A Splash of Bleach
Coby Klein’s profile reads like a cinema invention: a street-savvy young man with an extroverted sartorial sense that belies his polite, Texan manner competes in the dangerous sport of powerboat racing, dates an aspiring model-actress and uses his inherited wealth to reinvent a hip magazine in the spirit that looking good is the best revenge.
Heck, even his name has a fictional ring to it.
But Coby Klein is for real.
He’s 28. He lives in Laguna Niguel. He’s a high school dropout and a multimillionaire. And, yes, he does all of the things described above. And as a local of only eight months, his presence among the popular cultural movers and shakers will soon be known internationally--if he has his way.
Klein is the publisher of Bleach, a glossy new title arriving at newsstands that vows to wow readers with a cutting edge. It intends to stick out among the growing pile of pubs promising the coolest to the cool by showcasing more artists and less fashion and celebrities.
Instead of hosting fashion shows or concerts like its competitors, Bleach will “do killer art gallery events,” says chief editor Mike McCullough.
The premiere issue features cover-girl Alek Wek, the Sudan-born model-of-the- moment whose grinning mug markedly counters the magazine’s title. Extend that irony to its content: Instead of the sterile and mainstream, McCullough insists, readers will learn something new. Inside the inaugural issue are stories on artist Llyn Foulkes, actor Chris Eigeman and gonzo pornographer Matt Zane.
With the newly formed Klein Publishing, Klein is the boss at the Costa Mesa offices that once housed Hot Lava, the sometimes- irreverent, usually pubescent- minded magazine that lasted 3 1/2 years before publisher Jack Martinez pulled the plug.
Klein spent months negotiating with Martinez, co-owner of Costa Mesa eyewear maker Black Flys, to acquire the title, but talks disintegrated.
No problem for this incessant entrepreneur who overcomes stress simply by moving on. He invented a new name.
Hot Lava’s editorial staffers were in need of work, so Klein hired them. He upped the ante on the new project by using better quality paper stock and targeting an older audience (ages 21 to 35).
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Publishing a 98-page magazine with a staff of 11 doesn’t come cheap. Though Klein won’t reveal how much of his personal fortune he’s invested, he’ll admit that it wasn’t pocket change. Industry experts estimate that a comparable start-up could cost as much as $500,000.
It’s a risky venture. The pool of pop culture magazines he’s just dived into continues to splash with new entries equally as appealing visually and, in some cases, better written.
“There’s no shortage of these kinds of magazines, and I don’t think there ever will be,” says Lisa Phillips, editor-in-chief at Folio, the trade read for the magazine industry. “The question is whether Bleach can maintain circulation and whether advertisers will be interested. The art pitch is what differentiates them.”
As for Bleach’s neophyte publisher, she adds that “it’s people not in publishing who are keeping the magazine industry going.”
So, who is this guy?
Coby Klein takes a seat in the common area of the recently refurbished Bleach offices off 19th Street. Where the copper-washed concrete floors end, a thick purple carpet continues. The carpet matches the felt of a pool table with pearl inlay standing nearby.
Outfitted in a velvet shirt, wide-legged cord pants and black shoes detailed with white stars, he chooses this place over his office, its ceiling painted to resemble a blue and cloudy sky.
“I’m not a writer or an editor,” admits Klein, who has already clocked in as a real estate investor in Colorado and owner of a farm and construction supply business in Texas (the latter two he continues to profit from).
“But I can look at the final product and know when to suggest changes. I’m a very hard worker. My day usually starts at 6:30 a.m. organizing my day. Within the hour I’m on the phone. And then I’m off to my two jobs until very late.”
Half of his double duty is the 40 hours he spends weekly on his other career--and passion--as a powerboat competitor. The schedule doubles during race season, from April to November, when a dozen sanctioned contests require rebuilding several times the engine of his 36-foot skater called Kidstuff.
A budget of $300,000 and a team of 10 helped Klein place fifth overall on his first try in the American Power Boat Assn. offshore division world championships in Biloxi, Miss., last year.
“There’s a real thrill, a charge about being on the water, going 140 miles an hour,” says Klein, who moved from Beverly Hills to Orange County to be closer to his boats and the magazine.
Before taking racing seriously at age 21, Klein figures he broke 300 feet of boats--that’s 15 vessels--during his teen years.
Boats were a constant then, when Klein was a fresh Angeleno who relocated from his native Amarillo, Texas, after his parents split. He took the high school proficiency test and dropped out of ninth grade. And, at 16, when his mother wanted to return to Texas, he moved to a Marina del Rey apartment.
Klein spent his first 12 years in Amarillo, where century-old family ties in oil, gas, ranching, farming and the media ensured future generations prosperity and place in the community. His father, Richard Klein--who died last year--served as the mayor, as his father before him. His mother Francie Whittenburg, remains active in society charity pursuits in Amarillo and Los Angeles. His sister, Kim Davidson, five years his senior, lives in Colorado.
He neither overplays nor understates his wealth. It’s there. A third of it, he says, he earned as a real estate investor. “Everybody’s had to figure out how to deal with money issues. I just have larger financial obligations.”
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Though he says he had little direct guidance from his parents during his teen years, he says a strict upbringing shaped his approach to life. “I believe in treating people the way I want to be treated.”
It’s that Golden Rule that persuaded James Vowell, former editor and publisher of the Los Angeles Reader, to accept the post of president and editorial director for Klein Publishing. Klein’s financial resources and determination were factors as well.
“I think Coby’s real smart,” says Vowell. “He has a very clear idea of what needs to be done and how it gets done and he knows this is a long-term game. What I like most about Coby is he’s absolutely honest. He has the sense to know when he doesn’t understand something and he says so. He’s just a good person.”
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Likewise is Editor McCullough’s opinion of Klein, which comes off more as surprise than gushing praise. “Coby doesn’t just contribute the financial wherewithal. He put on his tool belt and painted the new offices. He did the electrical, built the stairs. He’s hands on from the hammer to the magazine layout.”
McCullough spent nearly a year trying to save Hot Lava and his staff’s jobs before joining Klein. Fast forward a year, and McCullough and crew are savoring compliments sung by fashionable guests at their launch party last week at L.A.’s Union Station.
Rock stars mingled with designers. A member of Anthrax and a couple from Orgy tossed back cocktails with style-setters from Sugar, Serious and Quiksilver.
Klein spent most of the evening out of the spotlight, introducing guests to his mother and to his girlfriend, Cheryl Dartel.
The next day the office would be closed, but he would still be at work on the next issue.
“I want to build a family of magazines,” he says. “I want Bleach to be like this beautiful coffee-table monthly that people will want to keep for 10 years or more. I want it to be a guide in the lives of people who care about what’s new, what’s happening.”
