In the early days of the Net revolution, start-ups targeting African-Americans struggled for financial support. Few believed urban Web sites ever would attract large enough audiences to reap profits. But with predictions that America's increasingly multicultural population eventually would take to the Web, several start-ups, including UBO, arrived on the scene. Suddenly, there was demand for culture with a black flavor, and the venture capitalists came trolling.

Millions of this investment money financed the startup of UBO -- a place where we employees, swanked out in extra-cool urban gear, feigned importance chatting on cellphones while chaos swirled around us. Even so, excitement abounded at the notion of black people in charge on the Net. This was our chance at an equal payoff.

UBO first hit my radar in the summer of 1999. The buzz in New York's urban art scene was that it was an Internet venture poised to tap into an underexploited market. UBO would offer content sites about everything urban, from Latin culture to animation and hip-hop to hair. Word on the street was that the company was looking for creative people, and best of all, they were willing to pay.

Even though I was skeptical, I sent my résumé. I'd been searching for a creative, new opportunity and I had Web experience. After five years working in a white corporate setting, I was ready for a change.

Walking into UBO's warehouse space, I was struck by the sea of young, beautiful, hip and artistic people of color. The aesthetic was right out of MTV's "The Real World," with big, open rooms, fold-up furniture and lots of overhead noise. It was a setting that I could be excited about as a young black woman, a vision of multicultural America. It was also Motown meets Downtown fabulous. What's more, people seemed happy to be at UBO. They were invested in what they were doing, and they promoted the company as if it were their own.

It didn't matter if you had Internet experience. One content producer admitted he hadn't used e-mail before starting his job. But it didn't matter because the company's leadership, under the direction of urban entertainment mogul George Jackson, believed troops could be trained to be the Web gurus of tomorrow. Despite some reservations, I took the job that day and even promised that I could start immediately. UBO seemed brilliant and exciting, and I wanted to be part of the movement.

Jackson and his business partners initially wanted to start a cable company, but they moved into the Internet arena after meeting Arzie Hardin, who had been writing a business plan for an online artist community called IndiePlanet. Hardin envisioned the project as a Web portal with different channels devoted to various genres of art. The site eventually became Jackson's blueprint for UBO and a showcase for investors who wanted to see what they could expect from the company, which went on to acquire several hot -- and not so hot -- properties, including Latinflava.com, Soul Purpose, Support Online, Hiphop.com, Urban Music Matrix, UBO Sports and Womanhood.

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