The Entrepreneur By Tina Griego Denver Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer
In the middle of a warehouse in southwest Denver sits a sandstone mountain. Its weary creator stands nearby, powdered from head to toe in concrete dust the color of rust.
For several days, Ty Foose and his crew have pushed to finish the 23-foot boulder and get it to outdoors equipment giant REI for the grand opening of a new store outside Los Angeles.
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| Ty Foose, fashioning his latest climbing mountain, went from
gambling for food money in Las Vegas to running his own company. |
It will be displayed near the front window, where it will be oohed and aahed over and clambered upon while rock climbing shoes fly off the shelves and cash registers ring.
That's the idea.
But the next day, the truck carrying the mountain to Manhattan Beach breaks down in Grand Junction. When Foose gets to California, he finds the store still under construction with no easy way to get the mountain inside. A forklift and plywood ramps get the job done.
The next morning, he relaxes at a Motel 6 and watches Caddyshack 2.
Back in Denver, the washing machine at the warehouse clogs. It floods the office.
Welcome to the life of a 28-year-old entrepreneur.
Colorado has always been the territory of dreamers and get-rich-quick schemers.
It is the story of the West. Start fresh. Work hard. Make a name. Sometimes Lady Luck winks. You're in the right place at the right time with the right idea, and you become Horace Tabor, Colorado's most famous shopkeeper-turned-silver baron. Most times, it's just hard work.
As Colorado business tycoon Philip Anschutz once said: "You have to have the initiative, be able to be pragmatic and tenacious, see all of the opportunity that could exist, and work like hell and not worry about what people think about you."
In 1997, more than 15,500 new businesses formed in Colorado, the second highest in the eight-state Rocky Mountain region. Only Nevada had more start-ups, according to financial analysts Dun & Bradstreet. The Colorado Business Assistance Center hot line sizzles with more than 2,000 phone calls a month from people who want to start a business.
"We had a gal in here who wanted to start a strip club called Strip to Please, and another one who was starting a butterfly farm where you could get them dead or alive," said Sue Bosier, a small business assistant. "But we also had someone from Switzerland who wants to sell hiking and climbing equipment imported from Switzerland, and we have tons of people doing Internet stuff."
Most of these entrepreneurs either will work alone or hire a handful of people. Almost 90 percent of Colorado businesses employ fewer than 20 people.
For Foose, it started with a broken ankle.
"I went to Smith Rocks in Oregon, a world-famous climbing area, and Ian, my friend and climbing partner, and I went on this climb. He got all the way, real close to the top and was looking a little bit shaky and tired, and he fell off."
Ian Powell broke his ankle, dashing their plan to live in a VW bus, travel and climb mountains until they became rich and famous.
Instead, Foose, known in the climbing world as "Dr. Foose," started sweeping dust off climbing walls in a California gym. Soon, he was studying the walls, figuring out where to place handholds for the best climbs.
Foose started competing and organizing rock-climbing competitions. He designed climbing walls and carved handholds that looked like natural rock features.
"After awhile I was living in Las Vegas and living off gambling," he says. "I'd have $20 and I would go and gamble and win $50 and spend it on food and gas. A lot of it was hand to mouth."
He and Powell eventually formed their own handhold company, living and working out of a studio in Boulder.
"We were completely undercapitalized," Foose says. "We had no ability to do any marketing, limited ability to do any production and this incredible potential. At the time there were about 250 climbing gyms in the country. Most of them didn't know we existed."
Their company never made money, so they sold it.
That's when Dan Christensen called. Like Foose, Christensen wanted to build climbing structures that looked more like mountains of sandstone and granite and less like lumpy walls. They wanted the kinds of nooks and crannies and crevices rock climbers love.
Foose had the rock climbing knowledge and the designer's eye. Christensen, a 35-year-old former Green Beret, had the technique. It was a natural match.
And where else would they build mountains but in a state famous for them?
"This state has traditionally been a hub for the climbing community, for the whole industry," Foose says.
Or, as Powell puts it: "It's climbing. It's Denver. Someday we'll all be super rich."
"Oh, sorry," he says, grinning. "That part was fantasy."
Two workers mix cement in one corner of the Alameda Avenue warehouse. Dust flies everywhere, making it hard to see, hard to breathe. Foose is on top of the scaffolding, spraying concrete goop out of a nozzle the size of a shower head.
Their technique is secret. It's safe to say it involves a lightweight synthetic material that can be easily carved, stacked and coated.
"I need a little bit more here," Foose shouts, pointing to a space in the wall. "Here and all the way across. If you see anything poking out, add some more material. Add a little bit on the baseboard just to blend it up."
Before the concrete hardens, Foose and several workers -- young men, several of them climbers -- carve details: a ridge here, an erosion pit there. Foose makes sure someone can climb from top to bottom without getting stuck, though some climbs are tougher than others.
"I don't really call it building," Christensen says. "I call it creating. It's also called making a mess."
The hardest part, he says, is balancing form and function.
"The problem is the things that look neat and the things that climb well are often diametrically opposed," he says. "The climbing is incredibly detailed. It's not brain surgery or anything, but you have to remember at the top of every climb, there should be a really big, comfortable hold. So when people get up there they can say, 'I did it."'
Figuring out that balance is Foose's job.
"Ty's route-setting skills are world-class," Christensen says. "Mine are living room class."
Not everyone will like their mountains, Foose and Christensen admit. Unlike climbing walls where handholds can be moved to different positions, their routes cannot be changed. Once you've climbed the mountain a few times, it poses little challenge.
But REI and its competitor, The North Face, love the concept. Foose and Christensen incorporated Monolithic Sculptures in March. They already have enough work to keep them busy for the next year and a half.
Monolithic mountains are prominently displayed in several REI stores, and the company will build for REI's new stores in Japan and Denver. The Japan project will be 45 feet tall, able to handle 10-15 climbers at a time.
Foose and Christensen are also building an enormous sculpture -- two towering spires and a boulder -- for the lobby of The North Face's new Carbondale headquarters.
This is the beginning of Foose's dream to build interactive sculpture -- giant boulders, curving, sinuous rock walls for gardens, city parks, playgrounds. The base material the company uses to build the mountains can be carved into any shape.
"A lot of things in our society have had the art taken out of them," he says. "They are sterile, straight lines."
Another challenge, Foose said, is learning how to run a business, to be a boss. He attends an entrepreneur class run by the Boulder Chamber of Commerce and is working on a business and marketing plan.
The company grossed nearly $50,000 from the REI Manhattan Beach project. More than half of that goes to pay the bills. The rest is profit. Foose and Christensen pay themselves $40,000 a year.
Things are looking so good Foose and Powell just bought back their old handhold company.
"It's really not about the money for me," Foose says. "I like the freedom involved with owning my company. Just to be able to make decisions about the direction of the company, whom we work with, what kind of jobs we take, what the finished quality is. Just the feeling of being in control of your own destiny.
"I want to be able to have work that also allows each of us to pursue our own lifestyles outside of work. ... We spend too much time working to not have fun."
July 25, 1999
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