the slots to fly them yet, but why let that get in the way? Our event turned into a heady mix between a political rally and a party, falling on the same day as Cinco de Mayo celebrations. In total, more than 28,000 people signed our petition to support free-market competition. Our message was getting out there.
Not everyone was as impressed, though. Jennifer Gates, one of the Dallas council’s key decision-makers, emailed us saying she was horrified, particularly by my behavior at the party: “I have to tell you I am appalled watching the news tonight that Virgin believes they can win the gates with tequila shots and Branson body-surfing the crowd. It is belittling to the process, which I believe should be governed by our legal advice and what is best for Dallas.”
I replied graciously, reminding her she was missing the bigger picture: “Really sorry if the news coverage of our event last night—and my crowd-surfing—offended you,” I replied. “At the event, we were
celebrating with our supporters and we’d just let the KIPP Dallas school know we had raised $55,000 for their college trips based on our first day of Love Field sales, and I asked the crowd if we should top it off with a drink—and they agreed (perhaps, not surprisingly!). In the same way that [Southwest Airlines founder] Herb Kelleher taught us thirty years ago to drive more competition and lower fares in the States. We wanted to raise awareness and I hoped we were doing it in a way that made people smile. The last thing I wanted to do was offend. I am very sorry if I did so. We respect the City’s process—and hope to have the opportunity to bring lower fares and a bit of competition to Dallas flyers.”
Behind the scenes, powerful local interests were putting the pressure on city leaders. We fought back with humor: on the day of the Dallas City Council’s decision, we leaked a tongue-in-cheek love letter I wrote to Love Field. The accompanying video of me pining over my unrequited love spread rapidly: “My dearest Love. From the moment I knew I had a shot at you, you were all that I could think of. Others would keep you all to themselves. I invite competition for your affections. Nay, I demand it. After all, no one should have a monopoly on your love. My virile, young planes are yearning for your runways. You make my heart soar to the highest heights, and my fares drop to the lowest lows. You have the window seat to my heart, kitten. It’s time to let our love take flight, no matter how hard they try to keep us apart. Your sweetheart, Richard.”
The following day, due to public pressure, hard work from the team and common sense from the authorities, we were finally awarded the gates. I was proud that our efforts to win the hearts and minds of the public had not gone unnoticed. It proved once again that having the facts on your side is one thing, but telling a great story with just enough charm and chutzpah can make all the difference.
CHAPTER 33
The Accident
A few weeks before the next planned powered test flight in Mojave in October 2014, I traveled over to see the Virgin Galactic team for some training even closer to the real thing—a thrilling g-force training flight.
Virgin Galactic chief pilot Dave Mackay took me up in an Extra 300L plane, a small but ultra-fast and reliable aircraft trainer. It reminded me of the time I went up in the back of a Spitfire for a UK TV show. I was arguing that the Spitfire was the greatest plane ever built, so had to keep talking up what a beautiful machine it was and how smooth it handled. I got the chance to prove my point by taking it for a spin. With perfect timing, however, I was hit with a horrible wave of sickness. It doesn’t matter how fit you are, sometimes sickness can overwhelm even the best prepared body. You can train to try to avoid these things and overcome the fear of the unknown that can cause sickness—but it can still happen. I put my hand over the camera pointing at my face and promptly threw up, managing to direct it into a paper bag and avoid the plane’s vintage interior.
I was keen not to repeat this when Dave took me up in the Extra 300L, and remembered a trick my mum had taught me from her stewardess days, when plane rides were a lot more bumpy than they are today. She recommended a few swigs of prune juice to settle the stomach, so I gulped down a glass before strapping myself into the plane. Not a good idea! I forgot my mum was dyslexic, too—prunes help with constipation, they don’t settle stomachs. The main reason for undertaking the flight was to become more confident and comfortable in handling elevated levels of g-force in a real-life situation. I would also be able to experience microgravity and enjoy a landing very similar to a typical SpaceShipTwo approach onto the Mojave strip.
The Extra 300L is an in-line two-seater aircraft in which the pilot sits in the rear seat and the co-pilot (me) sits in the front. In other words, I had the best view in the house. The arid landscape looked stunning from above, and eerie when we circled over the famous aircraft graveyard where dozens of old commercial planes are lined up, rusting away more slowly in the desert. As I was looking down, Dave gradually built up the g-force as we climbed higher and higher. We went up from 2 g to 2.5 g, to 3 g then 3.5 g, with gradual building up, then easing off. I practiced the anti-g straining maneuver I had learned in my training and, thankfully, felt fine the whole time, having got rid of the prune juice before we took off.
“Can we do a few loop the loops?” I asked, growing in confidence and unable to resist having a little extra fun. Dave is a born flyer and was happy to oblige. We did a few loops before he surprised me with a barrel roll. I even got to try out flying the plane. It was a magical experience and I felt more ready for my spaceflight than ever. When we landed, Dave turned to me.
“Have you ever thought of being a pilot yourself?” he asked.
I considered it for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever really wanted to be a pilot. I wouldn’t trust myself, my mind wanders too much. It’s different in a hot-air balloon. The balloon wanders all by itself!”
That afternoon, we had a grand reunion of everyone involved in winning the XPRIZE. Burt Rutan was there, full of terrific tales and homespun wisdom. I loved swapping stories with Brian Binnie, Anousheh Ansari, Peter Diamandis and the gang, and we all wondered where the past decade had gone.
I then hot-footed it back over to the FAITH hangar for a sneak peek at the uniforms we will wear to space. I had been told they were quite daring and dark. A designer was waiting for me in the boardroom wearing what, at first glance, I worried was the uniform. Lawrence Midwood was from Y-3, Japanese designer Yohji Yamamoto’s collaboration with Adidas. I’m rarely up to date when it comes to fashion; I thought he was still in his pajamas.
“Did you forget to get dressed this morning?” I joked.
Thankfully, he took it well, and the uniforms he eventually unveiled were very different from his own outfit. I felt a small thrill as I pulled on an all-in-one navy flight suit. The designer explained how it was made from a heat-resistant synthetic material called Nomex® Meta-Aramid, and that it was woven using a 3D-engineered pattern. Most importantly, it looked and felt great.
Burt had kept his pyramid house in the desert. After the fitting, I took a group of our future astronauts over there to share our latest plans. It had been a while since I had been there, and the beautiful alien murals and remarkable airplane designs inside the great pyramid structure had been updated. It couldn’t have been more Burt if it had had a pair of mutton-chop whiskers on the walls. I kept looking around the room, seeing my own excitement reflected on everybody else’s faces.
As I departed, I had no idea that the next time I would return to Mojave would be the most difficult journey of my life.
—
From: George Whitesides
To: Richard Branson
10/31/2014 7:07 AM
Weather trend unfavorable. Will keep you updated.
Early in the morning on 31 October 2014 I was sitting at home on Necker Island with a feeling of schoolboy excitement. Around me, Halloween decorations were being hung up all around the house and kids were trying on their costumes. But my mind was elsewhere: I was waiting for historic news from the Mojave Desert, where Scaled Composites was intending to carry out the fourth powered flight test of SpaceShipTwo. To add to the tension, the weather was delaying takeoff. It left me on tenterhooks, as I waited for CEO George Whitesides and the Virgin Galactic team monitoring the situation to update me.
From: George Whitesides
To: Richard Branson
10/31/2014 9:22 AM
Takeoff. So far winds are holding.
This was it. I could feel my fingers tingling with anticipation. If this test flight was successful, SpaceShipTwo would be flying faster than ever before, going supersonic, soaring through the skies to the edge of space, traveling higher than any commercial vehicle in history and making another giant leap toward commercial space travel.
Back on Necker Island I was conducting an interview about Virgin Galactic to the Sundog Pictures team, who were making a documentary about my ballooning activities. I spoke excit
edly about the flight test and shared my hopes of flying to space myself in the next year, with more powered flight tests provisionally scheduled for the coming months.
From: George Whitesides
To: Richard Branson
10/31/2014 9:57 AM
Update: if we drop, probably around 10 minutes past hour.
Over at the Mojave Air and Space Port in California, optimism was high, buoyed by the previous three successful powered test flights. The wind was just about holding off and it looked as if SpaceShipTwo would get up in the air. The team from Scaled Composites, were in the control room and many of the Virgin Galactic team were out on the tarmac, having downed tools to watch the test.
At 12:20 p.m. local time, WhiteKnightTwo took off, with SpaceShipTwo secured to its underbelly. The mothership flew smoothly off the runway and began its climb to an altitude of 50,000 feet. Dave Mackay was at the controls of the mothership, with Pete Siebold and Mike Alsbury from Scaled in the spaceship.
At 1:10 p.m., WhiteKnightTwo released the spaceship as planned and it flew freely into the clear blue sky. The pilots experienced a split-second drop through the air, before igniting the rocket. They were pushed back into their seats by the sheer force of the rocket and began their planned ascent up toward the edge of space.
Back on Necker my eyes were glued to my iPad, waiting for George Whitesides to email through the next live update on the test. I got a call from Sam, who was in Philadelphia, carrying out centrifuge training and medical examinations in preparation for our future spaceflight together. There wasn’t a date in place, but it was moving ever closer with each successful test. As Sam phoned from inside the test center, I marveled at his timing.
Finding My Virginity: The New Autobiography Page 32