🍿Blockworks: The Roots of a $150M Empire (Part I)

Introduction

You’ve heard of Blockworks, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. And if you haven’t heard of ‘em — well, you have now, so it’s probably best to keep reading.

Let me tell you the story of what many think is a traditional media company (wrong) or what many think is a business that only makes money through traditional media methods (think again). 

You see, what started out as two 20-something-year olds throwing small 100 person meetups has ballooned into a $150M (yes million) empire that’s only 7 years old. Yeah, in the same time that your nephew learned to not poop his pants and to use the potty, Jason Yanowitz and Michael Ippolito turned a simple idea into the biggest crypto media company in the world. (I think, don’t quote me on that.)

But it has not always been smooth sailing for the Blockworks captains. For a long period of time, the two worked together to navigate the misty seas, steering clear of any trouble. Naturally by being in the new and evolving crypto space Jason and Michael have had to overcome a lot, especially in the early days to establish Blockworks as a credible source of information that could be trusted. 

The ship has come awfully close to sinking multiple, multiple times. And for the first few years it often looked like the ship may never even set sail… 

“I remember I went to the event [the 3rd Blockworks event]. And it was [in] a little, you know, sketchy part of town [Chinatown]... there was a second there I was like, I might be walking into like a complete scam, these guys might try to kill me…”  said Anthony Pompliano as he remembered the first time meeting the two founders.

So, as you see it hasn’t always been sunshine, rainbows and unicorns.

This is the story of how two non technical guys bootstrapped a business to $25M+ in revenue and a valuation of $150 Million in less than 6 years.

This is, The Blockworks story….

CHAPTER 1 - The Bay

A cool fall breeze swept through Mill Valley, carrying a salty smell from the Californian coast. It climbed over mountains, ran past tall oak trees and whistled through buildings until the scent  hit the nostrils of a young boy, hunched over on the curb, his attention fixed on some newly bought crisp MLB showdown cards held in his palms. For Jason, the cards were not just a way to pass the time – they were an obsession. The fifth grader was scarcely seen  without the cards in his hands.

At the age of 10 in 2003, the young Jason Yanowitz had found his first hustle – reselling collectors cards on eBay. I don’t know about you, but most fifth graders are picking snot out of their noses and worrying about what flavor of Capri Sun they’ll get in their lunchbox that day. But not Jason. His mind was already churning with ideas on how to turn a profit. It takes someone different to go online, look at a bunch of MLB cards and have the first thought be “hey this photo is ugly, the text makes no sense. I can do this much better”.

But Jason did. Even at such a young age, Jason had an eye for detail and a knack for selling. He understood that prettier photos and clearer descriptions could make the difference between a quick sale or no sale at all. Jason would spend hours carefully rephotographing the cards, adjusting the angles, changing the lighting to be just right along with improved descriptions that would make the reader of the listing feel like a fool for not buying the cards instantly. 

Buying and selling cards at that young of an age, is a weird thing to be doing. The normal fifth grader isn’t doing that. But perhaps for Jason, his knack for hustling wasn’t entirely out of the blue. Perhaps it ran in the family.  

Jason was raised with the idea that entrepreneurship was the thing you did. Entrepreneurship started for Jason when he was 3 years old “both grandparents on mom and dad's side were entrepreneurs. My dad was an entrepreneur. My mom was an entrepreneur. They still are.” 

Jason’s parents are children of Hungarian and Polish immigrants. They grew up hearing stories of resilience, stories of escaping communism and building a new life. You don’t escape communism and create a successful life in America in the 20th century without learning how to take care of yourself and seizing opportunities. For Jason, unlike in most families, entrepreneurship was the norm. 

“I don't think I was ever gonna work a 9-to-5. The dream always was to go build something” Jason said. 

Thanks to this, Jason would grow up with a dislike of the system and rules – he didn’t care if it wasn’t cool to be flipping cards on Ebay, even in fifth grade, he did it anyway. For Jason, entrepreneurship wasn’t just a hobby; it was part of his family’s story, rooted in resilience and reinvention. This had taught him that success wasn’t handed out; it was earned. 

This same drive would eventually make Jason pack his bags during his final year at Emory University, and board a flight to explore the spider web streets of Budapest, Hungary more than 6,000 miles away from home. 

Going as part of his study-abroad program, Jason saw it as a chance to expand his learnings beyond just traditional academia. Budapest offered more than just classes. 

Walking through the cold and wet cobblestone streets in the shadows of tall historic buildings, Jason stumbled onto something that – he did not yet know– would later become a new obsession: Bitcoin.

Despite the tense atmosphere around the 2015 European migrant-crisis and Budapest Central Station closing down a week prior because of immense chaos, Jason sat at one of his favorite local cafes just a few steps away from the Danube river that flowed through the heart of the city.

Sitting in the corner of the cafe, the kind with mismatched chairs and the faint hum of an espresso machine overpowered by slow-paced covers of popular songs in the background. Jason stared through the broad rectangular window, watching the world go by as the sun began to set—people weaving between cars, breathing visibly into the cold air, the street felt alive with the natural rhythms, the hymns and hums of the city he now called home. 

As Jason stared out the window, the reversed letters of the cafe's name were a subtle reminder of where he was, though his mind was elsewhere. The air in Budapest buzzed with a kind of energy Jason couldn’t quite put his finger on. The city felt alive with its blend of old-world charm and youthful vibrance, and the people he met reflected that same spirit.

Jason would often be seen here, sipping coffee and chatting with the other Hungarian students. During these late-night coffees and beers at dimly lit bars and cafes, they often spoke intensely. The topics of conversation of course included weekend plans, gossip over girls and the eternal topic of the predictably cold weather but also, conversations of fiery intensity about politics, history, and something Jason had never heard of before—Bitcoin. To Jason, their passion about Bitcoin was infectious.

These weren’t conversations about quick profits or speculative gains; they were about freedom. “My parents couldn’t own anything back then,” one Hungarian student told him, her voice laced with both pride and lingering frustration. “They controlled your money, your job—your whole life. Bitcoin is yours. No one can take it from you.”

Jason leaned in, intrigued. For these people, Bitcoin wasn’t just a new technology; it was a rebellion against the old tyrannical systems their families had endured. The stories of financial control and repression resonated deeply with him. Aside from being a student of history (literally), Jason’s own family had fled Eastern Europe generations earlier, escaping regimes where independence was a luxury few could afford. A luxury you and I likely should be more grateful for. 

The ability to truly be independent from the government with one's money was incredibly important to the young Hungarian students, 

The longer Jason was in Hungary, the more he began to learn about Bitcoin. Seeing it as a tool for control. It wasn’t about the money itself, it was the fact that it was free from traditional financial institutions or government interference. It wasn’t about dollars and cents; it was about sovereignty. 

In Jason’s words: “The way Bitcoin was explained to me, I didn’t even know it was a way to make money. It was about control—having your money, your way, no matter what system you lived under.” and for the Hungarians, you could see why that was so important to them. 

But as the new year came and went, Jason’s study abroad too came to an end. While yes, the city with its sprawling boulevards and hidden cafes had left a mark on Jason, the intensity of those late-night debates faded as he packed his bags and returned to the U.S. 

Back at Emory, life picked up quickly. Final semesters brought the usual chaos—papers, internships, and the looming question of what came next. Bitcoin, was pushed to the back of his mind, lost in the shuffle of the daily chaos that is life.  “I quickly forgot about it, “unfortunately for my financial well-being.” Jason would later admit with a smirk. 

It wouldn’t be for another 2 years later, until after having graduated and moved to New York that Jason would get back into crypto. 

For now, Jason was back in college and back to being hungry to make it. Before Jason had left for Hungary, he had become deeply obsessed with another one of his side-hustles, this time one it wouldn’t be a side hustle earning him a few dollars on Ebay, but instead it would see Jason earn thousands and thousands of dollars a week…

CHAPTER 2 - The ‘Drinks’ Guy

Most founders you read about have deep technological knowledge or industry knowledge because they studied computer science or bio-engineering for many many years. Jason Yanowitz had a different approach – He chose to study something he was simply curious about.  

For Jason, the choice to study history wasn’t about career planning—it was about curiosity. “I figured I’d be doing business for the rest of my life,” Jason said years later. ‘So I wanted to study something I was actually passionate about. If you have genuine passion and curiosity, it doesn’t really matter what you majored in,’ Jason would say. And for him, studying history wasn’t just about the past—it was a way to understand how the world worked.”

“There’s an open-mindedness that comes from studying liberal arts,” he once said. “And there’s an understanding when studying history that nothing lasts forever.” It was a lesson he’d carry with him into the volatile world of startups, where impermanence was a given and reinvention a necessity.

Life as a history major at Emory likely left Jason with plenty of time to explore. Mornings were spent in lecture halls dissecting the latest lecture or debating, and afternoons often meant quiet hours in the library, flipping through worn-out text books or scrolling through articles. But unlike majors packed with lab work or endless group projects, history gave Jason something precious: free time. And for Jason, that time was never wasted.

While many of his classmates might have filled their days with Netflix marathons or long naps between classes , Jason’s mind was always racing. 

Instead of getting a regular job at Taco-bell or any other place willing to employ unmotivated but money-hungry young adults, Jason would take a different route – he would start his own hustle.

“This wasn’t Jason’s first time turning his nose up at traditional jobs. The summer after high school, he wanted to make some money and went to his parents for help. ‘You’re not getting money,’ they told him. ‘Go work with your friend Jake at Taco Bell.’ Obviously, Jason’s pride kicked in. ‘I’m not working at Taco Bell,’ he shot back. Still, Jason couldn’t avoid the place entirely. ‘We went there every day,’ he’d later admit. ‘I love Taco Bell.’ And while his love for chalupas ran deep (can you blame him?), Jason’s hunger to build something of his own ran deeper. 

That hunger drove him to try everything—ever since the fifth grade Jason had been hustling, and his appetite for new ideas hadn’t dulled. “I think I was always trying to build something,” he later said. “Not everything worked, though. In fact, most things didn’t.”

One of those “didn’t work” ideas came during a burst of entrepreneurial energy: flipping tickets. Jason had heard about people making quick cash by buying up concert tickets the moment they were released, only to resell them on StubHub for a tidy profit. It sounded easy enough, and he even convinced his friend Michael Ippolito to join in.

“Jason pitched it like it was foolproof,” Michael would recall with a laugh. “I thought, ‘This sounds controversial. I’m going to do it.’”

The plan was simple—buy low, sell high. Sounds fool proof right? Alas, it wasn’t. The pair decided to start with just recently released Jerry Seinfeld tickets, thinking it would be easy money. Instead, they ended up stuck with tickets they couldn’t offload and wallets $1,000 dollars lighter. Despite the loss, Jason wasn’t discouraged. Failure didn’t rattle him—it fueled him.

Each misstep was another lesson, another piece of the puzzle he was trying to figure out. He didn’t see these ventures as failures; they were stepping stones, paving the way for something bigger. And Jason was about to hit it huge with his next hustle. Verve Energy Drinks.

It was a normal day at home, just a few weeks before Jason would start attending Emory, Jason sat cross-legged on his dorm bed, scrolling away on his laptop, when his phone buzzed. It was his buddy, a year above him in school, his phone buzzing, Jason accepted the call.

“Dude, hear me out,” his friend began, diving straight into what he knew would excite Jason – a new scheme. “Most companies spend, like, 40% of their budget on marketing, right? But this company doesn’t spend anything on marketing. Instead, they pay affiliates—you know, people like us—to sell their product for them. You sell these energy drinks, you make money. Simple.”

Jason didn’t need much convincing. At 18, he was eager for cash but adamant about avoiding traditional jobs (remember Taco Bell?). This, though? Selling energy drinks and making money on his own terms? It felt like a perfect fit.

“I didn’t know anything,” Jason later admitted. “I just wanted money, and I didn’t want to work at Taco Bell, so I signed up.” Within days, he had a box of 30 Verve energy drinks stacked in his dorm room. Armed with ambition and a script, Jason started pitching to anyone who would listen, and also to anyone who wouldn’t.  Jason’s initial enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed. 

Within a few weeks of talking to his buddy and signing up, he could be spotted talking to classmates in the Van Dyke dining hall, pointing at their cans of Red Bull or Monster with disapproval. “Why are you drinking that stuff?” he asked one student, sliding a Verve can across the table. “This is healthier, man. Dr. Oz says it’s the best thing you can put in your body.” The student raised an eyebrow, glanced at the can, and shrugged. “Nah, I’m good,” he said, pushing it back toward Jason and returning to his conversation, ignoring Jason's presence entirely.

Jason walked away, deflated. The rejection didn’t bother him as much as the realization it sparked. He wasn’t making much money and he was starting to get a label around campus, one he desperately wanted to avoid, he didn’t want to be the “energy drink guy.” It was then he started exploring other ways to sell Verve, and his curiosity led him down the rabbit hole of digital marketing. 

Jason dove headfirst into the world of funnels, landing pages, and email campaigns. He discovered entrepreneurs like Noah Kagan and Russell Brunson and spent hours studying their methods. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Jason transformed his approach, taking Verve online.

Within months, his business exploded. He wasn’t just selling energy drinks anymore—he was building a network. Jason recruited affiliates across the globe, eventually having over 4,600 people on his downline. From Maryland to Guam, France to Mexico, his reach was staggering.

“I’d get on Skype and pitch rooms of 500 people,” Jason said. “I had this whole spiel about how Dr. Oz backed the product and how this drink, plus a handful of almonds, was the healthiest thing you could put in your body.” Jason even wrote articles about his success. As  a “platinum leader,” highlighting his relentless sales skills and how he could inspire a room with his pitch.

By his sophomore year, Jason’s success reached new heights. Verve sent him a BMW, a symbol of his rapid rise. Driving the car around campus felt surreal, especially when just a year earlier, he had been scrounging for ways to make money.

“I was making $1,000 to $1,500 a week,” Jason recalled. “As a 19-year-old college student, that was crazy money.” The success was intoxicating, and Jason began to think about dropping out of college to focus on Verve full-time. His grades, already slipping, dropped to a 2.2 GPA (I’m not American but Google tells me that’s bad, like very bad) . 

But his parents wouldn’t let Jason drop out. “They told me I had to finish school,” Jason said. “And looking back, they were right.” Jason’s time with Verve wasn’t just about selling energy drinks— I mean, at that moment it was. But the biggest thing that came out of it is how much it taught Jason. “I learned more in those years than in all my time in the workforce,” he said. “I learned about selling, grit, and controlling your own destiny. It taught me that I didn’t need to work a 9-to-5. I could build my own business.” Through Verve, Jason became obsessed with personal development. Books like Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People and Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich became his bible.

But there was also a darker side. “You can get really caught up,” Jason admitted. “I had friends, my parents, and others telling me, ‘This is a pyramid scheme.’ But I couldn’t acknowledge it at the time.”  Years later, Jason reflected on his Verve experience with mixed emotions. “If I had kids, would I let them do this? The immediate answer is no. It’s super shady,” he admitted. “But at the same time, I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t done it. It gave me the confidence to build a company. It taught me that growing a business, especially in the beginning, is all about grit, hustle, and marketing. And it showed me that there’s nothing else I want to do but build.”

For the longest time, Jason didn’t see it as a pyramid scheme. “I was like a fish in water,” he’d later say. “I couldn’t realize what this was.” To him, Verve was a way to make money, build something of his own, and break free from the traditional expectations of a 9-to-5 life. 

The energy drinks, the global network, the BMW—it all felt like success. But the cracks were starting to show. It was during his junior year at Emory when one of his closest friends finally confronted him. Late one evening, Jason’s roommate leaned to the right against the doorframe of their shared dorm, arms crossed, a no-nonsense look on his face. “We’re all lining up internships this summer,” he said bluntly. “You should join us. Stop doing this thing.”

Jason brushed it off at first, making excuses for why he wasn’t ready to walk away. But the comment stuck with him. For the first time, he began questioning the system he’d been so immersed in.  A few weeks later, Jason came across a video that would solidify everything his friend had been trying to say. It was Bill Ackman’s infamous presentation during his battle with Carl Icahn over Herbalife. Jason sat at his desk, glued to the screen, as Ackman meticulously laid out why he believed Herbalife was a pyramid scheme. The language, the structure, the promises—it all sounded eerily familiar.

“Oh my God,” Jason thought, his stomach sinking. “He’s explaining the company I’m working for.”

The realization hit hard. For the first time, Jason saw the bigger picture—the system he’d been a part of, the promises that had seemed so genuine, and the ethical dilemmas he hadn’t allowed himself to confront. Walking away wasn’t easy. It meant letting go of the status, the income that had given him so much independence, and the identity he’d built as one of Verve’s top affiliates. But it also meant rediscovering who he was beyond the energy drink hustle.

By the time he entered his senior year, Jason had left Verve behind. The experience, though flawed, had taught him invaluable lessons about selling, resilience, and building something from scratch. But it also left him with a clear sense of what not to do—a realization that would guide him as he stepped into the next phase of his life.

As graduation approached, Jason shifted his focus to internships and the job market, ready to leave Verve—and its shadow—behind for good. He didn’t know it then, but those lessons would prove instrumental in shaping the entrepreneur he’d later become.

The final days of college always seem to arrive faster than expected. For Jason, the countdown to graduation was filled with questions he wasn’t entirely ready to answer. What was next? What did he want to do? Most of his friends at Emory already had plans—jobs lined up in New York or San Francisco, internships turning into full-time roles. 

So what did he do? He did what so many others do when faced with uncertainty—he followed the crowd. With little more than a suitcase and a vague sense of direction, Jason moved to New York City to start his first job at a venture capitalist firm.

His living situation, however, was far from glamorous. Jason and his friend Michael Ippolito found a tiny apartment they could barely afford. It was so small that neither of them could claim their own room. “We literally pushed our two queen beds into the same bedroom,” Jason would later recall. “We were two feet apart.” It wasn’t ideal, but it was home—for now.

It was within one of the first few months of working at the firm that Jason would quickly realise he didn’t want to be there. Although the office was a stark contrast to the cramped apartment Jason shared with Michael, Jason felt like he had stepped into a world that was completely foreign. The sleek wood-paneled walls and glass conference rooms exuded the kind of old-school corporate charm you’d expect from men who had cut their teeth at Lehman Brothers and Bear Stearns.

Jason, 22 and fresh out of college, stood out. His crisp white shirt and navy tie were almost comically out of place among the gray-haired executives in their tailored suits. They moved with a slow but practiced confidence, exchanging glances and murmurs that made Jason feel like an outsider in his own office.

“Yanowitz,” one of them barked, motioning him into a meeting room. Jason scrambled to gather his notes and hurried inside, his heart pounding. The man—late 60s, silver hair neatly combed back—sat at the head of the table, a printed agenda in front of him.

“I hear you know a thing or two about Bitcoin,” the man said, his tone hovering somewhere between curiosity and skepticism. “I want you to send me some information.”

Jason nodded. “Of course,” he said, sitting up straighter. He spent the afternoon scouring the internet for anything useful—threads on Reddit, tweets from the growing crypto community, articles from CoinDesk and Cointelegraph. By evening, he had compiled a neat report with links to everything he’d found.

The next morning, Jason walked into the office and found the same executive waiting for him behind his large spruce desk.

“What is this?” he said. “You sent me a bunch of ‘Reddit’ links and some tweets?” he said, holding up a printout in his raised right hand. The man’s flat tone filled the room. Another partner nearby stifled a laugh. Jason felt his cheeks burn as the man shook his head. “This, this is your source?”.

It was the kind of moment Jason wouldn’t forget. Being laughed out of the room by these “gray-haired guys” wasn’t just humiliating—it was eye-opening. They didn’t get it. But Jason couldn’t shake the thought that they would, someday.

The truth was, Jason didn’t love finance. The rigid systems, the bureaucracy, the slow pace—it all felt archaic. Sitting in those conference rooms, surrounded by people who couldn’t grasp the emerging world of crypto, Jason felt the first sparks of change. “I don’t like these archaic bureaucratic systems,” he would later say. “It was a small firm, but they couldn’t get on board with crypto.”

His time at the firm also gave him a front-row seat to the challenges of raising capital. He saw companies — like Dollar Shave Club, others taking bold shots at curing Alzheimer’s—secure millions in funding, only to fail spectacularly. The experience left him disillusioned. “Raising capital doesn’t solve problems,” Jason concluded. It was a lesson he would carry into his future ventures. After 10 months at the venture firm, Jason was ready to move on. He joined Sisense, an Israeli data analytics company, in May 2017. The job couldn’t have been more different from his last.

At Sisense, Jason took on the challenge of building an outbound sales team. When he started, the team consisted of just two people. Within a year, it had grown to 24. Jason learned more about sales and scaling in that one year than in any job before. “I built out the outbound sales team there,” he later recalled. “It was an incredibly valuable skill to learn.” one he would later replicate at Blockworks.

But even as he thrived professionally, Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. He didn’t love it. The work was fine, but it wasn’t his work. So Jason began looking for a way out. The thought had been nagging him for months, but he hadn’t yet found the right opportunity to pivot. Then, one Sunday afternoon at 2 p.m., he decided to attend a meetup.

Jason didn’t know it yet, but the next chapter of his life (and this article) is about to begin.

CHAPTER 3 - The Terrible Idea...

It was a Sunday afternoon in New York City, the kind of gray day that felt perfect for staying indoors. Jason Yanowitz didn’t have grand plans—just a Meetup he’d signed up for on a whim. Held by Brunchwork, the event was split into two talks: one about starting a consulting firm, and the other on Ethereum.  The first speaker, Sam Ovens, delivered a sharp, practical session on building a consulting firm. Jason took notes, his mind already spinning with possibilities. But it was the second speaker, Amanda Cassatt—the CMO of Consensys, Ethereum’s development arm—that truly lit a fire under him.

Amanda spoke with clarity and passion about Ethereum, a decentralized platform that promised to revolutionize everything from finance to governance. Jason was captivated. The more she talked, the more he felt the gears turning in his mind. By the end of the talk, Jason wasn’t just interested—he was inspired.

He rushed home, bursting through the door of the cramped apartment he shared with Mike Ippolito and another friend, nearly knocking one of them over in the process.  “I’ve got it,” he announced, pacing back and forth in their tiny living room. “We’re launching a consulting firm to help companies figure out Ethereum!”

His roommates stared at him, amused but unconvinced. Jason was undeterred. Hours after learning more about Ethereum, he was already dreaming big.

The next morning, reality set in. Jason and Mike sat in their shared bedroom, sipping coffee and trying to make sense of the grand plans they’d cooked up the night before.

“This is a terrible idea,” Mike said, shaking his head. “We’re 23. Nobody knows who we are. Consulting is all about trust, experience, and credibility. We don’t have any of that.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, considering Mike’s words. He wasn’t wrong. Consulting firms weren’t built by fresh college grads with no track record. They needed a way to establish themselves first, a way to build trust. That’s when Mike had an idea. “Let’s start with events,” he suggested. “We’ll host our own, build a brand, and create a community. Then, maybe, we can talk to them about consulting.”

Jason was intrigued. Mike explained that during his time at a small consulting firm, he’d seen firsthand how much weight trust carried in the industry. “If we can prove we know what we’re talking about and get people in the room,” Mike reasoned, “it’ll make everything else easier.”

Jason was sold. The pair began brainstorming what their events could look like, but it wasn’t long before they realized just how messy the crypto event space already was.

The first crypto event Mike ever attended featured Alex Mashinsky as the keynote speaker. Mashinsky years later would be accused of fraud, but even at the time, something about him seemed off)

“This guy seems really shady,” Jason said to Mike as they watched the presentation.

The event itself didn’t impress them either. The information was vague, the speakers uninspiring, and the atmosphere reeked of get-rich-quick schemes. But in the midst of their disappointment, an idea began to form.

“Look at this,” Jason whispered, gesturing to the room. “There are 100 people here. They all paid $50 to attend. That’s $5,000.”

Mike nodded. “And the event is terrible,” Jason continued. “We could do this so much better.”

It was a lightbulb moment. They decided then and there to host their own event—one that would be better organized, more professional, and genuinely valuable. The two were now bought in; they would launch crypto events and eventually use it to sell their consulting services. The next step was making it official. On December 10, 2017, Jason and Mike went to Staples and bought a $20 whiteboard. Or rather, they negotiated the price down to $15 because the back of the board was chipped. With the whiteboard in hand, they incorporated Blockworks Group. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a start.

“We built the company ass-backwards,” Jason later admitted. “We didn’t know what we were building. We just wanted to make money in the crypto space and move the conversation about crypto forward in a responsible way.”

They didn’t start with a clear vision for what Blockworks would become. Instead, they let the pieces fall into place as they went along. Even in those early days, Jason and Mike shared a foundational belief: crypto was going to be huge. They saw a future where institutional investors—Wall Street firms, venture capitalists, private equity, and even sovereign wealth funds—would dive into the space.

“The last time finance underwent a massive transition was in the 1980s and 1990s when it was digitized,” Jason later explained. “That created opportunities for companies like Bloomberg and Charles Schwab. Now, finance is moving on-chain, and it’s going to create the biggest opportunity for media and information in 40 years.”

Jason believed there was a gap in the market. The existing crypto media landscape relied on Reddit threads and Twitter posts—sources that were too informal and unreliable for the institutional crowd. “People are going to demand a more sophisticated level of information,” Jason said. “Why not us?”

In January 2018, Jason and Mike decided to host their first event. They pooled their money—$3,500 each—leaving them with barely $1,000 in their bank accounts. It was a gamble, but they believed in what they were building.

The event was their first real test, and it marked the beginning of Blockworks as we know it…. 

CHAPTER 4 - The Coffee

By early 2018, Jason Yanowitz and Mike Ippolito had an idea but no real roadmap to follow. If they were going to make a name for themselves in the crypto world, they needed to get people in the room—literally. Hosting their first event wasn’t just a milestone; it was a make-or-break moment for their new company..

As the alarm clock buzzed sharply at 4:00 a.m., cutting through the quiet stillness of their shared apartment. Jason groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, while Mike reached for the coffee pot they’d set up the night before. The scent of stale grounds filled the air—a poor substitute for a full night’s rest, but they didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in. Their mornings had a rhythm now: caffeine, laptops, and LinkedIn. Jason and Mike would settle into their cramped living room, the glow of their screens the only light. They didn’t waste time talking; they’d already worked out their plan. Each message was a shot in the dark, a small hope that someone out there would bite.

Every morning, fueled by caffeine and sheer determination. They would rip through LinkedIn, sending out hundreds of messages to potential attendees. “Between the two of us, we sent 600 messages a day for 30 days,” Jason later recalled. “Eighteen thousand messages total. Half of them didn’t even open it, 10% replied, and maybe 1% actually bought a ticket. But it worked.”

When the first event launched on February 27th 2018, their hustle had paid off. The event began at 6 p.m., and by the time the doors opened, 225 people had shown up. Each ticket sold for $20 to $30, netting them a $5,000 profit—a modest but significant win.

Jason could feel the tension in the air as attendees settled into their seats. Mike stepped onto the stage to welcome the crowd. “Keep in mind,” Jason said later, “this was the first event we’d ever hosted.” Mike greeted the audience with a confidence Jason admired, though he couldn’t help but chuckle at the opening line: “Welcome to another Blockworks Group event! It’s so nice to see so many familiar faces in the crowd.”

There were no familiar faces—this was their first event—but the room sat listening eagerly regardless. 

Fueled by the success of the February event, Jason and Mike made a decision that many would call reckless: they quit their day jobs to pursue Blockworks full time. In May 2018, they walked away from steady paychecks with no grand business plan in sight.

“When we quit,” Jason remembered, “the pitch wasn’t, ‘Hey, we’re going to build a multi-thousand-person conference or a data platform.’ It was, ‘We’re leaving our cushy jobs to host crypto meetups.’”

At the time, the crypto market was in chaos. The ICO boom had burst, scams were rampant, and skepticism ran high. “People thought we were crazy,” Jason said. But to him and Mike, the risk felt necessary.

Barely 10 days after leaving their jobs, they threw themselves into working on their second event. This time, they aimed bigger—too big, perhaps. The venue was a cavernous warehouse in Brooklyn, chosen to coincide with Blockchain Week. Their confidence was sky-high. “We thought, ‘Oh my God, this is going to be so successful. We’re going to make a bunch of money,’” Jason later admitted.

Instead, the event was a flop.

The room, while not empty, felt uncomfortably spacious. Ticket prices had been jacked up, banking on the Blockchain Week buzz to carry them, but the strategy backfired. The panels were unfocused, the audience smaller than expected, and for the first time, Jason and Mike found themselves in the red.

“We lost money,” Jason said. “It was the only event we’ve ever lost money on.”

The sting of failure was softened by the lessons they took away. They realized that specialization was key—if they were going to attract sponsors and build a loyal audience, they needed to focus their events and create something truly unique. This is something Blockworks still has core in their way of launching podcasts, business arms and other services to this day.

By July 2018, Jason and Mike were ready for another shot. They had learned from their Brooklyn misstep, and this time, they were determined to get it right. The event titled Capital Raising and Investing in the Age of Blockchain, (whatever that means) needed a big name to draw a crowd. 

Enter Anthony “Pomp” Pompliano.

Jason and Mike had heard of Pomp’s growing influence in the crypto world and knew he could bring credibility and buzz to their event. But getting him to say yes wasn’t easy. 

“We emailed him nine times. No response,” Jason recalled. 

Ten times. No response. 

Eleven times. Finally, he replied: ‘I’ll speak at your damn event if you stop emailing me. I’m in Japan, please stop emailing me.’”

With Pomp on board, the event began to take shape. They secured their first significant sponsorship—$8,000 from a client of Alexis Johnson, a new contact. For Jason and Mike, the sponsorship money was game-changing, proving that events could do more than sell tickets; they could build relationships and generate revenue in new ways.

Held in a modest building in Chinatown, the event was a success. The crowd buzzed with excitement, and Pomp’s keynote speech added credibility to their fledgling brand. It also planted the seeds for what would later become a major part of their business: podcasting.

By mid-2019, Jason and Mike felt ready to level up. Their happy-hour-sized events had built a strong foundation, but if they wanted to be taken seriously in the crypto media world, they needed to go bigger.

Their sights landed on Cipriani, one of New York’s most iconic venues. The cost? $250,000. Their bank account? $230,000.

“It was a bet-the-company moment,” Jason said. “If we lost even $10,000, we were out of business.”

To manage the logistics, they hired their first COO, Julie Muroff. On her first day, she walked them through the budget. The projected costs were double what Blockworks had made in the previous year. Jason and Mike, too afraid to backtrack, nodded solemnly.

“Sounds good,” they said.

The Digital Asset Summit (DAS), held at Cipriani, was a gamble in every sense of the word. But the high production value and polished execution paid off. The event established Blockworks as a serious player in the crypto media space, proving that they could operate on the same level as industry giants.

By the end of 2019, Blockworks had transformed from a scrappy idea into a growing force in the crypto world. Their events were thriving, their sponsorships growing, and new ideas—like podcasting—were beginning to take shape. But as momentum built, a new challenge loomed on the horizon: the global pandemic.

Little did they know, the ‘rona’ would soon test everything they had built….. 

CHAPTER 5 - The Eighty-Two Percent

When Jason and Mike met Pomp in person, they were brimming with nerves and excitement. Pomp didn’t waste time. “I want to become the Joe Rogan of business,” he said. “I want a podcast. Do you know how to create a podcast?”

Jason and Mike exchanged glances, their entrepreneurial instincts kicking in. “Absolutely,” they said in unison, even though neither of them had the faintest idea how to do it.

That night, they sat at their laptops, frantically Googling “how to start a podcast.” They cobbled together a plan and got to work, using Pomp’s office as their makeshift headquarters. Seven days a week, they showed up—Saturdays and Sundays included—alongside Pomp, grinding to bring the podcast to life.

By the time Pomp’s show launched, it was clear they had tapped into something special. For Jason and Mike, this was more than just a side project; it was the beginning of what would become the largest podcast network in crypto.

After the success of launching Pomp’s podcast, Jason and Mike knew they had a winning formula. They quickly moved to replicate it, partnering with big names in the crypto world like Meltem Demirors, Jill Carlson, Ryan Selkis, and Charlie Shrem.

Their pitch was simple: “We’ll build your show for you. We’ll handle the production, editing, and monetization. You just sit in front of the mic and talk.” It was a 50-50 revenue share that worked well for both sides, especially since Jason and Mike had no upfront capital.

Within 18 months, they had built the largest podcast network in crypto. But as successful as the model was, it had one glaring flaw: they didn’t own the content. “It was a great way to make money,” Jason later admitted, “but a terrible way to build long-term leverage.”

Still, the network gave them invaluable experience and connections, setting the stage for even bigger moves ahead. For a while, things seemed to be running smoothly. The podcast network was generating solid revenue, their events business was thriving, and Blockworks was steadily growing its footprint in the crypto space. Then, in early 2020, the world came to a screeching halt.

You know it. I know it, but in March 2020, everything changed. COVID hit, and with it, 82% of Blockworks’ revenue—generated almost entirely from conferences—disappeared overnight.

Jason, Mike, and COO Julie Muroff found themselves back at the drawing board. “We’d come into the city with masks on,” Jason recalled, “and spend hours whiteboarding what Blockworks was supposed to be(come now).”

They threw around every idea imaginable. Should they build a “Morning Brew for crypto”? Pivot to cannabis? Compete with CNBC by focusing on video?

Ultimately, they landed on a simple yet powerful realization: there were already players like CoinDesk and Cointelegraph in the crypto media space, but none of them were doing it at the level Jason and Mike believed was possible. “Everyone’s doing a 6/10 job,” Jason said. “We wanted to build a 10/10 media company.”

As Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the numbers Julie had written on the whiteboard. The budget for their new media venture was double what Blockworks had made the previous year. Julie, their newly hired COO, stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, waiting for their reaction. Jason glanced at Mike, who looked just as stunned.

“Sounds good,” Jason finally said, breaking the silence.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

The truth was, they were terrified. If the rebrand and new strategy didn’t work, Blockworks would go under. But there wasn’t time for hesitation.

They started by cutting off one of their most reliable revenue streams: the outsourced podcast network. It was a painful but necessary decision. “We needed to own the IP,” Jason said. “If we wanted to control our future, we had to start from scratch.”

Jason launched Empire, a podcast focused on crypto deep dives, while Mike debuted On The Margin, covering macroeconomic trends. They weren’t just building shows; they were proving to themselves—and their team—that they could do it.

At the same time, they worked with a Miami-based agency to rebrand Blockworks. The name was streamlined, the website overhauled, and the vision sharpened. It was all or nothing.

“If it didn’t work,” Jason admitted later, “Blockworks was going to end.”

By the time crypto hit its peak in 2021, Blockworks was thriving. Their podcasts were gaining traction, their editorial site was live, and their team was growing. But while competitors were hiring at a breakneck pace and chasing speculative opportunities, Jason and Mike held the line.

They watched as other crypto media companies ballooned to 150 employees, inflating their operations during the market frenzy. Blockworks, in contrast, ended the year with just 50 people—a lean team built for the long haul.

“Everyone else was chasing the euphoria,” Jason said. “But we knew better. Markets don’t stay hot forever.”

Their discipline paid off. When the market cooled, Blockworks was well-positioned to weather the downturn. They weren’t scrambling to downsize or reconfigure their strategy—they were doubling down.

“Now that we’re at the bottom of the market,” Jason said, “we’re more aggressive than ever. This is when the real work happens.”

By early 2021, Blockworks was no longer just a collection of podcasts and events. It had become a proper media company, complete with an editorial team, a rebranded identity, and a growing audience. Jason and Mike had bet the farm—and it worked. But as they looked to the future, they knew the challenges were far from over.

The next chapter would bring new opportunities, from expanding their media offerings to navigating the unpredictable world of crypto. And just on the horizon was a new, untapped frontier: a pandemic-era pivot that would reshape the business yet again.

For Part II, see this link: Blockworks: Raising the Stakes (Part II).