“Breakfast With Pops: A Venture Capital Handbook” by Adam Draper & William Henry Draper, III
tl;dr: It’s a solid introduction to venture capital with something to say (neatly tying in his family’s legacy of good work in the space)
In 1959 there was a Draper investing in startups unusually well. Then in 1965 another Draper began investing in startups unusually well. By the 90’s there were several Drapers investing in startups unusually well across India, Europe, and Asia. And here in the 2020’s there’s another Draper’s investing in startups unusually well.
This history and legacy of the Draper family in venture capital is what I thought this book would mainly (or I should say, “actually”) be about. And the beginning didn’t dissuade me: it sets the stage for the rest of the book (part explainer, part advice) by telling the story of Pops. Pops is William Henry Draper III, Adam’s grandfather, and early pioneer in the venture capital space. He’s known for a successful venture career, serving as Chairman of the Export-Import Bank (requested by Reagan), and as Under-Secretary General of the United Nations, then returning to venture afterward—making legitimately remarkable contributions to the industry only recently (past 20 years?) adorned with a prestigious crown.
Thankfully it’s not purely hagiography: the conceit of the book is that Adam is imparting lessons learned from Pops and validated by his own now-extensive experience in venture capital (Adam was the first check into Coinbase). That’s where, for me, the book transitioned significantly—from something sort of cool from a history perspective to something pragmatically useful and interesting.
There’s a notion in sports that while fans mostly appreciate the dunks and home runs and punt returns for touchdowns and whatnot, the athletes themselves know it’s the fundamentals that really count. In basketball, for example, if you can’t reliably pass, shoot, dribble, and defend, you’re NGMI.
This book continues that line of thinking into venture. At no point would any of the chapter titles shout from the rooftops that they’re proclaiming a novel idea or unique approach. Rather, each chapter is essentially titled as a cliched subject—“Trust,” “Conviction”—but the insightful ideas written under the clichéd title are very much worth paying attention to. The cliché is the unsexy fundamental, whereas the details are the book’s home runs.
Here’s an example:
There’s a part of the People chapter called “Fundraising from LPs.” Adam writes:
“The hardest thing to realize when you’re fundraising is LPs just want you to solve their problem. They don’t care how it gets solved. That’s your job. They want the confidence that you will solve it. Generally you should know: LPs don’t want to do your job.”
And later in that section:
“Every LP meeting fits one of these descriptions: 1. They like YOU, so they’re interested in allocating to you (or VC as a whole). 2. They like the market you’re allocating to, and trust the person who referred you. 3. They’re educating themselves on the topic to build conviction.”
This type of framework is useful because it helps prospective VCs skip the line of trying to persuade LPs about the validity of their niche (a mistake Adam generously admits he tried at first with his first 325 LP pitches) and focuses VC’s on pitching to those who already have the vision. It’s pragmatic-first, with hard-won experience behind it.
And it’s representative of the book as a whole: Breakfast With Pops traverses the fundamentals of venture capital with an insider’s knowledge and an outsider’s spirit. While the simultaneous insider/outsider role is a fraught position for many, Adam navigates the tension well, avoiding “nepo baby” accusations while also eschewing false “made it from the bottom” claims. It’s clear he’s very proud of his family legacy—as he should be—and the continuation of that work he apprenticed in is a worthy thing, no matter what noncomprehending naysayers in the culture may think of family apprenticeship in a high-powered field. If there’s a critique of the book, it’s that its brevity may be mistaken as frothiness, or its concision for superficiality.
But this isn’t a superficial book. It’s a book about the fundamentals of venture capital, written by someone who knows what they’re talking about, intended to introduce aspiring VC’s to the core concepts that could power an entire career. Pass, dribble, shoot, defend—People, Lifestyle, Trust, Conviction, Luck.
I don’t know Adam, but I respect his desire to keep his family’s torch burning brightly, skip the third (or fourth, in his case) generation curse, and bring others along with him on the journey. The earnestness with which he’s willing to condense what could be (and often is) needlessly complicated is refreshing.
Overall it’s a good introduction for newcomers and a good reminder for old-timers. In a time when venture is echo chambered into infinity, it’s helpful to have someone plant their feet back on earth. Venture is a people business, in a service industry, with the added benefit that it could change the world if practiced well. As a handbook to venture capital—a handbook to financing and assisting those who dent the universe—it’s a worthy contender for one of the best primers around.