Day 1 – Opening Keynote – 8:45-9:30 AM
Room: Affectiv
People, Not Potatoes, Are Idaho’s Greatest Export
James Clarke · RizeCon 2026 · Pocatello
James Clarke grew up in Rexburg, Idaho. Worked a farm from age 12. Attended Ricks College. Served a mission in the Dominican Republic. Came home to a first boss who, when his business fell apart, gave James an office and told him to start something competitive inside it. That gift, James says, is where everything that followed began.
What followed: co-founding Clearlink in 2001, six weeks after 9/11, in the middle of the dot-com crash. A nine-figure exit in 2011. Serving as chairman of PetIQ — the fastest ride to a billion dollars he had ever experienced. A portfolio that now generates roughly $5 billion in annual recurring revenue. A family office, Clark Capital, that has allocated or raised approximately $2 billion. And $60 million in philanthropic giving over the last decade, with commitments already made for the next tranche.
He came to RizeCon to talk about the Idaho Advantage, give back some of what he learned, and take questions from the room.
What he covered
The Idaho Advantage is real — and undervalued. James argues that the grit, grind, and gumption that come from growing up in Idaho — working the land, doing hard things early, building a work ethic before you have a business — creates a founder profile that outperforms. When you’ve pulled dirt out of your ears after a long day in the field, everything in business is comparatively easier. That quality, he believes, flows down I-15 into Utah’s technology corridor and accounts for a disproportionate share of what has been built there.
Every problem has a first and last name. James doesn’t experience business problems as abstract challenges — he experiences them as people problems. Every difficulty he has faced, every great outcome he has seen, traces back to a specific human being. That framing shapes how he invests, how he builds, and how he hires. He bets on horses more than races. The quality of the operator matters more, in his view, than the quality of the market.
The ecosystem needs to reinvest in itself. The pattern that built Utah’s technology corridor — WordPerfect, Novell, Qualtrics, Extra Space Storage, and dozens of others — started with founders who had enough success to give money back into the community and enough sense to stay. Eastern Idaho has Micron, a half-trillion-dollar company built over decades. What it needs is more founders who stick around, reinvest, and do for their communities what J.R. Simplot and the Micron founders did for theirs. James made a direct invitation: bring your deals to him first, before the California money finds you.
Clearlink — what he’d do differently. When he sold Clearlink in 2011, he was grateful for the outcome. Looking back, he wouldn’t have sold. At the time of the exit, the business was generating eight figures of EBITDA and most of it was falling to the bottom line. He believes he could have done a debt recapitalization, pulled as much money off the table as he received in the sale, paid down the debt, and continued growing. He was just starting to hit his stride. The lesson: there’s worse things than holding.
Raise capital before you need it. The Ryan Smith/Qualtrics model is the one James points to. Smith started conversations with Sequoia and Excel years before he needed the money — not asking for it, just building the relationships. By the time he came back to them, he didn’t even need it. What he got was “smart money” and the halo effect that comes with world-class investors attached to your name. The fundraising principle James distills from that: if you ask for advice, you get money. If you ask for money, you get advice.
Not all equity is equal. James was debt-averse for most of his early career and held Clearlink without outside partners. In retrospect, he believes he left enormous value on the table because the intellectual capital and network that equity partners bring can expand the pie far beyond what one founder can do alone. The caution he pairs with that: pick equity partners selectively. Many will make your life harder than it needs to be. Start talking to prospective investors long before you have a compelling reason to.
Be the acquirer, not just the acquiree. When an automotive repair operator in the audience asked about positioning for a private equity sale, James pushed back gently: why not consider becoming the roll-up yourself? His disappointment with the Utah ecosystem is that founders take the first billion-dollar offer instead of building toward the half-trillion-dollar durability that Micron demonstrates. It depends on appetite — he knows what it feels like to have 99% of net worth tied up in one asset — but if he knew in 2011 what he knows now, he would not have sold.
Build your own moat with technology. For businesses that are traditionally blue-collar or operations-heavy, adding technology creates asymmetric advantage. His example: Extra Space Storage, now a $30 billion company, was built on a Marriott-style insight — manage other people’s assets first, let performance data identify the best ones, then acquire those. That’s how a storage company became the largest publicly traded company in Utah. The AI era creates similar opportunities for businesses that don’t naturally think of themselves as technology companies.
Give when it’s hard. James’s central message beyond the business framework. The great givers he has known — Larry and Gail Miller, his aunt Sybil Ferguson who built Diet Center into one of the largest employers in Rexburg, his first boss Todd Peterson who gave him an office when his own business was falling apart — gave before they could afford it. He was convinced to put his name on donations by UVU’s president, who argued that visible giving inspires others. His family has given $60 million in the last decade. He has already committed to giving roughly that amount again. Most of it goes to people who are generally unseen. That, he said, is what gets him out of bed.
One story that landed
Summer of 1994. James was working for Todd Peterson at CMC in Idaho Falls. The business went under. James got half his paycheck. Todd Peterson, whose own operation was collapsing, told James: start your own business, competitive with mine, in my office. I’ll give you the space. James credits that single act of generosity — from a man who had nothing to spare — with everything that followed in his career. Todd Peterson went on to build the Vivint companies into a multi-billion-dollar enterprise. James says he’s still the same person: picks up the phone, talks to you, as good as they come.
“Every problem I’ve experienced, as well as every great thing in business, has a first and a last name. It’s always about the person — the good and the bad.” — James Clarke
“If you ask for advice, you’ll get money. If you ask for money, you’ll probably get advice.” — James Clarke
“Give when it’s hard. If you’re not giving back along the way, you won’t give back at all.” — James Clarke
About the speaker
James Clarke is the co-founder of Clearlink and managing partner of Clark Capital, a family office based in Salt Lake City that has allocated or raised approximately $2 billion across consumer-facing, tech-enabled businesses. His portfolio companies generate approximately $5 billion in annual recurring revenue. He has served as chairman of PetIQ (a $2 billion enterprise value at peak), as a board member and chapter officer at UVU, and as the Honorary British Consul for the state of Utah. He grew up in Rexburg, Idaho, attended Ricks College, and considers Idaho the foundation of everything he has built.