The founders of Life is good, the T-shirt brand that found wild success in the simple concept of spreading optimism, sold the shirts from a van that the two brothers wound up and down the east coast for five years.

The brothers, Bert and Johnnie, slept on the inventory, stashed the cash under the front passenger seat and christened the van “The Enterprise” because it contained everything they needed to run the business at the time.



Admittedly, they had no idea what they were doing, Bert Jacobs, said this week during a lunch keynote presentation at the NRF Conference in New York City. And they relied on others to tell them what to do.

The first person they hired was the girl who lived upstairs. She got them thinking in a business frame of mind, including sending out invoices to customers, instead of just calling late payers to say, “I think you owe us $400,” Jacob said. That first year, they recorded $87,000 in sales.

But it would take five or more years until the brothers hit on the simple graphic of a round head with a gigantic smile they named Jake and three little words that would take them on a watermelon spitting, pie eating journey toward success.

The idea of Jake came when the brothers struck up a conversation about how negative the media was. How nothing ever seemed right in the world according to all published accounts. They knew better they thought. They thought people wanted optimism, good news, positive thoughts. As they talked, Johnnie scribbled the smiling face and added the words, Life is good.

They put Jake on a T-shirt and sold 25 in 45 minutes to all types of people: kids, school teachers, burley motorcycle riders. It was the Ah Ha moment; the moment they knew they were on to something. By the year 2000, sales had hit $3 million and Jake became the face of optimism, the company, the brand. By 2007 the brothers had made $7 million selling T-shirts, headwear, stationery, fun gear and other stuff. All without spending one dime on a TV spot or print ad. Pretty amazing.

Word-of-mouth plays a big role. A friend of mine told me about the $25 T-shirts, talking up how soft the material is. I now have four and I’ve told all my friends.

But the real chatter must come from Bert and Johnnie’s fundraising efforts, which bring out hordes of volunteers and partners, all to benefit kids, including the Life is good Kids Foundation. The festivals are free, designed to bring communities together for “good old-fashioned outdoor fun.” Games are the order of the day from those seed spitting and pie eating contests to sack races and tug o’ war and ball games. So far, $4 million has been raised. Bert charged the NRF a speaking fee and donated it all to his foundation. He does that with every speaking engagement.

Bert displayed various graphics used on T-shirt in front of the audience to make his points. He recommended simplifying life and spending one hour each day unplugged. He said companies should ask young people for advice and listen to it. He criticized his retail window display on Newbury Street in Boston, saying it looked like all the rest, nothing original, nothing to pull in customers. He was going to ask the young employees what to do about it. “And they better come up with something,” he said.

Dressed in a Life is good T-shirt and faded jeans with worn hems, Bert told the audience he would be out in the hall signing the Life is good book, 126 pages of graphics showing the best wisdom and wit from Jake and his trusty dog Rocket. All of the profits go to his kids’ foundation. Two hours after the luncheon ended Bert was still in the hall signing books with a line still winding beyond.

In 2008, Life is good reported $118 million in sales. Last year, sales dipped, by about 15% as the economy struggled but have begun trending up again.

Ah, yes, Life is good for Bert Jacobs.

The founders of Life is good, the T-shirt brand that found wild success in the simple concept of spreading optimism, sold the shirts from a van that the two brothers wound up and down the east coast for five years.

The brothers, Bert and Johnnie, slept on the inventory, stashed the cash under the front passenger seat and christened the van “The Enterprise” because it contained everything they needed to run the business at the time.



Admittedly, they had no idea what they were doing, Bert Jacobs, said this week during a lunch keynote presentation at the NRF Conference in New York City. And they relied on others to tell them what to do.

The first person they hired was the girl who lived upstairs. She got them thinking in a business frame of mind, including sending out invoices to customers, instead of just calling late payers to say, “I think you owe us $400,” Jacob said. That first year, they recorded $87,000 in sales.

But it would take five or more years until the brothers hit on the simple graphic of a round head with a gigantic smile they named Jake and three little words that would take them on a watermelon spitting, pie eating journey toward success.

The idea of Jake came when the brothers struck up a conversation about how negative the media was. How nothing ever seemed right in the world according to all published accounts. They knew better they thought. They thought people wanted optimism, good news, positive thoughts. As they talked, Johnnie scribbled the smiling face and added the words, Life is good.

They put Jake on a T-shirt and sold 25 in 45 minutes to all types of people: kids, school teachers, burley motorcycle riders. It was the Ah Ha moment; the moment they knew they were on to something. By the year 2000, sales had hit $3 million and Jake became the face of optimism, the company, the brand. By 2007 the brothers had made $7 million selling T-shirts, headwear, stationery, fun gear and other stuff. All without spending one dime on a TV spot or print ad. Pretty amazing.

Word-of-mouth plays a big role. A friend of mine told me about the $25 T-shirts, talking up how soft the material is. I now have four and I’ve told all my friends.

But the real chatter must come from Bert and Johnnie’s fundraising efforts, which bring out hordes of volunteers and partners, all to benefit kids, including the Life is good Kids Foundation. The festivals are free, designed to bring communities together for “good old-fashioned outdoor fun.” Games are the order of the day from those seed spitting and pie eating contests to sack races and tug o’ war and ball games. So far, $4 million has been raised. Bert charged the NRF a speaking fee and donated it all to his foundation. He does that with every speaking engagement.

Bert displayed various graphics used on T-shirt in front of the audience to make his points. He recommended simplifying life and spending one hour each day unplugged. He said companies should ask young people for advice and listen to it. He criticized his retail window display on Newbury Street in Boston, saying it looked like all the rest, nothing original, nothing to pull in customers. He was going to ask the young employees what to do about it. “And they better come up with something,” he said.

Dressed in a Life is good T-shirt and faded jeans with worn hems, Bert told the audience he would be out in the hall signing the Life is good book, 126 pages of graphics showing the best wisdom and wit from Jake and his trusty dog Rocket. All of the profits go to his kids’ foundation. Two hours after the luncheon ended Bert was still in the hall signing books with a line still winding beyond.

In 2008, Life is good reported $118 million in sales. Last year, sales dipped, by about 15% as the economy struggled but have begun trending up again.

Ah, yes, Life is good for Bert Jacobs.