A pioneer in reality television, Mark Burnett is best known for creating the Emmy Awardâwinning reality show Survivor. In doing so, he revolutionized the âunscriptedâ drama series and introduced millions of people worldwide to an entirely new television genre.
Burnett is a former member of the British Army Parachute Regiment, with active service medals in both the Northern Ireland and Argentina conflicts. He began his television career by creating the trailblazing adventure series Eco-Challenge. He served as executive producer on nine Eco-Challenge events and programs, earning a Sports Emmy Award for Outstanding Program Achievement for Eco-Challenge: Morocco.
Since Survivor, Burnett has also produced the popular reality shows The Apprentice, The Contender, and Rock Star: INXS for network television, and he partnered with Steven Spielberg to produce a filmmaking competition series called On the Lot. In 2004, Burnett was featured in Time magazineâs âTime 100 Listâ of the most influential people in the world and has been cited several times by Entertainment Weekly as one of the âTop 101 Most Powerful People in Entertainment.â
Mark Burnett is the quintessential visionary. When most producers were focused on discovering the next hit sitcom or drama, Burnett was building a reality television empireâand changing the American appetite for small-screen entertainment. Every task he sets his mind to has to be bigger and better than the last. And one key to Burnettâs immense success is his incredible work ethic: No job or task is beneath him if it means accomplishing his goals.
âTO ME, SUCCESS PROVIDES THE GLORIOUS PRIVILEGE OF BECOMING INDEPENDENT.â
I grew up in London. As a kid I was enamored of Rambo. My idea of adventure was being in the military, with bandoliers and bullets hanging over my chest. Becoming a Special Forces soldier was all I ever wanted to do at that time, so at the age of eighteen I joined the British Army Parachute Regiment.
I served in Ireland and in the Falklands. It was way scarier than I imagined. And in retrospect, as an older man, the fact that bureaucrats are sending young kids to do things that they probably wouldnât do themselves is kind of annoying.
After the Falklands War, which was the first trench warfare in many decades, I didnât see another war on the horizon. I also didnât particularly want to go back to firing blank ammunition in training, and the idea of spending many more years waiting for another war began to wear thin.
Instead, I decided to seek out the American dreamâbut in order to make that happen, I needed money. I had heard there was work available in Central America for experienced foreign soldiers. I had a contact who was recruiting from California. Fresh off a stint in the British paratroopers, I felt that soldiering in Central America was the best use of my skill set at the time and the best way for me to save some money and give myself a start in America once I was done.
What I hadnât counted on was how horrified my parents would be. I had just finally left the parachute regiment, and already I was planning to carry weapons again. They didnât even know the truth; they thought I was going to do some bodyguard-type work in Los Angeles.
At the airport, as I was leaving, my mother looked into my eyes and said, âDonât you think youâve put us through enough?â She made me promise before boarding the plane: âNo carrying guns.â As an only child, I had major guilt. But there was no way to avoid the issue, so, reluctantly, I promised her. I got on that plane to California with a one-way ticket, $600, and no idea what I would do when I got there.
I had no advanced formal education. No family wealth to fall back on. No business connections. No marketable skills. For the first time in many years, I felt a nervous, sick feeling in my stomach.
When I got to L.A., I called the only person I knew thereâan English guy named Nick Iâd known since I was ten. He had a chauffeur-type job, and almost immediately he managed to hook me up with a nanny job in Beverly Hills.
I didnât really think about the humor in thatâa commando one day, a nanny the next. I just knew I needed a job, and that nanny job solved the problem. Thatâs one thing about my personality: I live in the now, and Iâm always looking for solutions to problems. Iâm focused on prioritizing, and my priority at that moment was finding somewhere to live, food, and money. Driving someoneâs kids to school and vacuuming the living room carpet certainly wasnât glamorous, but it was a start. Iâve since noticed that people who truly want to make it donât consider any task beneath them; they just do whatever it takes. The first job I ever performed in America was unloading a dishwasherâand it was the first one Iâd ever seen. At home, my mother was our dishwasher!
I learned a lot in that nanny job. I learned about American culture and the American way of life. I also learned that despite their lavish lifestyle, their education, and their big bank account, the people I worked for werenât that much different from me. My logic and intelligence was absolutely on a par with theirs. I also learned that Americans in general are very open-minded people who are willing to give you a break. Americans lack cynicism.
Americans are results-based; theyâre open to giving people a chance. If you were at a party and half the guests were Americans and half British, and somebody said, âOh, my God, thereâs a seventeen-foot purple giraffe in the front yard,â the Brits wouldnât bother to get off their asses; their cynical nature requires them not to believe any outrageous claim for fear of looking stupid. Most Americans, on the other hand, would rush to look out the windowâbut theyâd also quickly realize it was a joke, and theyâd laugh heartily at themselves.
The moral of that story is that on the day a purple giraffe finally appears out in the yard, only the Americans will see it! They will not miss any opportunity. Iâm an American citizen now. I always look out the window for the purple giraffe.
What I took away from the nanny experience, and from spending time around such wealthy people for the first time in my life, was simple: âWork for yourself. Start a small, low-capital business and become independent.â So I started selling T-shirts on Venice Beach and eventually expanded into having five outlets.
By 1991, Iâd finally achieved some level of success in America. Less than a decade after arriving, I had a home, a car, and a growing business. I no longer woke up dreading that I was on the verge of ruin. Life felt good. But then came one of the worst setbacks ever: I discovered that my mother was dying of cancer. Probably as a search for meaning, I started going to Tony Robbinsâs seminars to analyze and reevaluate my life plans. âStop working for a living and start designing a life,â he said. âYou need to write down what you really want.â What I really wanted was adventureâwhich goes right back to why I joined the parachute regiment in the first place. And I also wanted to be wealthy.
The universe works in mysterious ways, and it was around this time that an article in the Los Angeles Times caught my eye. It was about a French adventure competition called the Raid Gauloises. The Raid was held in a different exotic country every year. That year, the location was Costa Rica.
The races were grueling. They lasted up to two weeks and covered several hundred miles. The goal was for each team to race three hundred miles nonstop, over mountains, down rivers, and through jungles so snake-infested that the teams carried their own supply of antivenin. They also carried all their own food, water, and gear. They were so driven to reach the finish line that the winner slept just one hour per night. It reminded me so much of my parachute regiment daysâonly without the weaponsâthat it seemed the perfect competition to indulge the adventurous, hardship-loving side of me.
But could it also be a way to make money?
The concept of expedition racing wasnât new to me. I had read articles about similar races being held through the glaciers and fjords of New Zealandâs Southern Alps. The French race grew out of that concept. But reading the Times that morning, I suddenly became consumed with an idea: I should launch an expedition-length race of my own in the United States.
Around this time, Outside magazine was also doing quite well. Clearly, Americans were becoming more interested in the outdoors. I did some research and found that sales of tents and sleeping bags and backpacks had skyrocketed. And I read a study that said the 1990s would be about three dominant themes: the ecology, extreme sports, and self-actualization through challenge. In my mind, no other format combined all three like expedition racing.
I purchased the rights to the French race and decided my race would be called the Eco-Challenge. I had it all mapped out in my head. I envisioned a rigorous Eco-Challenge expedition race, with a stunning television show beamed into homes shortly thereafter. That goal became the driving force in my life.
Part of my strategy for launching Eco-Challenge was to take part in the French Raid Gauloises. Participating in that race, I figured, would give me a better understanding of what future Eco-Challenge contestants would be going through, and it would help me become a better race producer.
I ended up racing three times in the Raid Gauloises, in Oman, Madagascar, and Borneo. It was much harder, actually, than anything I had done in the army. It was brutal, but I did very well in my second outing: My team became the first American team ever to complete the Raid Gauloises.
To defray my costs of competing, I secured sponsorsâand those sponsors needed TV exposure. So for this second race in Madagascar, I managed to convince KCAL Channel 9 in Los Angeles to send a reporter to produce a one-hour special on the race, and specifically on our team. I also convinced the Raid organizers to provide me with free copies of all the footage their ten camera crews shot of the race, and in return Iâd get the race publicized on American television. The other side of this deal was that I convinced KCAL to produce a one-hour show with all the footage.
It was a win-win for everyone: The Raid was happy to have gotten exposure in America, and KCAL was happy to end up with a one-hour special that would have cost more than $1 million to produce if theyâd shot it themselves. I had achieved my major goal of satisfying my sponsors, but the best part of the entire deal was that KCAL would get to air this show only once; then the show became my property to distribute. I went on to sell it to ESPN, and the show got fairly good ratings. This is where I really began to learn how to be bold and creative in putting together a national television deal.
I first heard the idea that would become Survivor in 1995, while I was at Fox television in Los Angeles pitching Eco-Challenge. The Fox executive hearing the Eco pitch told me about this game show concept where a bunch of people were starving on a desert island. They competed for luxuries such as food and pillows. Meanwhile, a host living on a luxury yacht offshore eliminated them from the contest one by one.
The brains behind the showâs concept was a brilliant producer from England named Charlie Parsons. But the Fox exec believed that it would take someone with previous experience producing large-scale adventure-reality TV in a remote setting to pull it off. She believed Eco-Challenge qualified me.
I made it my goal to meet Charlie and show him Eco-Challenge. We hit it off immediately, and I ended up buying the North American rights to the show in 1998. I had a gut feeling that I could make this great concept even greater. In the months following our meeting, I thought about the island game show often, but in my mind I saw it less as a game show and more as a drama. When I traveled for business, I would look about the plane at my fellow passengers and imagine us crash-landing on an island. Where would I fit into our new society? Who would lead? Who would follow? Who would find the ordeal too hard and quit?
I wanted my Survivor to be bigger, more dramatic, and more epic than any nonfiction television ever seen.
The important thing to know is that one thing that was really beneficial to me was my naïveté. I had no clue back then about the television industry. If I had known what I know now, I might never have attempted it. Looking back, I realize it should have been impossible.
Even when I closed the deal with CBS, I wasnât certain that I could actually pull it off. I had a belief that somehow it would work out, but I wasnât certain. I think the important thing to remember is this: Those who need certainty donât do anything, because nothing is ever certain. Somehow, my dogmatic, persevering nature, coupled with the naĂŻvetĂ© of just believing it would all work out, made it work out.
The challenges and adventures of Eco-Challenge had taught me to rely on my gut, but it was Survivor that made me put that skill to use every day. I had a gut feeling all along that Survivor was going to be a big hit. I felt this so strongly that when I pitched the show to Leslie Moonves at CBS, I began by handing him a mock issue of Newsweek with Survivor on the cover. I wanted him to know I truly believed Survivor would be that huge. And when the show became a hit, both Time and Newsweek actually did end up putting Survivor on their covers!
One of my favorite poems is by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Itâs called âEpistle to a Young Friend.â Hereâs a verse that has always driven me:
Itâs from the 1700s, but it is equally relevant today. Think of what it says: If you want to become wealthy, you really have to work at itâassiduously. But the motive shouldnât be to hoard it. The motive should be independence.
To me, success provides the glorious privilege of becoming independent.