Learning the Art of the American Pitch

'The sound of well-educated young white men baying for money' was how author Tom Wolfe described the  financial markets in his 1988 novel 'The Bonfire of the Vanities.'

It was a memorable line and it got a lot of laughs - but the image  and the reality has endured in more fulsome ways than even that jaded observer of the socio-economic scene might have imagined.

The locus has now shifted several time zones west, where entrepreneurs and innovators from all over the world are desperate to learn how to tap the seemingly insatiable American investment community. The reason is that the systems and cultures that generate such funds in most of the rest of the world are so cautious, sclerotic even, that those with an idea, a concept, even a business plan, must search elsewhere for the financial wherewithal to make it happen.

But as in all intersections of the financial and geo-cultural there are dim signals, sometimes only discernible to those with genetic access or who have grown up with them. But not to worry, because, as the following article explains, knowledge is for sale and there are plenty of Americans only to happy to share these secrets - for a small consideration, naturlich. JL

Cecilie Rohwedder reports in the Wall Street Journal:

Coaches Teach Foreign Entrepreneurs How to Wow Investors, Clients and Colleagues.

When a group of Austrian executives landed in New York recently, they were eager to tell U.S. bankers, consultants and asset managers about their country's strong economy. But they worried no one knew where they were coming from—literally.

"When Americans hear the word Austria, they think of the emperor—depending on whom you ask, also of Nazis—of good pastries and the waltz," says Claus Raidl, president of the Austrian National Bank. "That's a distorted image of Austria."

So the group of nine senior bankers, executives and officials, representing a campaign called 21st Austria, gathered in a hotel conference room as educator and storyteller Tom McCabe guided them through the creation of a story. Ordered to come up with a tale about a person who faced difficulty and prevailed, the participants scribbled in notebooks and then read aloud in Austrian-accented English. A good story is "a way to start the conversation" and get someone to identify with you, Mr. McCabe, who normally teaches school-age children, told them.

As companies increasingly need to grow and raise capital beyond their borders, international executives and entrepreneurs are learning how to spark conversations and perfect the American art of the pitch. For $2,000 to $5,000 a day, with lower rates for startups, pitch coaches teach foreign businessmen and women how to loosen up a little and deliver presentations that will wow an American audience of investors, clients or colleagues.

Coaches edit speeches and slide decks, tweak English pronunciation and body language, and critique presentation styles. They advise foreigners to strike a personal connection, be clear about the ability of their product or firm to fill a market need, and boast about their strengths.

That can be an uphill task, because many Europeans are unfamiliar with the "show and tell" culture instilled in Americans from preschool, says Christoph Sollich, a Berlin startup consultant who also goes by "The Pitch Doctor" and charges around €1,000 ($1,317) a day.

Entrepreneurs tend to underestimate the importance of the pitch, assuming that their product speaks for itself, Mr. Sollich says. What's more, he and other pitching professionals say, cultures such as Northern Europe and Japan tend to frown on the showmanship that is customary in American presentations.

Last year, Mr. Sollich trained Alessandro Petrucciani, the co-founder of Klash, a Web app for challenges and dares, for an appearance on "This Week in Startups," an influential Web series filmed in the U.S.

When his work was done, Klash's one-minute presentation followed the textbook script for U.S. pitches, first identifying a market opportunity and then quickly offering a solution—the company's product.

It also had the requisite bit of whimsy to show off the company's freewheeling culture: The 26-year-old Mr. Petrucciani delivered his pitch clad in a lime-green, Borat-style mankini.

"Christoph helped me understand who my audience was that day," says the Italian-born Mr. Petrucciani. He wasn't enthusiastic about wearing a singlet initially, he added, but it all paid off when Klash gained two investors following the pitch.

U.S.-style pitches increasingly matter abroad, too. American-style presentations, with their short speeches and uncluttered slide decks, are becoming a global standard in such fields as technology and consumer goods. In Berlin's startup scene, for instance, German entrepreneurs pitch to German incubators in English, and they give talks and slide presentations that are similar to those of their Silicon Valley counterparts.

For foreign executives, U.S. pitch training often starts with fine-tuning their English. Coaches help foreigners lose their accents, learn American acronyms and business terms and, above all, speak more directly than they would in, say, the image-rich Chinese language or the British tradition of implying, rather than assertively stating, one's accomplishments.

Marie Perruchet, a Silicon Valley coach whose company is called One Perfect Pitch, says international clients account for 80% of her business. In April, she worked with two small, private European technology companies before they made Bay Area pitches. Both had been on a U.S. roadshow in February, but Bertelsmann Digital Media Investments, a major investor in both companies and the trip's organizer, believed the presentations needed help.

"The art of storytelling, and possibly also overselling, is hard for Europeans," says Tobias Schirmer, a principal at Bertelsmann Digital Media Investments, the venture capital arm of German media group Bertelsmann. "A German entrepreneur would rather promise too little than promise too much. And in an intimidating setting, before U.S. investors, he will promise nothing he can't absolutely keep."

Making a play for the audience's emotions, often second nature in the U.S., can be hard for some. Last year, Beth Susanne, an American pitch coach in Amsterdam, was called to help Freena Eijffinger, the founder and chief executive of Autitouch, a Dutch maker of software that helps doctors diagnose autism in children.

For a presentation at the Microsoft BizSpark European Summit, a technology conference and startup showcase, Ms. Eijffinger had prepared slides that began with her background, followed by the definition of autism and an explanation of her product.

Halfway through four days of training, Ms. Susanne learned that Ms. Eijffinger's own brother is autistic—a fact that she used to turn her client's dry pitch into an emotional appeal.

"Imagine if you had a son or a daughter, or a brother or sister, who, year after year, rejects your touch and won't look you in the eye," Ms. Eijffinger ended up telling the packed conference. "Imagine this going on for 22 years, never being able to hold them. This is exactly what happened in my family," she said before broadening her remarks to the growing issue of autism world-wide.

"She taught me to breathe in, take my time," says Ms. Eijffinger. "After all, this wasn't for a hearing aid—it was about autism."

The pitch resonated with the audience: Ms. Eijffinger won second place.