In June 2023, a small submersible imploded at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, instantly killing its five crew members. In that moment, my life completely changed, mostly because of one professional title I held: “co-founder”.
The submersible was built, owned, and operated by OceanGate, Inc., a company I co-founded in 2009. One of the fatalities was my other co-founder, Stockton Rush.
I had served as our first CEO until 2012, when I turned over control to Stockton as part of our succession plan. I left the company in 2013 to pursue other ventures, but I retained a small equity stake and kept in touch with Stockton until right before the fatal expedition.
Despite my departure from the management team and the daily operations, I continued to monitor the company’s progress from a distance. After all, OceanGate was one of my “babies”, and I felt a strong mental and emotional attachment that was often difficult to explain. At least to non-entrepreneurs.
As a father, I’ve helped raise three adult children. As an entrepreneur, I’ve helped launch over a dozen startups. I can confirm that the parallels are uncanny, and in both, they are lifelong commitments.
When I heard the news of the accident, it was like hearing that one of my children had suffered an accident. I immediately wanted to do anything I could to help, even if it meant dropping everything I was doing half a world away and jumping on a plane to be there for them. Likewise, it was a gut-punch to realize that there was nothing I could do.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, the company ceased operations.
I coped with personal and professional loss, and I struggled with survivor’s guilt. I also scrambled to find a path forward that preserved our founding vision and felt worthy of Stockton’s legacy.
I was on the outside, having been away from the company for a decade. However, that didn’t matter to me. Regardless of what anyone else might think or say, I was one of the company’s co-founders, and it was my “baby”. The moral and emotional bond was unbreakable.
The two-year anniversary of the accident is coming up soon, and I still hear Stockton’s voice in my head on a daily basis. I’ve made some progress in finding ways to move ahead, but the “a-ha” moment continues to elude me. I’m starting to accept that it will be an ongoing process for years to come.
Since my first startup in 1998, I have always taken the “founder” title seriously.
It is a parental role that only fellow co-founders can truly appreciate. It is forged during a particular moment at the very beginning of a company’s life, and as such it is a bond that you take with you for the rest of yours.
If you’re an entrepreneur, I hope you never have to face the death of your venture, figuratively and especially literally. However, regardless of what paths you and your startup take, you will always feel a connection only founders can experience.
After all, if you’re a founder, then you’re a founder for life.
