Where is the Bunker

It was an offhanded comment that offered little advancement to the broader discussion. Truth be told, I was bored, and my mind was wandering to jovial places fueled by my whimsical imagination. Oddly, my colleagues didn’t appreciate the detached nature of my suggestion; they thought I was serious. That is how something out of left field can gain momentum and, without meaning to, can become a thing, albeit a crazy thing.

It was the summer of 1999; remember 1999? Two things dominated the minds of the business leaders: the looming new millennium and the explosion of the internet. The world was worked up over the impact of a calendar year ending in 00; would it muck up computers and the nation’s infrastructure? To hear some people tell it, all hell was about to break loose on January 1^st. There was a lot of panic and concern.

At the same time, the internet bubble was in full swing. Massive amounts of dollars were flowing into any company that said it was an internet company; it was a land grab. Companies that were fortunate to be funded by institutional investors were encouraged to spend dollars aggressively; it was all about eyeballs and site visits. The typical business metrics were on sabbatical.

At the time, I was CEO of HomePoint.com, an online furniture company. We had just closed our A round and were greased with cash, and there was an expectation that we would put it to work and drive visitors to our site. But how?

I distinctly recall a hastily organized meeting involving our marketing team and outside marketing firm. The agenda: what could we do with our resources to get people to pay attention to our site? This was no easy task. There was a lot of noise vying for this new market. The secret was standing out; you needed a hook.

For a few hours I listened to the gathered group debate various ideas of what we could do. Nothing stood out and I was growing confident the answer didn’t live in the room. With some annoyance, I blurted out, “Why don’t we build a bunker on the back of a flatbed truck, fill it full of furniture, hire some actor, and tie the whole gimmick to people’s fear of the new millennium?”

Everyone in the room looked at me like I had just thrown a stink bomb into their well-run meeting. Feeling playful and enjoying their reaction, I went on. “Seriously, what if we build this narrative about a guy who is afraid of 2000. We can say he contacted us and asked us if we would sponsor his cross-country bunker tour.”

There was no stopping me now. “Think about it, we could build a glass bunker on the back of this flatbed truck, pull it around the country and see if the media will bite on the weird way this guy wanted to live in a bunker.”

Finally, out of silly things to say, I paused to let what I had proposed sink in. The room was quiet for a moment until the managing partner of the marketing firm said, “This is brilliant, let’s do it.”

Damn, I was joking; shocked by his reaction I failed to speak up and stop what was a growing enthusiasm for this hairbrained idea; and so, it took off and before I knew it, we were drawing up plans for Bunker Bob.

There was a lot to do, in a short period of time: we had to hire a casting firm, hire an actor, design and build a rolling glass bunker on the back of an eighteen-wheel flatbed truck, hire a PR firm to manage the tour, and fit a marketing campaign around this initiative. Unbelievably that is exactly what we did. Looking back, I wonder why no one ever raised their hand and asked if we were really going to do this. I mean there were crazy things going on chasing big dollars: but a glass bunker? I have no explanation for what we were thinking; we were like everyone else; chasing the silly euphoria that was the internet.

In due time Bunker Bob was hired – he was an aspiring actor from Maine. The bunker was completed and furnished, and curtains were installed to give him privacy – the total cost to build the 48-foot glass enclosed bunker was $500,000. A New York PR firm was engaged, and the tour schedule identified.

The latter item was no easy task. It required special permitting in each city, cooperation with local law enforcement, and an advance team who could stay ahead of the bunker to prepare each site and marketplace prior to the bunker’s arrival. There was a lot of negotiation – for example, where would the city of New York permit us to park the bunker.

We decided to expand the myth that Bob contacted us and was looking for a sponsor to support his need to see America before the world came to an end. We called it “Bunker Bob’s Y2k trip across America.” With our new actor on board and a beautiful rolling bunker, we set the launch day for the nationwide tour to begin on 9/9/99, in South Beach.

I was there when the tour began. I didn’t know what to expect and I was apprehensive to say the least; in fact, I had never seen the finished product. As I approached the appointed site, I got my first peek at the HomePoint semi-truck parked on the street in South Beach; the branding was obnoxiously bold. Behind the cab of the truck was the trailer. It had a large tarp over it; the tarp was attached by a metal chain and secured to a crane. Everything was ready; it was time to raise the tarp. Inside the bunker Bob was wired so he could talk to the gathering onlookers.

Guess what? There was a growing crowd that admittedly had no idea what was about to happen; but they were curious. At the appointed time, Bob began to speak to the crowd and tease them about what was below the tarp. His personality was perfect; he was charming, flirtatious, and a little wild; the crowd loved it.

I was very reticent about what was going to happen, Bob’s humor wasn’t calming my nerves. Think about it, here was the truck, branded in our logo, parked in South Beach with a crowd of beachgoers yelling at the truck with a paid actor hiding inside. Any semblance of control seemed like a fantasy. I was along for the ride, and I had no idea what that meant.

Once the energy reached a certain level, the tarp was raised, and the crowd could see inside the bullet proof glass; Bob was standing there like a man in a very large fish tank. Without missing a beat, Bob told them he intended to stay in the bunker until all was safe on January 1^st. He also teased them by saying the destination of the bunker for New Year’s Eve was a secret and one lucky person who guessed the location by registering on the HomePoint website would win a houseful of furniture.

The crowd went nuts; young ladies started walking up to the glass and demonstrating their approval of Bob; they were blowing him kisses, among other things. I didn’t know what to think, but I knew we might be onto something; and we were.

From the launch of the tour in Miami, Bob and his traveling bunker visited forty cities. In each city there was always something crazy lined up that drew the local media. In Greenville, SC they closed Main Street and had a day long street fair. In New York City he hosted the FOX morning show and was there when they interviewed former Clinton advisor Dick Morris about his prostitute scandal – I should note the interview occurred with Morris sitting on Bunker Bob’s bed.

He held a Halloween séance in St Louis in front of reportedly a thousand people. He became licensed to conduct marriages in Colorado and while in Denver married five couples in the bunker.

One day, while he was in Las Vegas, he called me on his cell and told me to go to a website that was live casting him from inside the bunker. I did as I was told and was aghast to see Bob lying on the bed getting a massage from scantily clad ladies. I had lost all control and was treating Bob to the time of his life. A stern call followed with the PR firm. I wanted visitors to the site, but that was too far to go.

Two days after Christmas we announced that the surprise site of our New Year’s Eve party would be in New Orleans. We held a drawing and identified the winner of the furniture. I was invited to attend the final day of 1999 to enjoy the celebration that was the Bunker Bob tour. I chose to pass.

It is a good thing I did. Our PR firm had secured a venue on Jackson Square; it was prime real estate. To “fill the room,” they had billed the party as a pajama party. I gather a good time was had by all.

The Bunker Bob tour was strangely successful for the company. Our daily unique visitors were at their highest level in the fall of 1999. In fact, nothing we ever did came close to drawing the attention that Bunker Bob did.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to our actor friend from Maine; I never heard from him again, so I don’t think we were his big break. Nevertheless, imagine the stories he had to tell. He had a good time; I had to figure out how to drive business.

Sometimes when I am faced with a unique challenge I reflect on the uninhibited freedom, we had to try stuff; it was powerful. Alas those days are gone. Can you imagine in this environment, the criticism we would get if we attempted a stunt like this? American’s attention span is too short, and cynicism is off the charts. Oh well, I wonder where that bunker is.