The fact that First Tuesday, the corporate matchmaking club, may have already held the last of its flagship monthly meetings is certainly something of a symbolic event in the brief, traumatic life of British e-commerce, if not a seismic one.
First Tuesday, like so much of the dot.com world, shone brightly at the height of net mania in 1999, with an incredible, buzzing atmosphere which made the onlooker feel like a little bit of Silicon Valley had been brought over to central London.
But First Tuesday quickly fell victim to the dot.com greed it helped to spawn. By this time last year venture capitalists (VCs) - the monied half of the First Tuesday equation - were beginning to complain that good ideas were thin on the ground at the monthly networking meetings. A regional network of meetings, after a bright start, failed to recreate the kind of buzz found at the London events. From its estimated peak value of £36m last summer, the company is now reportedly up for sale again, for £2m.
By that time word had spread the nation over that First Tuesday was the place to sweet talk some city whiz kid into handing over millions for your half baked dot.com idea. Likely lads descended; there were tales of people even pretending to be VCs, out to steal the latest hot dot.com ideas.
At the same time technology stocks were plunging, venture capitalists were taking fright, and the party fell flat, not helped by attempts by First Tuesday to grab a little bit of the money itself by charging a levy on VC payouts.
But we can safely ignore some comments from unnamed VCs that, as deep into net history as 18 months ago, they felt it was all a bit naff - that would place us in mid-1999, when First Tuesday was in its heyday. The first balmy Tuesday evening in August that year saw the event - held at Home House in London - thrice over-subscribed. The money men were flocking in, lured by the promise of a fast buck.
Perhaps the most attractive, most net-like aspect of the First Tuesday concept was its apparent democracy: the notion that any decent idea could be a goer, given a sharp enough line in sales patter and a bit of luck in meeting a willing VC. The mystery was being removed from venture funding, always more scarce in the UK than in the US.
The businesses those nights spawned, however, reads today a bit like a who's who of so what: ClickMango, which went bust last autumn after barely mustering the turnover of a corner shop, was one of the most obvious failures. Others - like music site peoplesound and ihavemoved.com - the site that tells your friends you've moved - have yet to prove they have anything to offer that will allow them to stand out. Moreover.com, the news aggregator, is perhaps the shining alum of First Tuesday - and it was started by the club's co-founder, Nick Denton.
In these austere days, with their multimillion pound judgements being proved wrong again and again, we should expect the VCs to feign casual indifference towards First Tuesday. But let's not forget they were looking pretty keen in 1999, in the middle of the feeding frenzy. Then, the plan was to get some funding, build that brand and then get to market - all within six months, and never mind the profits. Chaotic First Tuesday was the perfect breeding ground for such fast living start-ups.
If it is going belly up, we should salute it as a symbol of the remarkable times it helped create, and which it ultimately fell victim to. A bit like some look back with fondness to Glastonbury festivals of yore - we'll grow to love its memory, forgetting that it was a bit sweaty, many were ripped off, and that it was probably never as good as it was cracked up to be.
Email:
neil.mcintosh@theguardian.com
Related articles
17 January: First Tuesday comes back to the market
6 January: Parent's woe hits First Tuesday
20 November 2000: First Tuesday to restructure after job losses
21 July 2000: Accidental millionaires sell First Tuesday
Useful links
First Tuesday
Moreover.com
peoplesound.com
ihavemoved.com
