A lot of his attraction, of course, has to do with the kinds of companies he runs. Ball bearings don't get a man on the popularity charts. Branson made his first million selling discount records and expanded the business into what is now one of the hottest record companies in the world, handling such big-name artists as Julian Lennon, Phil Collins, Human League, and Culture Club. Virgin Group, which went public on The (London) Stock Exchange last year, has operations in 19 other countries including the United States, and consists of three main divisions: music, retail, and video. For the first six months (ended January 31) of fiscal 1987, the group's profit from continuing operations was ?16.1 million (about $27 million), up 30% from the same period last year; revenue was ?140.5 million (about $232 million), up 40%. Branson retains ownership of roughly 53% of the company.
But Branson also owns Voyager Group Ltd., a private company that operates night-clubs, provides holiday tours and air-freight services, and owns Branson's pride and joy, Virgin Atlantic Airways. The company, too, is growing fast -- the company's fiscal 1987 revenue was about ?75 million (some $120 million), up 50% over 1986.
Branson has also made business seem fun. Says Tessa Watts, a former employee, "Everyone thought he was completely mad." Branson has been photographed in a bubble bath holding a model Boeing 747. When the airline opened its Miami run, with the slogan "You can fly, you can fly," Branson dressed up as Peter Pan. And when Virgin was going public, its TV ad showed a pinstriped stockbroker disco-dancing around his City office. The slogan: "From the rock market to the stock market."
If Branson does have a massive personal indulgence, it's practical jokes. On April Fool's Day, 1981, Branson fed a hot exclusive to an editor of Music & Video Week, one of Britain's leading music newspapers: Virgin was starting a new business that "could mean 'the end of the record industry as we know it." Consumers would be able to use their cable-TV hookups to request any music ever recorded, simply by punching a few buttons. The newspaper ran a banner headline: "Branson's Bombshell." There was enough egg on the editor's face for a week's worth of proper English breakfasts.
His good works are as public as his pranks. Most recently, Branson started an AIDS-prevention campaign. Angered by a government program that he contends merely scared people, he started a company to market condoms at half the price of those sold under near-monopoly conditions by the London Rubber Co. The venture will use most of its profits to advertise the condoms, called Mates, spending the remainder on AIDS research and treatment. "I'd rather put more money into prevention," says Branson. "It's a case where I can use myself and may high profile with young people to get the point across."
As far as Branson's popularity goes, all this is gravy. What really made him a national celebrity were his acts of derring-do. In 1985, he set out in a speedboat to break the transatlantic speed record held for more than 30 years by the American liner United States. He failed on his first try, succeeded on his second. This was no simple act of bravado done because the ocean was there and someone had to cross it. Neither was Branson's balloon flight. Why he made the flight, how he went about it, and what happened afterward provide a case study in how Richard Branson does business.
Being a hero can be rather cost-effective, especially if you've got the soul of a refined P. T. Barnum.
Ostensibly, Branson is a shy man. Until founding his airline in 1984, he avoided the press.
He hated making speeches -- once, in the earliest days of Virgin, he stood to say a few words at a friend's wedding, then froze and leapt out the window.
But how does this jibe with balloons and boats and Peter Pan costumes? Branson says he realized simply that he had to promote the airline and applied himself to the effort as he would to any other project. Until then, he hadn't worried about promoting Virgin, because customers bought a hot recording or a hot group, not his company's record labels. But, he says, "when you're competing with TWA and Pan Am and British Airways, it's difficult to become a household name unless you actually do something out of the ordinary."
Branson didn't seek out that first major stunt, the speedboat crossing. A Cornish sailor and adventurer suggested the idea. "On a calculating basis, it made good business sense," says Branson. "On a personal basis, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Throughout my life, I've gone into ventures that have those two ingredients. I go into businesses that interest me; because they interest me, they normally end up being very profitable." The first speedboat struck submerged debris and sank just three hours short of its goal. Suddenly, Branson became a rather well-known chap. In what Britons like to think is true British fashion, Branson tried again in 1986 and succeeded.
The balloon crossing was Per Lindstrand's idea. Branson reviewed the balloonist's plan much the way he reviews any new business venture that comes his way, careful always to follow his most important business maxim: "Protect the downside."
Branson checked into Lindstrand's background and asked a helicopter company to vet his designs. Branson methodically readied himself for the flight -- "What excites me is the preparation, the learning -- learning to fly a hot-air balloon, learning to get my pilot's license, learning to sky dive, learning to become a navigator."
