Losing My Virginity

Prologue: ‘Screw it. Let’s do it.’

Overview

We meet Richard Branson not as a tycoon, but as a man staring into the abyss, writing a heartfelt letter to his children from a Moroccan hotel room. He is moments away from attempting a deadly balloon circumnavigation of the globe—a risk so great it forces him to ask why he does such things. The ensuing flight is a cascade of near-catastrophes: a co-pilot too ill to fly, a fatal error with the fuel tanks, and a terrifying, uncontrolled plunge over the Atlas Mountains that forces an engineer to risk his life on the capsule’s roof. Surviving this brush with death in the Algerian desert, Branson realizes the drive for such challenges is now an inseparable part of him, framing the central questions of his life: why take these risks, and what vision fuels the Virgin empire?

The answers, he suggests, are woven into the very fabric of his childhood. It begins with raw determination, as a young boy teaches himself to swim in a fast-flowing river to win a ten-shilling bet, an act witnessed by a panicked father who dived in to save him. This moment of unconditional family love and personal grit set a pattern. His parents, Eve and Ted, were unconventional forces. His mother was a former gliding instructor and glamorous air hostess, while his quiet father harbored archaeological passions. They created a home full of debate, entrepreneurial spirit—his mother ran a cottage industry from a garden shed—and a powerful sense of teamwork.

Yet his path was far from smooth. Sent to a harsh boarding school, he faced trauma, cruelty, and the immense, hidden struggle of undiagnosed dyslexia. Branded stupid and beaten for his poor academic performance, this adversity forged a fierce resilience and a deep aversion to rigid authority. A severe knee injury that ended his athletic dreams further isolated him, forcing a reckoning with his identity. Even early, failed business ventures—growing Christmas trees and breeding budgies—taught him practical lessons in numbers and planning, proving he could engage when a project captured his imagination.

His frustration with the archaic rules of his next school, Stowe, ignited a transformative idea. With a friend, he channeled his rebellious energy into creating Student magazine, a national publication for youth. This project became his real education. He operated from a phone box, developing a brazen, fast-talking sales technique to bluff advertisers, learning relentless hustle and creative problem-solving. While he neglected his formal studies—culminating in an elaborate scheme to cheat on his A-levels—he was building a real-world enterprise.

None of this would have been possible without his parents' unconditional support. They treated his magazine dream as a legitimate career, offering practical help, scarce funds, and crucial social connections. Their belief was vindicated with the first advertising cheque and the arrival of the magazine's inaugural copy. As he prepared to leave school for good, his headmaster delivered a prophetic verdict: “I predict that you will either go to prison or become a millionaire.” Just months later, that same headmaster was congratulating him on Student’s successful first issue. The boy who fought the current, battled dyslexia, and cheated the system had officially launched himself into the world, his character—forged in love, adversity, and audacious enterprise—fully formed and ready for whatever came next.

A Letter and a Liftoff

Richard Branson wakes in a Marrakech hotel room before dawn, writing a heartfelt letter to his children, Holly and Sam, as a precaution before embarking on a perilous attempt to circumnavigate the globe by balloon. He expresses his love, pride, and his lifelong urge to live to the fullest, while admitting the risks of this adventure have proven greater than anticipated.

After sharing a final family embrace, he receives mixed news: perfect weather, but his friend and co-pilot Rory McCarthy is too ill to fly. Over a somber breakfast, Rory promises to carry on Branson’s work if he doesn’t return. The team is completed by Per Lindstrand, the veteran balloonist, and Alex Ritchie, the capsule's brilliant but untested engineer.

The Launch and a Fatal Error

The sight of the massive, gleaming white balloon at the Moroccan air base is breathtaking, surrounded by a ceremonial crowd. Following emotional goodbyes—including a particularly anguished hug from his son, Sam—Branson, Lindstrand, and Ritchie board the capsule. They lift off smoothly and silently, soaring over Marrakech.

Their serene ascent is shattered by a critical fax: the connectors on their external fuel tanks, meant to be jettisonable in an emergency, are mistakenly locked on. This dangerous error casts a pall over the flight, sending Per into a depressed silence. They decide to wait for nightfall to attempt a fix.

A Descent into Peril

As night falls, their theory for maintaining altitude fails. The helium contracts, and the balloon begins a terrifying, uncontrolled descent over the Atlas Mountains. In a desperate fight for survival, they dump their reserve lead weights, then all non-essential supplies. The fall continues. With the ground rushing up in the darkness, Alex Ritchie climbs onto the roof of the capsule to manually unlock the fuel tanks as they plummet.

With altitude vanishing—down to just 2,400 feet—Ritchie succeeds. They jettison a tank, and the balloon jerks to a halt before rising again. In those moments of near-certain death, Branson vows never to do this again.

Landing and Reflection

After a harrowing night battling more problems, including a leaking fuel tank, they land the balloon in the stark, rocky Algerian desert. They are swiftly met by Berber tribesmen and then by Algerian military helicopters. Looking at the capsule plastered with Virgin branding standing in the desolate landscape, Branson’s immediate post-crash vow wavers. He knows the challenge is now buried too deeply within him; he will inevitably want to try again.

This experience frames the two questions central to his life: why take such risks, and what is the vision for the Virgin Group? He suggests the answers are intertwined and rooted in a lifetime of embracing challenges, dating back to his childhood, where his parents actively encouraged independence and endurance through physical tests.

A Fearful Bet and a Triumphant Swim

The young Branson waded into the river, frightened by the fast current. Despite immediately sinking and being dragged downstream, his determination to win the ten-shilling bet from his aunt spurred him on. Finding his footing, he pushed to the surface, took a steadying breath, and taught himself to swim in that moment. As his family cheered from the bank, he swam a lopsided circle back to shore, cold and stung by nettles but victorious. The crisp ten-shilling note felt like a fortune. He then discovered his father, Ted, was also soaked—having lost his nerve and dived in to rescue him. The moment culminated in a massive hug, cementing Branson’s lifelong feeling of unconditional family love.

The Adventurous Branson Family Lineage

Branson describes his parents, Eve and Ted, as a devoted couple who fostered a home full of debate and equality. His father, pressured into law by family tradition, was a quiet, inventive man whose true passion was archaeology. He served with distinction in WWII, even using a clever code to communicate his location to his parents. The family had its share of eccentrics, like Great-uncle Jim, who advocated eating grass and later advised the SAS on survival.

His mother, Eve, was a dynamo of energy. She inherited a zest for life from her record-breaking mother and pursued a series of daring pre-war and wartime jobs: she nearly became a West End showgirl (avoiding stripping after her father’s objection), secretly worked as a gliding instructor while pretending to be a man, and later became a glamorous “Star Girl” air hostess on perilous, non-pressurized flights over the Atlantic. Ted proposed to her on his motorbike, and they married in 1949.

A Childhood of Enterprise, Mischief, and Mavericks

The Branson children were treated as equals, included in adult conversations and encouraged to form their own opinions. Money was tight in their Surrey village home; meals often featured bread and dripping, and young Richard famously hid hated onions in a dusty table drawer. To make ends meet, Eve ran a small cottage industry from a garden shed, making and selling painted wooden boxes to Harrods, with Ted designing tools to help. The household was always busy, with a firm emphasis on putting others first and contributing to the family team.

The spirit of irreverence and enterprise extended to other relatives. Branson’s mother once smuggled a condemned magpie from the county show, which became a mischievous family pet. His Aunt Clare was a cigar-smoking, sheep-breeding entrepreneur who later convinced Branson to record her “singing sheep,” resulting in a surprise chart hit. Branson’s intense friendship with Nik Powell was rooted in fierce competition, leading to the disastrous loss of Nik’s new bike in the river during a dangerous game.

The Cruelties of Boarding School and Undiagnosed Dyslexia

At age eight, Branson was sent to boarding school, an experience he immediately resented and found traumatic. On his first night, a sick child was scolded by the matron instead of comforted. He soon faced sexual exploration from an older boy and harsh corporal punishment for minor infractions, including being caned and forced to thank the headmaster for it.

His greatest struggle was with undiagnosed dyslexia and poor eyesight. Unable to read the blackboard or make sense of letters, he was branded stupid or lazy and beaten weekly for poor academic performance. This adversity, however, began to forge the resilience and self-reliance that would later define him, as he started training himself to overcome his difficulties through sheer concentration.

Key Takeaways

• Core resilience and a willingness to take on challenges were forged in childhood, exemplified by the raw determination of his first swim.
• An unconventional, supportive, and entrepreneurial family background—filled with strong personalities, mavericks, and a deep sense of teamwork—provided a foundational worldview that celebrated initiative and questioned authority.
• Early experiences of hardship, competition, and perceived unfairness, particularly the struggles with dyslexia and the harsh boarding school environment, built a fierce independence and a lifelong aversion to traditional, punitive structures.

The serious knee injury he suffered during a football match became a pivotal moment, stripping away his primary source of confidence and social standing. Confined to bed, he was confronted by the silver cups on his mantelpiece—symbols of a past life—and a doctor’s prognosis that he would not play sports for a very long time. His mother, ever pragmatic, briskly advised him to think of the legless war hero Douglas Bader as an example of overcoming adversity.

Without sports as a shield, his academic difficulties were thrown into stark relief. He was sent to Cliff View House, a harsh coastal crammer school where discipline was enforced through frequent beatings. It was a brutal, joyless environment with no sports to provide an outlet. His only consolation was a clandestine romantic liaison with the headmaster’s eighteen-year-old daughter, Charlotte, which led to his expulsion after he was caught. In a desperate, theatrical bid to avoid his parents’ wrath, he faked a suicide attempt, walking slowly toward the cliffs until staff caught him, a stunt that ultimately led to the expulsion being overturned.

A New School and New Struggles Moving to the large public school Stowe, he found himself in a daunting position. Still unable to play sports due to his knee and struggling academically, he was socially sidelined. He found refuge in the school library, where he began writing—first indulging in erotic fiction, and later, more seriously, entering and winning a school essay prize judged by author Gavin Maxwell. This small victory improved his standing in English class, though he remained at the bottom in most other subjects.

His entrepreneurial spirit, undeterred by academic reports, began to manifest in practical ventures. With his friend Nik, he attempted to grow Christmas trees, only for the seedlings to be devoured by rabbits. Undaunted, he then launched a budgerigar breeding business, convincing his father to build a large aviary. While the venture taught him about real-world numbers and business plans, it ultimately failed due to a lack of local demand and, as he later learned, his mother deliberately setting the birds free.

The Birth of Student Magazine Frustrated by what he and his friend Jonathan Holland-Gems saw as archaic and pointless school rules—compulsory games attendance, fagging, and the Cadet Force—they sought to create change. This evolved from writing reform-minded letters to the headmaster into a far more ambitious project: creating a national magazine for youth. They settled on the name Student and began crafting a detailed business plan, identifying contributors, advertisers, and distributors.

Working from a telephone box at school, he honed a persuasive, fast-talking sales technique, bluffing major companies like Coca-Cola and banks by claiming their rivals had already booked space. He operated with a brazen confidence that only youthful ignorance of failure could provide. For over a year, he and Jonny worked tirelessly, sending out hundreds of letters and making calls, sustained by little more than promises and their own conviction. Even as his formal education faltered, with his A-levels approaching, he prioritized the magazine, seeing it as his true calling and a practical education in itself.

Key Takeaways

• A severe knee injury ended his athletic prowess, forcing him to confront his academic weaknesses and seek new avenues for achievement and identity.
• Early, failed business ventures with Christmas trees and budgies provided practical lessons in numeracy and planning, proving he could engage with numbers when they served a real-world purpose.
• Frustration with the rigid traditions of his school ignited a desire for reform, which crystallized into the ambitious, hands-on project of launching Student magazine.
• The development of the magazine taught him relentless salesmanship, creative problem-solving, and the power of youthful audacity, as he learned to operate with confidence far beyond his years.

Family Support and First Breakthroughs

Branson reflects on the immense value of his parents' open-minded support during this period. Rather than dismissing his ambitions for Student magazine, they treated it as a legitimate career path. His father quietly helped with practical tasks, while his mother invested her time, scarce pocket money, and social networks to open doors for him. This unwavering belief coincided with the magazine's first tangible successes: a £250 advertising cheque, a commitment from renowned cartoonist Gerald Scarfe, and the arrival of the first hard copy. The dream was becoming real.

A Humorous Romantic Awakening

Parallel to his professional beginnings, Branson recounts his clumsy and comedic sexual awakening. A much-anticipated first encounter turns farcical when his partner's passionate moans are revealed to be the onset of an asthma attack, requiring an inhaler and an ambulance. This is contrasted with his first steady relationship with Rudi, a Dutch "revolutionary" who became Student's overseas correspondent. Their time together, secretly camping in the Stowe woods, was filled with earnest conversations about changing the world, blending youthful idealism with romance.

Cheating the System and Leaving School

With his focus entirely on Student, Branson neglected his academic studies. For his Ancient History A-Level exam, he resorted to an elaborate cheating scheme, writing facts on small cards hidden in his clothes and even under his watch strap. He recalls the bizarre challenge of locating the correct "fact pocket" during the test. This act of rebellion underscored his single-minded determination to leave school and begin his life as a journalist in London.

His headmaster’s parting words perfectly captured the dichotomy of his character: "I predict that you will either go to prison or become a millionaire." This prophecy was followed just six months later by a congratulatory letter from the same headmaster upon the successful publication of Student's first issue in January 1968, marking Branson's official departure from the educational system and his entry into the world of business.

Key Takeaways

• Unconditional support is invaluable: Branson’s early success was heavily enabled by his parents’ willingness to treat his unconventional ambition seriously and offer practical, emotional, and financial backing.
• Resilience is forged in humor and humility: The ability to laugh at personal misadventures, like the asthma incident, and to learn from them is part of a resilient entrepreneurial spirit.
• Focus can justify unconventional means: Branson’s blatant exam cheating illustrates his prioritization of his real-world project over institutional requirements, a risky trait that defines his maverick approach.
• The launch is just the beginning: The headmaster’s ironic dual prediction and subsequent congratulatory note highlight how Branson’s journey was always poised between failure and spectacular success from its very first step.

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Losing My Virginity

3: Virgins at business: 1967–1970

Overview

From a cluttered basement launching Student magazine, Richard Branson’s journey begins with chaotic energy and bold ambition. Securing interviews with icons like Vanessa Redgrave and John Lennon brought credibility, but also near-catastrophe when a promised Lennon recording turned out to be a deeply private art piece, forcing the scrapping of a huge print run and pushing the venture toward financial ruin. The operation grew into a communal squat, where Branson discovered his knack for relentless persuasion and business survival, forging a philosophy that saw commerce itself as a creative act. A humiliating public speaking failure, however, cemented a lifelong aversion to the podium, teaching him to value slow, honest communication over performance.

Financially strapped, the magazine leveraged its name to fund reporting on major conflicts, while Branson grappled with defining its identity, feeling less ideological than his peers. The constant scramble for ads from "Big Business Boys" was exhausting and unprofitable, leading him to start thinking of "Student" as a brand for future ventures. The team’s playful genius for media manipulation, including an elaborate phone-booth ruse that fooled visiting journalists, generated priceless publicity. After a move to a new house and a painful split with co-founder Jonny Gems, Branson’s brother Nik brought crucial order, though their chaotic commune drew constant neighbor complaints and hilarious, staged inspections.

A personal crisis—helping a girlfriend secure an illegal abortion—sparked a new mission: the Student Advisory Centre, a helpline that quickly became a vital resource. This work soon put Branson on the wrong side of archaic laws, leading to a sensational court case and a symbolic £7 fine that sparked a media outcry and eventual legal reform. A devastating betrayal followed when he discovered a memo from Nik plotting a coup to oust him; after confronting his brother and forcing him out, the magazine floundered. Spotting how much his peers spent on music, Branson pivoted, advertising discounted mail-order records. The response was overwhelming, and from a joke about being "virgins at business," the Virgin brand was born.

When a postal strike threatened to kill the mail-order business, panic fueled a desperate, brilliant pivot: opening a physical record shop within a week. The first Virgin shop rejected sterile retail norms, creating a communal hub with sofas, headphones, and low prices, which proved instantly successful. This frontline view revealed the real power in the industry lay with labels and studios, planting the seed for Branson’s next move. With a patchwork of loans—including a deeply personal one from his Auntie Joyce—he purchased a country manor to create a residential recording studio, a huge leap of faith. Personally, a serene period living on a houseboat ended after a bad LSD experience, closing a romantic chapter as the business ambitiously expanded from a crypt to a warehouse, laying the foundational ethos of an empire.

The Basement and Early Breakthroughs The chapter opens with Richard Branson and his friend Jonny Gems launching Student magazine from the dark, chaotic basement of Gems' parents' house in London. Their first major coup was securing an interview with Vanessa Redgrave, which lent them credibility to attract other high-profile contributors like David Hockney, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Peter Blake. Blake, famed for The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper cover, provided both artwork and a controversially dismissive opinion on student power. Interviews were often strikingly candid, with figures like Gerald Scarfe and Dudley Moore offering unfiltered, personal remarks.

The Lennon Flexidisc Saga A significant and nearly disastrous episode involved an interview with John Lennon. Emboldened, Branson proposed that Lennon and Yoko Ono provide an original recording as a promotional flexidisc. Apple agreed, and Student invested heavily in a special 100,000-copy print run. The recording never arrived on time, pushing the magazine toward bankruptcy. After legal threats, Branson was finally given a tape at Apple. It contained only the sound of a fetal heartbeat followed by silence—a conceptual art piece representing the Lennons' recent miscarriage. Branson, unable to use such a private tragedy as a promotional tool, was forced to scrap the expensive covers, incurring major losses.

Building a Team and an Accidental Entrepreneur The Student operation grew organically into a communal "squat," with volunteers, including old friends and recruited girlfriends, working for no pay. Branson reflects on his complementary partnership with Gems: Gems handled editorial vision while Branson used relentless persuasion to secure interviews and advertising. He found himself increasingly focused on business survival—selling ads, arguing with printers, and managing cash flow—rather than journalism. He began to see business itself as a creative enterprise, a philosophy centered on creating something original and purposeful, not just making money.

A Painful Public Speaking Lesson Student’s profile led to an invitation for Branson to speak alongside activist firebrands Tariq Ali and Danny Cohn-Bendit. Haunted by memories of being humiliatingly "gonged" off stage at school for his dyslexia, Branson froze completely at the podium. After mumbling incoherently, he dropped the microphone and fled. This traumatic experience instilled a lifelong trepidation about public speaking, leading him to prefer slow, truthful answers over glib, polished ones.

Financial Struggles and Defining Student's Identity To report on major issues like the Vietnam War and the Biafra conflict with no budget, Branson leveraged the Student name by making deals with newspapers like the Daily Mirror to fund young reporters' trips in exchange for exclusive stories. While passionate about certain causes, like the anti-Vietnam march where he was famously photographed fleeing police, Branson felt less ideologically aligned with the radical left than his peers. He aimed for editorial balance, which some, like poet Robert Graves, saw as cowardice toward advertisers. Securing ads from "Big Business Boys" was a constant, difficult grind, and the magazine was not profitable. This pressure led Branson to start thinking of "Student" as a brand adjective for future ventures beyond publishing, setting him apart from his more purely editorial colleagues.

Media Manipulation and a New Home

The team's playful energy extended to expertly manipulating the press. They orchestrated a elaborate ruse for visiting journalists, with friends like Tony and Jonny pretending to be secretaries fielding fake calls from celebrities like Ted Heath, David Bailey, and Mick Jagger from a phone booth across the street. The act was completely convincing, leading to glowing national press that celebrated Student’s impressive contributors and vast distribution network.

By late 1968, the commune was asked to leave Jonny’s basement. They moved to a house at 44 Albion Street, but Jonny left to return to school, causing the magazine to nearly collapse. Richard convinced his brother Nik to postpone university and help. Nik brought crucial financial order, terrifying debt collectors with his unkempt appearance, and stabilized operations. The new house became a sprawling, aromatic commune filled with mattresses, joss sticks, and the active practice of "free love."

Personal Crises and a New Mission

Richard’s sister Lindi visited often, and he had a brief relationship with a girl named Debbie living in the house. When Debbie became pregnant, they faced the traumatic and nearly impossible task of securing an abortion, which was illegal and expensive. After finally arranging it with a doctor in Birmingham for £50, they realized how many young people faced similar crises with nowhere to turn.

This experience was the catalyst for the Student Advisory Centre. They advertised a helpline with the slogan "GIVE US YOUR HEADACHES," offering referrals for everything from pregnancy and venereal disease to psychological help and homelessness. It quickly became a vital resource, particularly for the gay community seeking connection, and began consuming more time than the magazine itself.

Farcical Inspections and a Crypt Office

The chaotic, 24-hour activity at Albion Street drew constant complaints from neighbors, prompting regular inspections by the Church Commissioners. The team, with help from Richard’s mother, staged elaborate farces—hiding all evidence of business, donning painter’s overalls, and posing as a normal family playing Monopoly. This worked until a fateful visit when forgotten telephones rang inside a cupboard, exposing the ruse and getting them evicted.

They relocated to the crypt of St John’s Church, offered rent-free by a sympathetic vicar. Richard used a marble slab atop two tombs as his desk, and the team adapted to working among the effigies.

Confronting Archaic Laws and the Police

The Advisory Centre’s work soon drew police attention. After successfully prosecuting a policeman for planting drugs on a client, Richard was visited by officers citing obscure 19th-century laws that made it illegal to advertise help for venereal disease. He initially changed the wording in their leaflets, but after seeing a drastic drop in people seeking help, he defiantly reinstated it.

He was arrested in December 1969. With famed barrister John Mortimer defending him, the case became a public spectacle. The magistrate dismissed one charge but, bound by the archaic law, reluctantly found Richard guilty on the other, imposing a mere £7 fine. The absurd prosecution sparked a media outcry and led directly to a change in the law, with the Home Secretary later sending a personal apology. The experience taught Richard not to be intimidated by authority.

Betrayal, a Hard Decision, and a New Direction

In 1970, Richard discovered a memo from his best friend and brother, Nik, plotting a coup to turn Student into a cooperative and remove him as editor. Devastated but decisive, Richard confronted Nik, bluffed that the rest of the team opposed the plan, and asked him to leave. It was a painful rupture, though they later reconciled. The remaining staff stayed loyal.

Without Nik, Student floundered. Observing how much his peers spent on music, Richard spotted a business opportunity. In the magazine’s final issue, they advertised mail-order records at a discount. The response was overwhelming. Needing a catchy name for the new venture, the team brainstormed in the crypt. After rejecting "Slipped Disc," a joke about being "virgins at business" led to the birth of Virgin.

Student magazine soon folded after a failed sale, but Virgin Mail Order thrived, generating unprecedented cash flow as customers paid upfront. Richard’s attention fully shifted to this exciting new enterprise.

A Crisis Becomes an Opportunity

The 1971 postal strike threatened to destroy the nascent Virgin Mail Order business. With no way to send or receive records and payments, Richard Branson and Nik Powell faced imminent collapse. Their urgent solution was to open a physical record shop within a week to generate cash flow and survive. This panic-driven decision forced them to rapidly learn about retail, with no prior experience.

The First Virgin Shop: A New Retail Philosophy

Branson and Powell envisioned a record shop that was the antithesis of the sterile, formal outlets run by chains like W.H. Smith. They wanted to create a community hub—an extension of Student magazine—where customers felt welcome to linger, listen to music on headphones, chat with knowledgeable staff, and soak in the atmosphere on sofas and beanbags. They committed to lower prices and a focus on customer experience over rapid turnover, believing loyalty and higher volume would compensate. After counting foot traffic, they secured a rent-free first-floor space on Oxford Street from a skeptical Greek shoe shop owner, Mr. Alachouzos, by promising to drive customers past his window. The shop was fitted out with makeshift shelves and second-hand furniture, and its opening day saw a queue over a hundred yards long, proving the concept instantly.

Building a Brand and Spotting the Next Move

The Oxford Street shop’s success, built on word-of-mouth and a loyal customer base, gave Branson immense pride. He observed that while retail was safe from the fickleness of any single band, the real power and profit in the music industry lay with record labels. Simultaneously, he identified another gap in the market: recording studios were impersonal and inconveniently booked. He dreamed of creating a residential studio in a country house where bands could live and work creatively on their own schedule.

Securing the Manor Studio

The search for a property led Branson and his associate Tom Newman to Shipton-on-Cherwell Manor, a perfect but financially daunting 17th-century house priced at £30,000. A combination of a £20,000 loan from Coutts Bank (secured while wearing an uncharacteristic suit), drawing early on his parents' savings, and a crucial £7,500 loan from his Auntie Joyce—who remortgaged her own house—allowed the purchase. This patchwork of faith and finance marked a major step, with the bank’s trust being a significant milestone. The team converted an outbuilding into a state-of-the-art studio, with everyone pitching in on weekends to renovate the main house.

Personal Life: The Houseboat and a Turning Point

As the business expanded from the crypt to a warehouse, Branson sought a home closer to nature. After his car broke down in Little Venice, he met Mundy Ellis, who lived on a houseboat named Alberta. He moved in with her, beginning a romantic, idyllic period where she also helped with the business. However, their relationship ended abruptly after a bad LSD experience Branson had on the boat. Uncomfortable with being out of control and disturbed by the drug’s hallucinogenic effects on his perception of Mundy, he broke things off. She subsequently began a relationship with Tom Newman at the Manor, closing this personal chapter.

Key Takeaways

• Necessity Drives Innovation: An existential threat (the postal strike) directly led to Virgin's successful foray into physical retail, demonstrating how crisis can force transformative action.
• Customer Experience as a Differentiator: The first Virgin shop succeeded by rejecting industry norms, prioritizing atmosphere, community, and value, which built fierce customer loyalty and brand identity.
• Vision Fuels Vertical Expansion: Observing the industry from the retail front line allowed Branson to identify strategic weaknesses (impersonal studios) and opportunities (record labels), setting the course for Virgin's future.
• Faith is a Currency: Major growth was funded not just by banks, but by the profound trust and financial sacrifice of family, highlighting the personal network behind early entrepreneurial leaps.
• Personal and Business Lives Intertwine: The founding team's personal relationships, living situations, and even drug experiences directly impacted the business's dynamics and evolution during this formative period.

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Losing My Virginity

5: Learning a lesson: 1971

Overview

The chapter opens with a business on the brink. Virgin's mail-order operation was hemorrhaging money, pushing Richard Branson into a desperate, illegal scheme to avoid purchase tax. After a few successful runs, his final attempt ended in a dramatic customs raid and a night in a Dover prison cell—a sobering experience that led to a lifelong vow never to risk his freedom or reputation again. To avoid a criminal record, he agreed to a crushing £60,000 settlement, a debt that became a burning motivator for his entire team.

This financial desperation forged a new, relentless focus on their record shops. Here, Simon Draper’s impeccable taste wasn't just about music; it was the strategic engine. He curated an exclusive, album-focused selection that turned the shops into cultural hubs, deliberately cultivating a hip, hedonistic identity that rejected mainstream pop. Beneath this countercultural veneer, a disciplined expansion machine kicked into gear. Branson and Nik Powell perfected a formula, opening shops at a breakneck pace by securing rent-free initial periods, using sales from each new location to pay the rent on the last.

Growth brought chaos. Major labels boycotted them, leading to a farcical operation using a tiny middleman shop to secure stock. Their relaxed, club-like atmosphere backfired in places like Liverpool, where stoned patrons lounged so thickly that sales plummeted, forcing a pragmatic recalibration. A crisis was averted when Simon Draper, whose curatorial genius had become indispensable, abandoned plans to leave and instead agreed to helm the new Virgin Music label, completing their three-part vision of studio, shops, and label.

Their first artist was the shy, gifted Mike Oldfield. Nurtured at their Manor studio, he crafted the complex instrumental masterpiece Tubular Bells. Launching it, however, was a struggle. Radio ignored it until the influential DJ John Peel played it in full, offering a priceless endorsement. The promotional push culminated in a major London concert, which almost didn't happen due to Oldfield's paralyzing stage fright. Branson cleverly bribed him with the gift of his own Bentley to get him on stage. The performance was a triumph, catapulting the album towards its eventual status as a multi-million-selling phenomenon.

Faced with this sudden success, Branson and Draper made a pivotal, high-stakes decision. They turned down a safe, lucrative licensing deal from a major label. Instead, they gambled on a risky Pressing and Distribution deal, which meant carrying all the costs and risk themselves but keeping the lion's share of the profits. This audacious bet paid off astronomically. The flood of revenue from Tubular Bells didn't just save the company; it provided the foundational capital that transformed Virgin from a precarious startup into a major industry force, building Branson's first fortune from the lessons of near-disaster.

Financial Struggles and a Desperate Scheme

Despite attracting more customers, Virgin Mail Order was losing money due to deep discounts, operational costs, and customer fraud. This led to a £15,000 overdraft. Burdened by this and the costs of the Manor studio, Richard devised a plan to avoid purchase tax. He would buy records tax-free for "export," get his paperwork stamped at Dover, then turn around and sell the "bonded" stock in the UK for pure profit. After three successful trips netting £12,000, he planned one final run to clear the debt.

A Fateful Encounter at the Manor

During this period, Richard met Kristen Tomassi, an American visitor at the Manor, in a spontaneous and charmingly audacious manner. After a whirlwind beginning, he orchestrated her move from her musician boyfriend's flat to his houseboat, Alberta, on the morning of his final planned tax run. Anxious to return to her, he conducted the scam hastily, not even boarding the ferry at Dover before driving back to London.

The Raid and a Sobering Arrest

That evening, an anonymous phone caller, likely a customs officer with a grudge, warned Richard of an imminent raid and revealed that the export records were secretly marked with a fluorescent "E." Richard, Nik, and Tony worked through the night moving the incriminating stock from the warehouse to the Oxford Street shop, mistakenly believing only the warehouse would be searched. The next morning, Customs and Excise officers raided all Virgin locations simultaneously. Finding the marked records in the shops, they arrested Richard.

His night in a Dover prison cell was a profound shock, forcing him to confront the reality of his criminal actions and the loss of his freedom and reputation. He made a lifelong vow never to do anything again that could land him in prison or cause personal embarrassment.

Facing Consequences and a New Resolve

Released on bail after his mother risked the family home as security, Richard was deeply moved by her trust. He negotiated an out-of-court settlement with Customs and Excise, agreeing to repay £60,000 (three times the illegal profit) over three years to avoid a criminal record. This debt became a powerful motivator. The Virgin team, united by the crisis, focused obsessively on expanding the record shop chain to generate cash, managing every penny to pay off the settlement and eventually repay his family.

The Cultural Engine: Simon's Taste and the Virgin Ethos

Simon Draper's impeccable taste wasn't just a personal quirk; it was Virgin's strategic foundation. His decisions on which records to stock transformed the shops into cultural hubs and arbiters of cool. He bypassed mainstream channels, importing rare American and European albums directly, creating an aura of exclusivity. This focus was on serious albums—seen as artistic statements—rather than crass singles. The shops fostered a lifestyle: customers and staff lounged on cushions, smoked, debated music, and enjoyed a hedonistic atmosphere. This cultivated an elite, "hip" identity, deliberately refusing to stock chart-topping glam rock acts like Gary Glitter or The Osmonds, a policy Branson initially worried about but which ultimately cemented their credibility.

Scaling the Business: The Shop Expansion Formula

Beneath the countercultural veneer, a rigorous expansion plan was underway. To generate real profit, Branson and partner Nik Powell embarked on opening a new shop nearly every month. They developed a shrewd real estate tactic: negotiating a rent-free first three months as an absolute condition for any lease. This allowed sales from a new shop to pay the rent on the previous one and proved the location's viability without long-term risk. Site selection was equally calculated, targeting cheaper ends of high streets and areas where teenagers naturally congregated, guided by local youth on invisible neighborhood boundaries.

Operational Hustles and Growing Pains

Rapid growth presented major challenges. Mainstream record labels like PolyGram refused to supply Virgin due to their discounting, doubting both their ethics and solvency. The ingenious, if farcical, solution was Raymond Laren’s tiny "Pop In" shop in South Woodford. He acted as a middleman, using his account to order Virgin’s stock, adding a 5% fee. As Virgin grew, this led to the absurd spectacle of vans unloading and reloading thousands of records through a small shopfront, forcing labels to finally deal with Virgin directly.

The shop-as-club model also backfired in Liverpool, where the Bold Street location became so packed with lounging, stoned patrons that no one could reach the till, causing sales to plummet. Branson had to recalibrate, adding staff to manage the door and brightening the lights to reassert the space as a commercial retailer.

A Pivotal Departure and a Foundational Return

In 1972, Simon Draper announced plans to leave for Chile, forcing Branson to confront how vital his curatorial genius was to the brand. Virgin’s reputation as a taste-maker was now firmly established, with the music press discussing their promotions. Fate intervened when Simon's move fell through, and his return coincided with the maturation of their original three-part vision: they now had a studio (The Manor) and a retail chain. The final piece was launching their own record label, Virgin Music. Simon agreed to run it with a 20% stake.

The First Artist: Mike Oldfield and Tubular Bells

Their first target was the gifted but overlooked multi-instrumentalist Mike Oldfield. After being rejected by every major label, Oldfield was invited to live and work at The Manor. Branson financed his required instruments (notably £20 for tubular bells), and they signed him using a contract copied verbatim from Sandy Denny's Island Records deal. Oldfield received a £20 weekly wage against future royalties. Over months, he and engineer Tom Newman painstakingly crafted the epic, instrumental Tubular Bells, a complex masterpiece of overdubs.

Launching the Label into a Crowded Market

Virgin Music launched in May 1973 with four albums, including Tubular Bells. Initial trade reception was euphoric—Island Records salesmen gave a rare standing ovation—but breaking it to the public was difficult. Radio stations rejected it for being neither classical nor pop. Despite a rave review in the NME, sales were "stillborn" for the first two weeks. The challenge was clear: they had a groundbreaking product, but needed a breakthrough to get the public to take that first listen.

The tide began to turn when John Peel, the influential BBC Radio 1 DJ, visited Branson for lunch at his houseboat, Alberta. After hearing Tubular Bells, Peel was astonished, proclaiming he’d never heard anything like it. He later devoted a significant portion of his show to playing the album in full, offering a glowing, laconic endorsement to his vast audience.

A Tense Listening Party

Branson, Oldfield, and the Virgin team gathered on the houseboat to listen to the broadcast. While everyone else was spellbound by the music, Branson’s mind churned with anxiety over sales, distribution, and the company’s financial survival. He watched Mike Oldfield, who sat silently staring at the album sleeve, and wondered if the composer was already dreaming of his next project.

The Concert Crisis and a Bentley Bargain

The promotional campaign culminated in a grand concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on 25 June, featuring notable guest musicians. Hours before the show, a paralyzed Mike Oldfield told Branson he could not go on stage. Knowing rational arguments would fail, Branson employed cunning psychology. He took Mike for a drive in his cherished, battleship-grey Bentley. Seeing Mike’s admiration for the car, Branson offered it to him as a gift on one condition: that he perform that night. After a tense silence, Mike agreed to the deal.

Triumph and Aftermath

The concert was a spectacular success, ending with a standing ovation. Hundreds of copies of Tubular Bells were sold that night. Mike, however, was emotionally shattered, telling Branson he felt “rapid” and driving off in his new Bentley, refusing to return to the stage for years. The album entered the charts in July and reached number one by August, eventually selling over 13 million copies in Britain alone. Virgin Music was irrevocably on the map.

The Gamble That Built a Fortune

Despite this success, Virgin was still a tiny company with no national distribution network. Faced with a choice, Branson and Simon decided against the safe, traditional path of licensing the album to a major label for an advance and royalties. Instead, they boldly opted for a riskier “Pressing and Distribution” (P&D) deal with Island Records. This meant Virgin carried all the promotional costs and risk, but would keep the vast majority of the profits if the album succeeded.

Against all advice, they turned down Island’s lucrative licensing offer and secured the P&D deal. The gamble paid off astronomically. As Tubular Bells soared past gold, platinum, and multi-platinum status, the revenue flowed directly to Virgin, providing the capital that transformed the company from a fledgling outfit into a major industry force and the foundation of Branson’s first fortune.

Key Takeaways

• The power of authentic endorsement: John Peel’s genuine, influential support was a priceless catalyst that no amount of paid advertising could buy.
• Pragmatic psychology over brute force: Branson solved Mike Oldfield’s stage fright not with pressure, but by understanding his desire and offering the Bentley—a calculated sacrifice for a greater goal.
• Embrace calculated, big risks: The decision to forgo a safe licensing deal for a high-risk, high-reward distribution model was the pivotal business choice that allowed Virgin to capture the enormous profits from Tubular Bells and build lasting wealth.
• Protect the creative asset: Branson viewed the intellectual copyright of Tubular Bells as Virgin’s “birthright,” a core asset to be owned and leveraged, not merely licensed away.

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9: Never mind the bollocks: 1976–1977

Overview

The chapter paints a vivid picture of Virgin Records at a crossroads, teetering on the edge of financial collapse while navigating the seismic cultural shift from progressive rock to punk. It all begins with Mike Oldfield, whose monumental success with Tubular Bells ironically led to a decade of reclusiveness, leaving the label dangerously reliant on his royalties. To cope, Richard Branson and his team crafted shrewd negotiation principles—retaining copyrights, securing worldwide rights, and controlling band members' rights—but by 1976, Virgin was bleeding cash, forcing a desperate gamble: find the next big thing or go under.

This hunt coincided with the explosive rise of punk, which initially left Virgin, seen as a "hippie label," on the sidelines. However, fate intervened with The Sex Pistols, whose chaotic journey from EMI to A&M and finally to Virgin became a rollercoaster of scandal and opportunity. Their infamy peaked with the release of Never Mind The Bollocks, leading to a landmark court case where Virgin turned a censorship charge into a public relations triumph by proving "bollocks" meant "nonsense."

Amid this professional turmoil, Branson's personal life found its anchor through a secret and patient courtship of Joan Templeman, which culminated in her moving in with him, offering a private respite from the public chaos. As The Sex Pistols imploded, Branson traveled to Jamaica to diversify Virgin's roster with reggae acts, confirming the band's end through Johnny Rotten's own admission. Yet, this closure wasn't a defeat; the Pistols' notoriety had rebranded Virgin as the "smart label" for the new wave, paving the way for acts like XTC and The Human League to secure its future. Through legal battles, cultural revolutions, and personal commitments, Virgin emerged not just surviving but transformed, ready for whatever came next.

Mike Oldfield's Retreat and Its Consequences

The chapter opens with Mike Oldfield's psychological unraveling following the massive success of Tubular Bells. Overwhelmed by the fame he had dreamed of, he retreated to a remote cottage in Wales, cutting off contact with almost everyone except Richard Branson. This reclusiveness, lasting a decade, meant Virgin's first superstar refused all promotion. Branson leveraged a film of Oldfield playing, intercut with abstract sculptures, which the BBC broadcast repeatedly, each time sending sales soaring. Internationally, Ahmet Ertegun ingeniously marketed the album as the soundtrack to The Exorcist, cementing its U.S. success. While Oldfield continued to produce beautiful music like Ommadawn, he never matched his initial fame, and Virgin became dangerously viewed as "just Mike Oldfield’s label."

Virgin's Negotiating Principles and Financial Strain

From the Oldfield experience, Branson and Simon Draper developed three core, unspoken negotiation principles for signing artists:

1. Retain copyright for as long as possible, offering high advances in exchange for long-term commitments (e.g., eight albums).
2. Secure worldwide rights to incentivize global promotion.
3. Own the copyrights of individual band members as well as the group itself, to protect against solo breakaways.

Despite these strategies, Virgin faced a severe cash crisis by 1976. Having reinvested Oldfield's royalties into new, unprofitable artists, the company was kept afloat almost solely by him. At a crisis meeting, Ken Berry (the quietly indispensable numbers man) suggested the radical option of dropping all other acts and downsizing. Branson argued the opposite: to expand out of trouble by finding "the next big thing." The team, reluctantly, chose to gamble the entire company on one last breakthrough, implementing severe cost-cutting measures in the meantime.

The Hunt for a Breakthrough and the Punk Shift

Virgin's attempts to sign established giants like 10cc, The Who, Pink Floyd, and The Rolling Stones repeatedly failed, leaving them as "forever the second choice." Their catalogue was full of credible but unprofitable progressive rock. The rise of punk presented both a challenge and an opportunity. Virgin initially missed out on bands like the Boomtown Rats and was perceived as a "hippie label," an image crystallized when peaceful, kaftan-wearing Gong protesters visited their offices. The sight of a mohawked punk walking past these hippies on Portobello Road symbolized the cultural shift; Branson immediately got a drastic haircut in response.

The Sex Pistols Saga Begins

The hunt intensified when Branson first heard The Sex Pistols' "Anarchy in the UK" from Simon Draper's office. Draper had previously turned them down, and they were now signed to EMI. After the band's infamous swearing incident on live TV, EMI's managing director called Branson at dawn, desperate to offload them. A handshake deal was struck to transfer the band to Virgin, contingent on manager Malcolm McLaren's agreement. McLaren, however, proved elusive and untrustworthy, stringing Branson along before signing the band to A&M in a staged ceremony outside Buckingham Palace. That deal collapsed within days when Sid Vicious vandalized A&M's offices, earning the band another hefty pay-off and leaving them famously label-less once more.

The "Bollocks" Trial and a Legal Victory

The release of Never Mind The Bollocks led to a direct confrontation with the authorities. The manager of Virgin's Nottingham shop was arrested under the 1889 Indecent Advertisements Act for displaying the album's promotional poster. Branson called on his old lawyer, John Mortimer, for defense. Their strategy was to challenge the very meaning of the word "bollocks." A linguistics professor from Nottingham University, James Kinsley, was enlisted as an expert witness. He testified that "bollocks" was an 18th-century nickname for priests and, by extension, came to mean "nonsense" or "rubbish." The prosecution's case unraveled completely when Professor Kinsley revealed he was also a reverend by folding down his polo neck to show a dog collar. The magistrate promptly dismissed the case, handing Virgin a public relations victory that underscored the absurdity of the censorship attempt.

A Private Romance Amid Public Chaos

Alongside the professional turmoil, Branson's personal life reached a critical point. He details the slow, deliberate courtship of Joan Templeman, a married Scots woman he met in 1976. Their affair was conducted in secret within a tiny geographical triangle in London, complicated by the fact they were both technically still married to other people (Branson to Kristen, Joan to Ronnie Leahy). The situation became a painful tangle of five people until a friend of Joan's forced Branson to declare his feelings. The tension finally broke when Joan arrived at his houseboat one rainy night and simply stated, "Well, I thought I’d move in."

Jamaica, Reggae, and the End of The Sex Pistols

In early 1978, seeking sunshine and new musical talent, Branson traveled to Kingston, Jamaica, with accountant Ken Berry and a disillusioned Johnny Rotten (Lydon). Their mission was to sign reggae and "toaster" (early rap) acts, using a briefcase of $30,000 in cash to secure deals. They signed nearly twenty artists, including Prince Far I and Tappa Zukie. During the trip, Johnny Rotten confirmed The Sex Pistols' disintegration, telling Branson of the band's internal strife, Sid Vicious's drug spiral, and his desire to form a new band, Public Image Ltd. (PiL). Branson tried unsuccessfully to convince him to stay, realizing that despite their massive cultural impact and the doors they had opened for Virgin's punk credibility, The Sex Pistols would not be a ongoing financial success for the label. He returned to London having accepted this reality, but comforted by the fact that Virgin was now the "smart label" for a new wave of bands like XTC, Magazine, and The Human League. The section ends with a hopeful message from Joan, suggesting they meet in New York.

Key Takeaways

• Virgin successfully fought back against censorship in the "Bollocks" trial, using expert testimony to turn a legal threat into a comedic victory that reinforced their rebellious image.
• Branson's relationship with Joan Templeman began as a complex and secret affair, marked by patience and persistence, ultimately leading to a decisive commitment that would become a lifelong partnership.
• A business trip to Jamaica highlighted Virgin's diversification into reggae and, more importantly, confirmed the end of The Sex Pistols as a functional band.
• Despite the Sex Pistols' implosion, their notoriety had cemented Virgin's reputation, enabling the label to attract and build a successful roster of new wave and post-punk acts, ensuring the company's future beyond punk rock.

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