Category Archives: Bums

SABBATICAL

Tahiti TBy Mark T Wayne

“He’s in Tahiti,” says Loop Lonagan.  “Dat’s where Jonelis is.  Them guys at Heartland Angels oughta know.”

Speaking strictly for myself, I see no excuse for a man like Lonagan and place no weight on his opinions.  I may fire him—I have not yet decided.  After all, Jonelis ain’t here.  He announced a sabbatical and disappeared.  That is correct, sir!  I am in charge!  That is my hat on the hook.  Those are my boots resting on the WWII Air Force desk.  I will take this opportunity to exercise my power as I see fit.  Any fool that criticizes my splendid white suit or magnificent mustache may face instant dismissal!

“I dunno….”  Big Bill Blair’s deep bass rattles the desk drawers.  Mark T Wayne 2“I bet Mr. Jonelis is just…I mean prob’ly just…just holed up someplace on a binge.  That’s duh way I’d play it.  I mean with a bottle and a broad—”  Bill stops, puts his huge hand across his mouth, lazy eyes locked on Janet Case—the only woman in the room.  Perhaps Bill is experimenting for the first time with some form of deep thought.  Then he seems to come to a decision:  “Well he’s just holed up, see?”  He sets his jaw.  I consider it providence that he does not utter any more lewd speculation.  Even a giant must take account of the moral sensibilities of others.

Bill is so big we built a special chair for him out of packing crates and lumber.  It keeps him in one place.  Better that than permit him to roam the office like a rogue elephant, knocking over boxes and squashing feet.  It is true, there is plenty of space in the back room of Ludditis Shots & Beer, but Bill is a large and powerful man and rather clumsy.  Perhaps this is not your plush corner office but while I’m in charge, I insist on keeping it neat!

Albert EinsteinDonatas Ludditis breaks out in a big Lithuanian grin.  “I take sabbatical too, some day.  On yacht maybe—all alone.  Ride ocean waves.  Snooze away in peace.  Fight sudden squalls.  Fish for meals.” He sighs happily and settles back.   “Is good.  I think Yonn think same way as me.”  I grant Ludditis his opinion.   He owns this bar and is technically our magazine’s landlord, but at his age, I would advise him to consider that trip right quick.

The sweetest part of my new situation is that Jim Kren, the insufferable toady, remains Assistant Editor.  Now he is my toady—mine, I say!

“Jonelis isn’t the yachting type—he’s a pilot,”  Kren says peevishly, then points to a photograph hanging from a nail, depicting John’s yellow Stearman biplane in flight.  “He always talked about making a flight across the Atlantic.  That’s what he’s doing now.”

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

“In that crate?”  Lonagan grabs the photo and studies it closely.  “Where’s he gonna store the extra fuel?”

A feminine voice cuts the air.  “Strike the airplane.  What kind of idiot would cross the ocean in an open cockpit during winter?  The only place to refuel between here and the British Isles is Reykjavik, Iceland.”  This is Janet Case talking, a professional correspondent that Jonelis hired prior to leaving.  She slips off her horn rimmed glasses and speaks in precise diction.  “Put away the sailboat.  John gets violently seasick.  You can forget about Tahiti, too.  I happen to know he won’t be caught dead on a beach.”

Ludditis Shots and Beer

“Maybe it’s one o’ dem nude beaches.  I’d kinda like—”

“Lonagan!”  At my shout, he abruptly stops.  That man is execrable.  “Have the decency to let the lady speak.” 

Janet inspects Lonagan from a distance, as she might a fungus growing in an unexpected place.  “That’s ridiculous.  The man can’t tan.  Twenty minutes in the sun and he’d fry to a crisp.  Ugh!  What a repulsive thought!  I regret bringing it up.”

I shudder at the image as well.  A fully exposed over-plump torso, red as a rotting apple crawling with flies.  Intolerable!

Lonagan plunges into further speculation and the others add their opinions in rapid fire:  mark twain collection“Maybe he’s opening a casino.  Hitchhiking the continent.  Climbing Everest.  Racing the Iditarod.  Spearfishing for Great Whites…”  The room is loud with the shouting of opinions.

For my part, I can think of no better sabbatical than rafting the Mississippi.  Knowing John, I figure he’s in a comfortable houseboat or cabin cruiser, swaddled in a comfortable chair, sipping a hot coffee, reading the collected works of America’s greatest author.

Perhaps one day we will know the truth.   ■

read ROUGHING IT

Photos of bar by John Jonelis.  Stearman from Wikipedia.  Others public domain.

Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2015 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under alcholics, angel, angel capital, angel investor, Big Corporations, big money, Bill Blaire., Bums, Characters, Chicago Ventures, Conflict, Donatas Ludditis, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, Heartland Angels, investor, loop lonagan, Mark T Wayne, vc, venture capital

A LOOP LONAGAN CHRISTMAS

Clamps Portrait TJohn Jonelis

This is outrageous.  I’m concentrating on my computer screen when a huge mitt grabs me by the back of the belt and plucks me from my chair.  Next thing I’m dangled high over the desk, arms and legs flailing till I steady my balance and end up nose-to-nose with Big Bill Blair, our urban Paul Bunyan.

“‘Scuse me, Mr. Jonelis,” he says in a slow polite rumble that carries with it a stale smell of corned beef and cigar.

Big Bill slowly chews gum. Looks disinterested.  Acts like nothing’s unusual.

I know he once terrorized jobsites for Boilermaker Local 1, but he’s supposed to be tame now—supposed to be working for me.  Cripes, I even took him fishing this summer!  Yet this guy just reaches across my big WWII Air Force desk and picks me up as if I were a gum wrapper.

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Fishing with Big Bill Blaire

Abduction at Gunpoint

He turns his lazy gaze to the side. “Whaddayuh want I should do with ‘im, Mr. Lonagan?”

“What else?  Bring ‘im with.  Think yuh can handle ‘im all by yerself er what?”  I turn to see Loop Lonagan holding a huge Glock, giving the orders.  What is this?  Some kind of magazine mutiny?

Bill tucks me under an arm and we swoop out of the office (in the back room of Ludditis Shots ‘n Beer) and into the main dining area.  Between the pool tables, I see Alexander Harbinger, Mark T Wayne and Jim Kren tucking away potato pancakes while Donatas Ludditis polishes the bar.  Nobody glances our way.

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My Office

“Hey!  Look sharp!  Youse guys is all comin’ with me NOW!”  Loop makes menacing gestures with the oversized automatic.

First I see four sets of jaws hang wide.  Next they’re lined up behind us.  We move out to the street.

I scan for police.

Nothing.  Loop’s wagging that big pistol around and still nothing.  This is Chicago.

Like any ordinary citizen, I’m feeling a mite indignant by now and I jab an elbow into a tender place.  Bill doubles over and drops me to the cold concrete pavement.  Not wasting any time, I scramble to my feet and glare a challenge at Loop.  “What the—”

He puts two fingers to my lips.  “I’m warnin’ yuh John, don’t start up with me.   I had it up to here!” 

I pause a moment, tantalized by the thought that a clue to this madness might be forthcoming.

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A Clue to the Madness

The others crowd around, probably hoping for a fight while Loop keeps talking.  “Been plannin’ this shindig fer months ‘n’ nobody shows up.  Not a one!  Even set it a week early so nobody’s got an excuse.  My brother Boyle—” Loop’s voice alternates from angry to one pinched in mockery.  “—He’s settin’ up trains for Little Sean.  My sister Bridgett—she finally got an appointment with that oh-so-special hair dresser.  And Brianna ‘n’ her crowd all caught some kinda bug—‘n’ they’s so-so considerate and don’t wanna get me sick.  And Grandma ‘n’ Grandpa Lonagan—they’s way-way too tired after all that shopping.”   

He’s suddenly serious.  “Then my new gal Irene and her family o’ forty cancel out.  That finally sets me off.  I’m tellin’ yuh, da table’s all set—lotsa wine, sixteen waiters, da works.  More fancy food than you can eat in a month.  You guys is all invited!  Wanna come?”  

I’m stunned to silence. Do we want to come?  To a Loop Lonagan Christmas party?  I picture the sumptuous feast waiting for us and my mouth waters!  Hell yes we all want to come! Besides, everybody knows how important this is to Loop.  He cashed in millions and millions on that big deal and for months he’s been planning this huge event.  And now his lousy miserable family—many that he probably supports, the ungrateful louts—they let him down at Christmastime, the poor sweet guy.  And we haven’t seen his new penthouse yet, either.  Sure, we’re all eager to oblige!  A little thing like kidnapping can’t stand in the way of friendship!  (Such is the state of my rationalization.)

Loop abruptly moves down the street.  Blaire herds us along like sheep, but Ludditis, Wayne, Harbinger and Kren all follow grinning at one to another.  This is gonna be good.

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Man on the Street

Mark T WayneThe line abruptly halts.  Loop is talking to a street bum and I move up to hear.  “…Big Bubba?  Great!” says Loop, “and Old Man Percy?  Yeah, he can come along too.”  Then he sees me standing close.  “John, this is Fred.  I told you he’d be an asset to the magazine.  That was a long time ago and it looks like yuh missed yer chance.  He accepted the post as my personal sekertary.”  Fred shakes my hand while Loop keeps talking.  “Fred here rounded up some o’ my old street friends and a couple I ain’t met yet.”  Loop is smiling now.  “And I got Lonny and Lucile to come.  They run that terrific diner.  And Kate and Lafonda, too—they been workin’ at that joint forever.”  Loop spreads his arms in an expansive gesture.  “That makes Sixteen!  We yank all them extra spacers outa da table and it’ll be just right!  There’s gonna be one waiter fer every guest!”

Then he waves an arm.  A bright red stretch Hummer—it must be fifty feet long—slides to the curb sideways with the sound of squealing brakes and tires.  A fine, fat Santa Claus sits behind the wheel.  I think he’s smiling.  A tall, distinguished-looking man in a bowler hat steps out and holds the side door open in a deferential and inviting manner.

Naturally, we all pile in.

Some go straight for the car bar.  I sit back and watch.  Turns out the bowler hat’s name is Meadows—Loop’s new butler.  Loop hands him the Glock, which instantly disappears in his tailored coat.  I wonder how many other weapons he carries in there.

Along the way we stop and pick up various individuals and soon arrive in full celebration at a swank high rise with a view of Lake Michigan.

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Loop Lonagan’s Penthouse

Santa opens a door and we spill out like Cheerios from a cereal box except there’s nothing uniform about us.  I wonder if they’ll even allow us in this place.  True, Loop is wearing a suit that easily cost $2,000 or more and Meadows is impeccable.  Alexander Harbinger always looks distinguished and Mark T. Wayne might get away with his white flannels.  But Lonny and his crew came straight from work at the diner.  That guy still wears a greasy apron over a greasy undershirt.  Then there’s Fred and his friends Big Bubba, old man Percy, and a couple of guys named Pete and Eugene—right off the street.  And of course, Ludditis and me—I’ll leave that to your imagination.

A doorman wearing shoulder boards opens the huge glass entrance and stands at attention.  He doesn’t blink an eye as we file past.  Loop leads us to an elevator.  “This one’s mine,” he says.  The door opens to his key.

It whisks us straight to the penthouse.

Clamps and Bone 500

Clamps

It’s a strange feeling stepping off an elevator directly into somebody’s living room.  Clamps, an 85-pound bull terrier, enthusiastically greets each of us in turn, then disappears somewhere in the recesses of the room, tail wagging.  Turns out, Loop’s condo is the size of a furniture store.  A fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree graces the room with thousands of tiny white lights and the most amazing collection of individual Christmas ornaments.  It’s flanked by piles of wrapped gifts.  Somewhere off to the side, a Swing band plays loud and lively carols.  Two blondes staff the bar and in no time, we’re all lounging on leather sofas singing along or listening to Mark T. Wayne tell ridiculous stories.  Old Man Percy sleeps in his chair.

Football Santa 500

Football Santa

Putting up my feet, I lean back to enjoy the music for a while.  Waiters rotate among the crowd balancing trays stacked with tall stems and tiny plates.  Ludditis cracks walnuts with his biceps.  He does that any time he gets a chance.  Harbinger is the only one who sits military-straight, a plate balanced on a thigh, a shot of schnapps held between two fingers.

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The Christmas Bash

Then a gorgeous buxom blonde, wrapped in a white towel, peeks out a door, bending low to best advantage.  In a heavy Swedish accent, she beckons to us.  Fred immediately floats toward her.  I’m thinking that guy’s pretty quick on the uptake.  Loop leans a hand on my shoulder.  “Hilda gives real good Swedish massages,” he says.  “And dis place’s got five hot tubs, all staffed.”

I look around and some of the other guests have already left to take advantage of the amenities.

The band plays Glenn Miller’s In the Mood.  Lonny and Lucile, now changed to formal attire, dance and they soon work up an enthusiastic jitterbug.  Kate surprises everybody by nicely filling out a slinky evening gown, bare back, neckline plunged to the waist, and Ludditis sweeps her away even if she’s sixty years younger.  They can cut a rug, too.  Lafonda, still in her waitress uniform, tugs Big Bill to the dance floor.  They make a good couple—she’s nearly tall enough for him, and certainly adequate in girth.

FREE SAMPLES - VODKA OR GIN 500

Open Bar

I’m polishing off my third round of spiced eggnog-and-cognac, when Fred emerges from the bedroom scrubbed clean, looking relaxed from his massage, wearing a big grin and a dark Hart Shaffner Marx suit.  If he’s Lonagan’s new secretary, he looks the part and then some.  After another eggnog, Big Bubba plops down beside me, decked out in spanking new Carhartts and smelling like a flower garden.  Amazing Loop had anything on hand big enough to fit him.  Eugene shows up in camo pants and an Eddie Bauer chamois shirt.  Loop says he can get these guys on the Bears roster.  If not—he just shrugs.

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Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth

Now Hilda and the other Swedish bombshells are packing the elevator, followed by a squad of haberdashers wheeling racks of clothing.

Pete sits with his drink, scrunched up, looking sour and desperately filthy.  Einstein 6bFor some reason, Donatas Ludditis is angry with the guy, and he’s waving his powerful arms in wild gesticulations.  Then the shouting starts.  “You not want Swedish massage?” says Ludditis.  “Why you not say?  Why you not give this old man a chance?  Now is too late!  Look, they all go!”

Pete utters a viscous curse and Ludditis gives it back double.  That cuts it and they’re at each other with bare knuckles.

In an amazing display of athletic prowess, Meadows grabs each by the shirt collar and hustles them to the elevator for its next trip down.  That accomplished, he brushes his hands and coughs by way of getting our attention, then announces, “Dinner is served.”

Old Man Percy jogs awake.

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The Feast

We file into a baronial dining room.  Loop must’ve scrounged the wood paneling from the Potter Palmer mansion.  The table is huge with delicately carved legs, fat as tree trunks—the sideboard enormous—the artwork of questionable taste and probably not fit for polite company.  I will not describe it here.

We sit down to an elegant setting, a waiter stationed behind each chair.  Loop asks me to pray and I do.  I thank the Lord for our meal, our companionship, and ask him to give everybody here the guts to rely on the One who paid it all because none of us will make it on our own steam.  Lonagan is already fidgeting.  Kren is clearly perturbed.  A couple others look uncomfortable.  But there are those at the table who echo my Amen.

Then the food comes and keeps coming.  Pheasant, Duck, Goose with dressing and potatoes.  Wine and exotic fruit.  All the trimmings.  This is game harvested by Lonagan himself.  Yes, he belongs to a fancy hunt club.  Owns it for all I know.

I’m happy to see Ludditis rejoin the party and we dig in with enthusiasm.   I ask him what happened and he gives me a cryptic response:  “He called plenty but chose few.”  He gives no other explanation, but the words sound familiar.

After huge helpings of mincemeat pie and ice cream, Loop sets out a mahogany box of cigars.  Fred taps a cigarette from a pack and three waiters snap expensive lighters to life.  I stagger out to the showroom and select a big soft couch for a nap.  Before I nod off, I hear Loop yell, “Presents everybody!”  The band strikes up again and brings me pleasant dreams.

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Overnight Guests

Late next morning, I say goodbye to Santa Claus and his long red Hummer.  All is well and I’m content.  And there’s still plenty of time to recover before for my family festivities get underway.  But the rest of that crowd keeps it going till after the New Year.

Deep in my heart I utter a silent, Merry Christmas to Loop Lonagan.

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For more on Loop Lonagan [click here]

Photography by John Jonelis except for Donatas Ludditis and Mark T Wayne

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2014 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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1 Comment

Filed under angel, angel capital, angel investor, big money, Bill Blaire., Bums, Characters, chicago, Chicago Venture Magazine, Chicago Ventures, Christmas, city, Derelicts, Donatas Ludditis, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, Homeless, Innovation, Innovation and Culture, investor, sleeping on a sidewalk, the man with the twisted lip, vc, venture capital

ROUGHING IT

Clark Gableas told by Mark T Wayne

“Don’t you want to feel safe?” asks Rosalind Russell.  In response, Clark Gable knits his brows. “I never have. What’s it like?” *  Vigorous travel is a grueling sport! One anticipates deprivation and hardship on any trip of significance. One seeks adventure! Exhilaration! One does not select air transportation to wrap oneself in a safe cocoon. No sir! Air travel exists for one and only one purpose. SPEED!

On this particular excursion, I am bound to a Wilderness Paradise with some questionable individuals. Traveling alongside me is the entire staff of that rag colloquially known as Chicago Venture Magazine.  As uncomfortable as that may seem, I have no recourse.  I must tolerate their companionship to reach my destination and my urge to visit the North Woods is almost too intense to bear.

We arrive at magnificent O’Hare Field–the busiest airport in the world–to find ragged lines of citizens in full commotion spilling out doorways onto the steaming pavement. Some chew their nails, others their neighbors. It takes just a few steps from our taxi to join the rabble. I always find these little conveniences such a pleasure. It is so re-assuring to arrive at a scene of anxiety and anger with hours to spare and no particular thing to do.

We inch through the line like a pig through a python. Several times I catch sight of security personnel examining various members of our group with a penetrating gaze and frightening intensity. I half expect one of them to break ranks and open fire, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking.

Mark T Wayne

In due course, we approach the official checkpoint and I am aghast—aghast I say—that a group such as ours clears security!  I must admit to a few tight moments.  Bill Blair experiences an awkward time of it, fitting his body through the x-ray booth.  There is that strange incident of the uniformed lady and her execrable and aggressive probe.  Then we are through!  Unarmed and entirely defenseless–our lives willingly surrendered to the whim of anonymous authorities.  We are now free to wander the protected concourses.  Free from malicious acts of maniacs, including any mischief we may perform on our own.  First we must wait for that Lonagan fellow to return from a strip search.

The man finally shows himself, shirttail wagging, carrying his shoes and a tumbler of what smells like cheap whiskey. Where he found that, I do not know, but I promise myself the same pleasure at the next opportunity. I lick my lips and scan for a tavern as we head to our assigned gate amid throngs of travelers trailing wheeled luggage. How such small bags carry sufficient weight to warrant wheels is a subject for speculation. The idea of gold bars comes to mind.

Through expansive windows we note the skies prematurely darkening.  This is contrary to all weather reports. We now face a more significant danger than random acts of violence.  Weather.  Apparently, no matter how often such events occur, it always comes as a nasty shock to one-and-all that it rains in Chicago. We can depend upon the authorities to protect us from this terrible threat, and looking around, I see anxious people, desperately clinging to hope that they might escape this fair city before the onrushing clouds envelop us.  I wonder, if given a modern weather bureau, Christopher Columbus would ever have discovered the New World.

No sooner do we find chairs than a sweet voice oozes from speakers overhead, informing us with utmost kindness of a delay and change in our gate assignment. I am almost oblivious to the import of the message, dazed by the beauty of that voice until Jim Kren rudely pokes me. “C’mon, we’re movin’,” he says in Midwestern style.

Mark T WayneTwo of our party sense trouble and take action in a timely manner. Ethan Sobriety finds a connection through Calgary, British Columbia. Warren D Mink boards a plane to Fargo, North Dakota. Perhaps he plans to hitchhike from there—I do not know. We are never to see those two souls again.

That leaves eight of us. Take a good look at this regiment, sir: If you believe that Loop Lonagan is a troublemaker, my compliments to your instincts! Jim Kren is that little one with his face balled up in a strange brew of anxiety and spite. I truly wonder how long he can keep that up before the inevitable coronary. Donatas Ludditis and I wager on it.

Ludditis is a genial man who has seen almost a hundred years of good and evil. I catch a glint of humor in his eyes and believe we share a common sentiment about our situation. Except for the irritating habit of cracking walnuts with his biceps, I enjoy the company of that old goat.

That giant blocking your sight of half the crowd is Bill Blaire. His grand scale is something to behold and he always reserves two airplane seats, preferably adjacent ones. I do not mean to imply obesity. The man is huge in a profound way.  I’ve seen him on airplanes before.  He bows low to cram his body beneath an overhead compartment then slips in, filling every available cubic inch of space like a huge overstuffed steamer trunk. I cannot believe that serves to improve his posture.

Alexander Harbinger also stands tall but only six-foot-five. I have never seen him slouch and find that particular trait obnoxious and inherently suspicious. That and his heavy accent. Joe Perogi owns an amazing flair for conversation if you do not sit beside him too long.  Then there is Jonelis, our host. The less said about that one the better. I feel generous today because he invited me on this delightful jaunt. And everybody is having such a good time.

You may ask how I, with my elegant mustaches, resplendent in my stately white suit, can possibly be associated with such people. I must admit, if I were a customs inspector, I would not permit this crowd to enter my country. Mark T WayneThese men are clearly desperate! They share a single-minded objective! They are all bound for a fishing excursion deep in the Canadian Wilderness! Our allotted time in Paradise is tightly scheduled, dearly purchased, and non-refundable! We do not take kindly to those who might cheat us out of a moment of our idle pursuit!

As the day grows old, another announcer—I believe the shift has changed—politely informs us in a mild baritone of yet another gate change. We rise and obediently shuffle to a new resting place. I find a comfortable chair and claim it. I will not relinquish it. No sir!

Ah, the comforts provided travelers these days. During the next twelve hours, mannerly messages pleasantly drift from the public address system, each repeating the status of our flight.  DELAYED. Cursed is more to the point. But that leaves sufficient time to read another chapter of my book, so I slouch back in my comfortable chair. This particular novel is written by America’s greatest author. It chronicles a delightful stagecoach journey to what was then the American Wild West and I cannot help but draw parallels to our current state of affairs.

Then finally, long after dark, when it is too late for recourse, they CANCEL our flight! I see the man making that dread announcement and overhear his cussing when he clicks off his microphone. His frustration is understandable. Cancelling a flight is a cowardly act bordering on criminal. I picture him at dawn, fighting a pistol duel with whatever craven official doomed us to this fate. Dawn is not far away. Perhaps I will see it–possibly act as second!

Then a voice over the speaker requests that we vacate the concourse. Immediately.  By some herding instinct, a huge line forms at the only desk assigned for re-routing this mob. Jonelis adroitly snags a loose ticket agent and leads him to a vacant computer terminal. After a half hour of rigorous and creative effort, the clerk throws up his hands. Then John whips out his enormous Galaxy Note and attempts to book a charter out of DuPage. Those airplanes are all grounded. One would think war had broken out, but all that has occurred is a little rain. I secretly dream about the joys of travel by horse.

Then I discover an enterprising establishment that has remained open throughout the chaos. Indeed, they do a brisk business—a very brisk business. American ingenuity at work! Yes sir! I am delighted to sample the fruits of free enterprise and take this opportunity to sip a Sour Mash or two. As I watch people scramble in all directions and others pile into that enormous line, I sit at the bar and order another happy round. One can scarcely expect to buy advance tickets to witness a spectacle like this!

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No room can be found at the inn but the airport authorities thoughtfully set up thousands of cots, edge to edge, each furnished with a warm blue blanket. We all settle in for a fine night’s rest where the lights never dim and the public address system cycles through the same recorded doggerel—useful information regarding the smoking of cigarettes on the premises. These first-rate sleeping quarters are set up like magic within the concourse itself so we will not again suffer the indignities of the security personnel. That sir is what I call consideration! That is what I call luxury!

That night I wake to the horrible screech of rending aluminum as Bill Blaire’s cot collapses. His snoring attests to the fact that he, at least, loses no sleep over such trifles. I admire that in a man. A true woodsman, that Blaire—the Paul Bunyan of our group. That crumpled cot still resides somewhere beneath his great comatose body but I cannot see it so I cannot swear it. I nudge him with the toe of my boot. His snoring intensifies.

The police kindly keep their protective eye upon us until 4:00 am when security rousts every groggy being to attention with a commanding shout. It is a new day. As a seasoned traveler, I have already made necessary provision for my needs at the only privy in the vicinity. While the line to that vital facility grows, I march off in search of sustenance, and find it. Excellent bagels and lox, served ironically beside crisp bacon, with plenty of hot coffee. But presently, Jonelis whisks us away, back down the concourse to a waiting aircraft.

Two of our party get called by name for that flight. Then two more. We are standby passengers and Jonelis wrangles with the gate clerk as an officious woman with some sort of frequent flyer rights rudely exerts her authority to horn-in ahead of us with her entire party. That would mean the splitting of our group. I see the others flipping coins to determine who goes, who stays. But our host prevails. Another of life’s adventures conquered. We board a diminutive commuter plane and the broad shoulders of this city stack like spoons in cramped seats. Stinking in wrinkled, slept-in clothing, we finally escape this town. As wonderful as the experience has been, I am glad to move on to the next adventure. After all, we have lost a full day of wilderness leisure.

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Ah, the miracle of modern flight! It takes twenty eight hours to board the plane in Chicago but a mere hour and a half  to reach Winnipeg International Airport!  In another hour, we clear customs. That sir is what I call FAST. That is what airlines are all about!  I gaze in admiration at our magnificent craft–its sweeping lines and powerful engines–so obviously built for speed and speed alone.  Yes sir!  That airplane looks fast standing still!

Meanwhile, Kren and Lonagan argue over the advantages of automobile transportation. Jonelis finds a Facebook page about a friend’s son who accomplished the amazing feat of skateboarding across the entire continent. That is an awesome adventure.  No officials coddling you with safety.  Picture yourself winding down a steep mountain road on a longboard. Such contraptions have no brakes sir! But that is a story for another time. ** I prefer the sublime comfort of the stagecoach bounding down a rutted road. On second thought, make it a train.

At this point we learn that the airline has misplaced all our luggage. That includes gear vital to the completion of our mission in the vast wilderness, especially our fishing rods! I overhear the customs inspector utter an unkind and unnecessary expletive regarding United Airlines.  That remark strikes me as unsporting after that brave entity has accomplished such a miracle–whisking us from Chicago to Winnipeg in an hour and change–and in such a painstaking cocoon of safety!

Grown men swear and gnash their teeth. After a dramatic display of emotion, our party repairs to the lobby for a meal.  Lonagan leads us to a place by the name of Louie’s Lotsa Pasta. But Jonelis vetoes that, and we enjoy exquisite repast at an excellent bistro named Stellas. I recommend it! Never take the pleasures of a good Jambalaya lightly.

Just a few hours later our gear arrives and we happily retire to our hotel. With precious fishing rods clutched in greedy hands, we head toward luxurious showers and soft beds.

We draw lots and I get Bill Blair’s room. That means another noisy night of it. But with customary forethought, I have purchased earplugs. Bill drops unconscious on one of the enormous queen-sized mattresses and uses all of it. The bed does not collapse and he starts snoring immediately–tired but safe. I must admit that I find it difficult to get the whole of him in the picture.

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  Bill Blair on a queen-sized bed

Our bush plane will depart early next morning for a 500 mile leg further North. Perhaps I will tell you about that next time. Maybe.

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Go to Next Episode – CLOSER TO HEAVEN

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* Quote from the motion picture, They Met in Bombay.

** Longboard America Facebook Page Longboard AmericaA

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Photography by John Jonelis, except for Clark Gable, Mark T Wayne and Longboard America.

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2014 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under Bums, Canada, Characters, chicago, Chicago Venture Magazine, Chicago Ventures, Donatas Ludditis, loop lonagan, Man's Favorite Sport, Mark T Wayne, Mobile, new companies

7 TIPS FROM A WINNER

Funding Feeding Frenzy – Part 5

VERBATIM by Loop Lonagan – Investor and man about town,

as told to John Jonelis

FFF LogoLoop Lonagan here. I’m gonna go full circle at dis Funding Feeding Frenzy.

No, I ain’t drunk—well maybe I am by now—but what I mean is, I’m goin’ back to the start o’ this event. After all that stuff I already talked about, I’m finally gettin’ ‘round to the first speaker at the FFF—Palette App—the company that won last time.

Like I said, I seen the pitch before. I also seen them at BNC Venture Capital and later at their corporate offices. Research. A guy’s gotta check stuff out fer himself.  Anyhow, here I am at the FFF in the Chopin Theater to hear what he has to say.  And as it turns out, I’m very glad I to be here.

Chopin Theater Lobby

Lobby – courtesy Chopin Theater

The speaker is Jerry Freeman, founder of Palette App, and the guy’s real smart. He’s doin’ his pitch fer us as a demo—to break the ice before all the poor slobs face the judges.

So I’m sittin’ here next to Jay Kinzie, a colleague o’ mine from Mastermind Advisory Board in this cushy seat in the Chopin Theater. Rong Mayhem ain’t gonna wheel up behind me and start yellin’ like he did at that car barn they held this thing at last time. And the noisy crowd is banished to the trough downstairs.

Feeding Trough

Feeding Trough

That means I’m free. Free to concentrate on findin’ the companies I wanna follow up on. But first comes Jerry Freeman. He starts by giving his own pitch. I know it by heart so I’ll paraphrase:

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Da Pitch

Palette App logoPalette App helps architects and designers do their job better, faster, cheaper. (Jerry doesn’t actually say better, faster, cheaper, but that’s what it amounts to.)

They take away them old-fashioned sample binders that designers and architects been blowin’ their money on for 150 years. They hand ‘em this beautiful digital palette. It’s easier to put together, better organized and more efficient to use. You can make changes fer free! That’s a big deal in this industry.

Palette App

Palette App

It saves a designer about 30 business days a year. That’s alotta man hours. And that kinda time’s worth a few bucks. The digital palette’s better for the client too. That’s why I been excited ‘bout this company right from the first.

Palette

Palette

The software usta be just on iPad ‘cause that’s what designers and them kinda people use. But now it’s on Android too. There’s a version for architectural design schools, which turns out to be a big deal. You can read all about it at https://chicagoventuremagazine.com/2012/07/16/150-years-of-waste-meets-technology/

The company is up-and-running and generating revenue. They already got 35,000 products loaded in their system. They got multiple profit centers. They make money whenever a designer orders a sample. And they make money through subscriptions.

Far as capital goes, they already raised $700K and the first round is gonna close pretty quick. 70% of that came from the last FFF. You can read about that at https://chicagoventuremagazine.com/2012/11/23/shark-tank-meets-the-apprentice/

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Da Interview

So after his sample pitch which I kinda butchered—but hey—how ya gonna spoil something as good as that? Anyhow, Jerry sits down with David Culver and does an interview about what it’s like to run a startup. This is good stuff and I learn something.

Jerry Freeman and David Culver

Jerry Freeman interviewed by David Culver

Raising Money

This seems to be the biggest question on ever’body’s minds. Jerry says, keep pitching at every event you can ‘cause it’s the best way to get connections to lotsa investors. Raising money is a full time job. As CEO, raising capital turns out to be his #1 job.

Then there’s cold calling. You start by pitching on the phone to some junior-level gatekeeper. Then to the next one up, then the next. Then maybe you gets a face-to-face with a decision-maker, fly way out somewheres and run up the old expense account.

All that takes months. Then maybe you get a commitment. Whoa—the money ain’t in the bank yet, fella. Gotta go thru due diligence. Paperwork. It takes six months to get the check, if it comes at all. People drop out. Meanwhile, how you gonna pay yer staff? So you gotta watch yer cash flow real close.

So he says to keep entertaining small investors till the big checks come through—just to pay the bills. The little guys come through quicker.

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Crowd Funding

Glenn Gottfried

Glenn Gottfried

Let’s talk about the new self-directed IRA. Lotsa baby boomers got millions stashed in their IRAs. All those add up fast. There’s five trillion in investment dollars hidden away in these accounts. That’s right—I said five TRILLION dollars—almost a third as big as the national debt! It dwarfs private capital. Blows it away! And deals like that close in thirty days—not six months like with VCs and Angels.

This is a form o’ crowd funding. Usta be only charities raised money that way. Now there’s brand-new laws that open it up to investors. So far it’s only for accredited types—people with a million bucks plus. That’s gonna change but the government is draggin’ its toes—nothin’ new about that.

So fer now, friends ‘n’ family ‘n’ Kick Starter is still the best way for small cash, then

Loren Minkus with Jay Kinzie

Loren Minkus with Jay Kinzie

millionairs with self-directed IRAs. Pretty soon we might see the dam burst on crowdfunding and money’ll flow all over the place.

Jerry gives 7 more tips on how to run a startup:

7 Tips

  1. “The shorter your pitch, the better,” says Jerry. If you think yer gonna get through it in eight minutes, cut it back ‘cause it’ll always take longer. “Practice 21 times,” he says, “so you’re not nervous.”
  2. “Simplify. If you’ve got twenty ideas, narrow it down to three,” he says. When Steve Jobs came back to Apple, he cut down their product line to about five. Now they’re huge.
  3. “Challenge is important.” He asks himself why he ain’t tripling his users every month. You gotta find creative ways to reach that target.
  4. “The dot bomb era is over.” Start raising revenue ASAP. That helps attract investors way better than flashing yer goofy projections on PowerPoint. “When you can say, We already started generating revenue, it puts you in a different pile from the rest.”
  5. “Crank up sales fast because sales sell. Get to risk mitigation ASAP.” That’s important ‘cause investors is more risk-averse than dey ever was before. And the banks ain’t lending. Actual sales sounds a lot less risky.
  6. “Keep your people motivated.” Use every success to get your people rejuvenated. Tell ‘em stories from the road. Celebrate small successes.
  7. An entrepreneur is somebody who goes from failure to failure to failure without getting discouraged.” It’s good to come from a sales background so yer already used to rejection. “If you’re a wallflower, get over it,” he says. Then David Culver follows that with, “The fortune is in the follow-up.”
Chopin Theater

Stage – courtesy Chopin Theater

Gotta Go

I gotta catch a cab to another meeting, so after plenty o’ good food ‘n’ drink, I say g’bye to the FFF kinda early. Two guys tag along to share the ride. One’s an investment banker, the other a VC.

And wouldn’t you know it—I trip on another pothole, right there on the sidewalk. Now my suit’s slashed in both knees. Neither o’ these guys helps me up like the bums did.

And when I drop ‘em off, neither offers to share the cab fare.

Happy New Year to all o’ youse out there.  Cheers from da merry land of Shark Tank Meets the Apprentice.  

NOTE TO JOHN – I seen your articles on a buncha sites.  One o’ dem usta be a real good tech jounal run by the Huffington Post.  It went through a buncha changes.  Now it’s runnin’ third-rate soft porn right along with da articles.  Don’t know what’s with that but thought you’d wanna know.

NOTE TO LOOP – Thanks for the heads-up.  I’ll check it out and maybe put a stop to it.

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Continue to WHAT’S GOOD?

Go back to Part 1

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Da Contacts

Palette App – www.paletteapp.com

Funding Feeding Frenzy – www.facebook.com/FundingFeedingFrenzy

The Chopin Theater – www.chopintheatre.com/event.php?id=2275&pageId=soon

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link . This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2013 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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5 Comments

Filed under angel, angel capital, angel investor, App, big money, BNC Venture Capital, Bums, Characters, chicago, Chicago Venture Magazine, Chicago Ventures, chopin theater, Christmas, city, Conflict, CORE Insight Story, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, Events, FFF, Funding Feeding Frenzy, Innovation, Internet, Internet Marketing, Invention, investor, loop lonagan, Marketing, Mastermind Advisory Board, Mobile, Mobile App, Mobile Marketing, new companies, pitch, Software, The City