In episode 3 of Open Tab, Substack co-founder Hamish McKenzie shared a few rounds with filmmaker and tech journalist Ashlee Vance at Fred’s Place, a longtime neighborhood dive in Mountain View just minutes from where the technology that gave Silicon Valley its name was born. After two decades covering tech for major publications, Ashlee circled the globe for Hello World, Bloomberg’s travel-tech documentary series exploring “the freshest, weirdest tech creations” and introducing viewers to “the beautiful freaks behind them.” That same pull toward tech’s biggest risk-takers also led him to write a bestselling biography of Elon Musk, based on months of interviews and unusually direct access—a profile Musk first praised as “95% accurate” before turning on it at publication.
With Core Memory , the media company he founded and now runs on Substack, Ashlee is still writing, reporting, and making films, but with his own shop and team. He says his work gives audiences a window into where the world is going six or seven years before the rest of the culture catches up. In his conversation with Hamish, he talks about what it actually takes to get close to a subject, why he walked away from what he called the best job in media, and the stories and formats he’s building as the bet seems to be paying off.
CORE MEMORY
Started: 2025
Subscribers: Thousands of paid (orange checkmark bestseller)
Format: Newsletter, podcast, video series, documentary films
Team: A crew of writers, producers, editors, and a social media team, led by Ashlee alongside a COO, a chief creative officer, and an operations lead
Extensions and verticals: Multiple writers producing regular newsletter sends across beats; podcast; merch; feature documentary projects in production, including an upcoming Neuralink documentary produced and self-funded through the company
Hamish: Why are we here at Fred’s Place in Mountain View?
Ashlee: I spent most of my early 20s in the Tenderloin [in San Francisco] bonding with dive bars. It was part of my lifestyle. Fred’s has been here for about 60 years. They go back to the ’50s. And down the road, probably about a mile from here, is where Fairchild Semiconductor was—which was like the first real semiconductor company. There’s always been this part of Silicon Valley culture that I like, which is they were boozers. As the chip industry was starting to explode, they were pushing the limits of physics, they were pushing the limits of chemistry, they were all super-competitive at their companies. But as engineers are wont to do, they couldn’t help themselves but come to the bar and reveal how they’d just gotten past something that was challenging the whole industry. They would all share this knowledge, and then the whole industry would move forward. Even today, you have AI companies in this multi-trillion-dollar life-and-death struggle. And those guys don’t go to bars, but they meet up and share their takeaways. They do hot yoga and then share how they figured something out. The same thing, though. So I thought, this bar will be symbolic of those roots and traditions.
Hamish: Ten years ago, you published the first good biography of Elon Musk, which became a massive bestseller and a phenomenon in its own right. You got a lot of access to Elon through the writing of that book. It must have been hard to convince him to give you that time in the first place. Can you tell me about what that experience was like, working on a book like that while giving access to the principal—and this particular kind of principal, who’s prickly?
Ashlee: It was really strange. I’d done a big magazine story on him—that was the first time I’d met him—and we’d got along okay. There was some kind of rapport, and that’s what made me a little bit confident about doing the book. But when I told him what I was doing, he said, “No, I’m not going to participate. I’m not going to help you.” So I spent two years interviewing hundreds of people. Huge chunks of them would report back to Elon. I always thought it was going to work out okay, because he wasn’t actively telling people not to talk to me. He wasn’t making it miserable, which would’ve made life a lot harder. Back then, he was already really litigious. People were afraid of him. Nobody had ever written anything truly revealing. He was kind of the weirdo, almost like a circus freak. I’d come into all these meetings and everyone was like, “He’s going to sue me. I don’t want to talk.” It was really hard for a couple of years.
Then one day I was actually ready to start writing, done with all my interviews. He must have some sixth sense, because it was almost in that moment he called. Elon Musk on my caller ID. I had a landline back then. He said, “You’ve been way more persistent than I ever imagined. I’ll do interviews with you if I can read the book before it comes out and make changes.” I said, “Well, I’m not going to do that. Let’s have dinner and hash it out.” It was one of those moments where he’d either say yes or no. Right there on the spot, he said, “Okay, fine. We’ll do one interview a month for as long as you feel like you need.” Which was incredibly fair.
So we’d meet for dinner once a month. Some dinners were an hour, some were four hours—just depended on his schedule and how things were going. It was totally different days. We’d show up to restaurants in Mountain View, Palo Alto. He’d walk in by himself, sit down at the table. No security, nothing. He had a driver, but the driver didn’t even come in. And nobody in the restaurant seemed to notice who he was.
Hamish: So you got a good book out of it, sold 6 or 7 million copies. What was his response like when it came out?
Ashlee: It was funny. I made sure all the books were on boats heading to stores—about five or six days before it was going to be in stores. I just wanted everything to be where he couldn’t undo it, file a lawsuit and block it or something. But he had spent so much time and been really fair, and it felt like he should read it first. So I sent him a PDF the week before it came out, went to bed, and woke up to this stream of emails. He was basically live-blogging the book as he went through it. He’s always been hung up on the Tesla founding question. Marc Tarpenning and Martin Eberhard, the original founders, would say they founded Tesla. Elon would say, “No, I founded Tesla.” When you look at it, they had filed the paperwork, they were working on it. Would Tesla exist without Elon? Definitely not.
Hamish: Especially not in the way that it currently exists.
Ashlee: No way. In the fact-checking process I told him, “Elon, I am going to say that Marc and Martin founded the company. There is no way around this.” He said, “I understand.” And then in the emails, he’s going off about it again. But otherwise he was okay—really just two things upset him. I’d written about when he and his brother Kimbal were coming out here to start Zip2 and had gotten a used BMW. Kimbal told me he bought it with money from painting houses. Elon said he bought it. I told them they could fight about that. The other thing was a quote from an engineer saying Elon takes too much credit for the engineering at SpaceX. [Elon] said, “You wrote that I take too much credit.” I said, “I didn’t write that, Elon. That’s a quote from an engineer. He’s allowed to have his opinion.” Those were the things he was upset about. Otherwise, fine. He actually sent me an email—which I saved in case things got litigious—saying the book was 95% accurate. For Elon, who already hated journalists, that was incredible.
Hamish: I remember you telling me that at the time. I was like, “Well, that’s an amazing result.”
Ashlee: And it was mostly okay. Then about a week later, the Washington Post did a story: the 27 most outrageous things from the book. A big chunk of it was about what a pain in the ass he was to work for. Funny thing is, when he’d read the book, none of that had really fazed him. He’s actually kind of proud of being a tough boss. But then I think when he saw how the world was reacting to it—Tesla was just starting to get a little competition, hiring was a big thing—I think he worried people weren’t going to want to come work for him. And he just flipped the switch.
Hamish: So a week after he gave you the 95% mark, there’s a press reaction, and then he reacts in the press.
Ashlee: Yeah. He starts saying things—there’s the Google acquisition thing. He’s like, “Who told you that?” I said, “Elon, you know who told me that.” And that was the first time I really experienced firsthand some of what I’d heard about. Emails saying things like, “You’re an a*****e. I’m going to destroy your life.” I figured he needed to vent. But then a friend inside Tesla told me, “He’s just asked me to find the world’s best libel lawyer.” And I think—I’ve never confirmed this with Elon—but I think he did ask somebody whether it was physically possible to buy every copy of the book worldwide and make it disappear.
Hamish: Did he know publishers can print new copies?
Ashlee: He knew. He was sending me all this stuff, but he knew. And it was frightening. He wasn’t the richest person in the world, but he had about $4 billion. Part of me thought, “Any of this is good. If he sues me, it’s fantastic, I’ll just sell more copies.” But then you think, “He might actually bankrupt me. I don’t know if the publishers will have my back.” I think he was going through the same calculus—like, “I’m going to bash him, but how much do I want to go? It’s only going to get him more publicity.” We didn’t speak at all for about three years—2015 to 2018. Total incommunicado. Every now and then I’d drop him a note, or SpaceX would do a launch and I’d say congratulations. Nothing really came back.
Then around 2018, I was in New Zealand. I was staying at an Airbnb, and same thing—Elon Musk calling on my phone. The last thing he had said to me was something like, “I want you to die.” And he’s like, “Hey, you’re in New Zealand. I’ve never been. I always wanted to reenact the FBI raid on Kim Dotcom.” That was the first thing out of his mouth. I was like, “Okay, we’re not going to talk about what has transpired.” Tesla was just getting out of the worst of its production hell, and he said, “Look, you’re one of the few people on earth who actually knows the history of this company and what it would take to get through this. Do you want to come speak to all the people who worked on it?” I’d basically stopped reporting on anything SpaceX, Tesla, Elon—PTSD, I just didn’t want to do it. But I said, “Okay, this is pretty good.” And then we just shot the s**t for a bit, totally as if nothing had ever happened. That started to open things back up. We just started dropping notes every now and then—Twitter DMs, I think. And then he sent something to the effect of “I understand now what this book did.” Basically: you did a good job. Whatever had happened, he seemed to have gotten over it.
Hamish: You started Core Memory: it’s video, it’s shows, it’s documentary, it’s podcasts on video, interviews, scoops, feature writing—which is a lot. You’ve started hiring people, you’re building up a new kind of institution. What is that institution you’re trying to build?
Ashlee: I think what we’re giving the audience is [a window into] six or seven years out of where the world is going. Because I’ve done this for so long and know so many people, you get to ride along on this journey and have this window into that.
Hamish: You’re six or seven years ahead of what mainstream culture is going to catch up on?
Ashlee: Yeah, especially where tech is going. We get to transport you into where the future is heading. I enjoy eccentric, weird people and I’m not terribly judgmental of them. I like people to hear what those kinds of people think, and then you can make up your own mind about whether that’s horrible or good or interesting. I still have this conversation—and it’s like, “We would really like to see this with the New York Times or the Bloomberg masthead on it.” And I’m like, “Okay, that’s not going to happen. Do you understand that I’ve collected all the world’s people that you actually care about into one spot?” Even from the first month I started on Substack—I know how many readers I had, I had all the Bloomberg stats, [and] people grossly overestimate how many views stories on some of those platforms are getting—from the first month, we were doing like six, seven, eight times as many on Core Memory on Substack.
Hamish: People who don’t know the media as well over-optimize for brands that were prestigious in the last century, not knowing those outlets are not reaching a wide audience—not reaching the right audience.
Ashlee: I’ve got a story I’ve been haggling about with someone right now, and they want the Times or Bloomberg on it because they’re like, “We want SEO for jobs, for new hires.” I’m like, “Do you know how the internet works? Everyone on earth is going to read this story.” Sometimes I feel like the PR people are still in that old world. Because what they’re saying just makes no objective sense.
Hamish: To their defense, the world has changed fast. YouTube taking over televisions, taking over the living room—which is now a true, undeniable thing—happened pretty quickly. At most you could say it’s been 10 years, but even 10 years is a short time given the whole life of media. And people who are in the industries that still write about themselves are so invested in that way of being. I subscribe to all the media newsletters. The degree to which they freak out over who’s running a terrestrial television station is absurd relative to its actual influence and relevance.
Ashlee: Yeah. When we first started our YouTube channel and I saw that 65% were watching on TV, that blew me away.
Hamish: What has changed for you, going from being an employed journalist at institutions to being an owner?
Ashlee: [It’s] super-weird. Exhilarating. It’s been an incredible amount of work. Just to get this off the ground, I had to be the face of things—people were coming for my writing voice, my video voice. I’d spent all these years building some kind of reputation. I’m hiring writers, we’re having other people doing video and podcasts. That’s the way it should go, because I want to build a bigger thing. So this first year has been exhilarating and a lot of work.
I had what I think was the best job in media. Bloomberg paid me really well to do whatever I wanted. I got to talk to the world’s most fascinating people in depth. I had the last cushy magazine writer job. I could go to Ukraine—I didn’t even have to clear it with anyone. I could hang out there for two weeks, take a year to file the story. No one said anything. That used to be the norm for a lot of people. I probably might literally be the last person to do that. So it was a hard job to walk away from. But from day one [on Substack], you write a story and you see people read it, you get feedback, you see money come in for your effort. It’s totally different to a paycheck. And then we’ve been building this team. I wish I’d done this a lot sooner, because I think this was always kind of in me. You do have to be a little bit of an entrepreneur. I was always that way—always doing books on the side, documentaries on the side. In literally four days it’ll be a year since we started. We’ve launched so much, and I wouldn’t go back.
Hamish: It’s impressive to see you here with such energy on a Tuesday morning in a bar in Mountain View, given how much you take on. You are writing a lot, reporting a lot, making videos, making documentaries, running a company. I salute that. Thanks for showing the way for other people.
Ashlee: We’re not even at noon yet. We still have time to do more shots. Cheers, man. Cheers.
FOOTNOTES
Fred’s Place, Mountain View, California—Silicon Valley watering hole where the early chip industry’s best-kept secrets had a way of coming out after the second round.
Fred’s Special—a PBR and a shot of Old Crow
Fairchild Semiconductor—The birthplace of Silicon Valley, just a few minutes down the road.
Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—Worked at Fairchild before leaving to found Intel.
Geek Silicon Valley—Ashlee’s first book.
Elon Musk: Tesla, SpaceX, and the Quest for a Fantastic Future (2015)—Ashlee’s biography. The first serious account of Musk’s life and companies.
The Simpsons, “The Musk Who Fell to Earth”
Zip2—Elon and Kimbal Musk’s first company. Also the source of an unresolved dispute about who paid for a used BMW.
Kim Dotcom—Internet entrepreneur, subject of a dramatic 2012 FBI raid on his New Zealand mansion. The first thing Elon said when he called Ashlee out of the blue in 2018, after three years of silence, was that he’d always wanted to reenact it.
Rocket Lab/Peter Beck—New Zealand rocket company and its founder, from Invercargill. Ashlee did a full road trip following Beck’s life, which became When the Heavens Went on Sale and Wild Wild Space for HBO.
Neuralink—Elon’s brain-computer interface company. Ashlee has had exclusive access for years and is now making a documentary through Core Memory.
Hello World (Bloomberg)—Ashlee’s travel-tech documentary series. Emmy-nominated in its first year. By far Bloomberg’s most-watched show, by a factor Ashlee describes as roughly 10,000x.
EVE Online—A cultish, ruleless, multi-player space battle game that started in Iceland.
Bryan Johnson—Longevity entrepreneur. Subject of Ashlee’s documentary Don’t Die: The Man Who Wants to Live Forever (Netflix).
Kambo—A purgative ritual using secretions from the giant monkey frog. Ashlee underwent a ceremony while filming (“the best nap of [his] life”).
George Hotz—Hacker who built a DIY self-driving car in his garage. Ashlee broke the story, then rode in the car on what turned out to be its first freeway run.
Zoox—Autonomous vehicle company. Ashlee did an early ride from Palo Alto to San Francisco.
New episodes of Open Tab drop weekly through June. You can watch on YouTube, listen wherever you get your podcasts, and always find the full series here on Substack.
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