Futurist Boomtown Provides Room For All Kinds
By JACK BOULWARE
July 17,1997
SILICON VALLEY --
Trying to foresee the future is a pastime as old as the first stargazers and as natural as a child seeing a star and making a wish. But the past 10 years have seen an explosion in our curiosity about the world of tomorrow. More technology means more downsizing, more terrorism, more uncertainty -- and more visionaries to explain all of it.
California's Silicon Valley is home to many of the world's most esteemed futurists. Sought out by major corporations as well as political policy makers, these individuals and their think tanks provide tomorrow's ideas -- today. As America struggles to retain its dominant position on the world scene, futurists like John "Megatrends" Naisbitt, Alvin "Future Shock" Toffler, Paul Saffo of the Institute for the Future and the Global Business Network's Peter Schwartz will play an increasingly important role.
One member of this intellectual cabal is a relative newcomer. But Todd Spool's Foundation for Mutual Futurism (FMF) has already established itself as a major force in the field.
Spool's think-tank is located at the end of a secluded cul-de-sac outside Menlo Park, surrounded by lush perennials and vines of wisteria. No sooner have the wheels of a journalist's rental car touched the curb than Spool appears on the redwood steps in shorts and sneakers, greeting his visitor with a clenched fist and a hearty "Dude!"
A few minutes later we are sitting in the bedroom/den/office of his quaint one-story wooden Maybeck home. FMF is only six months old, yet boasts a client base which includes major news media organizations, high-tech corporations, Washington PACs, law firms and branches of the military. The company is fast acquiring a reputation for common sense without inflated rhetoric.
"Don't call me a futurist, all right?" asks Spool, poking into a pile of coffee-stained papers atop his chaotic desk. "'Cause that sounds like sci-fi. And I'm not a forecaster, either."
Then what exactly does he do?
Spool locates a folder and plops it down. On the cover is an adhesive sticker for O'Neill surfboards. "Check it out. The two A's -- I advise and assume, based on scenarios generated and customized to client needs."
Spool's wariness about being categorized as a futurist is understandable, considering the profession's dubious track record. Professional futurists first earned their name in the 1960s, using mathematical models that ultimately were proven wrong. A flurry of pop-culture oriented forecasters appeared in the 1980s, including Faith Popcorn with her concept of "cocooning." And the '90s have brought us another round of computer-literate visionaries, from Saffo and Negroponte to Newt Gingrich -- whose keen, Toffler-inspired grasp of future events inexplicably failed to alert him to his impending disappearance from the political scene.
Asked where he fits into his group of peers, Spool merely smiles, removes his shoe and scratches a greasy foot.
"Forecasting is just a bunch of educated guesses -- duh, it's so obvious -- and prediction assumes there's no influence. All those dudes like Saffo are run by committee. It's like, hello, just because Peter Gabriel and Jaron Lanier both agree on something doesn't mean it's right. What's that saying -- too many chiefs spoil the broth?"
Spool runs the oldest type of business -- a one-man shop. He discusses each job with the client, keeps the books and drafts all the company's forecast scenarios himself, by hand in a wide-ruled Charlie's Angels notebook.
"Clients really like the handwriting," he says. "Makes them think they're getting hella-cool information, like they've tapped into some righteous inside track."
Corporations pay up to $40,000 to join Spool's FMF, and in return receive three scenarios per issue, each of which he composes on his backyard deck amidst the azalias and hummingbirds. Results are faxed within a few days, or the original page is torn from the notebook and sent overnight. Research is minimal, if it exists at all.
"The less I know about a company, the better." Spool stands out on the deck, relieving himself into the bushes. "I just come out here, get baked, shut my eyes, and things come to me." He smiles and zips up. "You wanna burn some bud?"
To some, it may seem incredible that corporations would pay huge sums to listen to the semi-coherent ramblings of a 25-year-old pothead surfer, but industry honchos say Spool is the real thing.
"His work for us was brilliant," says Susan McCormick, assistant junior executive at Sunoco International. "It made perfect sense. He has a natural instinct for ebb and flow. And brief -- very brief."
Other FMF clients also wax enthusiastic over Spool's down-to-earth style.
"We've worked with Saffo and some of these other folks in the past," says an official from a large fiber-optic communications company who begs anonymity. "They kept talking on and on about mapping out a cone of digital convergence, cyberspace destination conduit, importance of marginal multi-user dungeons, imploding this and that. We were lost. We went to Todd, and his advice cut to the chase. He sent us a one-page memo containing only two words: 'Too much!' The next day we laid off 6,000 employees, filed for reorganization and started over entirely, without any significant downturn in earnings for the fiscal quarter. He was worth every penny."
Spool's success story began just six months ago, after a mysterious fire in the Santa Cruz surf shop where Spool was employed as a waxer's assistant. The following morning he sent the owner a letter saying, in effect, that things happen for a reason, and the business should move closer to the beach, because "Water puts out fire." The owner moved his shop to the boardwalk area, which follows the shoreline of the Pacific Ocean, and business immediately picked up. After a local newspaper caught wind of the story, Spool was deluged with companies requesting his advice, and the rest is history.
In addition to his thriving consulting business, Spool plans to enter the media fray. Already Wired magazine's Soundbite Consultant, he is in negotiations with CBS over a regular "60 Minutes" segment, in which he would face off in point-counterpoint debates with MIT's Nicholas Negroponte and author Howard Rheingold.
Spool, who says he was "crashing in my Bug" six months ago, is enjoying his suddenly opulent lifestyle. But some of the changes have been a little hard to get used to.
"I actually had to get a phone," says Spool. "My dealer was freaked."
Jack Boulware has written for British Esquire, Playboy, Hotwired and Mr. Showbiz.