Hi everyone,

Every Tuesday evening for the past three years, I’ve tried to serve you at least a little inside dope that makes you smarter, or at least appear more worldly at parties. Well, it is Tuesday, and I might as well get to the point: After some 186 weekly sends, this is the final edition of The Stratosphere.

Next month, I’ll be joining The New York Times in Washington to continue covering what I’ve been writing about in some fashion for a decade now: the ambitions of billionaires in politics and philanthropy. I’m excited to report the hell out of the presidential race and, as always, all things rich people.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say my leaving is not without some regret. This product has been my baby. Three years ago next week, I stood at a high-top table at a taquería in the Inner Sunset to mooch some WiFi and pitch my personal email list of about 900 of you on a novel idea: a no-bullshit, eye-level view into the world of major donors, all delivered directly via email. Hell, we weren’t even calling it Puck yet, but the founding team thought we could build a confederation of talent embedded in each of America’s power corridors (Silicon Valley, Wall Street, Washington, Hollywood… and now also fashion and art and sports and much more to come).

Back then, S.B.F. was just some obscure fac brat turned crypto arbitrageur holed up in Hong Kong, the child of that Stanford Law professor I had written about. Nicole Shanahan was still a hyper-ambitious mover-and-shaker in Silicon Valley high society. You knew Elon Musk then, but now you really know Elon Musk… maybe too much.

To everyone I’ve met along the way, or who was introduced to my work thanks to one of my generous Puck colleagues, I’m just getting started. I know you may miss receiving an email from me every Tuesday evening—I definitely will miss the intimate relationship—but I do hope you stay in touch, and I’ll try to do the same. (In fact, I will still be involved in a Puck project or two; more to come on all of that.) My contact info is at the end of this email.

And to those of you who helped me land stories over the last few years, I cannot thank you enough. This is a niche community of donors, philanthropists, wealth managers, and advisors who span from Silicon Valley to Washington, and I’m thankful that you let me inside the tent to serve as its bard. I hope you feel like I get it. I’m nothing without my sources, and plenty of you take risks by talking to me (even as you routinely deny to your friends that you do, of course). The good news is that I’m not going away—I’m obsessed with this beat, and want to cover it for decades to come. I suppose that’s bad news to some of you, but alas, you’re stuck with me.

And so here is my ask of you: stick with Puck. I am just one small part of a project that is absolutely worth your support. When this all started in summer 2021, I tried to keep my hopes in check. Media is tough. And yet Puck has absolutely shattered my expectations, in all honesty, and I hope it has lived up to yours, too.

So, you’re probably wondering, what happens next? Well, since you’re already subscribed to other Puck authors, just sit back, relax, and continue enjoying Puck. Or take the opportunity to jump into your inbox settings and sign up for even more reporting from my spectacular colleagues. There’s Bill Cohan’s Dry Powder, the gospel on Wall Street; Matt Belloni’s What I’m Hearing, the essential insider tip sheet read by everyone in Hollywood; Dylan Byers’ In the Room, covering the biggest stories (and egos) in the media industry; The Best & The Brightest, our daily political email led by an elite team of journalists: Julia Ioffe, Peter Hamby, John Heilemann, Tara Palmeri, Tina Nguyen, and Abby Livingston; and many more. Yes, I’m leaving, but it doesn’t take a math lesson from S.B.F. to realize that Puck is an extraordinary value: For a pretty modest price, you’re getting access to more than a dozen of the very best authors in their fields. And there’s more on the horizon from Puck in Silicon Valley, too.

I would very much like to hear from you, especially if you’ve never introduced yourself—this email address will go away, but I am always reachable at teddyschleifer@gmail.com and my phone number is: (202) 809-2946. Please send me an email or a text to say hi.

Teddy