Narrator: What if you and three friends, with no formal business plan and barely a million dollars in the bank, decided to buy a mountain? Not just any mountain, but a 10,000-acre ski resort in Utah with a price tag of $40 million. It sounds like a fantasy, a reckless gamble destined for failure. Yet, this is the audacious, real-life story at the heart of Make No Small Plans: Lessons on Thinking Big, Chasing Adventure, and Building a Community. Written by the four founders of Summit—Elliott Bisnow, Jeff Rosenthal, Brett Leve, and Jeremy Schwartz—the book chronicles their improbable journey from hosting small, chaotic gatherings for entrepreneurs to building a global community and, ultimately, purchasing a permanent home for it. It’s a narrative that challenges the very definition of a business, revealing how trust, community, and a relentless pursuit of the surreal can be more powerful than any traditional strategy.

Narrator: The journey of Summit began not with a brilliant business plan, but with a series of rejections and a foundational belief in audacious ideas. The four founders came from unconventional backgrounds—a punk rock frontman, a Cutco knife salesman, a college party promoter, and a tenacious ad-seller who dropped out of college. They were not obvious partners, but they shared a deep-seated trust and a willingness to support each other's wildest ambitions.

This ethos was forged in early failures. Before Summit existed, a young Elliott Bisnow tried to organize a small ski retreat for twenty local professionals he admired. He sent out invitations, made follow-up calls, and was met with universal rejection. Every single person said no. The experience was crushing, but it led to a critical insight: the idea wasn't inspiring enough. It was too small. He realized that to attract the right people, he needed a bigger, more compelling vision. This became the genesis of Summit Series—an idea not just to network, but to bring together the most innovative young founders in the country for a shared adventure. The lesson was clear: small plans don't ignite passion. It’s the audacious goals, the ones that seem just out of reach, that have the power to capture imaginations and build momentum from nothing.

Narrator: In the world of high-stakes events, the goal is often flawless execution. Summit’s early success, however, was built on the opposite principle: that genuine connection is born from chaos and imperfection. Their first official event, a ski trip in Utah for 19 young entrepreneurs, was a logistical mess. The host, Elliott, was inexperienced and overwhelmed. The beer ran out almost immediately, an artist’s showcase was awkwardly ignored, and the initial atmosphere was tense.

The turning point came not from a perfectly planned activity, but from a prank. Two attendees from CollegeHumor conspired with a restaurant’s maître d' to tell Elliott his casual attire violated the club's standards. The moment of embarrassment quickly dissolved into uproarious laughter, breaking the ice for the entire group. Later that night, Elliott was pulled over by the police for an illegal U-turn. As the officer questioned him, his new friends in the car jokingly made the situation worse, turning a moment of tension into a shared, hilarious memory. The authors reflect that this incident was "a better bonding experience than anything Elliott could’ve planned." It taught them that the most valuable quality an event can have is space for the unplanned. Authenticity, vulnerability, and shared misadventure created a far deeper sense of community than a perfect itinerary ever could.

Narrator: For its first few years, Summit was a successful event series. But a pivotal encounter at a White House symposium transformed its entire trajectory. The founders felt out of their league, surrounded by titans of industry. It was there that Tony Hsieh, the legendary CEO of Zappos, posed a question that would redefine their mission. He asked, "Are there people at this event who you wouldn't invite to your parents’ home for dinner, if not for their personal and professional success?"

This question was a revelation. The founders realized they had been curating for résumés, not for character. Hsieh’s advice was simple but profound: "If you’re building a community, your culture is the most important thing." From that moment on, Summit shifted its focus from simply organizing impressive events to building a lasting community rooted in shared values. The criteria for an invitation changed. It was no longer just about professional achievement; it was about kindness, curiosity, open-mindedness, and a genuine desire to contribute to the world. This culture-first approach became their guiding principle, proving that a strong, values-aligned community is a far more powerful and sustainable asset than any business strategy.

Narrator: The book repeatedly demonstrates that world-changing opportunities often emerge not from grand plans, but from unexpected, serendipitous connections. The White House event itself was a prime example. The opportunity arose from a casual introduction made by Elliott’s mother to a staffer in the Obama administration. With only four days to organize a symposium for young entrepreneurs, the Summit team had no budget, no confirmed attendees, and no formal plan.

What they did have was audacity and a powerful brand. They leveraged the prestige of the White House to secure high-profile attendees, with Brett famously telling a reluctant assistant, "When the White House calls, you answer." This single, high-stakes opportunity, born from a chance meeting, dramatically elevated their reputation. Later, a connection with Elizabeth Gore of the UN Foundation transformed their Aspen event. She introduced them to social causes like Nothing but Nets, which gave their gathering a deeper sense of purpose. These experiences solidified a core philosophy: always take the meeting, always answer the phone. A single connection, when nurtured, can unlock exponential growth and change everything.

Narrator: Summit’s history is a testament to taking on seemingly impossible challenges. This philosophy was perfectly captured by their decision to host an event on a chartered cruise ship. The idea for "Summit at Sea" started as a joke on a houseboat in Amsterdam, but the concept of a fully immersive, self-contained "floating city" was too compelling to ignore. The team had zero experience with maritime law, cruise logistics, or international event production on that scale.

One of the greatest challenges was providing internet at sea. After immense effort to set up a custom intranet, the system failed shortly after the ship left port. Panic set in. Yet, this catastrophic failure became a defining feature of the event. Disconnected from their phones and laptops, the 1,400 attendees were forced to be fully present. They engaged in deeper conversations, forged stronger bonds, and experienced the event on a more human level. The disaster became a triumph, leading to Summit's new motto: "There’s no Wi-Fi where we’re going, but we promise you’ll find a better connection." It proved that by taking on an impossibly large goal, they were forced to innovate and, even in failure, discovered a more powerful truth about their community.

Narrator: Faced with their most audacious goal yet—raising $40 million to buy Powder Mountain—the founders knew a traditional fundraising approach would fail. Instead, they adopted a strategy they called "unite the core to move the masses." The principle is that to launch a massive movement, you don't try to convince everyone at once. You start by inspiring a small, dedicated group of your most passionate supporters and turn them into evangelists.

To do this, they identified 60 of their most loyal community members and planned a secret, high-impact experience. They chartered a private 737, flew the group to an undisclosed location, and drove them in a fleet of cars to the top of Powder Mountain just as the sun was setting over the valley. Standing there, with a breathtaking view as their backdrop, they finally unveiled their vision: to build a permanent home for the Summit community. They didn't ask for money; they simply shared their dream in the most powerful way imaginable. This "shock and awe" approach was designed to forge an unbreakable emotional bond with their core, trusting that their passion and stories would be the catalyst to move the masses and make the impossible, possible.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Make No Small Plans is that the size of your ambition directly shapes the scale of your reality. The authors argue that audacious goals are not just for dreamers; they are a practical tool. A goal big enough to scare you is also big enough to inspire others, to attract talent, to force creative solutions, and to build a resilient community willing to weather the inevitable storms. The journey to buy a mountain was not a straight line but a chaotic, messy, and ultimately triumphant process fueled by a refusal to think small.

The book leaves us with a powerful challenge. It asks us to look at our own plans—for our careers, our communities, and our lives—and question their scope. Are they big enough to truly inspire us? Are they audacious enough to attract the help we need? Because, as the founders of Summit discovered, when you have the right community and a goal worth fighting for, you shouldn't just bite off more than you can chew—you should try to swallow the whole mountain.