大約五年前，弗拉基米爾·特內(nèi)夫和拜朱·巴特創(chuàng)辦了一家名為Robinhood，不收傭金的股票經(jīng)紀(jì)公司，并著手為這家剛剛起步的硅谷公司籌措資金。他們尋求獲得相對較少的1300萬美元投資——其創(chuàng)意的估值由此將達(dá)到6100萬美元。這兩位曾經(jīng)的斯坦福大學(xué)同學(xué)當(dāng)時(shí)即將過30歲生日。他們做了一件企業(yè)家們幾十年來一直在做的事情：懇請歷史悠久的風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資公司凱鵬華盈（Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers）提供支持。

在硅谷沙丘路，凱鵬華盈的名號就像奧普拉在好萊塢那般響亮。盡管這家風(fēng)投大鱷看到了Robinhood的潛力，它并沒有選擇出手。然后，在2015年年中，當(dāng)Robinhood尋求以2.5億美元的估值再融資5000萬美元時(shí)，凱鵬華盈又一次置身事外。2017年尋求另一筆1.1億美元投資時(shí)，這家硅谷初創(chuàng)公司已經(jīng)以13億美元的估值，華麗演變?yōu)橐恢弧蔼?dú)角獸”。但這一次遭到冷落的，是凱鵬華盈：它被排除在參與融資的風(fēng)投公司名單之外。

根據(jù)交易撮合者的說法，直到去年年初，Robinhood和凱鵬華盈才最終攜手。到那時(shí)，這家新銳公司已經(jīng)在經(jīng)紀(jì)行業(yè)引發(fā)巨大震蕩，以至于富達(dá)、TD Ameritrade和嘉信理財(cái)?shù)葮I(yè)界巨頭不得不削減費(fèi)用，以回應(yīng)Robinhood提供的零傭金服務(wù)。在華爾街著名分析師瑪麗·米克的斡旋下，此前多次錯(cuò)失投資機(jī)會的凱鵬華盈現(xiàn)在參與了這一輪總額為3.63億美元的融資——這筆融資對Robinhood的估值高達(dá)56億美元。自2011年以來，米克一直擔(dān)任凱鵬華盈合伙人。

對于這家曾經(jīng)名滿天下的公司來說，無法參與一家熱門初創(chuàng)企業(yè)的首輪融資，隨后不得不以昂貴得多的代價(jià)入股，現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)變得司空見慣。凱鵬華盈此前已經(jīng)錯(cuò)失了整整一代技術(shù)投資，即本世紀(jì)初那批所謂的Web 2.0公司，其典型代表當(dāng)屬Facebook?，F(xiàn)如今，在2010年代，它又一次未能對當(dāng)下最受歡迎的初創(chuàng)公司進(jìn)行早期投資，盡管這是風(fēng)險(xiǎn)資本投資的傳統(tǒng)主業(yè)。但這一次，它出現(xiàn)了一個(gè)反常的轉(zhuǎn)折：凱鵬華盈以米克為核心的新戰(zhàn)略取得了巨大成功。她在公司內(nèi)部管理著一只單獨(dú)的基金，專注于投資更加成熟、需要資本來增長的私人公司，而不是那些僅僅想站穩(wěn)腳跟的初創(chuàng)公司。

相較于“風(fēng)險(xiǎn)”投資，面向更成熟企業(yè)的“增長型”投資應(yīng)該更安全一些，回報(bào)率也會相應(yīng)較低。然而，米克投資團(tuán)隊(duì)的表現(xiàn)卻超過了長期擔(dān)任凱鵬華盈領(lǐng)導(dǎo)者的約翰·多爾所監(jiān)管的風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資團(tuán)隊(duì)。多年來，一批不太知名的投資家相繼加入，隨后離開多爾的團(tuán)隊(duì)。成功入股這個(gè)時(shí)代最有前途公司（比如Slack、DocuSign、Spotify和Uber）的，是米克領(lǐng)導(dǎo)的團(tuán)隊(duì)，而不是凱鵬華盈的風(fēng)投部門。這種狀況引發(fā)了怨恨情緒——畢竟，誰獲得稱贊，更重要的是，誰獲得報(bào)酬，是一個(gè)與投資業(yè)務(wù)同樣古老的沖突焦點(diǎn)。

更糟糕的是，凱鵬華盈內(nèi)部形成了一個(gè)階級體系。在外部世界，尤其是那些考慮接受凱鵬華盈資金的企業(yè)家看來，這一點(diǎn)非常明顯：米克團(tuán)隊(duì)堪稱業(yè)界翹楚，而風(fēng)投部門充其量也不過是二流機(jī)構(gòu)。專門研究風(fēng)險(xiǎn)資本的斯坦福大學(xué)金融學(xué)教授伊利亞·斯特拉耶夫表示：“20年前，凱鵬華盈處于風(fēng)險(xiǎn)資本世界的頂峰。如今，它只是眾多參與者中的普遍一員?！?/p>

接下來發(fā)生的是商界另一個(gè)古老的故事。它講述了一個(gè)曾經(jīng)驕傲的業(yè)界領(lǐng)導(dǎo)者如何發(fā)現(xiàn)自己變得無關(guān)緊要。它表明，接班計(jì)劃有多么重要，沒有充分培養(yǎng)合適繼任者將產(chǎn)生多么嚴(yán)重的后果。它也提醒我們，即使歷經(jīng)40多年的實(shí)踐，從一群想要成功的企業(yè)中找出早期成功者，仍然是一件難以捉摸、難于上青天的事情。對于凱鵬華盈在過去幾年中發(fā)生的事情，無論是該公司的合伙人，還是以守口如瓶著稱的風(fēng)投圈子，都沒有興趣討論，至少不愿公開討論。多爾、米克和凱鵬華盈的其他負(fù)責(zé)人都拒絕接受本文采訪或發(fā)表評論。但20多名現(xiàn)任和前任員工、凱鵬華盈基金的投資者、企業(yè)家和其他行業(yè)觀察人士確實(shí)談到了問題所在，以及如果可能的話，凱鵬華盈如何才能重拾昔日魔力。

Some five years ago Vladimir Tenev and Baiju Bhatt, founders of a potentially disruptive no-fee stock brokerage startup called Robinhood, set out to raise capital for their fledgling Silicon Valley outfit. They sought a relatively small amount, $13 million, that would value their idea at $61 million. The former Stanford classmates, both within spitting distance of their 30th birthdays at the time, did what entrepreneurs have been doing for decades: They asked the venerable venture capital firm Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers to back them.

Kleiner—its singular name is as sufficient on Sand Hill Road as Oprah is in Hollywood—was interested. The firm sees lots of opportunities, however, and it chose not to bite. Then, in mid-2015, when Robinhood was looking for another $50 million at a valuation of $250 million, Kleiner passed again. By 2017, when Robinhood became a “unicorn” valued at $1.3 billion as it raised an additional $110 million, it was the startup doing the snubbing: It excluded Kleiner from the list of venture firms that participated in its funding.

It wasn’t until early last year that Robinhood and Kleiner finally connected, according to accounts from dealmakers on both sides. By then Robinhood had made such a splash in the brokerage world that Fidelity, TD Ameritrade, and Charles Schwab had cut fees in response to the upstart’s zero-commission offering. Under the sponsorship of famed Wall Street analyst Mary Meeker, a Kleiner partner since 2011, the firm that had failed repeatedly to invest at increasing levels now participated in the $363 million funding round, valuing Robinhood at $5.6 billion.

The inability to get in on a hot startup’s ground floor, only to subsequently pay a far richer price, was all too common for the once-storied firm. Kleiner had sat out on another generation of technology investments, the crop of so-called Web 2.0 companies, including Facebook in the 2000s. Now, in the 2010s, it was failing again to make early-stage investments—the traditional meat of venture capital investing—in the most sought-after startups of the day. But this time its whiffs came with a perverse twist: Kleiner was succeeding wildly with a new strategy centered around Meeker, who ran a separate fund within the firm focused on more mature private companies that required capital to grow as opposed to merely establish themselves.

“Growth” investing, with its more developed companies, should be somewhat safer than “venture” investing and would also earn commensurately lower returns. Yet Meeker’s investment team outperformed the venture group overseen by longtime Kleiner leader John Doerr and a rotating ensemble of lesser-known investors who joined and left him over the years. Meeker, not the venture capital investing unit, was landing stakes in the era’s most promising companies, including Slack, DocuSign, Spotify, and Uber, breeding resentment over tension points as old as the investing business: Who gets the credit and, more important, who gets paid.

Worse, a class system developed inside Kleiner, evident to the outside world as well, notably among entrepreneurs mulling accepting Kleiner’s money: Team Meeker was a top-tier operation while the venture unit was B-list at best. Says Ilya Strebulaev, a Stanford finance professor who studies venture capital: “Twenty years ago, Kleiner Perkins was at the pinnacle of venture capital. These days it’s just one of many firms trying to compete.”

What happened next is another age-old tale in the business world, of how a once-proud stalwart found itself on the edge of irrelevance. It’s about just how much succession planning matters and the ramifications of not adequately grooming the right successors. And it’s a reminder that something as elusive as identifying early-stage winners from the pack of wannabes doesn’t get easier, even after more than four decades of practice. The story of what happened in the past handful of years at Kleiner is also one neither the firm’s partners nor the notoriously tight-lipped VC industry around it are interested in discussing, at least on the record. Doerr, Meeker, and other Kleiner principals all declined to be interviewed for this article or to comment. But more than 20 current and former employees, investors in Kleiner’s funds, entrepreneurs, and other industry observers did talk about what went wrong and how, if possible, the firm can ever regain that old Kleiner magic.

從1972年成立到1999年對谷歌投資1180萬美元，在凱鵬華盈的黃金歲月，你很難相信這家風(fēng)投大鱷必須得費(fèi)盡周折才能入股一家前景光明的初創(chuàng)公司。彼時(shí)，凱鵬華盈進(jìn)行了一系列富有傳奇色彩的投資，諸如Tandem Computers、基因泰克、太陽微系統(tǒng)、電子藝界、網(wǎng)景和亞馬遜等業(yè)界標(biāo)桿的背后都有它的身影。像任何一家風(fēng)投公司一樣（接受早期階段投資的初創(chuàng)公司往往沒有一分錢收入），凱鵬華盈當(dāng)然品嘗過失敗的滋味。但它的整體投資業(yè)績令人驚嘆。例如，一只20世紀(jì)90年代中期的基金每投資1美元，就能獲得32美元的回報(bào)。它在沙丘路上的權(quán)勢是毋庸置疑的。“再也沒有比獲得凱鵬華盈的投資更好的事情了?！惫韫葰v史學(xué)家萊斯利·伯林這樣說道?！斑@是最高級別的認(rèn)可標(biāo)志。這對企業(yè)家來說意味著一切。”

20年來，這家公司最有能力的投資者非約翰·多爾莫屬，盡管他的名字沒有出現(xiàn)在信箋上。多爾曾經(jīng)是英特爾的銷售人員，于1980年加入凱鵬華盈，并逐漸成為該公司事實(shí)上的領(lǐng)導(dǎo)者。多爾取得了一連串的成功——網(wǎng)景、亞馬遜和谷歌，是他的經(jīng)典投資案例。在一些最令人興奮的科技公司中，他是一位活躍而有影響力的董事會成員。在互聯(lián)網(wǎng)時(shí)代，他還是一位杰出的硅谷啦啦隊(duì)隊(duì)長。

實(shí)際上，多爾是如此強(qiáng)勢，以至于他能夠推動(dòng)凱鵬華盈將全部精力從互聯(lián)網(wǎng)轉(zhuǎn)移到他最新的激情項(xiàng)目上：他篤信，可再生能源公司將成為下一波重要的科技投資浪潮。多爾是一位杰出的民主黨籌款人，也是前美國副總統(tǒng)阿爾·戈?duì)柕呐笥选酄栕屗蔀橐晃粍P鵬華盈合伙人。從2004年到2009年，該公司在54家“清潔技術(shù)”公司共投資了6.3億美元。在22位凱鵬華盈合伙人中，有12位將部分或全部時(shí)間用于所謂的綠色投資。

凱鵬華盈的初衷也許是好的，但它的投資失敗了。其中一些投資對象破產(chǎn)了，比如電動(dòng)汽車制造商Fisker Automotive。其他一些投資對象，比如燃料電池制造商Bloom Energy，在2002年獲得凱鵬華盈投資之后，足足花了16年時(shí)間才上市。就這樣，當(dāng)凱鵬華盈的競爭對手們紛紛在數(shù)字經(jīng)濟(jì)中斬獲投資佳績的時(shí)候，這個(gè)金字招牌卻蒙上了一層陰影。例如，Accel Partners是Facebook的早期支持者。合廣投資是第一批投資推特的公司之一。通過投資eBay在web1.0時(shí)代取得成功的Benchmark Capital，成為Uber的早期投資者。

多爾將凱鵬華盈推入了一個(gè)不幸的投資類別，他也未能組建起一支可以帶領(lǐng)公司走出困境的投資家團(tuán)隊(duì)。一方面，凱鵬華盈傾向于招攬那些沒有投資經(jīng)驗(yàn)，或者沒有在困難時(shí)期堅(jiān)持下來的知名人士。前美國國務(wù)卿科林·鮑威爾是一位“戰(zhàn)略顧問”。戈?duì)柺且晃蝗硇膮⑴c的投資家。太陽微系統(tǒng)公司的聯(lián)合創(chuàng)始人、杰出的技術(shù)專家比爾·喬伊在凱鵬華盈做了9年的合伙人。太陽微系統(tǒng)的另一位聯(lián)合創(chuàng)始人維諾德·科斯拉，是多爾招攬的最接近投資同行的團(tuán)隊(duì)成員。但科斯拉在2004年掛印而去，自立門戶?，F(xiàn)如今，他的公司已經(jīng)成為沙丘路上一股不可小覷的力量。

凱鵬華盈也因其擁有眾多血統(tǒng)純正的年輕投資家而聞名。在供職數(shù)年之后，這些青年才俊往往因?yàn)闆]有獲得晉升至高層的機(jī)會而黯然離去。其中許多人成為風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資界的下一代領(lǐng)導(dǎo)者——但他們所領(lǐng)導(dǎo)的，不是凱鵬華盈。例如，史蒂夫·安德森在21世紀(jì)初曾經(jīng)在凱鵬華盈待了4年。他獨(dú)自創(chuàng)業(yè)，后來成為Instagram的首位投資者。Instagram最終以10億美元的價(jià)格賣給了Facebook。以創(chuàng)造“獨(dú)角獸”（意指曾經(jīng)罕見的估值達(dá)10億美元的初創(chuàng)公司）一詞而著稱的艾琳·李，現(xiàn)在執(zhí)掌風(fēng)投公司Cowboy Ventures。特雷·瓦薩羅是凱鵬華盈在那個(gè)時(shí)代最成功的投資案例之一（即恒溫器制造商N(yùn)est）的關(guān)鍵人物。她后來創(chuàng)辦了專注于早期階段投資的風(fēng)投公司Defy。

無休止的人才外流造成了兩個(gè)問題：企業(yè)家們不確定誰會留在凱鵬華盈指引他們前行，多爾也不知道他退休后誰將領(lǐng)導(dǎo)這家公司。這個(gè)問題并非凱鵬華盈獨(dú)有，但對于該公司來說，這確實(shí)是一個(gè)極其嚴(yán)峻的問題?！敖影嘞騺硎秋L(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資公司面臨的一大挑戰(zhàn)，因?yàn)檫@些公司往往跟某個(gè)大人物緊密相連?！薄秳?chuàng)意資本》（Creative Capital）一書的作者斯賓塞·安特這樣說道?！坝行┤吮绕渌烁朴诜艡?quán)?！本投酄柕睦佣?，他似乎無法找到一位兼具潛力和名望的接班人?！拔艺J(rèn)為問題出在約翰，以及他對超級英雄的迷戀上面?！币晃磺皠P鵬華盈投資者說，“如果你在加入時(shí)還不是超級英雄，你就不會在凱鵬華盈成為超級英雄?！?/p>

多爾需要一個(gè)新策略，以及一個(gè)與他相稱的大人物來輔佐自己，他找到了兩者。他在2010年籌集了凱鵬華盈首只“增長型”基金，當(dāng)時(shí)的假設(shè)是，如果凱鵬華盈無法捕捉早期的初創(chuàng)明星企業(yè)，它至少可以在這些明星企業(yè)崛起之后將其攬入懷中。為了管理這只新的10億美元基金，他在2011年說服該公司的老朋友，摩根士丹利分析師瑪麗·米克搬到西海岸，在其職業(yè)生涯中首次成為一位投資家。這一進(jìn)展在一定程度上挽救了凱鵬華盈，并最終導(dǎo)致它一分為二。

Having to sweat to get into a promising startup would have been unthinkable during Kleiner’s golden years, from its founding in 1972 through its $11.8 million investment in Google in 1999. The firm made legendary investments in startup icons including Tandem Computers, Genentech, Sun Microsystems, Electronic Arts, Netscape, and Amazon.com. Like any venture firm, which invests so early in a company’s existence that it often has no revenue yet, Kleiner had its share of stinkers. But Kleiner’s overall investment results were staggering: A mid-90s fund, for example, returned $32 for every dollar invested. Its power on Sand Hill Road was unquestioned. “You could not do better than a Kleiner deal,” says Silicon Valley historian Leslie Berlin. “It was a sign of approval from the very highest level. And it meant everything to entrepreneurs.”

The firm’s ablest investor for two decades, though his name wasn’t on the letterhead, was John Doerr. A former Intel salesman, Doerr joined Kleiner in 1980 and over time became its de facto leader. Doerr scored a string of hits—Netscape, Amazon, and Google—becoming an active and forceful board member at the tech industry’s most exciting companies. He also was a prominent cheerleader for Silicon Valley in the age of the Internet.

Doerr was so powerful, in fact, that he was able to pivot Kleiner’s entire thrust away from the Internet and toward his latest passion project: renewable energy companies he believed would be the next important wave of tech investing. Doerr was a prominent Democratic fundraiser and pal of former Vice President Al Gore, whom Doerr made a Kleiner partner. Between 2004 and 2009, the firm had invested $630 million across 54 “clean tech” companies, and 12 of its 22 partners spent some or all of their time on so-called green investments.

The firm’s heart may have been in the right place, but its investments flopped. Some, like electric-car maker Fisker Automotive, went bankrupt. Others, like fuel-cell manufacturer Bloom Energy, took 16 years from Kleiner’s investment in 2002 to go public. The result was a tarnished brand at a time Kleiner’s competitors were killing it with investments in the digital economy. Accel Partners, for example, was the early backer of Facebook. Union Square Ventures was among the first to put money into Twitter. And Benchmark Capital, which scored in the web’s first era by investing in eBay, staked Uber in its early days.

Doerr had pushed Kleiner into an unfortunate investment category, and he also failed to assemble a team of investors that could lead the firm past its troubles. On the one hand, Kleiner had a penchant for collecting famous names who nevertheless had no investing experience—or didn’t stick around through troubled times. Former Secretary of State Colin Powell was a “strategic adviser.” Gore was a full-on investor. Bill Joy, a cofounder of Sun Microsystems and by acclaim a brilliant technologist, was a Kleiner partner for nine years. Vinod Khosla, another Sun cofounder and the closest Doerr had to an investing peer, jumped ship in 2004 to set up his own shop, a formidable power on Sand Hill Road today.

Kleiner also became known as a firm full of highly pedigreed young investors who stayed for a number of years but left without being given a shot at ascending to the top ranks. Many constitute the next generation of leadership in the venture capital world—but not at Kleiner. Steve Anderson, for example, did a four-year stint in the early 2000s. He went out on his own and later became the first investor in Instagram, which sold itself to Facebook for $1 billion. Aileen Lee, famous for coining the expression “unicorn” for the once-rare billion-dollar startup, now runs Cowboy Ventures. Trae Vassallo, key to one of Kleiner’s biggest successes of the era, thermostat maker Nest, started her own early-stage-focused firm, called Defy.

The endless outflow created two problems. Entrepreneurs couldn’t be sure who would be around at Kleiner to help guide them, and Doerr didn’t know who would lead the firm when he retired. It wasn’t a problem unique to Kleiner, but it was an acute one. “Succession has always been a challenge with venture capital firms because they tend to be so tied to specific, large personalities,” says Spencer Ante, author of Creative Capital, a history of the industry. “Some people are better at giving up control than others.” In Doerr’s case, he couldn’t seem to alight on the right mix of promise and stature. “I think the answer lies in John and his superhero fixation,” says one ex-Kleiner investor. “If you weren’t already a superhero coming in, you weren’t going to become a superhero at Kleiner.”

In need of a new strategy and a high--wattage personality to match his own, Doerr found both. He raised Kleiner’s first “growth” fund in 2010 on the assumption that if Kleiner couldn’t catch early-stage stars, at least it could get them before their ascent was complete. To run the new billion-dollar fund, in 2011 he persuaded a longtime friend of the firm, Morgan Stanley’s Mary Meeker, to move west and become an investor for the first time in her career. It was a development that would partly resuscitate Kleiner—and eventually lead to its being cleaved in half.

在硅谷，米克已經(jīng)是一位傳奇人物，盡管她的整個(gè)職業(yè)生涯都在紐約從事研究分析工作。她是在一個(gè)分析師與投行家密切合作的時(shí)代成長起來的。米克對網(wǎng)景、亞馬遜和谷歌等公司的熱情支持（上述公司都在凱鵬華盈的投資組合中），幫助摩根士丹利贏得了這些公司的IPO承銷權(quán)。新規(guī)則禁止投資銀行獎(jiǎng)勵(lì)研究相關(guān)交易的分析師，因此多爾邀請米克運(yùn)營新基金的提議給了她一個(gè)改頭換面的機(jī)會?！拔乙恢毕?yún)⑴c投資事務(wù)。”她在2012年告訴《連線》雜志。“十年來，凱鵬華盈團(tuán)隊(duì)一直在和我討論加入的問題。我想，如果我現(xiàn)在不加入，我就永遠(yuǎn)也不會加入了?！?/p>

她深厚的人脈和發(fā)現(xiàn)技術(shù)趨勢的能力幾乎立刻得到了回報(bào)。凱鵬華盈的新增長基金相繼投資了Facebook、LendingClub、DocuSign、Snapchat和Slack等公司。是的，所有這些公司都是其他風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資家培育起來的，但當(dāng)米克投資時(shí)，它們?nèi)匀粨碛泻艽蟮纳仙臻g。就其類別而言，回報(bào)率非常高。凱鵬華盈向投資者提供的數(shù)據(jù)顯示，截至去年年底，該公司增長型基金的投資增值了2.4倍。這一業(yè)績超過了凱鵬華盈同期籌集的一只風(fēng)險(xiǎn)基金，盡管后期投資的風(fēng)險(xiǎn)要低得多。

當(dāng)米克斬獲一連串勝利的時(shí)候，凱鵬華盈的早期階段風(fēng)投業(yè)務(wù)仍舊停滯不前，尤其是同競爭對手和它輝煌的過去相比。成功的案例還是有的。比如，長期合伙人特德·施萊因投資了一系列安全軟件公司，并取得了不錯(cuò)的收益。蘭迪·科米薩和特雷·瓦薩羅對Nest進(jìn)行了早期投資，后者在2014年被谷歌以32億美元收購。但這些成功還不夠，凱鵬華盈繼續(xù)錯(cuò)失一些更大的機(jī)會。它在2010年籌集的基金增值了一倍。但與類似年份成立的一只Benchmark基金相比，這一業(yè)績就相形見絀了。拜它對Uber和Snapchat的投資所賜，Benchmark增值了25倍。

毫無助益的是，凱鵬華盈還面臨無數(shù)令人分心的事情。即使它的替代能源投資宣告失敗或陷入絕境，多爾仍然試圖通過收購另一家公司來解決早期投資業(yè)務(wù)的領(lǐng)導(dǎo)問題。他主動(dòng)接洽以直言不諱著稱的Facebook前高管查馬斯·帕利哈皮蒂亞，后者是當(dāng)時(shí)計(jì)劃籌集第三只基金的Social Capital的幕后推手。多爾曾經(jīng)以私人身份投資Social Capital（對于沙丘路上的大佬來說，這種做法并不罕見）。他認(rèn)為，帕利哈皮蒂亞的果敢和人脈關(guān)系，或許有助于解決凱鵬華盈面臨的種種問題。

然而，關(guān)于帕利哈皮蒂亞將擁有凱鵬華盈多大控制權(quán)的談判最終破裂。帕利哈皮蒂亞拒絕接受本文采訪。大約在同一時(shí)間，凱鵬華盈正在打一場激烈的官司——多爾的門生鮑康如起訴該公司性別歧視。盡管凱鵬華盈最終勝訴，但這場官司讓其聲譽(yù)嚴(yán)重受損。多爾繼續(xù)尋找新的人才。他和長期合伙人施萊因在多爾此前嘗試過的一個(gè)地方，找到了一位領(lǐng)導(dǎo)人選：他們招募Social Capital的另一位聯(lián)合創(chuàng)始人馬蒙·哈米德負(fù)責(zé)早期投資業(yè)務(wù)。此君曾經(jīng)領(lǐng)導(dǎo)Social Capital成功入股Slack。2017年，也就是在多爾成為董事長（在風(fēng)投公司，這一職位往往帶有榮譽(yù)退休的意味）一年之后，哈米德加入凱鵬華盈。多爾將他奉為凱鵬華盈的新領(lǐng)導(dǎo)人，這一舉動(dòng)將使這位新人與米克產(chǎn)生沖突，因?yàn)樗呀?jīng)在很大程度上扮演著該公司領(lǐng)導(dǎo)者的角色。

Meeker was already a legend in Silicon Valley, despite having spent all of her career as a New York City–based research analyst. She came of age in an era when analysts worked hand in glove with investment bankers, and her enthusiastic support for companies like Netscape, Amazon, and Google—all in Kleiner’s portfolio—helped Morgan Stanley win the mandate to underwrite their IPOs. New rules prohibited investment banks from rewarding analysts on deals, so Doerr’s offer to have Meeker run the new fund afforded her the opportunity to repot herself. “I always wanted to invest,” she told Wired in 2012. “The Kleiner team had been talking to me for a decade about joining, and I thought that if I didn’t do it now, I never would.”

Her deep network and ability to spot tech trends paid off almost immediately. Kleiner’s new growth fund invested in the likes of Facebook, LendingClub, DocuSign, Snapchat, and Slack—all companies seeded by other venture capitalists that nevertheless had plenty of upside left when Meeker invested. The returns were stellar for its category. Kleiner’s growth fund grew investments by 2.4 times as of late last year, according to data the firm supplied to its investors. That performance bested a Kleiner venture fund raised at a similar time, even though later-stage investments are designed to be considerably less risky.

And as Meeker was racking up victories, Kleiner’s early-stage practice continued to stumble—especially compared with the competition and its own illustrious past. There were successes. Longtime partner Ted Schlein, for example, invested in a series of security-software companies that were purchased for healthy gains. Randy Komisar and Trae Vassallo invested early in Nest, acquired in 2014 by Google for $3.2 billion. But the wins weren’t enough, and Kleiner continued to miss bigger opportunities. The fund it raised in 2010 doubled its money. But that paled in comparison to a Benchmark fund of a similar vintage that multiplied investors’ capital by 25 times, thanks to investments in Uber and Snapchat.

It didn’t help that Kleiner faced a myriad of distractions. Even as its alternative-energy investments were blowing up or otherwise foundering, Doerr set out in 2014 to solve the early-stage leadership problem by trying to buy another firm. He approached Chamath Palihapitiya, an outspoken former Facebook executive who was the driving force behind Social Capital, which at the time was planning to raise its third fund. Doerr had personally invested in Social Capital, a not-uncommon practice for the bigwigs of Sand Hill Road, and he thought Palihapitiya’s brashness and connections could be the answer to Kleiner’s problems.

Talks eventually broke down, however, over how much control Palihapitiya, who declined to comment for this article, would have over all of Kleiner. Around the same time, Kleiner was fighting a bruising court battle, a gender discrimination suit filed by Ellen Pao, a Doerr protégé. Kleiner emerged victorious but bloodied from the litigation, and Doerr continued his hunt for new talent. He and Schlein, who helped manage the firm, found it at the same place Doerr tried before, Social Capital, by recruiting another cofounder, Mamoon Hamid, to head up early-stage investing. Hamid, who had led Social Capital’s investment in Slack, joined Kleiner in 2017, a year after Doerr became chairman, a role that connotes something like emeritus status at a venture firm. Doerr presented Hamid as the new leader of Kleiner—a move that would put the newcomer in conflict with Meeker, who already was providing plenty of leadership of her own.

加入凱鵬華盈后不久，現(xiàn)年41歲的哈米德就向公司員工分發(fā)了一份調(diào)查問卷，詢問他們對公司免費(fèi)食物的看法。他在一封電子郵件中寫道：“我們希望提供高品質(zhì)的零食，讓每個(gè)人都開心。”對美食的關(guān)注即使在經(jīng)濟(jì)上不重要，也是文化上的重要改變。畢竟，他是帶著扭轉(zhuǎn)乾坤的重任加入凱鵬華盈的。幾個(gè)月后，凱鵬華盈把它的年度假日派對從坐落于郊區(qū)，因循守舊的門羅馬戲團(tuán)俱樂部，搬到了舊金山覆有沙礫的Tenderloin社區(qū)，哈米德堅(jiān)決要求不再提供姓名標(biāo)簽。他認(rèn)為這是一種不夠酷的老派做法。

抱怨終于來了。哈米德對自身權(quán)威的行使，不只局限于世代禮儀，以及早就應(yīng)該重新設(shè)計(jì)的公司官網(wǎng)。他還將注意力轉(zhuǎn)向了整個(gè)公司的運(yùn)營方面，包括增長型基金。哈米德開始參加增長團(tuán)隊(duì)會議，就投資理念發(fā)表意見，幫助尋找投資交易。他想模糊哪些類型的投資適合哪些基金的界限。這意味著，他設(shè)想早期基金將持有更大股份，而這恰恰是增長型基金的領(lǐng)域。凱鵬華盈的內(nèi)部人士表示，哈米德認(rèn)為自己在幫忙，而米克的團(tuán)隊(duì)將哈米德的提議視為橫加干涉。

這兩只基金之間的關(guān)系變得更加困難，因?yàn)閯P鵬華盈的合伙人有權(quán)分享彼此的投資成果。事實(shí)證明，米克基金的成功也是其他合伙人的一大福音。但圍繞這個(gè)好處究竟該有多大所做的決定，很快就引起爭議。該公司鼓勵(lì)投資家在交易中展開合作，但并沒有明確具體的回報(bào)公式。一位前凱鵬華盈投資家表示：“突然間，米克規(guī)模龐大的增長型基金開始產(chǎn)生收益，有很多人公開邀功，并尋求分一杯羹，說什么‘我做了這件事’，‘ 我?guī)土四莻€(gè)忙’等等?！睋?jù)一位接近增長團(tuán)隊(duì)的人士透露，該團(tuán)隊(duì)的成員開始問：“為什么我們要把這么大一塊收入分給那些啥都沒干的人？”

雙方不只是在報(bào)酬方面存在分歧。哈米德此前從另一家公司招募了一位同代人，即Index Ventures風(fēng)投公司的伊利亞·富什曼，提議兩人合伙創(chuàng)建一家公司——盡管凱鵬華盈已經(jīng)存在了幾十年。他們的目標(biāo)之一是能夠向企業(yè)家們保證，凱鵬華盈的增長型基金將為他們公司的后續(xù)投資提供資金。不過，米克并不愿意做出這樣的保證。在一些行政問題上，比如基金管理、招聘方式和投資委員會的結(jié)構(gòu)方面，雙方也持有不同意見。

到了去年，凱鵬華盈內(nèi)部的氛圍進(jìn)一步惡化，不僅自尊心受挫，許多人也心生怨恨。在各種頂級風(fēng)投家排名中，凱鵬華盈合伙人的位置一落千丈；在CB Insights最近公布的全球前20名風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資家榜單中，位列第8位的米克是唯一一個(gè)與凱鵬華盈有關(guān)的名字。一位前內(nèi)部人士表示：“坦白地講，凱鵬華盈的每個(gè)人都很在意這些排名。”另一位前內(nèi)部人士宣稱：“從外部空降加入的哈米德認(rèn)為，他是這個(gè)地方的新老大，而米克一直認(rèn)為自己是老大。她為什么不離開呢？”

去年9月，米克就這樣做了。她宣布將退出凱鵬華盈，成立一家名為Bond的公司，仍然專注于投資處于后期階段的私人企業(yè)。與米克一起出走的，還包括她在凱鵬華盈領(lǐng)導(dǎo)的團(tuán)隊(duì)。這些人包括她的長期合伙伙伴穆德·羅漢尼、華平創(chuàng)投的老兵諾亞·克瑙夫，以及自2001年以來一直在凱鵬華盈工作的朱麗葉·德·博比尼。他們離開后，哈米德、富什曼和剩下的一些凱鵬華盈投資家將不得不重建該公司的聲譽(yù)。

Not long after Hamid, who is 41, joined Kleiner, he circulated a poll to the firm’s staff with questions about the free food provided in the office. “We’d like to have a high-quality selection of snacks that makes everyone happy,” he wrote in an email. The focus on noshing was culturally if not financially significant. He’d been brought in to shake things up, after all. A few months later, when Kleiner moved its annual holiday party from the fusty Menlo Circus Club in the suburbs to a hipster venue in San Francisco’s gritty Tenderloin neighborhood, Hamid insisted on skipping the uncool practice of providing name tags.

Cue the grumbling. Hamid’s assertion of authority extended beyond generational etiquette and a long overdue redesign of the firm’s website. He also turned his attention to the operations of the entire firm, including the growth fund. Hamid began attending growth team meetings, for example, and giving input on investment ideas, offering to help source deals. He wanted to blur the lines of what types of investments were appropriate for which funds, meaning he envisioned the early-stage fund taking bigger stakes, the province of the growth fund. Hamid, say Kleiner insiders, saw himself as helping; Meeker’s team viewed Hamid’s offers as meddling.

The relationship between the two funds was made more difficult because Kleiner partners shared in the spoils of one another’s investments. The success of Meeker’s fund had proved to be a boon to other partners. But deciding how much of a boon quickly became contentious. The firm incentivized investors to work together on deals but wasn’t clear on what the rewards formula was. “All of a sudden, [Meeker’s] monster growth fund starts working, and there was a lot of credit-seeking and lobbying for their share, claiming, ‘I did this,’ and ‘I helped with that,’?” says a former Kleiner investor. According to someone close to the growth team, its members began to ask: “Why do we want to give such a big portion of the money we earn to people who aren’t contributing anything?”

The two sides disagreed about more than compensation. Hamid had recruited a contemporary from another firm, Ilya Fushman of Index Ventures, with the suggestion the two could build a firm together. Never mind that Kleiner had been around for decades. One of their goals was to be able to assure entrepreneurs that Kleiner’s growth outfit would be able to fund later investment rounds in their companies. Meeker wasn’t willing to make those assurances though. The two sides disagreed on a number of administrative issues too, like fund governance, hiring practices, and the way investment committees would be structured.

By last year the mood inside Kleiner devolved into one of bruised egos and general resentment. Rankings of top VCs routinely pushed Kleiner partners far down the list; of the world’s top 20 venture capitalists published recently by CB Insights, Meeker’s was the only name associated with Kleiner, at No. 8. “Let’s be perfectly honest. Everyone at Kleiner cares about that stuff,” says a former insider. Says another: “Mamoon comes in and thinks he’s the new sheriff in a place where Mary thinks she’s the sheriff. Why wouldn’t she leave?”

In September, Meeker did just that. She announced she would exit Kleiner to set up a firm called Bond, still focused on late-stage private companies, and would take her Kleiner team along for the ride. These included her longtime partner Mood Rowghani, Warburg Pincus veteran Noah Knauf, and Juliet de Baubigny, who had been with Kleiner since 2001. They would leave behind Hamid, Fushman, and a small group of other Kleiner investors to try to rebuild the firm’s reputation.

風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資公司的拆分與婚姻的破裂并沒有多大不同?，F(xiàn)年59歲的米克還沒有完成Bond的籌資工作，她一直在照顧凱鵬華盈的“孩子們”，也就是那些她在該公司工作期間投資的公司。就像離婚的配偶還沒有整理好離婚文件一樣，雙方仍在同居。他們?nèi)匀还灿梦挥谂f金山的South Park社區(qū)，以及凱鵬華盈大本營（即那棟坐落于門洛帕克沙丘路的綜合大樓）的辦公空間。

現(xiàn)年67歲的約翰·多爾仍然是凱鵬華盈的董事長。他不再積極參與投資事務(wù)，但仍然會盡其所能地提供幫助。他最近出版了一本名為《衡量什么是重要的》（Measure What Matters）的著作。在這本書中，他分享了自己在谷歌和其他公司通過“目標(biāo)和關(guān)鍵結(jié)果”（簡稱OKR）進(jìn)行管理的經(jīng)驗(yàn)。今年2月，多爾獲得了國家風(fēng)險(xiǎn)投資協(xié)會頒發(fā)的終身成就獎(jiǎng)。在一場有許多凱鵬華盈“校友”參加的慶?；顒?dòng)上，米克鄭重介紹他登臺亮相，以表明兩人其實(shí)并無隔閡。多爾稱自己是“一位不可救藥的樂觀主義者，”并提醒現(xiàn)場觀眾：“創(chuàng)意很容易產(chǎn)生。執(zhí)行才是最重要的環(huán)節(jié)。你需要一支團(tuán)隊(duì)來贏得勝利?！?/p>

多爾在凱鵬華盈的繼任者們?nèi)匀辉谂ふ夜韫鹊摹跋乱患笫隆?。他們已?jīng)投資的公司包括員工管理軟件Rippling、致力于開發(fā)自動(dòng)駕駛汽車模擬軟件的Applied Intuition，以及食品券管理應(yīng)用Propel。此外，在如何傳遞共享的價(jià)值觀這一問題上，他們在很大程度上聽從了董事長的指示。

這家風(fēng)投公司的合伙人們最近召開了一場務(wù)虛會議，并提出一個(gè)口號：“一個(gè)團(tuán)隊(duì)，一個(gè)夢想”。這顯然是在反省該公司此前四分五裂的運(yùn)營方式。新領(lǐng)導(dǎo)層還開始召開每季度一次的“全員”會議，以提高公司業(yè)績的透明度。正如多爾在書中所懇求的那樣，他們試圖衡量對現(xiàn)在來說最重要的事情，而不是評價(jià)跌宕起伏的往事。

The splitting up of a venture capital firm isn’t so different from the dissolution of a marriage. Meeker, who is 59, hasn’t completed raising money for Bond, and she has continued to look after Kleiner’s “children,” the companies she invested in during her time there. Like divorcing spouses who haven’t yet sorted out the paperwork, the two sides are still cohabitating. They continue to share office space in San Francisco’s South Park neighborhood as well as in Kleiner’s longtime complex on Sand Hill Road in Menlo Park.

John Doerr, now 67 years old, remains Kleiner’s chairman. He’s no longer actively investing the firm’s funds, but he lends a hand where he can. He recently published a book, Measure What Matters, in which he shares his experiences from Google and other companies with managing by “objectives and key results,” or OKRs. And in February, Doerr received a lifetime achievement award from the National Venture Capital Association. Demonstrating that there are no hard feelings, Meeker introduced him at the gala event, attended by many Kleiner alumni. Doerr, calling himself “a hopeless optimist,” reminded his audience that “ideas are easy. It’s execution that’s everything. And it takes a team to win.”

Doerr’s successors at what remains of Kleiner continue the work of trying to find Silicon Valley’s next big thing. They have invested in companies like Rippling, an employee-management software concern; Applied Intuition, which makes software for self-driving-car simulations; and Propel, an app for managing food stamps. And they are very much taking their chairman’s cue in how they communicate their shared values.

The venture capital partners recently held a retreat and came up with the slogan, “One team, one dream,” a nod to the firm’s formerly fractured approach. The new leadership also has begun quarterly “all-hands” meetings in an effort to be more transparent about the firm’s performance. As Doerr implores in his book, they’re trying to measure what matters now—not what happened in the past.

本文另一版本發(fā)表于《財(cái)富》雜志2019年5月刊，標(biāo)題為《凱鵬華盈：失落帝國》。

譯者：任文科

A version of this article appears in the May 2019 issue of Fortune with the headline “Kleiner Perkins: A Fallen Empire.”