Digital dad

I thought the Net belonged to my generation, until my father surprised me with his start-up.

By Janelle Brown

Jan 13, 2000 | Dick Brown is a genuine Silicon Valley veteran. He's clocked over 20 years in the region. His office in Santa Clara is elbow to elbow with such technology giants as Cisco, Network Associates and Yahoo. He lunches at the prestigious Decathlon Club and Birk's Grill, which are to the local computer electronics industry workers what Buck's is to venture capitalists. "There aren't that many Internet companies around here," he comments as he drives me through the circuitous back lots and the local office parks. "They aren't big enough to own buildings in this area."

Compared to the grime-free new technology of the Internet, Brown's business seems positively industrial age. His primary company, SBMC, makes precision sheet metal -- the steel components that go around computers, gaming machines, server racks and other high-tech electronics. His factory is full of noisy, hulking, expensive machines that cut and punch and bend actual physical products -- an activity I take for granted, immersed as I am in the world of invisible bits and bytes.

But people like Dick Brown -- who happens to be my father -- haven't taken the Net for granted. In fact, he's embarking on his very own Internet start-up, to my great surprise and consternation. Although it's thrilling to see him doing something new and exciting, I guiltily harbor the feeling that he's stepping on my toes. If the Dick Browns of the world turn the Net into their medium, does that mean that it's no longer my generation's domain?

I first discovered the Net in 1991, when a friend introduced me to a mailing list about the local rave scene; my first job, to my baffled parents' surprise, was at a small start-up called HotWired. At a time when the overall economy was lousy and college graduates were welcomed to the work world by largely clerical "entry-level" jobs, the first Net companies offered the promise of something really new. It was an industry where you could be an expert without an MBA and 20 years of experience, where you could shape a company without having to climb the corporate ladder. Young people jumped at the opportunity, and because they were willing to take more risks and to try totally unproven ways of doing things, before long they were running the show.

But that was an anomaly in time. Now, everyone is online, from school kids to grandparents, and it's increasingly obvious that launching a Net company is no longer an activity dominated by crazy tech-savvy and enterpreneurial kids. The Net is going to be a component of every business, including those owned by grizzled veterans like my dad; veterans who, in all likelihood, already know how to run a company, manage a team and turn a profit far better than most wet-behind-the-ear college grads.

But it's been a little difficult for me to accept this fact. For Father's Day last year, I gave my dad a subscription to TheStreet.com and a copy of Po Bronson's book "Nudist on the Late Shift." "I think this might help you understand what my world is like," I wrote in the card. A week or two later, when I went to visit my parents, I saw the e-business tomes "Net Gain" and "Digital Darwinism" on the coffee table. My dad confessed: He had been planning a Net start-up. So much for my condescending card.

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