Matthew Osborn
http://www.pooper-scooper.com
Matt Boswell
http://www.petbutler.com
The most noted pioneer in the poop-scooping business is Matthew Osborn, who runs Pooper-Scooper.com. He never knew that this business would one day make him a millionaire. Osborn got started back in 1987 when he opened Pet Butler in Columbus, Ohio. "I had been interested in small-business ideas since I was a kid," he says. "My friends thought it was an interesting but far-out idea, and many of them just couldn't grasp the concept. They all said, 'People aren't going to pay you for that.'"
At the time, Osborn was working two full-time jobs and making less than $6 per hour at each. He had a wife, a daughter and a son on the way, and was desperate to make some extra money. Osborn began doing research at the local library, studying the area's demographics and census data. He eventually contacted the county auditor and learned that there were about 100,000 dogs within 15 miles of his home."I just happened to be in the right place at the right time and got started with very little money," he says.
The business slowly took off, and despite the dirty work, Osborn says he enjoyed satisfying the customers and working outdoors in some of the nicest backyards in Ohio. However, it wasn't all fun and games. "I didn't enjoy driving around in my little Honda Civic with hundreds of pounds of dog poop in the back," he says. "It sort of gave me nightmares until I was able to buy pickup trucks for the business."
Eventually Osborn employed seven people and owned a fleet of six trucks serving about 700 regular customers. "I was making more money than ever before and spending most of my time with my family doing the things I enjoyed," he says. After a nearly 10-year run, Osborn sold his business in 1998 and started Pooper-Scooper.com, which contains an international directory of pet waste removal businesses. His newest business venture is that of writer. He recently released a book, "The Professional Pooper-Scooper: How to Start Your Own Low-Cost, High-Profit Dog Waste Removal Service."
While Osborn may have put poop scooping on the map, Matt "Red" Boswell is taking it into the future. Boswell owns the Texas-based Pet Butler. He recently moved the business out of his house and into a 1,200-square-foot office just north of Dallas. Today, Pet Butler is the largest pet waste removal service in the country, and serves about 3,000 clients.
"Most of our customers are middle and upper-middle income," says Boswell. "But can you think of anyone who wants to clean up dog poop or cat poop?"
Boswell explains that at an average of just $10 per visit, nearly anyone can afford Pet Butler's services. "Rarely is Pet Butler considered a luxury service by those who use us," he says. "Most consider Pet Butler a mandatory and highly valued staple for their yard maintenance needs."
Boswell, 35, hasn't always been the poop-scoop king he is today. Back in 1997 he was near bankruptcy after his Internet start-up venture crashed and burned. After months of false starts and dead ends, his girlfriend suggested starting a poop-scooping business. "I was quite offended she thought I would even do it," Boswell says. But figuring he had nothing to lose, he launched Pet Butler in 1998. "It failed miserably," he says. "But I was done quitting. I didn't care if everybody on the planet thought I was an idiot. I dropped all pride. I was determined to make it happen."
Two years later Pet Butler was still struggling, but through relentless marketing, a little press, and word-of-mouth referrals, he finally started making some headway.
Boswell, who refers to himself as Pet Butler's "chief excrement officer," is quick to point out that he's not just some executive in a suit, but that he's paid his dues and gotten his hands dirty -- literally. "I have personally scooped over a million piles of poop," he says proudly. "I have had more than a few make me literally gag. Even the dogs wouldn't go near them."
The company has seven employees working in the field scooping poop, and six in the office who help run the day-to-day business operations. Boswell admits it's not what'd you call a glamorous job, and there are some occupational hazards.
"This job has caused some guys to lose more than their share of girlfriends," Boswell says.
And Boswell says that most of his "Fecal Matter Removal Technicians" have to occasionally deal with temperamental "clients." "Most technicians will normally get bitten sometime in their first six months because they get lazy and too trusting," he says. "Fortunately that is all it takes for the tech to never let it happen again."
Boswell is in the midst of launching Pet Butler Franchise Services Corp., and foresees Pet Butler franchises popping up all over the country. And despite his unorthodox and some would say unsavory career choice, Boswell says he has long gotten over any embarrassment he had over his job, and actually relishes the attention. "I love when people ask what I do for a living," he says. "People just can't get enough of the idea that we actually scoop poop for a living."
Of course, when your company is projected to gross over a million dollars and you have nearly 20 franchises sprouting up all over the country, including 10 in the Dallas/Forth Worth area, it helps ease the embarrassment. In fact it was Boswell's success story that landed him a gig as guest speaker at last year's Pooper Scooper Round-Up in Houston. Boswell was also awarded the Golden Shovel for winning the Turd Herding contest. However, there was some controversy over his technique. "He decided to forgo tools, and just grabbed the turds and stuffed them inside his slacks," says aPaws president Ewing, who came in second. "This is not a technique that is used in the field, so I protested his win, but the board voted against me."
Boswell says he's put the controversy behind him and is focusing on the future goals of Pet Butler. In fact they're posted on a big bulletin board in the new office above the printer: "By June 2010 Pet Butler will support at least 100 franchises across North America. We will serve more than 50,000 clients each week, and offer service to over 50 million people in North America and collect in excess of $500,000 each week and donate $100,000 to pet-friendly organizations each year."
"We've got some huge goals," Boswell says. "It's an industry that's untapped. We plan on becoming the Microsoft of dog poop."
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Profiting From Lost Baggage Big Time
Bryan Owens Story
http://www.unclaimedbaggage.com/
In Scottsboro, Alabama, Bryan Owens, 44, is CEO of Unclaimed Baggage, a store started in 1970 by his retired father, Doyle. It may be one store, but what they sell brings in more than 1 million customers per year. Unclaimed Baggage is just what it suggests: a store selling airport luggage that has gone unclaimed. There is so much of it, the retail outlet has expanded over a city block and now attracts visitors from around the world.
Owens, who bought the company from his father in 1996 and watched it grow 400 percent, says Unclaimed Baggage has exclusive long-term contracts with airlines around America, Asia and Europe, ensuring his store is the only one of its kind. It's also proof that the word "trash" should be used with wide latitude.
Every year thousands and thousands of wayward suitcases end up in Scottsboro—specifically, at the Unclaimed Baggage Center. Once an airline has tried and failed to reunite suitcase and owner (a process that varies according to airline), it will compensate the owner and sell the suitcase—and all its contents—to the UBC, which buys suitcases by the truckload and hauls them to its 50,000-square-foot complex in Scottsboro. There the UBC staff sorts through the bags and puts their contents in a showroom (or some of them: others are given to charity, still others discarded), where they can be seen and bought by members of the public. But are people really interested in buying other people's, uh, lost stuff? "We'll have close to a million people come to the store this year," says Bryan Owens, the owner of the UBC, "from every state in America and thirty foreign countries. This is kind of the Mecca for lost bags."
Owens's father started the UBC in 1970, with a rented old house, a borrowed old truck, and a $300 loan. Today the center gets nearly 7,000 new items every day, and Owens says that people can't seem to get enough. "It's a treasure hunt," he says. "Every day is like Christmas here—we never know what we're going to find. Just last week we found a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar tennis bracelet and a one-point-six-karat diamond ring. We've had a medicine-man stick adorned with a shrunken head, and a Nikon camera that was in the Space Shuttle. Back in the eighties we got a well-traveled Gucci suitcase that was packed with artifacts that dated back to 1500 B.C. And once we found a guidance system for an F-16 fighter jet, in a shockproof case from the Department of the U.S. Navy. It was labeled 'Handle With Extreme Caution—I Am Worth My Weight in Gold.'" The UBC sent that one back.
http://www.unclaimedbaggage.com/
In Scottsboro, Alabama, Bryan Owens, 44, is CEO of Unclaimed Baggage, a store started in 1970 by his retired father, Doyle. It may be one store, but what they sell brings in more than 1 million customers per year. Unclaimed Baggage is just what it suggests: a store selling airport luggage that has gone unclaimed. There is so much of it, the retail outlet has expanded over a city block and now attracts visitors from around the world.
Owens, who bought the company from his father in 1996 and watched it grow 400 percent, says Unclaimed Baggage has exclusive long-term contracts with airlines around America, Asia and Europe, ensuring his store is the only one of its kind. It's also proof that the word "trash" should be used with wide latitude.
Every year thousands and thousands of wayward suitcases end up in Scottsboro—specifically, at the Unclaimed Baggage Center. Once an airline has tried and failed to reunite suitcase and owner (a process that varies according to airline), it will compensate the owner and sell the suitcase—and all its contents—to the UBC, which buys suitcases by the truckload and hauls them to its 50,000-square-foot complex in Scottsboro. There the UBC staff sorts through the bags and puts their contents in a showroom (or some of them: others are given to charity, still others discarded), where they can be seen and bought by members of the public. But are people really interested in buying other people's, uh, lost stuff? "We'll have close to a million people come to the store this year," says Bryan Owens, the owner of the UBC, "from every state in America and thirty foreign countries. This is kind of the Mecca for lost bags."
Owens's father started the UBC in 1970, with a rented old house, a borrowed old truck, and a $300 loan. Today the center gets nearly 7,000 new items every day, and Owens says that people can't seem to get enough. "It's a treasure hunt," he says. "Every day is like Christmas here—we never know what we're going to find. Just last week we found a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar tennis bracelet and a one-point-six-karat diamond ring. We've had a medicine-man stick adorned with a shrunken head, and a Nikon camera that was in the Space Shuttle. Back in the eighties we got a well-traveled Gucci suitcase that was packed with artifacts that dated back to 1500 B.C. And once we found a guidance system for an F-16 fighter jet, in a shockproof case from the Department of the U.S. Navy. It was labeled 'Handle With Extreme Caution—I Am Worth My Weight in Gold.'" The UBC sent that one back.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sport Fans Score $1 Million From A Bright Idea
Dominic And Brennan Latkovski Story
http://www.zooperstars.com
This wacky mascot troupe makes crowds at games laugh, while behind the scenes is a serious effort to run a professional, respected business.
It's not safe coaching third base -- or any base, for that matter -- when the ZOOperstars are in town. Just ask the countless coaches who have been swallowed whole by 10-foot-tall Clammy Sosa, one of the most popular of the ZOOperstars.
In the mascot troupe's signature bit, the impressively tall inflatable clam clad in a Sammy Sosa jersey greedily "devours" opposing coaches, bat boys, or whoever else happens to be around, then spits out his meal's shirt, shoes, and cap, all while Weird Al Yankovic's Eat It plays in the background.
"Yeah, the Eat It skit is a real favorite," says Dominic Latkovski, who founded ZOOperstars with his brother, Brennan, in 1998. "The crowd loves it."
It's just one reason why the Louisville-based ZOOperstars have turned into one of the hottest sideline acts in the sports world. The company's goal is to perform in 300 shows at various events this year -- from the hardwood of the National Basketball Assn. to the fields of Minor League Baseball, the company's biggest sport. Latkovski says revenue from ZOOperstars may hit $1 million this year.
While event attendance in general has sagged as of late, Minor League Baseball continues to surge in popularity, in large part because teams have set out to create a "fan experience" that includes extra entertainment like ZOOperstars. In 2004, minor league teams drew a record 39.8 million fans, up more than 800,000 over the previous year, according to league statistics.
The ZOOperstars have tried to set themselves apart from the competition (and yes, there is competition, such as the Raymond Entertainment Group, out of Newark, Del., best known for Reggy the Purple Party Dude) by taking a serious approach to business -- despite making a living wearing giant, inflatable costumes. Their attitude is greatly appreciated by harried team executives, who would rather not spend time worrying if the guy in the clam costume will show up late.
"They're real professionals," says Jeff Ney, assistant general manager with the Kane County Cougars, a Class A minor league team in Geneva, Ill., which has hired ZOOperstars seven times during the 2005 season. "They return my calls quickly. They send me the right paperwork and documentation. They send us posters far enough ahead of time so we can promote their appearances. Those little things make all the difference."
"Even though this is nothing more than dressing up in funny costumes, we run this like a business," says Dominic Latkovski (he's the family member who speaks about the startup in this story). "We do everything that is necessary to run a successful business, from marketing to customer service. People look at what we do and think it's easy. But they have no idea how difficult it is to run a business like this."
Among the challenges he cites: coordinating travel across the country, juggling scheduling dates, and constantly dreaming up new characters to keep the shows fresh. Staffers also regularly attend sports trade shows.
But the Latkovskis have always had a fondness for mascots. Dominic, for instance, started performing in 1990 as Billy Bird, the mascot for the Triple-A Louisville Redbirds. He soon started his own character, BirdZerk (one he still appears as, though the manic bird is a separate entity from the ZOOperstars cast).
Like many entrepreneurs, the Latkovskis can trace their big idea to small beginnings. Dominic, Brennan, and their father were snacking at an area restaurant when the trio began tossing around ideas for mascots based on existing players, with emphasis on humorous animal concoctions. The idea for the ZOOperstars was born.
The act now consists of 30 giant inflatable animal characters, with such names as Ken Giraffey Jr., Shark McGwire, Shaquille O'Seal, Cow Ripken Jr., and Tiger Woodschuck. The company recently introduced its first female character, Mia Hammster, based on soccer great Mia Hamm.
These creative characters have helped give the ZOOperstars an edge over other mascot troupes. They've been a boon, too, to general managers and promotions staffers who need to fill large home schedules with unique acts.
"Visually, to me, the ZOOperstars are the best act and entertainment there is out there," says Mike Nutter, general manager for the Fort Wayne Wizards, a Class A minor league team in Indiana. "Before they even get into their skits, some of the kids absolutely lose it just seeing the appearance of these characters. They're larger than life. It's like a live cartoon."
Adding to the entertainment value, a dozen or so of the performers -- playing Clammy Sosa, Harry Canary, Stallion Iverson, and other characters -- are former gymnasts or cheerleaders who already know how to play to a crowd.
Like the the four-person office staff in Louisville, the troupe members out in the field have received high marks for their customer service -- a lifeline for this small business that, like many, relies on word-of-mouth advertising.
"They're so well organized with what they need, everything from how many breaks they'll need in a game to how many towels or bottles of water they'll need," says Ney. "They'll tell us if they need an umpire's uniform for a skit, whatever it is, so that we'll be sure to have it when the time comes."
The ZOOperstars also take notes while working for a team. That way, when the troupe comes back for a return engagement, they'll already know the names of the team's officials, where the dugouts are located, and where the entrances and exits to the field sit.
"That may not seem like much of a big deal, but believe me it is," Nutter says. "A lot of times you'll have worked with people for years, and they'll come up to you and say: Now, what's your name again? That doesn't happen with these guys."
The ZOOperstars characters can attribute their popularity in part to their high level of detail. Mackerel Jordan, for example, features a tongue that lolls out of his mouth, just like his real-life counterpart, basketball legend Michael Jordan. Dennis Frogman and Stallion Iverson sport tattoos, just like the real Dennis Rodman and Allen Iverson.
And when Ken Griffey Jr., was traded from the Seattle Mariners to the Cincinnati Reds, his ZOOperstars alter ego, Ken Giraffey Jr., also switched uniforms.
This leads to some tough decisions. When Michael Jordan came out of retirement to join the Washington Wizards, the ZOOperstars decided to leave him in his Chicago Bulls uniform. The reason? Far more people associate Jordan with his championship days in Chicago than with his two seasons in a Wizards jersey.
Such attention to detail doesn't come cheap. The average ZOOperstars costume costs $5,000, estimates Latkovski. They're not easy to lug around, either. The inflatable outfits measure a minimum of 6 feet in height. Shaquille O'Seal stands close to 15 feet. The costumes weigh about 35 pounds -- including the battery packs and motors that keep them inflated.
But without such elaborate and intricate costumes, Latkovski says, the ZOOperstars would hardly stick out in the minds of team officials. "People think they can just get a costume and be a success," notes the entrepreneur. "But it's a lot more than that. People are paying us good money to perform for them. You have to be professional, and you have to offer them something unique. That's the real challenge."
http://www.zooperstars.com
This wacky mascot troupe makes crowds at games laugh, while behind the scenes is a serious effort to run a professional, respected business.
It's not safe coaching third base -- or any base, for that matter -- when the ZOOperstars are in town. Just ask the countless coaches who have been swallowed whole by 10-foot-tall Clammy Sosa, one of the most popular of the ZOOperstars.
In the mascot troupe's signature bit, the impressively tall inflatable clam clad in a Sammy Sosa jersey greedily "devours" opposing coaches, bat boys, or whoever else happens to be around, then spits out his meal's shirt, shoes, and cap, all while Weird Al Yankovic's Eat It plays in the background.
"Yeah, the Eat It skit is a real favorite," says Dominic Latkovski, who founded ZOOperstars with his brother, Brennan, in 1998. "The crowd loves it."
It's just one reason why the Louisville-based ZOOperstars have turned into one of the hottest sideline acts in the sports world. The company's goal is to perform in 300 shows at various events this year -- from the hardwood of the National Basketball Assn. to the fields of Minor League Baseball, the company's biggest sport. Latkovski says revenue from ZOOperstars may hit $1 million this year.
While event attendance in general has sagged as of late, Minor League Baseball continues to surge in popularity, in large part because teams have set out to create a "fan experience" that includes extra entertainment like ZOOperstars. In 2004, minor league teams drew a record 39.8 million fans, up more than 800,000 over the previous year, according to league statistics.
The ZOOperstars have tried to set themselves apart from the competition (and yes, there is competition, such as the Raymond Entertainment Group, out of Newark, Del., best known for Reggy the Purple Party Dude) by taking a serious approach to business -- despite making a living wearing giant, inflatable costumes. Their attitude is greatly appreciated by harried team executives, who would rather not spend time worrying if the guy in the clam costume will show up late.
"They're real professionals," says Jeff Ney, assistant general manager with the Kane County Cougars, a Class A minor league team in Geneva, Ill., which has hired ZOOperstars seven times during the 2005 season. "They return my calls quickly. They send me the right paperwork and documentation. They send us posters far enough ahead of time so we can promote their appearances. Those little things make all the difference."
"Even though this is nothing more than dressing up in funny costumes, we run this like a business," says Dominic Latkovski (he's the family member who speaks about the startup in this story). "We do everything that is necessary to run a successful business, from marketing to customer service. People look at what we do and think it's easy. But they have no idea how difficult it is to run a business like this."
Among the challenges he cites: coordinating travel across the country, juggling scheduling dates, and constantly dreaming up new characters to keep the shows fresh. Staffers also regularly attend sports trade shows.
But the Latkovskis have always had a fondness for mascots. Dominic, for instance, started performing in 1990 as Billy Bird, the mascot for the Triple-A Louisville Redbirds. He soon started his own character, BirdZerk (one he still appears as, though the manic bird is a separate entity from the ZOOperstars cast).
Like many entrepreneurs, the Latkovskis can trace their big idea to small beginnings. Dominic, Brennan, and their father were snacking at an area restaurant when the trio began tossing around ideas for mascots based on existing players, with emphasis on humorous animal concoctions. The idea for the ZOOperstars was born.
The act now consists of 30 giant inflatable animal characters, with such names as Ken Giraffey Jr., Shark McGwire, Shaquille O'Seal, Cow Ripken Jr., and Tiger Woodschuck. The company recently introduced its first female character, Mia Hammster, based on soccer great Mia Hamm.
These creative characters have helped give the ZOOperstars an edge over other mascot troupes. They've been a boon, too, to general managers and promotions staffers who need to fill large home schedules with unique acts.
"Visually, to me, the ZOOperstars are the best act and entertainment there is out there," says Mike Nutter, general manager for the Fort Wayne Wizards, a Class A minor league team in Indiana. "Before they even get into their skits, some of the kids absolutely lose it just seeing the appearance of these characters. They're larger than life. It's like a live cartoon."
Adding to the entertainment value, a dozen or so of the performers -- playing Clammy Sosa, Harry Canary, Stallion Iverson, and other characters -- are former gymnasts or cheerleaders who already know how to play to a crowd.
Like the the four-person office staff in Louisville, the troupe members out in the field have received high marks for their customer service -- a lifeline for this small business that, like many, relies on word-of-mouth advertising.
"They're so well organized with what they need, everything from how many breaks they'll need in a game to how many towels or bottles of water they'll need," says Ney. "They'll tell us if they need an umpire's uniform for a skit, whatever it is, so that we'll be sure to have it when the time comes."
The ZOOperstars also take notes while working for a team. That way, when the troupe comes back for a return engagement, they'll already know the names of the team's officials, where the dugouts are located, and where the entrances and exits to the field sit.
"That may not seem like much of a big deal, but believe me it is," Nutter says. "A lot of times you'll have worked with people for years, and they'll come up to you and say: Now, what's your name again? That doesn't happen with these guys."
The ZOOperstars characters can attribute their popularity in part to their high level of detail. Mackerel Jordan, for example, features a tongue that lolls out of his mouth, just like his real-life counterpart, basketball legend Michael Jordan. Dennis Frogman and Stallion Iverson sport tattoos, just like the real Dennis Rodman and Allen Iverson.
And when Ken Griffey Jr., was traded from the Seattle Mariners to the Cincinnati Reds, his ZOOperstars alter ego, Ken Giraffey Jr., also switched uniforms.
This leads to some tough decisions. When Michael Jordan came out of retirement to join the Washington Wizards, the ZOOperstars decided to leave him in his Chicago Bulls uniform. The reason? Far more people associate Jordan with his championship days in Chicago than with his two seasons in a Wizards jersey.
Such attention to detail doesn't come cheap. The average ZOOperstars costume costs $5,000, estimates Latkovski. They're not easy to lug around, either. The inflatable outfits measure a minimum of 6 feet in height. Shaquille O'Seal stands close to 15 feet. The costumes weigh about 35 pounds -- including the battery packs and motors that keep them inflated.
But without such elaborate and intricate costumes, Latkovski says, the ZOOperstars would hardly stick out in the minds of team officials. "People think they can just get a costume and be a success," notes the entrepreneur. "But it's a lot more than that. People are paying us good money to perform for them. You have to be professional, and you have to offer them something unique. That's the real challenge."
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The Most Incredible Record Company You Never Heard About
Andrew Rallo Story
http://www.subwayrecords.com/
Andrew Rallo was standing on a New York City subway platform in his nicest suit, waiting for the B train to take him uptown for an interview at a marketing outfit when he heard music in the distance. The guitarist across the platform wasn't much to look at, but his talent was obvious. "People just started coagulating around this guy," Rallo recalls. "They were talking to each other and smiling and giving him money. They were doing things that New Yorkers don't normally do." And so the idea for Subway Records was born.
For the next two years, Rallo worked as a technical sales engineer for an online advertising company while saving money and scouring the subway for musical talent. He finally launched his fledgling record label and Web site in the fall of 2002. His vision is to create a comprehensive search engine -- a "Google for subway musicians" -- to get their music heard and market its energy to the public.
How does a 26-year-old launch a record company with no experience, no marketing, and no capital behind him? Well, for starters, Rallo has always believed in his mission to bring that unique subterranean energy above ground -- he's committed to helping those who have a surplus of talent but no voice. And he knew he had to take advantage of the most accessible and inexpensive media outlet out there -- the Internet -- while tapping a product that markets itself constantly to the 3 million to 6 million people who ride the New York City subway every day.
Many artists on Rallo's label, like Lorenzo LaRoc, an electric violinist who has played the subway for years, already have their own promotional Web sites. They just need someone to work on their behalf. With Subway Records' backing, LaRoc was able to trade the screech of passing trains for the screams of Madison Square Garden fans. "Playing the halftime show for the Knicks game was a dream come true," he says. "And I got paid $500 for two minutes of work."
To book the performance, Andrew Rallo relied on the age-old practice of cold calling. "To me, it just made sense," he says, "Subway music and Madison Square Garden are the perfect match. I just didn't stop calling until I made it happen."
Believed to be the only search engine for subway musicians, Subway Records delivers its service in tiers. First, it gives musicians Web-based exposure by listing and marketing their music online. Most times, artists have already produced their own albums, and Subway Records sells them on their behalf. However, unlike traditional record labels, the Subway Records musician pays nothing for this service. For its cut, the company charges the consumer an extra couple of dollars on top of the musician's asking price.
Rallo also acts as agent, booking his artists' paying performances at gallery openings and other events for a negotiated fee, generating additional revenue. He's constantly networking to find opportunities for his musicians to perform, and many times event hosts find him via his all-important Web site.
The second tier comes after judging an artist's marketability. If Rallo notices that a musician is working hard to sell CDs online or they're driving a lot of traffic to the site, then he will spend more time and energy on the artist. He'll even fund production of an album for musicians he feels have the potential to sell enough CDs online to be profitable, and the artists take it from there. After all, they're constantly performing -- simultaneously promoting themselves and Subway Records.
Down the line, a select few will be raised to the highest tier -- into the hands of upper-level record executives, who may mold them into bigger sellers. Through his networking skills, Rallo has already seen larger outfits express interest in forming marketing and production partnerships with Subway Records.
Don Gorder, head of the music business/management department at Boston's Berklee School of Music, says Subway Records' model -- using technology to promote a particular niche -- represents "the wave of the future" in the industry. But he warns that the approach remains very much the exception rather than the rule. "We have yet to see a really hot, successful label marketed entirely over the Internet," he says. "But I think it can be done."
Rallo says Subway Records is in the black, and he confesses that much of its growth has come from simply filling a void. "No one else wants to do what we do," he says. "No one has been willing to work with these musicians because of the deep-rooted stigma they carry with them of being bums or beggars."
But Steve Ciabattoni, editor of CMJ, one of the most prominent magazines supporting independent music, says Subway Records shares qualities with some of the most successful indie labels: "They appeal to a loyal fan base because the artists all come from one community and are chosen because the people supporting them really love their music." Ciabattoni, who admits to missing trains after becoming so engrossed by musicians on the platform, adds, "I believe Subway Records will succeed if they keep that spirit." He had been keeping tabs on one of his favorite subway acts, a tribal percussion band called Mecca Bodega, when he learned of its integration into Rallo's growing network.
By the end of 2004, Subway will represent over 200 musicians. And the site's traffic keeps increasing: With no outside marketing, it garners 2,000 to 20,000 hits per week depending on the level of recent media coverage, and fans have purchased almost 200,000 CDs online to date. Rallo is also looking beyond the Big Apple, with plans to sign musicians from Boston, San Francisco, Toronto, and Tokyo over the next few years.
Still, the process remains rooted in simplicity. All subway musicians are subject to the same test: If people interrupt their commute long enough not only to listen but to fork over their hard-earned money, then Rallo knows he has found a winner.
http://www.subwayrecords.com/
Andrew Rallo was standing on a New York City subway platform in his nicest suit, waiting for the B train to take him uptown for an interview at a marketing outfit when he heard music in the distance. The guitarist across the platform wasn't much to look at, but his talent was obvious. "People just started coagulating around this guy," Rallo recalls. "They were talking to each other and smiling and giving him money. They were doing things that New Yorkers don't normally do." And so the idea for Subway Records was born.
For the next two years, Rallo worked as a technical sales engineer for an online advertising company while saving money and scouring the subway for musical talent. He finally launched his fledgling record label and Web site in the fall of 2002. His vision is to create a comprehensive search engine -- a "Google for subway musicians" -- to get their music heard and market its energy to the public.
How does a 26-year-old launch a record company with no experience, no marketing, and no capital behind him? Well, for starters, Rallo has always believed in his mission to bring that unique subterranean energy above ground -- he's committed to helping those who have a surplus of talent but no voice. And he knew he had to take advantage of the most accessible and inexpensive media outlet out there -- the Internet -- while tapping a product that markets itself constantly to the 3 million to 6 million people who ride the New York City subway every day.
Many artists on Rallo's label, like Lorenzo LaRoc, an electric violinist who has played the subway for years, already have their own promotional Web sites. They just need someone to work on their behalf. With Subway Records' backing, LaRoc was able to trade the screech of passing trains for the screams of Madison Square Garden fans. "Playing the halftime show for the Knicks game was a dream come true," he says. "And I got paid $500 for two minutes of work."
To book the performance, Andrew Rallo relied on the age-old practice of cold calling. "To me, it just made sense," he says, "Subway music and Madison Square Garden are the perfect match. I just didn't stop calling until I made it happen."
Believed to be the only search engine for subway musicians, Subway Records delivers its service in tiers. First, it gives musicians Web-based exposure by listing and marketing their music online. Most times, artists have already produced their own albums, and Subway Records sells them on their behalf. However, unlike traditional record labels, the Subway Records musician pays nothing for this service. For its cut, the company charges the consumer an extra couple of dollars on top of the musician's asking price.
Rallo also acts as agent, booking his artists' paying performances at gallery openings and other events for a negotiated fee, generating additional revenue. He's constantly networking to find opportunities for his musicians to perform, and many times event hosts find him via his all-important Web site.
The second tier comes after judging an artist's marketability. If Rallo notices that a musician is working hard to sell CDs online or they're driving a lot of traffic to the site, then he will spend more time and energy on the artist. He'll even fund production of an album for musicians he feels have the potential to sell enough CDs online to be profitable, and the artists take it from there. After all, they're constantly performing -- simultaneously promoting themselves and Subway Records.
Down the line, a select few will be raised to the highest tier -- into the hands of upper-level record executives, who may mold them into bigger sellers. Through his networking skills, Rallo has already seen larger outfits express interest in forming marketing and production partnerships with Subway Records.
Don Gorder, head of the music business/management department at Boston's Berklee School of Music, says Subway Records' model -- using technology to promote a particular niche -- represents "the wave of the future" in the industry. But he warns that the approach remains very much the exception rather than the rule. "We have yet to see a really hot, successful label marketed entirely over the Internet," he says. "But I think it can be done."
Rallo says Subway Records is in the black, and he confesses that much of its growth has come from simply filling a void. "No one else wants to do what we do," he says. "No one has been willing to work with these musicians because of the deep-rooted stigma they carry with them of being bums or beggars."
But Steve Ciabattoni, editor of CMJ, one of the most prominent magazines supporting independent music, says Subway Records shares qualities with some of the most successful indie labels: "They appeal to a loyal fan base because the artists all come from one community and are chosen because the people supporting them really love their music." Ciabattoni, who admits to missing trains after becoming so engrossed by musicians on the platform, adds, "I believe Subway Records will succeed if they keep that spirit." He had been keeping tabs on one of his favorite subway acts, a tribal percussion band called Mecca Bodega, when he learned of its integration into Rallo's growing network.
By the end of 2004, Subway will represent over 200 musicians. And the site's traffic keeps increasing: With no outside marketing, it garners 2,000 to 20,000 hits per week depending on the level of recent media coverage, and fans have purchased almost 200,000 CDs online to date. Rallo is also looking beyond the Big Apple, with plans to sign musicians from Boston, San Francisco, Toronto, and Tokyo over the next few years.
Still, the process remains rooted in simplicity. All subway musicians are subject to the same test: If people interrupt their commute long enough not only to listen but to fork over their hard-earned money, then Rallo knows he has found a winner.
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