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Start-Up Founder Sentenced to 18 Months in Prison for Fraud

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Manish Lachwani, who founded the software start-up HeadSpin, is the latest tech entrepreneur to face time in prison in recent years.Another start-up founder is going to prison for overstating his company’s performance to investors.Manish Lachwani, who last year pleaded guilty to three counts of defrauding investors at his software start-up, HeadSpin, was sentenced to one and a half years in prison on Friday. He will also pay a fine of $1 million.Government prosecutors said Mr. Lachwani, 48, deceived investors by inflating HeadSpin’s revenue nearly fourfold, making false claims about its customers and creating fake invoices to cover it up. His misrepresentations allowed him to raise $117 million in funding from top investment firms, valuing his start-up at $1.1 billion.When HeadSpin’s board members found out about the behavior in 2020, they pushed Mr. Lachwani to resign and slashed the company’s valuation by two-thirds.Mr. Lachwani is at least the fourth start-up founder in recent years to face serious consequences after taking Silicon Valley’s culture of hype too far. Other founders currently in prison for fraud include Sam Bankman-Fried of the cryptocurrency exchange FTX and Elizabeth Holmes and Ramesh Balwani of the blood testing start-up Theranos.Trevor Milton, a founder of the electric vehicle company Nikola, was sentenced to prison in December for fraud. Michael Rothenberg, a venture capital investor who was recently convicted of 12 counts of fraud and money laundering, is set to be sentenced in June. And Changpeng Zhao, who founded the cryptocurrency exchange Binance and pleaded guilty to money laundering last year, is scheduled to be sentenced later this month.Carlos Watson, the founder of the digital media outlet Ozy Media, and Charlie Javice, founder of the financial aid start-up Frank, have pleaded not guilty to fraud charges and face trials later this year.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    As Wildfires Grow Fiercer, Some Companies Look to Rebuild the Tree Supply Chain

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    As forests succumb to ever-fiercer wildfires, the federal government and some adventurous private companies are trying to resuscitate an industry.When it came to wildfires, 2021 was an increasingly common kind of year in Montana: Flames consumed 747,000 acres, an area nearly the size of Long Island.About 2,700 of those acres were on Don Harland’s Sheep Creek Ranch, where ever-drier summers have turned lodgepole pines into matchsticks ready to ignite. After the smoke cleared, Mr. Harland found creeks running black with soot and the ground hardening more with every day that passed.A former timber industry executive, Mr. Harland knew the forest wouldn’t grow back on its own. The land is high and dry, the ground rocky and inhospitable — not like the rainy coastal Northwest, where trees grow thick and fast. Nor did he have the money to carry out a replanting operation, since growing for timber wouldn’t pay for itself; most of the nearby sawmills had shut down long ago anyway. The state government offered a few grants, but nothing on the scale needed to heal the scar.Then a local forester Mr. Harland knew suggested he get in touch with a new company out of Seattle, called Mast. After visiting to scope out the site, Mast’s staff proposed to replant the whole acreage, free, and even pay Mr. Harland a bit at the end. Mast, in turn, was to earn money from companies that wanted to offset their carbon emissions and would put millions of dollars into planting trees that otherwise wouldn’t exist.Mr. Harland said he had his doubts about the carbon-selling part of the plan, but he was impressed with Mast’s operations, so he said yes.Two years later, after seeds had been collected from similar trees on nearby lands, crews of planters came out with bags full of seedlings, rapidly plunking them into the ashen ground. As part of the deal, Mr. Harland signed an agreement to let the trees grow for at least 100 years, so they can keep sucking greenhouse gases out of the air as they mature.Can carbon credits help rebuild a forest? Tell us what you think. More

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    From Unicorns to Zombies: Tech Start-Ups Run Out of Time and Money

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    After staving off collapse by cutting costs, many young tech companies are out of options, fueling a cash bonfire.WeWork raised more than $11 billion in funding as a private company. Olive AI, a health care start-up, gathered $852 million. Convoy, a freight start-up, raised $900 million. And Veev, a home construction start-up, amassed $647 million.In the last six weeks, they all filed for bankruptcy or shut down. They are the most recent failures in a tech start-up collapse that investors say is only beginning.After staving off mass failure by cutting costs over the past two years, many once-promising tech companies are now on the verge of running out of time and money. They face a harsh reality: Investors are no longer interested in promises. Rather, venture capital firms are deciding which young companies are worth saving and urging others to shut down or sell.It has fueled an astonishing cash bonfire. In August, Hopin, a start-up that raised more than $1.6 billion and was once valued at $7.6 billion, sold its main business for just $15 million. Last month, Zeus Living, a real estate start-up that raised $150 million, said it was shutting down. Plastiq, a financial technology start-up that raised $226 million, went bankrupt in May. In September, Bird, a scooter company that raised $776 million, was delisted from the New York Stock Exchange because of its low stock price. Its $7 million market capitalization is less than the value of the $22 million Miami mansion that its founder, Travis VanderZanden, bought in 2021.“As an industry we should all be braced to hear about a lot more failures,” said Jenny Lefcourt, an investor at Freestyle Capital. “The more money people got before the party ended, the longer the hangover.”Getting a full picture of the losses is difficult since private tech companies are not required to disclose when they go out of business or sell. The industry’s gloom has also been masked by a boom in companies focused on artificial intelligence, which has attracted hype and funding over the last year.But approximately 3,200 private venture-backed U.S. companies have gone out of business this year, according to data compiled for The New York Times by PitchBook, which tracks start-ups. Those companies had raised $27.2 billion in venture funding. PitchBook said the data was not comprehensive and probably undercounts the total because many companies go out of business quietly. It also excluded many of the largest failures that went public, such as WeWork, or that found buyers, like Hopin.Carta, a company that provides financial services for many Silicon Valley start-ups, said 87 of the start-ups on its platform that raised at least $10 million had shut down this year as of October, twice the number for all of 2022.This year has been “the most difficult year for start-ups in at least a decade,” Peter Walker, Carta’s head of insights, wrote on LinkedIn.Venture investors say that failure is normal and that for every company that goes out of business, there is an outsize success like Facebook or Google. But as many companies that have languished for years now show signs of collapse, investors expect the losses to be more drastic because of how much cash was invested over the last decade.From 2012 to 2022, investment in private U.S. start-ups ballooned eightfold to $344 billion. The flood of money was driven by low interest rates and successes in social media and mobile apps, propelling venture capital from a cottage financial industry that operated largely on one road in a Silicon Valley town to a formidable global asset class akin to hedge funds or private equity.During that period, venture capital investing became trendy — even 7-Eleven and “Sesame Street” launched venture funds — and the number of private “unicorn” companies worth $1 billion or more exploded from a few dozen to more than 1,000.But the advertising profits gushing from the likes of Facebook and Google proved elusive for the next wave of start-ups, which have tried untested business models like gig work, the metaverse, micromobility and cryptocurrencies.Now some companies are choosing to shut down before they run out of cash, returning what remains to investors. Others are stuck in “zombie” mode — surviving but unable to grow. They can muddle along like that for years, investors said, but will most likely struggle to raise more money.Convoy, the freight start-up that investors valued at $3.8 billion, spent the last 18 months cutting costs, laying off staff and otherwise adapting to the difficult market. It wasn’t enough.As the company’s money ran low this year, it lined up three potential buyers, all of whom backed out. Coming so close, said Dan Lewis, Convoy’s co-founder and chief executive, “was one of the hardest parts.” The company ceased operations in October. In a memo to employees, Mr. Lewis called the situation “the perfect storm.”Such port-mortem assessments, where founders announce their company is closing and reflect on lessons learned, have become common.One entrepreneur, Ishita Arora, wrote this week that she had to “confront reality” that Dayslice, her scheduling software start-up, was not attracting enough customers to satisfy investors. She returned some of the cash she had raised. Gabor Cselle, a founder of Pebble, a social media start-up, wrote last month that despite feeling that he had let the community down, trying and failing was worth it. Pebble is returning to investors a small portion of the money it had raised, Mr. Cselle said. “It felt like the right thing to do.”Amanda Peyton was surprised by the reaction to her blog post in October about the “dread and loneliness” of shutting down her payments start-up, Braid. More than 100,000 people read it, and she was flooded with messages of encouragement and gratitude from fellow entrepreneurs.Ms. Peyton said she had once felt that the opportunity and potential for growth in software was infinite. “It’s become clear that that’s not true,” she said. “The market has a ceiling.”Venture capital investors have taken to gently urging some founders to consider walking away from doomed companies, rather than waste years grinding away.“It might be better to accept reality and throw in the towel,” Elad Gil, a venture capital investor, wrote in a blog post this year. He did not respond to a request for comment.Ms. Lefcourt of Freestyle Ventures said that so far, two of her firm’s start-ups had done exactly that, returning 50 cents on the dollar to investors. “We’re trying to point out to founders, ‘Hey, you don’t want to be caught in no man’s land,’” she said.One area that is thriving? Companies in the business of failure.SimpleClosure, a start-up that helps other start-ups wind down their operations, has barely been able to keep up with demand since it opened in September, said Dori Yona, the founder. Its offerings include helping prepare legal paperwork and settling obligations to investors, vendors, customers and employees.It was sad to see so many start-ups shutting down, Mr. Yona said, but it felt special to help founders find closure — both literally and figuratively — in a difficult time. And, he added, it is all part of Silicon Valley’s circle of life.“A lot of them are already working on their next companies,” he said.Kirsten Noyes More

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    How High Interest Rates Sting Bakers, Farmers and Consumers

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    Home buyers, entrepreneurs and public officials are confronting a new reality: If they want to hold off on big purchases or investments until borrowing is less expensive, it’s probably going to be a long wait.Governments are paying more to borrow money for new schools and parks. Developers are struggling to find loans to buy lots and build homes. Companies, forced to refinance debts at sharply higher interest rates, are more likely to lay off employees — especially if they were already operating with little or no profits.Over the past few weeks, investors have realized that even with the Federal Reserve nearing an end to its increases in short-term interest rates, market-based measures of long-term borrowing costs have continued rising. In short, the economy may no longer be able to avoid a sharper slowdown.“It’s a trickle-down effect for everyone,” said Mary Kay Bates, the chief executive of Bank Midwest in Spirit Lake, Iowa.Small banks like Ms. Bates’s are at the epicenter of America’s credit crunch for small businesses. During the pandemic, with the Fed’s benchmark interest rate near zero and consumers piling up savings in bank accounts, she could make loans at 3 to 4 percent. She also put money into safe securities, like government bonds.But when the Fed’s rate started rocketing up, the value of Bank Midwest’s securities portfolio fell — meaning that if Ms. Bates sold the bonds to fund more loans, she would have to take a steep loss. Deposits were also waning, as consumers spent down their savings and moved money into higher-yielding assets.Higher Interest Rates Are Here More

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    For Many Small-Business Owners, a Necessary Shift to Digital Payments

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    The pandemic accelerated a transition to cashless payments, forcing a reckoning among small-business owners. But there are benefits: One owner said the switch saved her $3,000 a month.“Making It Work” is a series about small-business owners striving to endure hard times.When Egypt Otis opened her business, Comma Bookstore and Social Hub, three years ago in Flint, Mich., the pandemic was full blown. But her neighbors welcomed the literature and art she sold in her store that celebrated people of color, as well as the community programs she hosted.Despite the warm reception, Ms. Otis quickly found that she had a sales problem: Her customers wanted to pay with their cellphones.“I realized that people were hardly keeping a wallet or a physical card, which limited my ability to sell and make money,” Ms. Otis said. So she upgraded her transactions platform to include tap-and-go purchases on mobile devices. “People are not carrying cash,” she said. “It’s becoming obsolete.”The number of Americans who say they are “cashless” has jumped in the last five years. Forty-one percent of Americans said they did not use cash for their purchases in a typical week in 2022, up from 29 percent in 2018, according to a Pew Research Center survey released last October.Small-business owners increasingly are making the switch to cashless payments for several reasons, including rising consumer demand, faster checkout, lower labor costs and increased security. Those who wait risk losing revenue, experts say.But there are drawbacks to going cash-free, including a learning curve for entrepreneurs who may not understand how to set up digital payments, a lack of accessibility to credit cards for low-income consumers, and privacy concerns.Signs at a pizza joint in New York indicating it takes multiple forms of cashless payments, a switch that accelerated in the pandemic.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesJuanny Romero was an early adopter of digital payments for her small business. Fifteen years ago, when she founded Mothership Coffee Roasters, a chain of coffee shops in Las Vegas, she began using Square, a low-cost digital payments system for small businesses.“​​I was a young businesswoman and not astute,” she said. But Square saved her $3,000 a month in merchant fees for credit card processing.As Ms. Romero expanded her businesses (to four locations in Las Vegas, with two more on the way), she added more payment options, including Apple Pay and Google Pay.But she noticed a shift during the pandemic: Her customers no longer wanted to use cash, and her employees did not want to handle it. “We didn’t know where Covid was coming from,” she said. “There were still people bringing in cash, but it was scary and dangerous.”When the coin shortage hit in 2020, she ran out of cash altogether, but Ms. Romero found it saved on labor costs. “My managers were standing in line for two hours to deposit the cash,” she said. “I can’t get an armored car service to pick up $100 in cash.”Even so, customer demand prompted her to return to cash sales, which Ms. Romero said are holding steady at about 11 percent of her overall revenue. She said she would go cashless if the share dipped below 10 percent.A digital transaction at Mothership Coffee Roasters in Las Vegas.Bridget Bennett for The New York TimesThe pressure to adapt is growing. More that 2.8 billion mobile wallets were in use at the end of 2020, and that is projected to increase nearly 74 percent to 4.8 billion — nearly 60 percent of the world’s population — by the end of 2025, according to a study released in 2021 by Boku, a fintech companyThe United States lags other countries in adopting cashless payments. Among the most cashless countries in the world is Britain, where the pound makes up only 1 percent of all transactions, according to a report from Merchant Machine, a payment research firm based in London. But in the United States, some small-business owners do not understand the complexities of digital payments.“Smaller merchants, they don’t always have the knowledge and resources to know what to do,” said Ginger Siegel, who leads the North America small-business segment at Mastercard, which offers training to business owners like Ms. Otis of Comma Bookstore.Ms. Otis said she noticed an increase in sales when she began offering mobile payments, which made the checkout process faster. “As a retailer, you want to make the experience as efficient as possible,” she said. “It is a matter of survival.”A veteran using a tap-and-go device to collect donations for the Royal British Legion in London in 2020.Guy Bell/AlamyBenefits include immediate payment, increased sales and the ability to sell to customers who might use other currencies. “You have to set it up, but it’s worth it,” said Kimberley A. Eddleston, a professor of entrepreneurship at Northeastern University.But some business owners say they are hesitant to move too quickly, worried that today’s technology could become obsolete tomorrow. And there are compatibility and cost issues to consider, said Wayne Read, the chief executive of Forged & Formed, an online jeweler with a physical store, Studio D Jewelers, in Woodstock, Ill. In his jewelry sales, where items can be pricey, he said a speedy transaction might not be suitable. “We don’t want people to feel they have rushed their decision,” he said.Despite advances in technology, many Americans still have little or no access to financial services like credit cards and mobile wallets, although that is slowly improving. An estimated 5.9 million households did not have a bank account in 2021, down from 7.1 million households in 2019, according to a survey by the Federal Reserve.Rewards points displayed on a checkout screen at Mothership. Mobile apps allow for cashless payments and can increase customer loyalty.Bridget Bennett for The New York TimesAnother obstacle to adoption is privacy concerns: Some people prefer the anonymity that cash provides. And cash is perceived as a way for consumers to remain aware of expenditures. Complicating the transition to the digital economy, the recent banking turmoil in the United States has made many depositors question the security of financial institutions.But experts agree that cash is unlikely to go away. Consumers in lower income households continue to rely on cash for payments, according to the Fed survey.And small-business owners say that despite the speed and efficiency that cashless payments offer, cash is still a viable option for their customers.“At the end of the day, I know the people I serve,” Ms. Romero said. “I would feel conflicted if I didn’t do the right thing.” More

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    Labor Board, Reversing Trump-Era Ruling, Widens Definition of Employee

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    The National Labor Relations Board, with a Democratic majority, restored a standard that counts more workers as employees rather than contractors.Labor regulators issued a ruling on Tuesday that makes it more likely for workers to be considered employees rather than contractors under federal law.Overturning a ruling issued when the board was under Republican control, the decision effectively increases the number of workers — like drivers, construction workers or janitors — who have a federally protected right to unionize or take other collective action, such as protesting unsafe working conditions.The ruling ensures that “workers who seek to organize or exercise their rights under the National Labor Relations Act are not improperly excluded from its protections,” said a statement by Lauren McFerran, the Democratic chairman of the labor board, which voted 3 to 1 along party lines to broaden the standard.Determining whether a worker is an employee or a contractor has long depended on several variables, including the potential employer’s control over the work and provision of tools and equipment.In 2019, when the board was controlled by appointees of President Donald J. Trump, it elevated one consideration — workers’ chances to make more money based on their business savvy, often described as “entrepreneurial opportunity” — above the others. It concluded that such opportunities should be a key tiebreaker when some factors pointed to contractor status and others indicated employment.In its decision in 2019, the board said that a ruling during the Obama administration had improperly subordinated the question of moneymaking opportunities.That 2019 ruling appeared to be a victory for gig companies like Uber and Lyft, whose supporters have argued that ride-share drivers should be considered contractors in part because of the opportunities they have for potential profit — say, by determining which neighborhoods to work in.The latest decision returned the board to the standard laid out in the Obama era, explicitly rejecting the elevation of entrepreneurial opportunity above other factors.The turnabout was criticized on Tuesday by businesses that rely heavily on contractors. In a statement, Evan Armstrong, chair of the Coalition for Workforce Innovation, which represents companies like Uber and Lyft as well as industry trade groups, said that the ruling “decreases clarity and threatens the flexible independent model that benefits workers, consumers, entrepreneurs, businesses and the overall economy.”Some labor experts, however, say it is not clear that gig companies like Uber and Lyft, which set the prices that passengers pay, provide drivers with enough bona fide entrepreneurial opportunity to qualify them as contractors even under the old standard.In his dissent, Marvin E. Kaplan, the board’s lone Republican member, made a version of this argument, concluding that the workers in the case before the board — wig, hair and makeup stylists who work with the Atlanta Opera — “have little opportunity for economic gain or, conversely, risk of loss.”As a result, he agreed with the board’s majority that the stylists should be considered employees who have the right to unionize.But Mr. Kaplan wrote that the lack of entrepreneurial opportunities meant that the stylists should have been considered employees even under the Trump-era standard, and that there was no need to alter it. More

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    The AI Boom Is Pulling Tech Entrepreneurs Back to San Francisco

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    Doug Fulop’s and Jessie Fischer’s lives in Bend, Ore., were idyllic. The couple moved there last year, working remotely in a 2,400-square-foot house surrounded by trees, with easy access to skiing, mountain biking and breweries. It was an upgrade from their former apartments in San Francisco, where a stranger once entered Mr. Fulop’s home after his lock didn’t properly latch.But the pair of tech entrepreneurs are now on their way back to the Bay Area, driven by a key development: the artificial intelligence boom.Mr. Fulop and Ms. Fischer are both starting companies that use A.I. technology and are looking for co-founders. They tried to make it work in Bend, but after too many eight-hour drives to San Francisco for hackathons, networking events and meetings, they decided to move back when their lease ends in August.“The A.I. boom has brought the energy back into the Bay that was lost during Covid,” said Mr. Fulop, 34.The couple are part of a growing group of boomerang entrepreneurs who see opportunity in San Francisco’s predicted demise. The tech industry is more than a year into its worst slump in a decade, with layoffs and a glut of empty offices. The pandemic also spurred a wave of migration to places with lower taxes, fewer Covid restrictions, safer streets and more space. And tech workers have been among the most vocal groups to criticize the city for its worsening problems with drugs, housing and crime.But such busts are almost always followed by another boom. And with the latest wave of A.I. technology — known as generative A.I., which produces text, images and video in response to prompts — there’s too much at stake to miss out.Investors have already announced $10.7 billion in funding for generative A.I. start-ups within the first three months of this year, a thirteenfold increase from a year earlier, according to PitchBook, which tracks start-ups. Tens of thousands of tech workers recently laid off by big tech companies are now eager to join the next big thing. On top of that, much of the A.I. technology is open source, meaning companies share their work and allow anyone to build on it, which encourages a sense of community.“Hacker houses,” where people create start-ups, are springing up in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley neighborhood, known as “Cerebral Valley” because it is the center of the A.I. scene. And every night someone is hosting a hackathon, meet-up or demo focused on the technology.In March, days after the prominent start-up OpenAI unveiled a new version of its A.I. technology, an “emergency hackathon” organized by a pair of entrepreneurs drew 200 participants, with almost as many on the waiting list. That same month, a networking event hastily organized over Twitter by Clement Delangue, the chief executive of the A.I. start-up Hugging Face, attracted more than 5,000 people and two alpacas to San Francisco’s Exploratorium museum, earning it the nickname “Woodstock of A.I.”More than 5,000 people attended the so-called Woodstock of A.I. in San Francisco in March.Alexy KhrabrovMadisen Taylor, who runs operations for Hugging Face and organized the event alongside Mr. Delangue, said its communal vibe had mirrored that of Woodstock. “Peace, love, building cool A.I.,” she said.Taken together, the activity is enough to draw back people like Ms. Fischer, who is starting a company that uses A.I. in the hospitality industry. She and Mr. Fulop got involved in the 350-person tech scene in Bend, but they missed the inspiration, hustle and connections in San Francisco.“There’s just nowhere else like the Bay,” Ms. Fischer, 32, said.Jen Yip, who has been organizing events for tech workers over the past six years, said that what had been a quiet San Francisco tech scene during the pandemic began changing last year in tandem with the A.I. boom. At nightly hackathons and demo days, she watched people meet their co-founders, secure investments, win over customers and network with potential hires.“I’ve seen people come to an event with an idea they want to test and pitch it to 30 different people in the course of one night,” she said.Ms. Yip, 42, runs a secret group of 800 people focused on A.I. and robotics called Society of Artificers. Its monthly events have become a hot ticket, often selling out within an hour. “People definitely try to crash,” she said.Her other speaker series, Founders You Should Know, features leaders of A.I. companies speaking to an audience of mostly engineers looking for their next gig. The last event had more than 2,000 applicants for 120 spots, Ms. Yip said.In Founders You Should Know, a series run by Jen Yip, leaders of A.I. companies speak to an audience of mostly engineers looking for their next gig.Ximena NateraBernardo Aceituno moved his company, Stack AI, to San Francisco in January to be part of the start-up accelerator Y Combinator. He and his co-founders had planned to base the company in New York after the three-month program ended, but decided to stay in San Francisco. The community of fellow entrepreneurs, investors and tech talent that they found was too valuable, he said.“If we move out, it’s going to be very hard to re-create in any other city,” Mr. Aceituno, 27, said. “Whatever you’re looking for is already here.”After operating remotely for several years, Y Combinator has started encouraging start-ups in its program to move to San Francisco. Out of a recent batch of 270 start-ups, 86 percent participated locally, the company said.“Hayes Valley truly became Cerebral Valley this year,” Gary Tan, Y Combinator’s chief executive, said at a demo day in April.The A.I. boom is also luring back founders of other kinds of tech companies. Brex, a financial technology start-up, declared itself “remote first” early in the pandemic, closing its 250-person office in San Francisco’s SoMa neighborhood. The company’s founders, Henrique Dubugras and Pedro Franceschi, decamped for Los Angeles.Henrique Dubugras, a co-founder of Brex, in 2019. After decamping to Los Angeles, he recently returned to the Bay Area.Arsenii Vaselenko for The New York TimesBut when generative A.I. began taking off last year, Mr. Dubugras, 27, was eager to see how Brex could adopt the technology. He quickly realized that he was missing out on the coffees, casual conversations and community happening around A.I. in San Francisco, he said.In May, Mr. Dubugras moved to Palo Alto, Calif., and began working from a new, pared-down office a few blocks from Brex’s old one. San Francisco’s high office vacancy rate meant the company paid a quarter of what it had been paying in rent before the pandemic.Seated under a neon sign in Brex’s office that read “Growth Mindset,” Mr. Dubugras said he had been on a steady schedule of coffee meetings with people working on A.I. since his return. He has hired a Stanford Ph.D. student to tutor him on the topic.“Knowledge is concentrated at the bleeding edge,” he said.Ms. Fischer and Ms. Fulop said they would miss Bend but craved the Bay Area’s sense of urgency and focus.Will Matsuda for The New York TimesMr. Fulop and Ms. Fischer said they would miss their lives in Bend, where they could ski or mountain bike on their lunch breaks. But getting two start-ups off the ground requires an intense blend of urgency and focus.In the Bay Area, Ms. Fischer attends multiday events where people stay up all night working on their projects. And Mr. Fulop runs into engineers and investors he knows every time he walks by a coffee shop. They are considering living in suburbs like Palo Alto and Woodside, which has easy access to nature, in addition to San Francisco.“I’m willing to sacrifice the amazing tranquillity of this place for being around that ambition, being inspired, knowing there are a ton of awesome people to work with that I can bump into,” Mr. Fulop said. Living in Bend, he added, “honestly just felt like early retirement.” More

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    Once an Evangelist for Airbnbs, She Now Crusades for Affordable Housing

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    Precious Price ditched her profitable business of renting home stays to tourists to combat the mounting housing crisis.“Making It Work” is a series is about small-business owners striving to endure hard times.When Precious Price bought her first home four years ago in Atlanta while working as a marketing consultant, she took advantage of her frequent business trips by renting out her house on Airbnb during her absences. “I knew I wanted to use that as a rental or investment property,” she said. “I began doing that, and it was honestly very lucrative.”For Ms. Price, 27, and other young entrepreneurs of color, online short-term rental platforms like Airbnb and Vrbo represented a path to building wealth on their own terms. With an excellent credit score and minimal start-up capital — a primary barrier for people in this demographic — a professional Airbnb host could amass a stable of apartments on long-term leases, then turn around and rent those properties on a nightly basis to vacationers.Some of these entrepreneurs see it as a more equitable alternative to corporate America, with its legacy of institutionalized bias and inflexibility toward caregivers and working parents. Others are motivated by the desire to cater to Black travelers, who say they still face discrimination even after platforms like Airbnb promised to address issues like documented cases of bias.Ms. Price became an evangelist of sorts, establishing social media channels to teach other would-be entrepreneurs how to follow in her footsteps, and churning out a digital library’s worth of videos, tutorials and advice using the handle @AirbnbMoney.The irony was not lost on Ms. Price that her grand real estate ambitions were propelled by the 296-square-foot “tiny house” she spent nearly six months building for herself in her backyard. When the coronavirus pandemic slammed the brakes on travel, grounding her road-warrior lifestyle and evaporating her supplemental income stream virtually overnight, her tiny house allowed her to continue renting out her primary home and making a large profit.She even added to her portfolio, buying a second house and renting several furnished apartments in Atlanta’s popular Midtown neighborhood, and she eventually left her consulting job to manage her rental business full time.“It was a freeing experience at the time,” she said. “I’m making a ton of money that most of my family has never seen in their lifetime.”Ms. Price was earning as much as $12,000 a month and deriving a sense of purpose from her work on social media helping her peers achieve financial security. Initially, she said she had no interest in renting to long-term tenants — the profit margin for tourist bookings was so much higher.“I was adamant about only renting to vacationers,” Ms. Price said. “I was just so heavily into the rat race.”Then, the distressing messages started to come. First one or two, then too many to ignore: a litany of increasingly distraught calls and emails from people who didn’t want her Airbnbs for a weekend away — they were in desperate need of a place to call home.Ms. Price at the Emerging Founders program at Atlanta Tech Village, where she got support developing a resource hub to help homeowners of color build tiny homes.Lynsey Weatherspoon for The New York TimesMs. Price realized she was on the front lines of a housing crisis. By renting property to tourists rather than long-term renters, she and others like her were exacerbating the nation’s housing affordability problem, as she related in a 2022 TEDxAtlanta talk. “I started to realize that conversation began happening across the country,” she said.The pleas and stories of financial precariousness hit home for Ms. Price, the oldest of five siblings and a first-generation college graduate. She went to business school at Indiana University. “When I started to get these calls from single mothers and students, I started to realize that’s the identity of some of my family members,” she said. “And I’m realizing the connection of how I’m not very far removed at all from that.”She began to re-examine her values and to walk away from the lucrative vacation-rental business. She stopped listing properties on short-term rental sites, and over the next several months, she shed her rental portfolio. “Everyone has their own ethical compass and for me, mine felt just off with what I was doing,” Ms. Price said.The few remaining tenants she has now are on long-term leases, and the rent she collects is enough to cover her costs, with maybe “a couple hundred dollars left over,” she said. She supplements that income with freelance consulting and public speaking gigs. Although she is earning a fraction of her former income, she is more fulfilled and no longer feeling burned out, she said.The housing crisis Ms. Price witnessed in Atlanta is playing out across the nation. The United States is short about 6.5 million single-family homes, according to the National Association of Realtors. For more than a decade, homes were not built fast enough to keep pace with population growth, a trend that was exacerbated by the pandemic. During this time, demand for larger homes grew even as construction slowed, hamstrung first by public health restrictions, then by a labor shortage and supply-chain issues that made everything from copper pipe to carpet scarcer and more expensive.The number of affordable houses has plunged: Only 10 percent of new homes cost less than $300,000 as of the fourth quarter of 2022, even as mortgage rates have roughly doubled over the past year.These challenges have a cascading effect that has driven up rents, as well: Moody’s Analytics found that the average renter now spends more than 30 percent of their income on rent.“If you look at rental vacancy rates, they’re extremely low,” said Whitney Airgood-Obrycki, a senior research associate at the Joint Center for Housing Studies at Harvard University. “It’s really hard for people to find an affordable place to move to. It’s extremely tight, especially for low-income renters.”As Ms. Price experienced up close, a growing number of municipalities — including Atlanta — have emerged from the pandemic only to find a full-blown housing crisis on their doorsteps. Lawmakers are seeking greater regulation of short-term rentals, with many trying to discourage “professional hosts,” as opposed to homeowners who are renting out part or all of their primary home.Policies should be nuanced enough to distinguish between the two categories of renters, said Ingrid Gould Ellen, a professor of urban policy and planning at New York University, and faculty director of the university’s Furman Center for Real Estate and Urban Policy.“Airbnb can be a really useful tool for a lot of people, for homeowners who are maybe struggling to make their mortgage payments, or even renters who want to occasionally make some income and rent their units while they’re away on vacation,” she said. “Those are all forms of usage that don’t actually restrict the long-term supply of housing.”Ms. Price’s experience with the tiny house in her backyard inspired her to search for another way for people to add housing — and for homeowners to generate rental income. These units, known colloquially as “tiny homes” or “granny flats” and identified formally as accessory dwelling units, can take the form of tiny homes, guest cottages, or apartments that are either stand-alone or attached to the primary house. An increasing number of policymakers are hoping these units can help take some of the pressure off the tight housing market.Living in roughly 300 square feet lets Ms. Price earn income renting out her primary house.Lynsey Weatherspoon for The New York Times“She’s working on a pressing problem — the lack of housing supply across the U.S.,” said Praveen Ghanta, a technology entrepreneur who began the Emerging Founders program, a start-up incubator for Black, Latino and female founders in Atlanta. Ms. Price, a participant in the program, is working on a start-up she named Landrift, which is intended to be a resource hub so that homeowners — particularly homeowners of color — can increase the value of their properties and generate income by building their own tiny homes. “We can make a meaningful impact, particularly in markets like Atlanta,” Mr. Ghanta said.“Sometimes I think people get fixated on the notion of affordable housing and that it has to be nonprofit,” he said. “The reality is there’s a lot of both money to be made and housing to be supplied, even within market rate constructs.”Ms. Price has reoriented her social media platforms away from the management of short-term rental properties and toward the promotion of small-scale development of accessory dwelling units. “At this point I do want to begin acquiring other properties,” she said. She is looking for houses with enough land to accommodate a tiny house while building a second ancillary structure — a guest cottage — on her first property.“My plan is to get a property I would be able to do some kind of housing on so I’m not just taking housing, but would be able to make more housing,” she said. “The American dream is real estate.” More

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    After a Burst of New Businesses, a Cooling Economy Intrudes

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    The pandemic has brought a boom in entrepreneurship, but higher interest rates, a chill in venture capital and fears of recession now pose obstacles.An unexpected result of the pandemic era has been a surge in entrepreneurial activity. Since 2020, applications to start new businesses have skyrocketed, reversing a decades-long slump.The reasons for the boom are manifold. Millions of people were suddenly laid off, giving them the time, and inclination, to start new businesses. Personal savings jumped, buoyed partly by a frothy stock market and government stimulus payments, providing would-be entrepreneurs with the means to fulfill their visions. Rock-bottom interest rates made money cheap and widely available.But the ebullient economic environment that helped foster this entrepreneurial spirit has given way to high inflation, rising interest rates and dwindling savings. That has left these nascent businesses to navigate challenging financial crosscurrents — and a possible recession — at a moment when they are at their most fragile. Even under normal conditions, roughly half of new businesses fail within five years.“Young businesses are inherently vulnerable,” said John Haltiwanger, an economist at the University of Maryland who studies entrepreneurship. “They’re likely to fail, and they are especially likely to fail in a recession.”In 2021, Americans filed applications to start 5.4 million new businesses, according to data from the Census Bureau. That was on top of the 4.4 million applications filed in 2020, which had been the highest by far in the more than 15 years the government had been keeping track. (Filings last year through November were running ahead of 2020 but behind 2021; figures for December will be released this week.)Data on actual business formation will not become available for several years, so it is not possible yet to measure the effects of the cooling economy on new ventures. Whether these new businesses pull through could have broad implications for the health and dynamism of the overall economy.“Innovation drives gains in productivity,” said John Dearie, president of the Center for American Entrepreneurship, an advocacy organization. “And innovation comes disproportionately from new businesses.”Jennifer Sutton started a juice and wellness bar in Park City, Utah. She is worried about the prospect of a recession and how it would affect the tourism that supports her business.Kim Raff for The New York TimesBut he cautioned that the Federal Reserve’s monetary policy — intended to tamp down the fastest price increases in decades — is “ramping up the headwinds facing entrepreneurs to gale force by crushing demand and by increasing the price of money.”In interviews, entrepreneurs expressed a mix of resolve and resignation about the months ahead. Some said they had learned lessons from the pandemic’s upheaval about how to endure financial adversity that they believed had recession-proofed their business models. Others were cleareyed about needing outside funding that they feared would no longer arrive.Inflation F.A.Q.Card 1 of 5What is inflation? More