How To Make $1 Million Before You Graduate

These whippersnappers have business in their blood.

In Pictures: 15 Wunderkinds Who Made $1 Million Before Graduation--And The Ideas That Got Them There

Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Michael Dell, Steve Jobs, Ted Turner: All these leading lights famously ditched college to pursue their entrepreneurial dreams.

Then there are those lesser-known preternatural wealth-builders who manage to cobble million-dollar enterprises before they graduate from college by age 22--and some who did it much earlier than that.
Cracking the million-dollar mark is no mean feat for any entrepreneur, let alone one who may not be old enough to legally saddle up to a bar in the U.S.
Forbes interviewed 15 of these super-strivers. (For a gallery of their photos and short profiles, click here.) Here the million-dollar measure refers to either the annual revenue generated by their businesses (as opposed to total profit) or the value of the enterprises built as implied by the companies' financing arrangements. Example: If an investor paid $100,000 for a 10% equity stake in a young company, the enterprise is said to be worth $1 million (assuming it carries no debt).
In Pictures: 15 Wunderkinds Who Made $1 Million Before Graduation--And The Ideas That Got Them There

How did these whippersnappers pull it off? Some of them identified problems and created companies to solve them, while others turned their hobbies into money-making ventures. Some teamed up with friends, parents and mentors; others plowed ahead on their own.

Here's a look at a few:
Autocricket
In the summer of 2008, after his high school graduation, Jason Brian started working in the marketing department of a South Florida car dealership. He knew the future of marketing was on the Web. "With half of the money, I found that I could double the results," buying online ads and using search engine optimization techniques, he recalls. Three years later, at age 21, Brian spent "less than $10,000" of his savings to build a website that would help consumers look for cars.
Autocricket.com made money by selling customers' information to dealers and manufacturers, which could market to customers directly. Six months after launch the site attracted the attention of two entrepreneurs in Naples, Fla., who invested $250,000. The site generated $1.2 million in revenue in 2009, when Brian was 22. In 2010 it did $6 million.
Showclix
In 2005, when he was 18, Joshua Dziabiak sold his first company--a Web hosting firm called Mediacatch--for north of $1 million. He bought a Mercedes (in cash) and a flat-screen TV, and used the rest to invest in other companies, including Showclix, his current venture, a website that lets performing arts centers, colleges, live music venues and other outlets sell tickets online, over the phone and at their box offices. In 2009 he raised nearly $1 million, which valued the company at $2.75 million. Showclix collects services fees (usually paid by the ticket buyer) of 7% to 15% of ticket sales. Those fees brought in $9 million last year.

Solben
Twenty-year-old Daniel Gómez Iñiguez launched Solben, a company that designs and manufactures a press that extracts oil from plants to produce diesel fuel. Iñiguez began his R&D in high school. He sold to his first client for $150,000--$75,000 up front to help build the product, followed by $75,000 upon delivery. The Monterrey, Mexico, company brought in "a little over $1 million" in revenue during its first year of business. Today it employs 15 full-time staff; Iñiguez is entering his junior year of college.

Watch List: Tartufi Unlimited
Three years ago, at age 15, Ian Purkayastha started importing truffles and selling them, for up to $5,000 a pound, to restaurants and fine food shops from his home in Fayetteville, Ark. Purkayastha grew up in Houston, where as a young boy he foraged for wild mushrooms in the forests near his parents' home. Importing truffles is tricky work, involving four different federal agencies and a race against time: Truffles have a shelf life of only seven days. Purkayastha is opening a truffle orchard in Arkansas--the first in the U.S.--and has "close to $1 million in sales."
Honorable Mention: Astor and Black
When David Schottenstein graduated from Oholei Torah Rabbinical Seminary at age 20, he hadn't yet made his first million--but he was well on his way. In 2004, at age 21, Schottenstein started a custom suit company at his home in Columbus, Ohio. With $75,000 he had pocketed day-trading in high school, he went to Hong Kong and lined up factories to manufacture custom "Zegna-quality" suits, listed at a fraction of competitors' prices and sold by haberdashers door-to-door. During its first full year of business Astor and Black generated $562,000 in sales. Last year it did $20.5 million.

A Blessing Or Curse?

As a journalist, I’m paid to observe others and communicate their challenges and successes, but sometimes the story hits closer to home. At 25-years-old and a reporter at a major-media company, my age seems constantly a topic of conversation. That’s why, when my editor tasked me with writing a series about youth in the office, I knew I wouldn’t need to look far. This is my story.
When I was near 5-years-old, the only child of a single, working mother, I was bored and dying to start school. However, the way the Florida education system was set up, you had to be age 5 by September 1. I begged my mom to let me go, who in turn begged the school to take me, but I was a month and half too young.
The school board told my mother it was a blessing. The older children usually had an advantage, they said. They may have been right. I loved learning and made an A in every class all the way up through college, except ninth-grade health (skipped too much), 10th-grade woodshop (talked too much) and 11th-grade yoga (still not sure what happened there). When I decided I wanted to accomplish something, I usually did. I became used to succeeding among my peers.
In my first full-time internship at a well-known magazine, still in college at age 20, I expected I’d be fetching coffee. I also promised myself that I’d try to make a mark. I got in early, read multiple newspapers a day, spoke up and pitched stories. I surprised myself when I pulled off multi-page print features and well-received online pieces. One longtime staff writer wasn’t as pleased. “In my day, interns didn’t do this kind of work,” she told me. You skipped the line, her eyes said.
I landed my first salaried magazine job the day after I graduated and started work the following week. I was lucky, people told me. I was 22. Invariably lost in the building the first few weeks, people would smile sympathetically in the halls and ask if I was an intern. I’d assumed my age would be an issue, so wore a rotation of blasé collared shirts and dress pants. But you can’t hide your face.

A month or so in, one of my female bosses called me to her office to tell me specifically to stop looking like an intern. She suggested I cut my hair. I felt it was more mean-girl than mentor but decided she had a point. I cut my hair. I continued building a closet of professional clothes and remained even-keeled. I wasn’t happy, but I had a job to do and was doing it well. I continued about my business.
I’ve put on a few more years since, but basically look the same. It would be hard not to look young being 5’2”, round-faced and non-committal when it comes to heels. At a recent soccer game, in a T-shirt and light makeup, I was pegged at 17. When I put on my big-girl pants and eyeliner, I pass more vaguely as a 20-something—not necessarily a term of endearment. As a group we’ve been called spoiled, entitled, stuck, lost, emerging, narcissistic and addicted to tech.
Yet, my mother calls my young face one of those “good problems.” And at times it has worked to my advantage. Bosses affectionately call me “kid,” “kiddo” and “young lady,” and take the time to offer encouragement and advice. One told me point-blank that when she looked at me she saw her daughter; she promoted me a few months later. When I show up for TV segments, the producers seem pleased by my “fresh face,” and the other reporters lean close, brows furled in wonderment. You’re so young, they say. I can approach almost anyone under the guise of mentorship. They want to help.
Outside the industry, subjects and sources often feel the need to point out their age in comparison to mine. Maybe I make them feel old. One subject tried to use my age to discredit me, so I knew I was getting to her. Others open up, let their guard down, say too much. In my reporting, if my not being intimidating helps, hey, I’ll take it.
“Never let them tell you your age is a problem,” one seasoned reporter told me last year. I know now that there’s something every generation has to offer—to a story, to a team, to a workplace. If I’ve managed to be successful despite my age or in light of it, it doesn’t matter. I am one of the lucky ones.
This is the first post in a series that will examine youth in the office, in the words of young workers themselves and others around them. Please share your own insights and experiences in the comments section below.