克羅斯比街酒店的大堂家具考究，裝飾充滿現代工業氣息，很有2017年的感覺。阿蘭·帕特里考夫穿著肥大的西裝，頂著一頭銀發，很有1967年的感覺。近日一個陰云密布的早晨，高聳敞亮的大堂里擠滿了銀行家，在論壇上焦急地尋找投資媒體的機會，說起來有點怪，但帕特里考夫的氣質在這種場合下十分搭調。

82歲的帕特里考夫緩緩穿過酒店餐廳，一路上跟身邊各色衣著考究的人士打招呼，轉過身握握手談兩句媒體圈八卦。即便不認識的人也忍不住注意到他；大家都把他當成“某位大人物”。他終于走到我身邊，在小桌旁坐下，點了杯茶，接下來一句話仿佛在提醒我他享受這種待遇已經多年。“《紐約》雜志下周就滿50年了，”他說，“屆時到場慶賀的人里只有兩個創刊時就在，我就是其中之一。”

帕特里考夫向《紐約》雜志投資后，原本發行量極小的圈子雜志如今成長為藝術和政治領域重要的媒體，這筆投資是他第一次出手，從中可窺見他在風險投資圈傳奇的敏銳嗅覺。從那之后他協助創立過上百家公司，包括蘋果和美國在線等，他曾在美國最早的風投公司之一工作，后來在全球最大的私募股權基金之一安佰深集團擔任聯合創始人。

The lobby of Manhattan’s Crosby Street Hotel, with its industrial chic and just-so designer furniture, is very 2017. Alan Patricof, with his loose-fitting suits and mop of gray hair, is very 1967. But on a cloudy recent morning, as the high-ceilinged room buzzes with bankers on the hunt for media deals at a conference, Patricof fits right in.

As he wends his way through the hotel restaurant, the 82-year-old exchanges warm hellos and swaps media gossip with well-heeled movers and shakers. People who don’t know him notice him; people who do treat him like The Man. And after he joins me at a small table and orders tea, Patricof drops a hint about just how long he’s enjoyed that status. “New York magazine is celebrating its 50th anniversary next week,” he points out. “I’ll be one of two people attending who was there when it opened.”

Patricof’s investment in New York, which helped turn a small-circulation pub into one of the most important media voices in art and politics, was one of his very first, and it showed the acumen that has made him a legend in venture capital circles. Since then he’s helped build hundreds of companies, including the likes of Apple (AAPL, +1.94%)and AOL—as one of the country’s first VCs and then as cofounder of Apax Partners, one of the world’s biggest private equity firms.

2006年，71歲的帕特里考夫做了件新鮮但又熟悉的事，他跟風投界年輕人合作創了新公司——格雷克羅夫特投資公司。近12年后已經成功投了一些創業公司，例如支付平臺Venmo，娛樂公司Maker Studios，還有男性時尚服務公司Trunk Club等，看起來毫無要休息的跡象。每天早上他都第一個上班，最近還首次投資了比特幣相關公司。采訪結束后，他還要去酒店大堂趕著跟一家發展迅速的網絡電視創業公司Cheddar聊一聊。“雖是耄耋之年，但他比我認識所有人都顯得年輕，”伙伴傳媒創始人麥克·拉澤洛說，這家公司也是格雷克羅夫特成功退出的案例。

帕特里考夫已經沒有什么需要證明了，但他和年輕（按年齡看）合伙人還在努力做大事。他們想告訴世人，雖然當今是估值數十億美元的獨角獸頻出的時代，但高端小眾的風投公司也能為投資者和創始人創造附加價值。不同年齡段的人可以互相學習，幫助企業不斷發展又保持靈活。風投行業變化迅速，但帕特里考夫創建的公司基礎穩固，離了他之后年輕一代接班人也能讓公司蓬勃發展。

格雷克羅夫特在紐約的辦公室在中央車站上方，每周一早晨團隊都會開例會：迅速過一遍最近需要錢的新公司。帕特里考夫和其他合伙人都會出席，包括35歲的艾麗·威勒和38歲的伊恩·西佳洛。NBA前主管大衛·斯滕也受邀出席，是會議室是少有的銀發人士之一。

格雷克羅夫特主要投資對象是成立不久的小公司，主要做“種子輪”或“A輪”投資，意思是大部分公司目前都只有幾名員工，夢想遠大，但幾乎沒利潤。（他們也有兩只成長基金，主要做后期投資。）團隊迅速拿起創業公司名單開始討論，仿佛挑剔的廚子為做飯選購食材一般。篩掉幾家公司后，一家用創新方式幫顧客在線點午餐的公司讓他們眼前一亮。在座有幾位指出這家公司發展迅速，而且商業模式利潤較高，認為有前景。但威勒潑了一盆冷水。“他們不像能改變世界，”她說。“我會去當用戶，但不愿意投資。”

接下來是一家虛擬現實公司，但帕特里考夫不喜歡，因為這家公司尋找擔保人的動作很慢。（對帕特里考夫來說，如果找不到其他創始人擔保，就沒法繼續談。）但其他人對一家創業公司自稱“網絡界的Axios”非常感興趣。因為這家公司致敬的Axios是各類克羅夫特投資過的新媒體公司，11月中旬剛融到2000萬美元。“看起來不錯，”帕特里考夫說。他喜歡Axios是因為產品質量很好，以后沒準可以用來收取高額費用：“以前有公司想變成‘某某領域的愛彼迎’，現在居然有公司說要成為‘某領域的Axios’。”威勒也挺喜歡這家網絡安全公司，列入了約見面的單子。

就這樣，格雷克羅夫特團隊不到一小時就看了幾十家公司，其中挑出幾家感覺不錯的，不過這只是過了第一關。接下來還得讓洛杉磯辦公室的合伙人看一遍，洛杉磯也有自己的初審名單。兩邊都通過之后，創業公司才會獲邀去辦公室做正式的介紹。之后各類克羅夫特會啟動“模式匹配流程”，分析人員有時會采用秘密統計模型審查創業公司團隊和成長軌跡與之前成功案例是否匹配。

闖過所有關卡之后才能讓格雷克羅夫特掏錢，一般投資規模不到3000萬美元，而且會跟其他風投一起投。流程聽起來是很繁瑣。但在風投圈里，投出去數百家才能投中一家Facebook，所以格雷克羅夫特投出任何資源，包括資金之前，都要盡可能找到理由。這里的資源還包括付出大量精力以及搭建社交網等等。

很少有人能擁有帕特里考夫的廣博人脈。用他自己的話來說，從大學起他就特別熱衷做生意，大學期間就經常在聯誼會上賣派對小禮品和領帶。投資《紐約》雜志成功后他聲名鵲起，后來在他上世紀70年代末創立的安佰深集團執掌業務。安佰深旗下基金多達數十億美元，業務也擴展到全球。

1979年帕特里考夫投資了蘋果，當時Mac還沒造出來，1985年投了量子電腦公司，后來創始人史蒂夫·凱斯把公司名字改成美國在線。之后帕特里考夫的觸角伸向兼并和杠桿收購，包括2005年收購丹麥電話公司，當時是歐洲最大規模的杠桿收購案。

帕特里考夫說，生意規模越做越大，樂趣卻沒有隨之增加。大批律師開始介入做很多核心工作，他也沒時間跟靈感四射從零開始建立公司的創始人們打交道。“我決定回歸老本行，”他表示。“我覺得要從錯誤中吸取教訓……還是要做小公司。”

所以他做回了最熱愛的業務，就是幫助創始人成功。他的風格比較親力親為。在格雷克羅夫特投的創業公司里，好幾位首席執行官都經歷過帕特里考夫一天到晚打來電話或發來郵件，都是興奮地分享想法。環球旅行公司BitPesa主營業務是利用區塊鏈技術幫助非洲和亞洲商人降低匯率費用，創始人是伊麗莎白·羅謝洛就表示曾經發現收件箱里塞滿有關比特幣的新聞，都是帕特里考夫在媒體和金融簡報上看到的。

羅謝洛還經常收到另一種帕特里考夫最重要的“財寶”：在職業圈子之外搭建關系網的建議。每年格雷克羅夫特都要舉辦幾十次聯席會，還在洛杉磯和帕特里考夫在紐約東漢普頓宅邸舉辦年度“峰會”，會上有來自科技界、媒體圈和政界頂尖級別的演講嘉賓和客人。（帕特里考夫是民主黨內知名企業家，他的辦公室里還有跟克林頓夫婦和奧巴馬夫婦的合影，私交都不錯。）

格雷克羅夫特少數幾家總部不在硅谷的風投之一，也因此享受到一些優勢，因為硅谷基本上是紅杉資本和安德森霍洛維茨的天下。2006年，帕特里考夫在美國成立格雷克羅夫特時，很少有人認為紐約能搭建適合科技人才發展的生態。帕特里考夫非常感謝前市長邁克爾·布隆伯格，因為他為改變人們的偏見做出不懈努力，不僅幫助了格雷克羅夫特，也為其他幾家風投鋪平道路，包括現在很出名聯合廣場投資公司。

但其他風投也對帕特里考夫充滿敬意。“如果沒有阿蘭，紐約風投圈可能是另一番景象，”布隆伯格政府辦公室主任布萊德利·塔斯克說，如今他也掌管著一家風投公司。“格雷克羅夫特態度非常友善，對同行也超乎尋常地慷慨。”領導總部位于科羅拉多的晶圓集團的著名投資人布拉德·菲爾德說，帕特里考夫是“風投世界的締造者之一。”

帕特里考夫希望保持小規模，所以格雷克羅夫特主要做早期投資。比起其他風投其融資規模也要小一些，目前基金不到11億美元。這種模式也意味著通常特別吸引風投眼球的巨型獨角獸，例如Uber和愛彼迎都不適合格雷克羅夫特。

“如果沒有阿蘭，紐約風投圈可能是另一番景象。格雷克羅夫特態度非常友善，對同行也超乎尋常地慷慨。”

——布拉德利·塔斯克，風投投資人

跟其他同行一樣，他們也不怎么公開談回報率。不過外部數據顯示收益較為可觀，后來伊恩·西佳洛也確認：據研究公司Pitchbook調查，如果算通常用來衡量私人公司業績的內部收益率（IRR），2015年至2017年間格雷克羅夫特頭兩支基金年度收益率約為19.5%，在風投公司里排中等，但比起同期標普500指數年化收益率幾乎多了一倍。

西佳洛還補充說，如果其他已投公司能順利退出的話最終內部收益率還會更高。“截至2017年底，格雷克羅夫特有30個成功退出案例，為有限合伙人實現收益近4億美元，”他在郵件中告訴《財富》。

當然了，格雷克羅夫特遇到過不少失誤，也有些亮眼成績。目前最成功的“退出”案例當屬2012年以8億美元將一家社交媒體管理平臺——伙伴傳媒賣給Salesforce。另外就是2014年將Maker Studios出售給迪士尼，作價6.75億美元。2017年9月也有個重要的退出案例，將食材創業公司Plated以3億美元賣給食品連鎖超市愛柏森。

當然也有不少錯失的良機，讓合伙人們忍不住扼腕。“有些案例因為我們沒出手虧了很多錢，”西佳洛說。“沒在A輪投上Twitter虧了10億美元。”西佳洛還認為太快賣掉Venmo是公司最大的失誤之一。現在移動支付應用Venmo掌握在PayPal手里，可以輕松賣出10億美元，而2013年格雷克羅夫特賣出時才2700萬美元。（可以安慰的一點是：格雷克羅夫特也持有Braintree股份，很快易趣出資8億美元收購。）

在洛杉磯布倫特伍德的高檔餐廳Baltaire，十幾位創業公司創始人坐在單間里，參加格雷克羅夫特組織的聯誼活動。晚宴上大家一邊喝著納帕谷梅洛紅酒，一邊交流創業。至少有三位是女性，在男性絕對主導的風投圈里算是比例很高。創業公司涉及領域也很廣，從嬰兒搖籃到數據科學都有，另一些參與者則是格雷克羅夫特召集的投資人、律師，還有擅長搞定事的高手。如果某位創始人在銷售或招聘等方面需要幫忙，或是要疏通某個重要關系，很可能飯局上就能找到能幫忙的人。

創始合伙人戴娜·賽特爾把格雷克羅夫特的關系網成為“成功秘訣”。但Baltaire這場晚宴也能看出賽特爾本人的影響力。賽特爾四十多歲，氣質沉著，經常一天內飛往紐約再飛回，她本人也是位交際大師。年輕時她在家附近的太平洋海邊錢，大學畢業后在印度幫電信巨頭克雷格·麥考賣頻譜。2007年加入格雷克羅夫特后，她主持了幾個重要的案例，包括Maker Studios和Trunk Club，2014年諾德斯特姆以3.5億美元收購了Trunk Club。

賽特爾把帕特里考夫當成導師，兩人共同創辦公司，但她也在發揮自己的影響，拓展了帕特里考夫的視野。以前帕特里考夫一直認為洛杉磯是“蠻荒之地”，根本不適合風投投資。他聘請賽特爾之后就極力邀請她去紐約。賽特爾拒絕了，帕特里考夫也意識到可以考慮在東西海岸各建分公司。如今格雷克羅夫特在這兩個城市都站穩了腳跟，業務比紅杉和凱鵬華盈等硅谷大公司要好。“阿蘭、伊恩和戴娜人脈都比其他公司廣，” Trunk Club和服飾連鎖品牌Bonobos創始人布萊恩·斯帕利表示。

在自傳《硅谷男孩》中，已故的湯姆·珀金斯描述了上世紀70年代初，他跟合伙人尤金·克萊納創立凱鵬華盈時美國風投圈的情況。“當時美國所有風投公司資金加一起都不到1億美元，所有從業者聚會的話，一間不太大的屋子就能裝下。”

現在跟當初相比堪稱天翻地覆。僅2016年，風投資本家投出的資金就達到創紀錄的691億美元。美國有數百家風投公司，還有各種新成員加入，外國政府、大型科技公司和共同基金都想加入分一杯羹。結果是，現在想投下一個Facebook或Uber變得越發困難，尤其以往只投后期創業公司的風投也紛紛將目光轉向早期公司。“后期投資人之所以轉向前期，是因為覺得后期價位太高了，”格雷克羅夫特合伙人威勒解釋說。火熱氛圍下，不少創始人也想趕緊拿到錢證明自己的實力。

“西岸的大風投都喜歡高回報。其他大部分公司都沒法競爭。”

——伙伴傳媒創始人邁克·拉澤羅（格雷克羅夫特投資公司）

實際上，這些趨勢下A輪投資金額已經大為膨脹，從以前的300萬美元左右增加到現在的2000萬美元，“種子輪”以前只要數萬美元，現在也得上百萬美元了。格雷克羅夫特之類規模較小的風投就遇到些問題，因為沒有大量資源去追明星創業公司。“西岸的大風投都喜歡高回報。其他大部分公司都沒法競爭。” 伙伴傳媒的邁克·拉澤羅表示。

不過，不管是拉澤羅還是其他熟悉格雷克羅夫特的人，也包括投資人和被投公司首席執行官們都認為，只要其能保持高端，專注提供人脈和輔導，再保持合伙人容易相處的好名聲，堅持下去沒什么問題。格雷克羅夫特跟很多風投不一樣，不會堅持讓被投企業提供董事會席位或指定自己為領投方。格雷克羅夫特不阻止并購機會，不會緊抱著等高價再賣出，他們還鼓勵投資人之間合作，合伙人馬克·特比克稱之為“聯合模式”。

其他在格雷克羅夫特工作的人認為，保持小規模也能避免一些行業痼疾。西佳洛表示大基金里容易出現人云亦云的現象，為了安撫急躁的投資人會有壓力美化結果。“想把一個沒有流動性的項目推出去有很多很多方法，所以真實盈虧情況出來前很難判斷某人做得怎樣，”他表示。相反，格雷克羅夫特的氛圍出了名的直接，所以有限合伙人都一年一年持續投資，包括華特·迪士尼公司和康橋匯世集團等。

格雷克羅夫特的文化還比較包容開放，在很多風投公司面臨仇視女性和性別歧視指責的當下，這點越發重要。公司高層就有賽特爾和威勒等合伙人發揮關鍵作用，顯示出對女性的尊重。采訪中，女性企業家和記者都對格雷克羅夫特稱贊有加，該公司也支持數十位女性創始人和首席執行官，包括BitPesa的羅賽洛和Clique Media的凱瑟琳·帕沃爾等。Clique Media是一家時尚媒體兼電商公司，收入已接近1億美元。

“要說在公司工作很開心好像有些老套，但公司氛圍確實讓人舒服。”

——格雷克羅夫特聯合創始人兼董事總經理阿蘭·帕特里考夫

帕特里考夫表示他一直努力營造的氛圍是，人們都能直言不諱，不存在種族歧視和性別歧視。“一開始我就定下規矩，不互相討論，也不允許背后中傷，”他表示。“要說在公司工作很開心好像有些老套，但公司氛圍確實讓人舒服。”

現在帕特里考夫直接負責的項目比較少，更多留給西佳洛和賽特爾之類年輕合伙人，他為公司賺的收益也沒年輕人多了。這樣的機制下年輕一代成長明顯。西佳洛說工作的第一家風投公司里，年輕人根本沒有發言權；他想起以前發現交易有問題，想提出反對也沒機會。帕特里考夫恰好相反，他鼓勵團隊培養自己的人際網，加強互相合作，投資人也確實關注到這點。“有限合伙人都很看好伊恩和戴娜，”格雷克羅夫特投資人之一，風投公司Greenspring的阿仕頓·紐霍爾表示。

投桃報李，帕特里考夫組建的團隊也在努力幫他站上金融和技術的前沿，而且可以在喜歡的工作上想做多久就多久。面對桌上擺滿過去的輝煌記憶，他向我們簡單介紹了自己的哲學：“多閱讀。多去參加論壇。努力站穩腳跟。”他還縮短了采訪時間，匆匆趕去參加另一家創業公司的介紹會。

50年輝煌歷程

阿蘭·帕特里考夫是美國最早一批風投資本家，半個世紀的從業生涯中他一直緊隨技術發展的浪潮。以下是一些他最著名的案例。

1967年

《紐約》雜志

那一年，《滾石》雜志和音樂劇《長發》誕生，帕特里考夫選擇投資了一家“全新新聞主義”先鋒。后來《紐約》雜志成為美國藝術和政治領域重要聲音；1977年帕特里考夫退出。

1979-85年

蘋果和美國在線

上世紀70年代末，帕特里考夫執掌全球私募股權基金安佰深集團。不過他仍然在硅谷做些早期投資。他是蘋果公司第二輪投資人（第一臺Mac誕生五年前）。他還看好史蒂夫·凱斯的量子電腦公司，后來改名為美國在線。

2001-06年

歐洲杠桿收購

安佰深后來以杠桿收購聞名，尤其在歐洲。2001年安佰深收購了黃頁公司，2005年又出資153億美元收購了丹麥電話公司TDC，當時是歐洲最大規模的杠桿收購。

2006年

赫芬頓郵報

成立新公司格雷克羅夫特后，帕特里考夫重回早期投資領域。他還是青睞新媒體：赫芬頓郵報第一輪500萬美元融資里就有帕特里考夫參與，六年后另一家他參與早期投資的美國在線以3.15億美元收購。

2007-17年

Venmo等等

在新一代合伙人協助下，帕特里考夫帶領的格雷克羅夫特成為紐約和洛杉磯頂尖的風投，這兩地都是硅谷大拿沒覆蓋到的地方。其中最有名的早期投資之一就是熱門的支付應用Venmo（雖然合伙人都很后悔賣早了）。其他成功案例還包括電影公司Maker Studios（賣給了迪士尼），還有食材O2O平臺Plated（賣給了食品連鎖超市愛柏森）。（財富中文網）

本文另一版本將刊登于2017年12月15日出版的《財富》雜志，標題為《不服老的風投傳奇迎來事業第二春》。?

譯者：Feb

In 2006, at age 71, he sought something both new and familiar, collaborating with a younger generation of VCs as cofounder of a new firm, Greycroft Partners. After nearly 12 years there, studded with successful investments in startups like payment platform Venmo, entertainment firm Maker Studios, and men’s styling service Trunk Club, the patriarch shows few signs of slowing down. He’s first into the office every morning, and he recently made his first bet on a Bitcoin company. As our interview wraps up, he’s in a rush to rejoin the confab in the lobby to parlay with Cheddar, a fast-rising web TV service. “Alan in his eighties is younger than everyone I know,” says Mike Lazerow, founder of Buddy Media, another of Greycroft’s successful exits.

Patricof has nothing left to prove—but he and his (chronologically) younger partners are still trying to accomplish something significant. They’re striving to show that a boutique VC firm can add value for investors and founders in an era of multibillion-dollar super-startups. They’re demonstrating how different generations can learn from each other and help a company evolve and stay nimble. And at a time of rapid change in the venture business, the hope is that, when Patricof hangs it up, they’ll prove that this famous builder of companies has constructed his own firm to flourish without him.

In its offices high above Grand Central Terminal, Greycroft’s New York team begins a Monday morning ritual: speed-vetting a list of young companies that want money. Patricof is there, with other Greycroft partners, including Ellie Wheeler, 35, and Ian Sigalow, 38. David Stern, the former NBA commissioner who has a standing invitation to join the meeting, is one of the few other gray-hairs present.

Greycroft’s bread and butter is early-stage companies, typically in “seed” or “Series A” rounds, meaning that most firms on today’s list have a handful of employees, big dreams, and little in the way of profits. (The firm also operates two growth funds for later-stage investments.) The team gets right to it, picking apart the roster like fussy chefs shopping for just the right ingredients. After casting off a few candidates, they alight on one that gives customers a new way to order lunch online. Several in the room see promise, pointing to the firm’s rapid growth and high-margin business model. But Wheeler tosses on some cold water. “This just doesn’t seem like it’ll change our world,” she says. “I might be a user but not an investor.”

Next on the list is a virtual reality firm, but Patricof shoots it down because the company has been slow to produce people who can vouch for it. (A lack of references from other founders is a deal breaker for Greycroft.) But the table becomes outright enthusiastic about a startup that bills itself as the “Axios of cyber.” It’s a nod to Axios, a new media venture that counts Greycroft as an investor and which in mid-November raised $20 million. “This is a good thing,” says Patricof. He’s a fan of Axios because it offers a high-quality product whose owners hope to someday put it behind expensive paywalls: “We had companies that wanted to be the ‘Airbnb of this,’ and now they want to be the ‘Axios of that.’?” Wheeler likes the cybersecurity firm too, putting it on a list for a meeting.

So it goes as the Greycroft gang whips through dozens of companies in under an hour. For the handful that get the table’s blessing, this is only the beginning. The standouts must survive scrutiny from the firm’s Los Angeles partners, which also have an initial screening roster of their own. Startups that get a thumbs-up from both coasts may get invited to make a formal presentation. Then they’ll run through Greycroft’s “pattern-matching process,” during which quants sometimes employ dark statistical arts to see if a company’s team and trajectory match up with previous successful startups.

Only after this rigmarole will Greycroft open its purse and bless the startup with an investment of anywhere up to $30 million, made in federation with other VC firms. The process may sound obsessive. But in venture capital, which produces hundreds of failures and fizzle-outs for every Facebook (FB, -0.02%), Greycroft needs every edge it can get before it lavishes a firm with something just as valuable as its money—a prodigious amount of attention and networking.

Few people have a network with as many branches and nodes on it as Patricof’s. By his own description, he has been a hustling dealmaker since college, when he worked his way through college by selling party favors and neckties to fraternities. The success of his New York investment elevated his stature and eventually led him into private equity at the helm of a firm he founded in the late 1970s, Apax Partners. With funds in the billions to play with, Apax became a global force.

Patricof invested in Apple in 1979—before there was such thing as a Mac—and in a company called Quantum Computer in 1985, before Steve Case changed its name to America Online. His repertoire eventually expanded to include takeovers and leveraged buyouts, including a takeover of a Danish phone company in 2005 that was Europe’s biggest LBO at the time.

But as the deals got larger, Patricof says, the satisfaction he got from them did not. Armies of lawyers got the important work done, and he was no longer spending time with inspiring young founders who built companies from scratch. “I decided to go back to how I started,” he says. “I thought I’d learn from my mistakes?…?I wanted to go back to being small.”

So he returned to what he loves, which is helping founders get a foothold. His style is remarkably hands-on. Several startup CEOs in Greycroft’s portfolio recount getting calls and emails at all hours from Patricof in his excitement to share an idea. Elizabeth Rossiello, the globe-trotting founder of BitPesa, a firm that uses blockchain technology to help merchants in Africa and Asia lower their money-transfer fees, describes watching her email in-box fill with tidbits about Bitcoin that Patricof had seen in media and finance newsletters.

Rossiello also received regular installments of one of Patricof’s most treasured currencies: advice about building relationships outside her own professional circles. Greycroft holds dozens of networking events every year, including annual “summits” in Los Angeles and at Patricof’s own estate in East Hampton, N.Y., with speakers and guests drawn from the top ranks of tech, media, and politics. (Patricof is a prominent Democratic rainmaker, and his office is adorned with personal photos of the Clintons and Obamas, whom he knows well.)

Greycroft gets a competitive edge by being one of relatively few prominent VC firms not based in Silicon Valley, where juggernauts like Sequoia Capital and Andreessen Horowitz define the scene. In 2006, when Patricof launched Greycroft in New York, few took the city seriously as an ecosystem for tech talent. Patricof credits former mayor Michael Bloomberg with helping to change this perception and paving the way for Greycroft and a handful of other New York City firms, including the now high-profile Union Square Ventures.

But other VCs pay similar homage to Patricof. “It’s possible New York would not have a tech scene without Alan,” says Bradley Tusk, a chief of staff during the Bloomberg administration who now runs his own venture firm. “Greycroft was welcoming and generous to us when they didn’t have to be.” Brad Feld, a prominent investor who now runs Colorado-based Foundry Group, describes Patricof as “one of the foundational members of the VC universe.”

Patricof’s desire to stay small has kept Greycroft focused on early-stage investments. It raises less money than many other VC firms—it currently oversees a total of just under $1.1 billion. This approach has meant that the mega-unicorns that bring VCs the most attention—giants like Uber or Airbnb—have been absent from Greycroft’s stable.

“New York might not have a tech scene without Alan. Greycroft was welcoming and generous when they didn’t have to be.”

- Bradley Tusk, venture capital investor

The firm, like most VC operations, is reticent about publicly discussing its returns. But outside data, subsequently confirmed by Ian Sigalow, shows healthy results: According to research firm Pitchbook, the internal rate of return (IRR), a measure of performance in private companies, for Greycroft’s first two funds hovered around 19.5% annually from 2015 through 2017, squarely in the midrange for VC firms but about twice the annualized return of the S&P 500 over that stretch.

Sigalow adds that the final IRR figures will be higher if and when other portfolio companies enjoy a profitable exit. “By the end of 2017, Greycroft will have generated nearly $400 million of realized gains for LPs [limited partners] from 30 profitable exits,” he told Fortune by email.

Greycroft’s performance, of course, encompasses many misses and a few big hits. Its greatest “exits” so far include the $800 million sale of Buddy Media, a social media management platform, to Salesforce in 2012, as well as Disney’s acquisition of Maker Studios for $675 million in 2014. Greycroft notched another notable exit this September when grocery giant Albertsons bought meal-preparation startup Plated for $300 million.

There’s also no shortage of lost opportunities that partners rue. “We’ve lost more money by not doing stuff,” says Sigalow. “Not investing in a Series A in Twitter cost us a billion.” Sigalow counts selling Venmo too soon as one the firm’s bigger missteps. The ubiquitous payment app, which is now owned by PayPal and could easily fetch over $1 billion, earned Greycroft just $27 million when it sold in 2013 to the merchant banking service Braintree. (One consolation for Greycroft: It also held a position in Braintree, which eBay bought soon after for a reported $800 million.)

At Baltaire, a swank restaurant in the Brentwood section of Los Angeles, the founders of more than a dozen startups are gathered in a private room, networking on Greycroft’s dime. Over dinner and bottles of Napa Valley merlot, they swap stories about building companies. At least a third are women—an unusually high ratio in the often hyper-male VC world. The startups span a diverse range of businesses—from baby cradles to data science—and they’re all getting attention from Greycroft’s network of investors, lawyers, and all-around fixers. If one of the founders needs help with a sales or hiring issue, or is seeking a crucial introduction, chances are good someone at the table will be able to lend a hand.

Founding partner Dana Settle calls Greycroft’s web of connections its “secret sauce.” But the Baltaire dinner also testifies to Settle’s own influence. A poised fortysomething who often flies to New York and back on the same day, Settle is a master networker. She earned money as a girl selling shellfish from the beaches near her home in the Pacific Northwest, and after college she sold spectrum in India for the telecom tycoon Craig McCaw. Since joining Greycroft in 2007, Settle has engineered some of the firm’s most successful bets, including Maker Studios and Trunk Club, which was acquired by Nordstrom (JWN, +0.15%) in 2014 for $350 million.

She has also influenced Patricof, her cofounder and mentor, in ways that have expanded Greycroft’s horizons. Patricof says he once thought of L.A. as a “wasteland” for VC investing. When he first hired Settle, he initially insisted she move to New York. She declined, and Patricof realized it was indeed possible to build a bicoastal firm. Now Greycroft has a strong presence in two cities where big Silicon Valley firms like Sequoia and Kleiner Perkins are less well established. “Alan, Ian, and Dana have access to contacts that other firms don’t,” says Brian Spaly, founder of Trunk Club and clothing chain Bonobos.

In his autobiography, Valley Boy, the late Tom Perkins describes the venture capital landscape at the time he and partner Eugene Kleiner started their iconic, eponymous VC firm in the early 1970s. “The total pool of venture capital at the time?…?has been estimated to have been much less than $100 million throughout the United States, and all the practitioners could easily be assembled into one moderately sized room.”

It’s an understatement to say things are different today. In 2016 alone, venture capitalists invested a near-record $69.1 billion. There are hundreds of VC firms in the U.S., and newer players, including foreign governments, big tech companies, and mutual funds, are jockeying to join the scene. The upshot is, it has become much harder to get an early bite of the next Facebook or Uber, especially as VC firms known for investing in later-stage startups move their money into younger companies. “All of the later-stage investors are moving earlier because they think their perch is overheated,” explains Wheeler, the Greycroft partner. These same forces also pressure some founders to seek more money sooner, to prove that they’re players.

“These massive West Coast VC firms want huge returns. The vast majority of other firms won’t be able to compete.”

- Mike Lazerow, founder, Buddy Media (a Greycroft investment)

In practice, these trends mean that Series A funding rounds have ballooned from $3 million or so to as much as $20 million, and that “seed” rounds that once leveled off in the hundreds of thousands now hit the millions. That creates problems for smaller firms like Greycroft, which don’t command the resources that imbue a startup with star status. “There are these massive West Coast firms that want huge returns. The vast majority of other firms won’t be able to compete,” says Lazerow of Buddy Media.

Still, Lazerow and others familiar with Greycroft, including investors and CEOs of its portfolio companies, think the firm will hang in by being high-touch, offering connections and coaching, and a reputation as an easy-to-work-with partner. Unlike many VC firm, Greycroft doesn’t insist portfolio companies assign it board seats or name it as the lead investor. The company boasts that it doesn’t block acquisitions to hold out for higher prices, and it encourages partnerships among investors, in what partner Mark Terbeek calls a “federated model.”

Other Greycrofters argue that being small helps the firm steer clear of some of the industry’s abuses. Sigalow says giant funds can create a me-too mentality and pressure to juice results to placate impatient investors. “You have the ability to market an illiquid portfolio a thousand different ways, so it’s very difficult to know if someone’s doing a good job or not until the gains or losses are realized,” he says. In contrast, Greycroft’s straight-shooter reputation has led its limited partner investors, including the Walt Disney Co. (DIS, +2.48%) and Cambridge Associates, to reinvest year after year.

Greycroft also strives for an inclusive, open culture that’s taking on growing importance at a time when venture capital is confronting ugly undercurrents of misogyny and discrimination. The presence and influence of high-ranking women like partners Settle and Wheeler set an important tone. In interviews, female entrepreneurs and journalists spoke highly of Greycroft, and the firm has backed dozens of women founders and CEOs, including BitPesa’s Rossiello and Katherine Power of Clique Media, a fashion media and e-commerce company that now approaches $100 million in revenue.

“It’s too corny to say it’s a happy place, but we built a good environment where people like to work.”

- Alan Patricof, cofounder and managing director, Greycroft Partners

Patricof says he worked to create an environment where people are encouraged to speak their mind, and where racist or sexist attitudes have no place. “I made a point from the beginning that we don’t talk about each other, and that we don’t tolerate backbiting,” he says. “It’s too corny to say it’s a happy place, but we built a good environment.”

These days, Patricof leads fewer investments than his protégés, Sigalow and Settle, and he brings in smaller returns than they do. The younger partners are clearly thriving under that arrangement. Sigalow says his first experience in venture capital was at a firm where junior people didn’t speak; he recalls watching bad deals where he wanted to object but could not. Patricof has set the opposite tone, encouraging the team to cultivate their own relationships and collaborate, and investors are noticing. “LPs are making a bet as much on Ian and Dana,” says Ashton Newhall of Greenspring, a VC firm that is one of Greycroft’s investors.

In return, Patricof gets a team that keeps him up to speed on finance and technology—helping him remain a player for as long as he chooses. Speaking from behind a desk crowded with mementos, he lays out his philosophy in simple terms: “You have to read. You have to go to conferences. You have to stay relevant.” He also has to cut the interview short: He’s rushing off to attend another startup’s big presentation.

A FIVE-DECADE HIT PARADE

Alan Patricof, one of the country’s first venture capitalists, has been a deft trend-spotter through a half-century of technological change. Here are some of his more notable bets.

1967

New York Magazine

In a year that saw the launch of Rolling Stone and the musical Hair—Patricof invested in a pioneer of “new journalism.” New York would go on to become one of the most important voices in American arts and politics; Patricof exited in 1977.

1979–85

Apple and AOL

By the late 1970s, Patricof was steering a global private equity firm, Apax Partners. But he still left his stamp on Silicon Valley as an early-stage funder. He was a second-round investor in a startup called Apple (five years before the release of the first Mac). He also bet on Steve Case’s Quantum Computer Services—which soon changed its name to AOL.

2001–06

Euro-Buyouts

Apax becomes a force to be reckoned with in leveraged buyouts, ?especially in Europe. The firm lands the 2001 purchase of Yellow Pages and the 2005 buyout of Danish phone company TDC for $15.3 billion?—the biggest LBO in European history at the time.

2006

Huffington Post

Patricof returns to early-stage investing with his new firm, Greycroft Partners. New media remains a passion: Patricof is part of a $5 million first round into the Huffington Post—which is bought six years later by another of his early investments, AOL, for $315 million.

2007–17

Venmo and more

With the help of a new generation of protégés, Patricof’s Greycroft becomes one of the leading VC firms in New York and L.A., where Silicon Valley giants cast less of a shadow. Hot payment app Venmo is one of its best-known early bets (though the firm’s partners kick themselves for selling too soon). But it also scores with film company Maker Studios (sold to Disney) and meal-prep startup Plated (to Albertsons).

A version of this article appears in the Dec. 15, 2017 issue of Fortune with the headline “An Ageless VC Gets an Act Three.”