Over Over the course of many years of editing and writing corporate publications, I have met and worked with hundreds of people around the world–writers, photographers, business consultants, entrepreneurs, editors, even a former Mouseketeer. Some of them were people I immediately liked and wanted to stay in touch with but–since most of the contact came through working together briefly on specific projects in distant places–any follow-up relationship was generally limited to an exchange of Christmas cards.  

About ten years ago, when e-mail really became ubiquitous, I contacted about 30 of these old “friends” and invited them to participate in an “all-boys” e-mail club. I called it the Ancient Thespians (”Thespians” because all the world’s a stage and “ancient” because the men involved ranged in age from about 40 to 70).  I decided to keep it exclusively male not because I’m a sexist (or maybe, I am) but because men like to talk about different things than women and I wanted everyone to be able to be candid without fear of hurting anyone’s feelings or being politically incorrect.  Also, frankly, most wives and girlfriends don’t like it when you share your deepest feelings with other women.  I’m sorry, gals, but that’s the way it is.

The rules for inclusion were simple–you had to have met me at least once in the real world.  You did not have to know anyone else in the club.  (We have since relaxed the rule a bit to allow members to invite people that they feel would fit in, although few have done so.)  I signed us up as a “club” on e-Groups, which has since been bought by Yahoo, and everyone joined and all posts sent to the club are distributed to everybody on the list, who are geographically spread out all over the globe–Australia, Japan, Europe, and all over the U.S.  (The only other rule, by the way, is no jokes except on Fridays.  I hate getting forwarded jokes from people who believe they are staying in touch.)   

We are just about to reach the 15,000 e-mails exchanged mark and there are not many topics that have not been covered in great detail.  Travel, food and wine are big, as are music, cars, women, books, politics, career advice, films, great schemes and failed adventures.  Confrontations have been non-existent. 

Over the past few years, as the trust level has built up and we’ve gotten older, we have started talking more about aging and loss and sharing personal problems and tragedies.  We have become friends, without the quotation marks, and our more-or-less daily e-mail conversations have become a prime source of companionship and comfort to me, and I’m sure to most of the others who take part. 

A couple of years ago, a group of us–several of whom had never met before in the real world–got together for a few days at a friends house in Jackson Hole.  I count it as one of the great experiences of my life.  (Photograph by Peter Vidor)

We didn’t know we were a pioneering online social networking group, of course.  We thought we were just a bunch of guys who formed a voluntary online community of middle-aged men who shared many of the same passions.  It has evolved into a community of real world friends and although I don’t see most of them often they are as much a part of my day-to-day life as the morning paper. 

When the Ancient Thespians was first formed, we adopted a line from a Neil Young song as our motto:  ”It’s better to burn out than it is to rust.”  But, frankly, rusting is a lot more appealing and easier to bear when you do it in the company of good companions. 

Enterprise 2.0 Lessons Learned:

• Social networks work best when they are extensions of real-world relationships.  
• Social networks work best if they are initiated by a trusted individual who is willing to “vouch for” the other members who may not know each other. 
•  Social networks work best if they are more homogenous than diverse.
•  E-mail is still the easiest way to network with other people.
• Social networks are not a substitute for at least some face-to-face contact (even limited in duration). You do not truly know another person until you have shared a bottle of Puligny Montrachet with them.