I chose the University of Southern California because I wanted to stay in L.A. and because it had a famous Entrepreneur Program, which promised to provide young students with the skills necessary to become successful businesspeople. I’d long since decided that I wanted to run my own business as an adult. I had always been impressed with the fact that my father was his own boss and while he wasn’t always as successful as he wanted to be, he was a tireless worker. That appealed to me and, frankly, I started to think to myself, “Hell, I can do this.” I loved the business classes at USC. I poured myself into study, fascinated with the complexities and challenges of business. I found that I had a genuine aptitude for it like nothing else. As a sideline, I took endless courses in film and television, having gained a lasting affection for making movies when I appropriated my father’s super 8mm film camera as a child.
College was a revelation for me. My braces were off, I had my own apartment and I finally had a few dollars in my pocket. I was ready to explore life, and meet new people. The first thing I discovered in college is the value of friendship. I made great friends there. Perhaps my best friend at the time was a guy named Mark Rousso. Mark and I hit it off immediately because he liked women as much as I did. Together we invented some pretty novel (and frankly embarrassing) ways to meet women. Stories to fill a book! Today Mark’s a very successful talent manager and remains one of my closest friends. Another friend at school was Chandler Robbins, a talented film student who now works as postproduction supervisor at Girls Gone Wild.
I made a second great discovery during college that was to have a huge impact on my life: Spring Break. In my freshman year I went to San Felipé , Mexico, where I saw my first wet T-shirt contest. It was the most stimulating thing I’d ever seen in my life, and it made me a changed man. The first thing this changed man wanted to do was … see another wet T-shirt contest. I had never imagined college girls could be so wild. The whole Spring Break experience was infused with a sense of fun and freedom that I found absolutely exhilarating. And more to the point, it was infused with naked breasts! They were everywhere! And what man doesn’t love breasts? Tan, firm, real, 19-year-old breasts? Frankly, I went more than a little crazy that Spring Break (more stories to save for another time). I realized then and there that there isn’t anything I appreciate more in the whole world than girls. Especially when they’re naked. If only there was a way to turn this obsession into a career.
Later in the school year, my roommates and I took a study break, piled into a car one night and drove to a strip club in Hollywood. Breasts again. But as the girls danced naked for us, I wasn’t content just sitting there staring, like my friends. So I boldly approached a couple of dancers, made some small talk and invited them back to our apartment after work. On the drive home, I told my roommates I couldn’t wait for the strippers to arrive. They burst into laughter. “What’s so funny?” I asked. They laughed even harder. Bobby, who was a player on the Trojan football team, said, “If those girls actually show up, I will get down on my knees and personally lick your asshole.” I felt like an idiot. But two hours later, when we were heading for bed, the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and the two girls I talked to at the club stepped into the apartment. Strippers! In our apartment! My roommates were agape. I took the cutest one to my room to “show her my fish tank.” Those roommates never laughed at me again (and for the record, I declined the promised asshole-licking).
As part of the USC Entrepreneur Program, and as a condition for completing it, each student has to develop a viable business plan. This means selecting a product or service and putting together a complete strategy for its successful marketing. Over the years, I watched my father launch one business after another, with varying results. His most recent venture was a cosmetics line marketed under a name I gave him, “University Medical Products.” His flagship product was a thigh cream sold through direct marketing. Direct marketing means taking your pitch directly to consumers through TV, newspapers or the mail (and today, the internet), rather than wholesaling to retailers who then sell to the public. After studying my father’s business, I put together a plan designed to market a series of instructional videotapes called “Secrets of Successful Gambling.” I was pretty proud of it. I thought it was a foolproof plan. But my professors were not impressed. I got a C, but it didn’t bother me because I considered the source. These were teachers, I thought to myself, not businessmen. If they had any real talent for making money they’d actually be out in the world doing it. I graduated from USC in 1995 and couldn’t wait to put it behind me. The only part of college I wasn’t anxious to leave forever was the chicks.
I had hoped to put my business plan into practice after graduating, but I couldn’t raise enough money to actually produce the gambling tapes. I tried working for my father, but quickly discovered that there wasn’t room for two ambitious entrepreneurs in his office. Besides, I knew I would never succeed to the level I aspired to by working for him, so I set out on my own. Hoping to tap the skills I had developed in film and TV classes, I went to work in television production. At first, all I produced was coffee and bagels for the office. The closest I got to a camera was when I had to walk past one on my way to the parking lot to make some producer’s dry cleaning run.
I moved from job to job in Hollywood, constantly seeking better opportunities. In time I landed a $350-per-week production assistant gig at “Real TV,” a syndicated TV show that featured footage from various sources of extraordinary events not covered in mainstream news. Working in the studio, I heard of a compilation tape the show’s staff members passed around to each other. The tape contained footage too disturbing for broadcast TV. Things like animal attacks, accidents and executions. It was wildly popular around the production office, and I was fascinated by the fact that something so popular had no apparent value to the TV show I was working on, since it couldn’t be aired on TV. I remember thinking, “If there was a way to get this material to the public, they would eat it up.” Recalling the direct marketing plan I developed in school, it hit me like a brick to the head: Maybe this is the product that could make my plan work! I thought about it for a while, talked to some friends (who all thought I was nuts) and decided to take a chance. I drew cash advances on my credit cards and licensed the sensational footage – meaning, I paid the sources of the tape for the right to use it. Together with Richard Crystal (brother of Billy Crystal), we wrote, produced and edited a tape that included professional narration and music. All I needed was a title. The first name that popped into my head was as simple as it was effective, and gave me a product I knew I could sell: “Banned from Television.”
BANNED FROM TELEVISION
I quit my production assistant job, put together an eye-catching commercial and purchased the only airtime I could afford, on late-night TV. I waited anxiously to see if we’d get a nibble. For days, I waited. For weeks, nothing happened. I spent many sleepless nights sweating into my pillow, wondering if I had just made the stupidest mistake of my life. “Banned From Television” was not an immediate success. A few orders trickled in, but nothing worth celebrating. I’d made friends with the owner of Hollywood Center Studios, where “Real TV” was shot. He graciously loaned me a small office with a desk and telephone to use as my “company headquarters.” Having an office on the studio lot allowed me to feel like an actual businessman, but the fact was I had no job and no income. I was eating at Kenny Rogers Roasters every day because I could get a filling lunch for $3.35, and growing increasingly anxious that I might actually have to go to my father and beg for my job back.
In time, though, orders from the TV commercials began to pick up enough that I cautiously started to believe my plan might work. I splurged on what I thought was my first extravagance: an office fax machine. It felt like a huge deal to spend $185 at Staples, but it also gave me the sense that I was, finally, a genuine businessman. It’s funny, but even today when I come across a similar expenditure in my company’s reports; it still feels like a big deal.
During the fall of 1997, we watched as orders for “Banned From Television” rose steadily from a few orders per day to dozens, then hundreds. Success! I hired eight new employees, and in 1998 I celebrated our growing success with my first true indulgence: a black convertible Porsche 911. I was still sharing a rented condo with two other guys and subsisting on fast food, but at least I could feel good pulling up to the drive-through window in my new car.
As “Banned From Television” became successful, I experienced something new in my life: Envy. Not mine, but the envy of others. Anything I’ve ever acquired in life, I’ve been happy to share with my friends. I don’t want them to be envious of me. It’s only the envy of people I’ve never met that has ever caused me any grief. An employee at “Real TV” that I had never spoken with noticed the money we were making and declared that he originated the idea for marketing the same video footage. He filed a lawsuit demanding that I share my profits. Never having been sued before, I naively assumed –because I had done nothing wrong– that I had nothing to worry about. Instead of retaining an experienced lawyer, I hired a friend who had just graduated from law school. My friend didn’t know what he was doing. The judge barred me from putting on a defense due to legal technicalities. Though I expected the truth to prevail, the jury found for the other party in the amount of $3.5 million dollars. I was astounded. I was able to negotiate the amount down to a fraction of that, but I learned an important lesson: You don’t have to be guilty of anything to get royally screwed by the legal system. The problem is, the legal system is a game, and it is manipulated by politicians, lawyers, judges, and savvy, but unethical, plaintiffs. I’ve definitely learned firsthand that the legal system can be politically motivated and used strategically by politicians to advance their own personal agendas. It’s a big racket, and if you don’t know what you’re doing going in, you can get steamrolled. I’ve learned that the truth does not always come out, and it does not always prevail.
I put this troubling episode behind me and focused on growing our business. It wasn’t always easy. In fact, it was a constant challenge. The reason they give you so much math in business school is to train your brain to solve problems. In business, you are faced with problems day by day, hour by hour. If you can’t get comfortable with the idea of solving problems – in fact, if you can’t learn to actually enjoy such an environment — you will never succeed.
We produced additional volumes of “Banned From Television” and the company grew into a full-scale operation. I should have been happy, but the fact is, I wasn’t satisfied with the product. To be honest, I had difficultly watching one of our tapes all the way through. As sensational as the material was, a lot of it was just plain disturbing. It’s not the kind of video you’re going to watch again and again. I began to look for another kind of tape I could market. Something just as fascinating, but more … I don’t know, pleasant. Something other guys like me would enjoy watching over and over. The problem was, I had no idea what that might be.
GIRLS GONE WILD
I asked the sources providing me with sensational video clips whether they had any material for “Banned From Television” that was just as compelling, but not so violent. Something containing sex, for example. One source sent me footage of a group of Spring Break revelers getting arrested for public nudity at Lake Havasu. The arrest scene wasn’t especially compelling, but as I was reviewing the footage one night in the office, the phone rang. As I took the call, the VHS tape continued to play past the arrest scene, eventually revealing other scenes on the tape that the source hadn’t meant to send me. These scenes featured quick shots of college girls flashing their breasts during Spring Break and Mardi Gras. I immediately sat up in my chair. Breasts! I made some excuse to get off the phone, then rewound the tape and played it again. And again. I was transfixed. This wasn’t porn; it was something better. It was real girls. It was spontaneous. It was awesome! And the girls were hot. I took the tape home, and for a few weeks, it was my only source of entertainment. I just couldn’t get over it. I became convinced that other guys would be just as turned on by it as I was. So I licensed the footage, asked the source for more, and cut together a tape that contained nothing but cute, real college girls flashing their breasts.
After a solo brainstorming session during which I considered and rejected hundreds of names, I settled on the title “College Girls Gone Wild.” I stared at the words for a long time, then reflexively crossed out “college” and circled “Girls Gone Wild.” That was it! My brand! It had a perfect, inexplicable ring to it. I offered a graphic designer $150 to help me design an eye-catching logo in red and yellow, like Kodak, or McDonalds (later changed to just a more tasteful red and white). We packaged the tapes, produced a 60 second commercial and prepared to market our newest product. We were terribly excited, but that excitement was about to evaporate before our disbelieving eyes.
The “Girls Gone Wild” concept, as promising as I thought it was, almost died right out of the gate. Every TV station we approached with our commercial turned it down. No one had ever advertised a product containing nudity on TV before. I found it ironic that TV stations had no problem allowing us to advertise death, violence and horror, but cute young girls showing their breasts was somehow utterly unacceptable. Eventually, though, Howard Stern’s late night show on the E! Channel agreed to take a chance and run the ads. Initially, and for many months, the sales for “Banned From Television” outpaced “Girls Gone Wild,” simply because we could advertise it in more markets. But slowly, the new product caught on. College guys across the country started ordering the tape and sharing it with their buddies. Word of mouth spread, and Girls Gone Wild grew into a modest hit.
Eventually, I persuaded more stations to carry our commercial, and sales started to grow. I needed more footage, but instead of licensing more from the same source, I decided it would be more economical (and certainly a lot more fun) to produce my own. I purchased a professional video camera and headed off to Spring Break. It didn’t take me long to discover that I loved asking girls to show me their breasts. And I was good at it! Growing up with three sisters, I had always been comfortable around girls, and found it easy to talk to them. Most girls said “no” to my request for a flash, but plenty said “yes.” In fact, we had girls chasing us down for the chance to show us their breasts. As it turns out, girls love attention. Who knew? Flashing for the camera is a kind of release for them: An expression of freedom, a statement of independence and, frankly, a matter of pride. After all, I didn’t invent the phrase, “If you got it, flaunt it.” And it seemed the hotter the girl, the more willing she was to show me just how beautiful her body was. I had invented the Greatest Job in the World.
Sales of “Girls Gone Wild” continued to climb, and within a year I decided to expand my advertising from a 60-second commercial to a complete half hour of paid programming, a format known today as the infomercial. Typically, an infomercial will spend a full 30 minutes pitching a product, whether it’s a slicer/dicer or spray-on hair, by identifying a problem in your life and then explaining how that product will solve it. I took a different approach. Instead of offering to solve a problem, we simply presented a product that allowed viewers to experience a great lifestyle. I designed our programming to resemble a TV show, interspersed with commercials for the product. This blending of commercials and entertainment was an entirely new concept, which I called the “entermercial.” And all over America, college guys started staying up late just to watch the “Girls Gone Wild” entermercial … over and over and over. We soon heard from surprised TV stations and cable networks that told us that the entermercial was actually beating their lead-ins (the shows that aired just before our paid programming). It was the first time any of them had heard of a TV commercial scoring higher ratings than a regular TV show.
Initially, when we went out to gather footage, we took our cue from Mardi Gras and offered beads to girls in exchange for flashes. The beads were a simple gimmick that allowed girls to feel (or at least to explain to others) that they actually got something in return for showing their breasts. It somehow sounded more acceptable to say, “I flashed for some beads” than to say, “I flashed for no reason.” But I wanted something unique to offer the girls. When my then-assistant Lauren Friedman suggested tank top T-shirts, I immediately recognized the brilliance of her idea. First, distributing shirts imprinted with our logo was a perfect way to promote the brand. Second, girls really seemed to appreciate receiving an actual article of clothing instead of a cheap strand of beads. But the best part of this concept is that it was necessary for the girls to remove their own shirts in order to put on our shirts. Genius!
The success of “Girls Gone Wild” brought me several interesting opportunities. The first was an introduction to Jackie Kahane. Jackie was an old veteran stand-up comic best known for opening Elvis Presley’s shows in Las Vegas. I took an instant liking to him. He started hanging around the office, regaling us with stories of his old days in show business. My employees (none of whom were older than 24) and I enjoyed his company, and felt that he lent a needed touch of maturity to the place. Eventually I gave him a desk and phone of his own, and he’d spend his days cooking up deals for me, most of which were entirely outlandish. But one deal sounded intriguing. He thought I could use my marketing acumen to sell tapes of his friend Milton Berle’s classic ‘50s variety TV show. Jackie invited me to regular lunches at the Friars Club in Beverly Hills (a private club of old-school comedians) and introduced me to legends like Milton Berle, Red Buttons and Sammy Shore. Berle had a complete library of his show in the form of kinescopes (a process used before the age of video recording, whereby a movie camera is pointed at a TV monitor to record the show on film as it’s broadcast live), which I was to convert to VHS for the home video market.
Meeting these guys was a remarkable experience for a 24-year-old kid. I remember the first thing Berle said when we met was “Have ya heard about my dick?” I was afraid he was going to whip it out right there in the club and show me. Luckily, he didn’t. Berle remarked over lunch that he couldn’t understand the coverage that Monica Lewinsky was getting in the press at the time. “What’s the big deal? Hell, Jack (Kennedy) and I had all kinds of girls in the White House,” he laughed. Berle taught me how to smoke my first cigar (a Cuban, direct from his friend Fidel, he said). We never finalized the deal because it was so difficult to negotiate with Berle’s lawyer, who was probably 95 years old at the time and totally deaf. There were also some issues with clearing rights to the musical acts on the Milton Berle show for the simple reason that most of them had long since died. But I wouldn’t trade those Friar’s Club meetings for anything. I loved talking to those guys, because I’ve always had a lot of respect for my elders. You can learn a great deal from almost anyone who’s lived a long life, if you just take the time to listen.
Around the same time, I was surprised to get a call from Playboy inviting me to become a business partner. Impressed with the success I had in marketing the Girls Gone Wild tapes, they wanted to know if I could perform similar magic for Playboy. I met with Playboy President Jim English, who asked me to help create some revenue for Playboy. We developed two products: “Playboy Mansion Parties: Uncensored” and “Playboy’s Casting Calls.” My idea was to take the library of videos that Hugh Hefner had his staff record of the mansion parties over the years and cut them together with newer footage that we shot ourselves. I wrote and produced several 60-second commercials advertising the tapes, which almost immediately returned a profit. Playboy was delighted. The day after our commercials began to air I met Hef at a nightclub. He was cordial enough, but didn’t even mention the product I’d just created for his company. The funny thing is, English had told me he had a two-hour conversation with Hef that very morning about me and the tapes I’d produced for Playboy. Years later I met with his daughter Christie, who is the CEO of Playboy. She recalled how, five years earlier, her father called her one day, happy with the news that I had just delivered a substantial first check to him for videotapes we produced. Hef had been struggling to fend off his company’s pleas for him to divest himself of the Playboy Mansion, which was costing the company a few million dollars a year to run. “See?” he told Christie, “I told you the mansion had value!” Why Hef never expressed this appreciation to me himself, I’m not sure. Though I had always tried to avoid such comparisons, the press at the time started calling me “the new Hefner.” Perhaps the phrase rubbed him the wrong way. In any case, I regret that Hef and I never did establish a close friendship.