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David Brown
Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of Business wars ad free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. It's November 3, 2016, in San Mateo, California, 20 miles south of San Francisco. GoPro CEO Nick Woodman weaves through the company's sprawling headquarters, heading to a conference room. He doesn't have time to dawdle. In a few minutes, he's holding a press call to go over GoPro's third quarter earnings, and it's not going to be pretty. The small, rugged company, beloved by surfers and other action sports enthusiasts, once produced one of the top selling video cameras in the country. But sales over the past three months have been abysmal, and now Woodman has to face his shareholders in anticipation of the call. The stock market has paused trading of GoPro shares, its standard procedure before an earnings announcement. But Woodman knows that when trading reopens, the stock price will fall, and probably by a lot. So even though he doesn't have time, Woodman slows his pace and looks around the office. His eyes land on the motorcycles and vintage race cars parked inside the massive building. He looks at the oversized photos on the walls, shot from inside the barrel of a wave, from the open door of a plane, from the face of a mountain. He loves this place. He loves this company. He wishes he could freeze this moment the way these photos have frozen moments in time and keep everything exactly as it is. But he can't. Woodman plasters a smile on his face and walks into the conference room. A number of executives sit around the table, including GoPro's chief financial officer, Brian McGee. He nods at Woodman. You ready? Yep. Let's bite the bullet. McGee hits unmute on the speakerphone at the center of the table, and Woodman leans in. On the other end of the line are analysts and investors. Well, good afternoon. Thank you all for being here. We'll dive right in. Revenue this quarter came in at $240 million. Someone on the call forgot to mute their line. Woodman hears a sharp intake of breath, and he knows why. GoPro missed its revenue projections by nearly $75 million, and in the past year the company has gone from a profit of roughly 37 million to a loss of close to 85 million. Woodman powers through, doing his best to sound upbeat. We anticipate a strong holiday season thanks to the release of our newest camera, the Hero 5, and we predict revenues to be between 600 and 650 million dollars. He casts a quick glance at McGee. Woodman saying this like it's a big win, but the truth is, that figure is also lower than projected. Magee leans forward. We had some setbacks this year. As you know, our Hero 5 camera faced some production delays, but those problems are behind us and we're looking at some restructuring in the upcoming year to cut costs. Woodman nods. Restructuring? That's a polished way to describe closing divisions and laying off a significant number of employees. McGee and Woodman continue answering questions from analysts and trying to sound optimistic about GoPro's future. But when the call is over, Woodman walks back to his office alone. He's sitting by himself when GoPro stock trading resumes. He watches as the widget in the corner of his screen shows a big red arrow pointed down and the price of GoPro stock falls and falls with each cent the share price drops. The Overall valuation of GoPro drops with it. Woodman feels like he's standing on a precipice, watching the company he built from the ground up, his baby hurtling toward the end. But Woodman shakes his head. He's been skydiving, so he knows that just because you're falling toward earth doesn't mean you're going to die. You just need a parachute. So that's what he's going to do. Find GoPro's parachute and save his company. The Emmy Award winning HBO original series Hard Knocks Training Camp brings viewers into the preseason with unparalleled access to the reigning super bowl champion Seattle Seahawks. Go behind the scenes with Sam Darnold, Jackson Smith and Jigba and the legendary Darkside defense as they prepare to make another run at the NFL title. See how the best in the world take the hype and pressure head on. Your football fix starts here. With the personalities and challenges that define a championship team, Bonds will be built, bloopers will be captured. Hard Knock's training camp with the Seattle Seahawks premieres Tuesday, August 4th at 9pm on HBO.
Jill Scully
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David Brown
Originals I'm David Brown and this is Business Wars. Nick Woodman was a surfer from California who built a tiny, rugged camera that could go anywhere. Strap it to a helmet, a surfboard, a dog, a drone. In the early 2010s, it took off, becoming one of the highest selling video cameras on the market. But its success was in large part because it was the right product at the right time. YouTube was exploding, and users were essentially marketing GoPro for free, uploading footage that made their lives look like action movies. Meanwhile, smartphones didn't yet have cameras that could shoot high quality video. GoPro owned the moment, and in 2015, Woodman became the highest paid CEO in America. But then smartphones caught up. The era of the one off gadget was ending. Woodman tried desperately to keep GoPro relevant, but every bet failed spectacularly. How completely did the product stall? In April 2026, NASA sent a GoPro to orbit the moon on the Artemis 2 mission. The camera was a Hero4Black, a model released in 2014. NASA didn't want a newer version. Neither do most consumers. Now the company that invented the action camera is fighting for its life. This is episode one. Think it, see it, do it. Boom. It's 2002 in Bali, Indonesia. Nick Woodman paddles out through crystal clear water. His friend Reuben Duchesne paddles just ahead of him. Woodman is 26 years old, with wavy brown hair and large brown eyes, and as he moves through the warm water, a big grin spreads over his face. There is nothing he loves more than surfing. Growing up in California's Silicon Valley, he started surfing his senior year in high school. He got so into it, he quit the football and baseball teams to devote more time to the water. In fact, he chose UC San Diego for college, mainly because it was close to the beach. Woodman is happiest in the water, and it bothers him that he doesn't have any great photos of himself or his friends out here catching waves. Professional surfers hire photographers with waterproof cameras to paddle out along beside them or shoot them with long lenses from the shore. But that's too expensive for amateurs. Woodman wants action shots like the ones he sees in surfing magazines, without the steep price tag. He has an idea, though, and he's testing it out. Today. He's strapped a disposable camera in a waterproof plastic case to his wrist, using an old surfboard leash and some rubber bands. It's not fancy, but it should work. Ahead of him, Duchenne drops into a wave and starts carving it, angling his board up and down the face. Woodman fumbles as he tries to free his camera from the rubber bands and take the shot. But maneuvering it out is harder than he thought. Finally, he yanks on it, snapping the rubber band. The broken band flies through the air and nearly hits him in the face before dropping in the water. By the time Woodman takes the photo, Duchenne has finished his run. A little later, Woodman lies on his stomach on a towel propped up on his elbows. His disposable camera and old surf leash sit in front of him. Duchenne is still in the water, but Woodman's girlfriend, Jill Scully, lies on her back next to him with her sunglasses on and eyes closed. Woodman fiddles with a plastic camera case. You know, I really need something easier to manipulate. Trying to take off the rubber bands while staying balanced on the board and keeping an eye on what you're shooting, it's all. It's just too much.
Jill Scully
Yeah, you need something you can basically control blind.
David Brown
Exactly. Like the camera attaches to you and you just hit a button. It takes photos without having to point and shoot.
Jill Scully
I feel like you could figure that out. And I bet a bunch of other surfers would want it. Just saying.
David Brown
I'm not starting any more businesses when we get back home. I'm getting a job. A normal job.
Jill Scully
I know you've said that, but you're an entrepreneur through and through. How many times did you tell me about selling T shirts to raise money for your surfing club in high school?
David Brown
Yeah, But I think two failed companies before 30 is enough. After graduating college, Woodman founded two startups. The first was an e commerce site that never caught on. The second was a platform that allowed users to play games for money. He raised nearly $4 million from investors, but went bankrupt when the tech bubble burst a few months ago. Scully rolls over and lowers her sunglasses, looking Woodman in the eyes.
Jill Scully
Look, the stock market crashed.
David Brown
It's not your fault, maybe, but it absolutely sucked losing all that money for investors. I don't want to go through that again.
Jill Scully
So don't get investors.
David Brown
What do you mean?
Jill Scully
How much would you need to get this camera strap company off the ground?
David Brown
Woodman thinks for a moment. Maybe $300,000.
Jill Scully
That's really not that much. We can raise a chunk of that ourselves. And you could ask your parents for help.
David Brown
Wibman's father is a successful banker who helped broker Pepsi's purchase of Taco Bell, among other deals.
Jill Scully
Maybe I know you. You're an iconoclast. You're never going to be happy working for someone else.
David Brown
Woodman fidgets with the camera. He really wants photos of himself surfing. He was a visual arts major in college. Images matter to him. And if he feels this way, well, other surfers must, too. And his girlfriend is right. $300,000 isn't that much money. You're right. Let's do it. Before leaving Bali, Woodman and Scully buy 600 belts made from seashells for less than $2 each. When they return to California, they drive up and down the coast, selling them for as much as $60, eventually raising around $30,000. His father gives him $200,000, and he borrows another 35,000 from his mom. Then Woodman holds up in his bedroom, along with his mom's sewing machine. He gives himself four years to develop his camera mount. If he fails, he'll enter the corporate world for real. This time. Woodman throws himself into the project. Working 18 hours a day, he straps a CamelBak filled with Gatorade and water on his back so he doesn't have to waste time going to the kitchen. When he needs a drink, he pees in the bushes outside his bedroom's sliding door. To save time walking to the bathroom, his entire living space becomes littered with different types of materials. He even sleeps in the prototypes to make sure they don't cause skin irritation. But he soon discovers a problem. Every time he takes his new strap surfing, the camera breaks. If the camera can't survive the water, no one's going to buy the strap. It needs a protective case. But making cases that fit every camera on the market is too hard, too complex. Woodman realizes he needs to develop and sell his own camera, one that comes with a strap and protective case built in. But designing a camera strap is one thing. Designing a camera is a whole other endeavor that requires technical skills he doesn't possess. So he starts searching for a camera he can license. He searches online and attends trade shows to learn more about the camera business. In between, he works on the protective case, writes marketing materials, and files patents. Finally, after two years of searching, Woodman finds a company in China called Hotax that makes a small 35 millimeter film camera that can be manufactured for just over $3. He orders a few samples and waits for them to ship. When they arrive, he starts building a case. He drills holes into hard plastic to attach it to the strap and uses a hot glue gun to fuse the plastic shell to the camera body. It's crude, but it should communicate his vision. Woodman reaches back out to Hotex. They're willing to work with him, but they want $5,000 up front to make the prototype. Nick Woodman paces the living room of a cottage nestle among the redwoods in Pescadero, California. His girlfriend, Jill Scully, sits on the couch watching him walk back and forth. This could be a scam. I've only ever emailed with these people.
Jill Scully
They sent you the cameras you ordered. That's a good sign.
David Brown
Anyone can ship a couple of cheap cameras. What if I send them my prototype and never hear from them again? Then I'll have wasted valuable time. Not to mention the five grand.
Jill Scully
What do you want to do?
David Brown
Well, I feel like the responsible thing would be to go to China and see the factory with my own eyes. You know, shake hands with the people I've been emailing, make sure these people can deliver.
Jill Scully
Well, how much would that cost?
David Brown
More than five. Woodman mutters something under his breath.
Jill Scully
I didn't hear you.
David Brown
More than $5,000?
Jill Scully
I think you're just scared. You're scared this isn't going to work. That they won't understand the sample you've put together with essentially chewing gum and popsicle sticks. Or they'll build the case exactly the way you want it, but it won't work.
David Brown
Or it will work, but no one will want it.
Jill Scully
Or that. But bottom line, once you send this off, it's real. This product either works or it doesn't.
David Brown
I'm dropping into the wave.
Jill Scully
Yep. And what's the advice? You always tell me when you see a monster wave coming your way.
David Brown
Full send, no hesitation. Scully raises her eyebrows. Woodman shakes his head with a smile. You're right, as always. He kisses her on the cheek. The next day, Woodman arranges payment and ships his makeshift camera and case across the world to hotex. As he drops off the package, he crosses his fingers. He really, really hopes this isn't a scam. Otherwise he might have wiped out his company before it ever had a chance to ride the wave. With the SparkCash plus card from Capital One, you earn unlimited 2% cash back on every purchase. And you get big purchasing power so your business can spend more and earn more.
Jill Scully
I'm Alice Levine.
David Brown
And I'm Matt Ford. And we're the hosts of British Scandal.
Jill Scully
Yes, indeed. In this series, a Derbyshire couple are bored of their curtain twitching, lawn mowing suburban life.
David Brown
So they sell their house, build a yacht and sail off around the world.
Jill Scully
Which sort of sounds idyllic. Until a sperm whale sinks their boat and they begin to starve.
David Brown
Oh yes, and they didn't bring a
Nick Woodman
radio because Real sailors don't use radio videos, right?
David Brown
This is the story of Marilyn and
Jill Scully
Morris bailey and the 117 days they spent lost at sea.
David Brown
Follow British Scandal wherever you get your podcasts or listen early and ad free on Audible. In 2004, a few months after Nick Woodman sent $5,000 to Hotex, a company in China he'd only exchanged emails with, he receives a package from them. As he cuts open the box, he feels butterflies in his stomach. He's had enough exchanges about specs and dimensions that he no longer worries they're scamming him. But he has no idea if Hotaks was able to take his crude model and hand drawn sketches and turn them into a real product. When he removes the prototype from the box, he gasps. It's even better than he imagined. The hard plastic fits snugly over the camera body. There are bright blue clips that keep it in place and help snap it into the mount. It looks like something you'd see on a shelf. It looks real, and when he takes it out in the water, it works. The camera stays protected when it gets wet and when he whacks it against his surfboard. Woodman names this first product the GoPro Hero and places an order. Now the real work begins. He has to sell it. You know, in this era of dropship inventions, many people imagine the hard part is building the product. And sometimes it is. But there are warehouses full of clever things nobody ever bought. What Woodman has now isn't really a camera company. It's one guy with a potential product and a long list of people who have never heard of it. Convincing strangers to care is often the toughest part of the whole journey. Just like he did with the design process, Woodman throws himself into the marketing. He hires a friend named Neil Dana to help with sales and ropes in his girlfriend, Jill Scully. In September 2004, he makes his first sale at an action sports trade show in San Diego, where a Japanese distributor orders 100 GoPro heroes. Over the next year, Woodman, Dana and Scully cold call surf shops up and down the California coast. To keep his budget low, Woodman drives a white 1971 VW bus he calls the Biscuit, which he also sleeps in. And he buys the supplies he needs for trade show stalls from Home Depot, then returns them when he's done. In 2005, he discovers that QVC is holding a competition called Inventor Search. The winners get to appear on the show to hawk their products live on air, but the last remaining audition date is in just a few days At QVC headquarters in Westchester, Pennsylvania. It's a gamble. Plane tickets on this short notice are expensive. But Woodman has a philosophy. Think it, see it, do it, boom. So he buys the tickets and hops on a plane to Pennsylvania. When he arrives at QVC headquarters, the line wraps around the building. He's one of the last people seen that day, but he wins. He etches another victory for his philosophy, and a little while later, he appears live on air, pitching his Hero camera. He strides on stage in khakis and a short sleeve button down shirt. The host gives a quick rundown of the product and then starts asking Woodman questions about the camera strapped to his wrist.
Nick Woodman
So I came up with the HERO camera design, which allows you to securely wear the camera.
David Brown
He shakes his arm vigorously, showing that the camera stays fixed to his arm, right? So totally secure.
Nick Woodman
But then when you want to take
David Brown
a photograph, it just pivots up. Take the shot, but then it stays
Nick Woodman
attached so you don't have to worry about dropping it. And then it locks back down and
David Brown
you can get back to your activity. To prove what the HERO can do, Woodman shows photos he and his girlfriend took of each other while snorkeling in Hawaii, demonstrating that it's waterproof up to 15ft deep. QVC slashes the price of the Hero from $21.50 to roughly $18, plus shipping and handling. In 10 minutes, Woodman sells about 3,000 cameras. He's over the moon. Everything is clicking into place. You know, when it comes to Silicon Valley lore, QVC doesn't get talked about that much. But maybe it should. Plenty of companies spent fortunes on advertising only to discover nobody understood what they were selling. But QVC forced entrepreneurs to demonstrate a product live in real time, with no hiding behind slogans. If people immediately understood why they needed it, the phones lit up. If not, the audience changed the channel. That's a pretty good pressure test for a sales pitch. By the end of 2005, the first full year that a GoPro camera is on the market, the company brings in about $350,000 in revenue. But several of Woodman's friends have a suggestion to improve the Hero. Instead of selling a 35 millimeter film camera, he should go digital. That's the future of photography. Woodman listened, and in 2006, GoPro releases the digital Hero, a camera that can shoot stills as well as up to 10 seconds of video. With that release, annual revenue climbs to $800,000. To celebrate the booming sales of the Digital Hero, Woodman decides to fulfill A lifelong dream, and enrolls in a car racing school. On the first day of class, he strides into the office of the Infineon Raceway in Sonoma, California. In the distance, he can hear cars tearing around the 2 1/2 mile track that winds through the golden hills of wine country. Woodman feels the familiar surge of adrenaline. He loves this feeling. He doesn't understand why everyone isn't an adrenaline junkie. A receptionist places a stack of paperwork on the counter in front of him.
Jill Scully
Welcome. I can see you're ready to get behind the wheel, but we just need you to fill out a few pieces of paperwork and then we'll get you out on the track.
David Brown
Woodman smirks at the few pieces of paperwork. The stack looks as thick as a phone book. He skims through each form, scrawling his name by each X. From what he can tell, every form is just a different way of saying he might seriously injure himself or die. But one form catches his attention. It's an option to rent a mounted camera to record yourself from inside the car while you drive. The receptionist notices him reading it over.
Jill Scully
It's worth the extra expense. The footage you get is really fun. Everyone loves it.
David Brown
Woodman gets an idea. Hey, could I use my own camera?
Jill Scully
I don't know. It has to be able to attach to the roll bar in our cars.
David Brown
Woodman grins. That won't be a problem. He finishes signing the paperwork. When he gets to the car, he attaches his digital Hero to the roll bar, the metal bar behind the seats that protects passengers if the car rolls over. He faces the camera towards himself. Just before accelerating, he hits record and then floors it. Throughout the day, he grabs photos and videos of himself tearing through turns and pushing the car to its limits. After a full day of zooming around the track, Woodman eagerly watches back the footage. The receptionist was right. It's a blast to see the G force stretch his face back, to see the giant smile in his face as he pulls a tight curve. Plus, he looks so cool in his racing helmet with the visor down. He's stoked to have these images, and if he edits the footage together, he can make a mini action movie about his day on the track. He envisions the next evolution of GoPro. The company should make mounts that let users put these cameras everywhere, on their helmets, their surfboards, their bikes. The cameras should be able to face out or face in so people can capture themselves. You know, this is one of those moments that looks obvious in hindsight. It wasn't Woodman wasn't really changing the camera. He was changing the question people asked about it. Instead of, how do I take pictures with this thing? The question became, what have I never been able to catch on camera before? That's a very different market. Woodman is jazzed. With this shift, GoPro will move well beyond its surfing niche and become the camera for anyone seeking to capture their adventures. Soon after, Woodman buys a Lotus sports car and spends hours every day driving around the track at over 100 mph, testing different mount designs. He wants to make sure the image and sound quality are as high as possible and that the mount controls vibration and noise. It's a lot of resources to pour into one idea, including his own time. Woodman knows that an outside investor might raise an eyebrow at a CEO spending his own days on a racetrack doing product development. He's grateful GoPro hasn't had to take outside funding. Aside from the initial seed money from his parents, his investment pays off between 2006 and 2007, with new models and a wider customer base. Revenues quadrupled to reach $3.4 million. But despite the success, Woodman starts to worry. He's taken the company about as far as he can. He seems to be hitting a wall. He's pitched the camera to Best Buy and gotten no traction, despite now being carried at outdoor retailer REI. So in 2008, he makes a surprising decision. He agrees to turn control of GoPro over to a group of outside investors. GoPro won't be his anymore. His days of spending hours on the racetrack doing product development are likely over. But there's an adage. In the tech world, hardware is hard, and Woodman knows he would regret squandering GoPro's potential because he refused to get help when he needed it. GoPro is his baby. But now it's time to push it out of the nest. Or so he hopes.
Nick Woodman
Hey, Dan Tabursky here. I'm a podcast host, a journalist, and now with my newest project, the author of my own manifesto. Well, it's a manifesto about manifestos, my search for inspiration in a world that feels more infuriating, more out of its freaking mind with each passing hour. Manifestos are a call to action, an artful scream. They capture our anger, and they try to do something with it. This is my attempt to take the manifesto back from mass shooters and nihilists and return it to its rightful place with the warriors, the visionaries, the regular folks with just the right amount of crazy. I compare notes with radicals, secessionists, Internet trolls, out for a laugh and punk singers screaming their guts out, all trying to turn their anger into the world they want to see. Listen to Manifesto wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can binge all episodes of Manifesto early and ad free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts.
David Brown
It's late 2008 in Pescadero, California. On a narrow slip of sand along a rocky coastline, Nick Woodman shimmies into a wetsuit with one hand in his other. He holds his phone up to his ear. He can't believe what his lawyer has just told him. No, that number can't be accurate. I'm afraid it is. It's a new economy. Several months ago, Woodman agreed to turn over majority control of GoPro to outside investors. But in the intervening time, while the lawyers have been negotiating the deal, the world has experienced the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. The housing bubble has burst, the stock market has crashed, layoffs are spreading like wildfire, and economists are warning of a long recession. As a result, investors have lowered GoPro's valuation. Woodman bites his lip. He feels insulted by this lower valuation for GoPro. Angry even. You know, sometimes nothing changes inside a company, but everything changes on the outside. One year, investors are throwing money at almost anything with growth. The next, they're asking whether anybody should be spending money on anything at all. Imagine you're Woodman. You wake up looking exactly the same as yesterday, but the world is looking at you differently. That's what Woodman's running into here, and there's a real dissonance that's hard to process when you're right there in the middle of it. Woodman looks out at the waves. There are a few surfers in the water, and he spots a GoPro mounted to one of their boards. He shakes his head. Did you send them our latest revenue numbers? We're on pace to do over $8 million in sales. That's double last year. Financial crisis or not, we have a product that people want. Yeah, but I think they're worried that if this drags on as long as economists are predicting, people won't have to see disposable income to spend on products like GoPro. So there's no way they're budging on this? I guess we can ask, but my sense is no, it just seems wrong. We're doing great. We should be valued by how we're actually performing. Well, a lot of investors are conservative right now, and investing is risky. Woodman thinks back to all the Time he spent on the racetrack developing the new mount. That was risky, but it played an important role in their sales growth. The truth is, since agreeing to this deal, he's had second thoughts. He's not sure he wants to hand over control. Maybe he's not the right person to grow GoPro to its full potential, but he wants to be the one to try. At the very least, he knows he's not afraid to take risks. Woodman digs his foot into the sand. Tell him no. The valuation stands. The lawyer is quiet for a moment. Now, you understand this means they'll pull their money and the deal will be off, right? Yeah, I know. Well, all right, if you're comfortable with that outcome. Woodman is comfortable with it. In fact, it's the outcome he wants. He hangs up the phone, grabs his surfboard and runs into the ocean. GoPro is still his, and he's going to figure out how to get it to the next level by himself over the next year. With the deal officially off, Woodman throws himself into growing GoPro. He's confident that video is the future of the company, so that's where he puts his energy. The company makes plans to develop a GoPro camera that can shoot in high definition and for longer amounts of time. But Woodman thinks that improving their audio is what will really set them apart from other video cameras. When capturing footage of action sports, the wind can blow out all the other audio, leaving you with amazing visuals but missing the sound completely. And just like he did when he was developing the first mount, Woodman leads the way on testing fixes for the problem. He buys an electric motorcycle called a zero bike that is virtually silent. Then he captures audio as he rides the bike around Pigeon Point, a particularly windy part of the California coast. Once he has a clean sound of the wind, GoPro's engineers develop software that locks in on that sound and almost completely eliminates it from the footage. The GoPro Hero HD releases in November 2009, retailing for $270 and promising users high quality audio and video sales explode well beyond Woodman's expectations. One analyst describes the graph of their sales as a hockey stick. The company is still advertising primarily at action sports trade shows. But these sales show customers are finding the cameras in other ways. As Woodman looks into it, he realizes that happy customers are posting footage they shot on YouTube and adding GoPro. Together, YouTube and GoPro create the perfect confluence of products. The video hosting platform was founded in 2005, and since 2006, its growth has exploded from 8 million views per day to 2 billion views per day. In this era before TikTok and Instagram, YouTube is the hub for what's being called user generated content. And the eye popping footage of surfers shooting the curl, skiers racing avalanches and scuba divers encountering sharks. All tagged, GoPro is racking up views and comments. The YouTube videos create the perfect loop. People watch videos shot with GoPro, buy their own, upload their footage, which more people see. It's the kind of organic marketing companies dream of. You know, for decades, companies paid celebrities to endorse products. Then the Internet arrived and millions of ordinary people became broadcasters. And GoPro benefited from that shift better than almost anyone. Every exciting video posted online was both entertainment and advertisement. Viewers hoping to start their own channel were asking an obvious question, how do I do that? The answer? GoPro. It's the kind of marketing strategy no agency could have dreamed up, because it wasn't a strategy at all. It was just people showing off. By early 2010, just a few months after the Hero HD debuted, Woodman gets a phone call from Best Buy. The retailer that had long ignored him finally wants to talk. Customers have been coming into Best Buy stores asking to buy GoPros after watching footage online. Now Best Buy wants to carry the HD Hero, joining other big retailers like Dick's and REI. By the end of 2010, GoPro is doing approximately $64 million a year in sales, and analysts estimate that it has captured 70% of the home video camera market for the next two years. GoPro soars. They go from having 14 employees in 2010 to 150 in 2012. And their user base expands beyond action sports enthusiasts. But competitors have taken notice. In 2012, Sony releases what it calls an action camera that is similar to a GoPro but has some features GoPro lacks. It can record in stereo sound and includes image stabilization technology. Sony's sales pitch argues that they're a true camera company, while GoPro is more of a mount company. But the bigger threat is Apple. Since releasing the first iPhone in 2007, Apple has improved the camera on each new version. The latest version, the I Pro 5, can shoot HD video. Sony seems to be trying to beat GoPro at its own game. But Apple might eliminate the game entirely. Some analysts argue that with the rise of the iPhone, consumers don't want niche gadgets, devices that only do one thing. They want an uber gadget, one device that does everything. For now, Apple can't compete with GoPro's core customers. Action sports enthusiasts. IPhones retail for over Twice as much as a GoPro. And they're not built for rugged activities or those that take place in water. But if GoPro wants to keep growing, it needs to convince even more people that a smartphone won't suffice for all their camera needs. And whatever route they take to do that, whether it's developing new products, expanding the company's scope, or rolling out new marketing, will require money. So in late 2012, GoPro accepts significant outside investment for the first time from Taiwanese company Foxconn. But the more Woodman thinks about it, the more he realizes he needs to think bigger. Much bigger. It's 2014. In the water off the coast of Santa Cruz, California, Nick Woodman straddles his surfboard, floating in between sets. Next to him is GoPro's creative director, Bradford Schmidt. Woodman met Schmidt when he was on his surfing trip in Bali back in 2002, where he initially got the idea for GoPro. And now Schmidt runs the company's YouTube channel, overseeing a stream of in house content. Woodman squints into the sun, trying to read the expression on Schmidt's face. So what do you think? Rad, right? I mean, obviously I love the idea. How could I not? Woodman has pitched a pivot from being a hardware company to becoming a media company. He wants to make movies and TV shows and ultimately build their own platform to distribute them. Woodman turns to his friend. Okay, but you don't sound like you love it, bro. It's just that this would be a huge undertaking, man. You've been to la. This business is run by massive companies. We're still basically a startup. Yeah, it's going to take a lot of money, but if we do it right, it'll benefit us twofold. We'll sell more cameras and create a second income stream. Yeah, I understand that, and it'd be awesome. I just keep coming back to the money and how much we'd need to pour into it before we saw any returns. Yeah, I'm assuming it'll take two or three years before we start seeing any real income. At least. But here's the thing. When I talk to investors, they seem much more excited about our potential as a media company. There are a lot of concerns that our cameras can either be replicated or made obsolete. But the media idea has real legs, I guess. And. And I had another idea. Maybe it's time to go public. Schmidt turns to him, his eyebrows raised. Wow. You've been so reluctant to take outside money for so long, you didn't want to have to answer to investors, and now you want to answer to shoot shareholders. Woodman shrugs. You really want to become a media company, huh? Well, I think if we don't, we'll always wonder why we didn't. Schmidt nods. All right, let's do this. A new set of waves rolls in, and Woodman and Schmidt take off paddling. With each stroke, Woodman repeats to himself, think it, see it, do it. Boom. GoPro goes public in June 2014, the first consumer electronics company to do so in three years. The IPO is a success, and the company is valued at $11 billion. Much of the investor excitement is centered around the potential of the media army. Now Woodman has to deliver on that potential if he wants to maintain the stock price. But launching a media company is more like skiing down the north face of the Eiger rather than taking a run down the bunny slope. He's bet the company on a vision that no one in Silicon Valley has pulled off before, and the fall from $11 billion is a long way down. Follow Business wars on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of Business wars ad free by joining Audible from Audible Originals. This is Episode one of the Billion Dollar Wipeout for Business Wars. A quick note about recreations you've been hearing in most cases, we can't know exactly what was said. Those scenes are dramatizations, but they're based on if you'd like to check out more, we recommend the mad billionaire behind GoPro, the world's hottest camera company, by Ryan Mack, published in forbes, and the GoPro army by Tom Foster, published in Inc. I'm your host, David Brown. Austin Rachless wrote this episode. Our senior producers are Jenny Blume and Emily Frost. Our producer is Tristan Donovan of Yellowand. Karen Lowe is our producer Emeritus. Our managing producer is Desi Blaylock. Fact Checking by Gabrielle Drollet Voice acting by Chloe Elmore Sound design by Kyle Randall Executive Producer for Audible Jenny Lauer Beckman, head of Creative Development at Audible Kate Navin, head of Audible Originals North America Marshall Louie Chief Content Officer Rachel Giazza Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals, LLC Sound Recording Copyright 2026 by Audible Original.
Business Wars | GoPro: The Billion Dollar Wipeout
Episode 1: Think it. See It. Do it. Boom.
Original Air Date: July 29, 2026
Host: David Brown
This episode launches a new series chronicling the meteoric rise—and looming fall—of GoPro, the company that revolutionized action cameras. With a narrative focus on founder Nick Woodman's relentless pursuit of capturing adrenaline-fueled moments, the episode details how GoPro surfed the wave of YouTube fame, vaulted to billion-dollar heights, then struggled as technology and consumer habits shifted. It’s a classic tale of timing, innovation, risky bets…and harsh reality checks.
"So even though he doesn't have time, Woodman slows his pace and looks around the office... He loves this place. He loves this company. He wishes he could freeze this moment... But he can't." —Narration (02:22)
GoPro’s Origin Story (06:09 – 12:42):
Rewind to 2002 in Bali. Woodman, an avid surfer, wants to capture quality photos on the waves like the ones used in surf magazines, but professional gear is beyond his means. He jerry-rigs a waterproof disposable camera to his wrist but finds it unwieldy.
"Yeah, you need something you can basically control blind." —Jill Scully (10:51) "Like the camera attaches to you and you just hit a button. It takes photos without having to point and shoot." —Nick Woodman (10:55)
Instead of seeking investors after two failed startups, Woodman decides to bootstrap, selling shell belts up and down the California coast for seed money (raising $30,000); his parents contribute more.
"I'm dropping into the wave." —Nick Woodman (17:27) "Full send, no hesitation." —Jill Scully (17:36)
"In 10 minutes, Woodman sells about 3,000 cameras. He's over the moon. Everything is clicking into place." —Narration (23:38)
"He envisions the next evolution of GoPro. The company should make mounts that let users put these cameras everywhere..." —Narration (25:57)
"The YouTube videos create the perfect loop... It's the kind of organic marketing companies dream of." —Narration (37:51)
“When I talk to investors, they seem much more excited about our potential as a media company...There are a lot of concerns that our cameras can either be replicated or made obsolete. But the media idea has real legs...” —Nick Woodman (44:15) “Think it, see it, do it, boom.” —Woodman (46:43)
The narrative is energetic and visual, mirroring action-sports culture. Woodman is portrayed as a driven, sometimes reckless founder whose willingness to “full send, no hesitation” both creates meteoric success and plants the seeds for future risks.
Episode 1 sets the stage for GoPro's boom-to-bust saga. It's a story of how innovation, timing, and viral user enthusiasm built a billion-dollar brand—and of the peril when the world changes faster than a company can adapt.
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