Elon Musk made history again this month with the largest public offering of a company in the history of the known universe. Space Exploration Technologies, better known as SpaceX, began trading June 12 on the Nasdaq exchange under the ticker symbol SPCX. In the first three days, the stock soared by 50%, blasting the rocketeer past Amazon into fifth place among America’s largest companies.

While the public liftoff was impressive for its size and the hype surrounding it, what truly set this transaction apart was how Musk used his leverage to succeed in changing the rules during the final countdown and advance his own interest at the expense of shareholders.

Space Exploration Technologies is a truly intriguing collection of assets with a history of big accomplishments and even bigger ambitions. At its core is Starlink, a profitable satellite internet and data transmission operation. In the offering document, Musk imagines a network of massive orbiting data centers, which is not entirely crazy and is likely to face less political opposition from nearby residents.

SpaceX also includes the familiar rocket launch enterprise and an artificial intelligence startup called xAI with its Grok AI assistant. While private investors and Starlink have provided operating cash flows to fund the space operations, SpaceX needs substantial additional funding to support its galactic expansion plans. That requires selling shares of this privately held company to the public in an initial public offering.

The process involves a syndicate of investment banks that facilitates the sale of shares held by the company’s founders or private investors at a specific price, the proceeds of which allow early investors to cash out and provide a large injection of capital. Once the shares are sold to public buyers, they change hands on a market exchange at a price determined by supply and demand.

The prospect of the largest initial offering ever ignited a frenzy of interest. It also allowed Elon Musk to leverage the buzz of a monster IPO to convince Wall Street to bend the rules.

To win the listing, the Nasdaq stock exchange agreed to substantial waivers of its own listing rules. While new companies must typically wait at least three months before they become eligible for inclusion in the popular Nasdaq 100 index, Nasdaq jettisoned this “seasoning” period and allowed SpaceX to enter the index after only 15 days. This tech-heavy index serves as the benchmark for over $1.4 trillion in fund assets that will now be required to sell other holdings to make room for SpaceX in their portfolios. Estimates range from $8 to $15 billion in forced purchases that will create artificial demand for the stock. It also means that many passive investors in retirement funds will end up owning the stock, like it or not.

Nasdaq also waived its own liquidity rules. Ordinarily, at least 10% of the company’s shares must be offered to the public, called the “float,” or percentage, of the total stock value that trades publicly. SpaceX floated only 4.3% of its stock, with private shareholders retaining 95.7%. Using some arithmetic legerdemain, Nasdaq created a “multiplier,” triple-counting the float for companies in the top 40 by total market value. Presumably for firms whose founders’ initials are E.M.

To its credit, S&P Global Inc. considered but ultimately refused to loosen its own standards for joining the S&P 500 index, concerned about the potential reputational damage. The S&P 500 is the benchmark for $20 trillion in assets and opted to retain its 12-month seasoning period as well as a four-quarter profitability hurdle. SpaceX may one day dock with the S&P 500, but the countdown has not started.

Aside from eliciting waivers and exceptions for index inclusion, SpaceX massively advantages its visionary but mercurial founder. In its surprisingly entertaining prospectus, the company boosted Musk’s control far beyond his ownership stake. The shares issued to the public are called Class A shares, and each carries one vote on matters of corporate governance. However, Musk’s stake resides in so-called Class B shares, each with 10 votes, giving Musk 84% voting control.

There are a few other little gems. The prospectus requires that any disputes between shareholders and the company must be settled privately through arbitration. Lawsuits, including the type of class action suits that tend to hold management’s feet to the fire, are expressly prohibited. And speaking of fire, Musk may only be fired by himself.

Some of these more restrictive provisions have been used before. For instance, in its initial offering, Google essentially pioneered the idea of multiple share classes that vested voting control with the founders. SpaceX propels contempt for shareholder rights into a higher orbit.

Separate from the structural disadvantage to public shareholders is the question of valuation. SpaceX lost nearly $5 billion in 2025 and another $4 billion just last quarter. The initial offering of loss-making companies is hardly new, especially in technologically emerging fields. SpaceX has reached the stratosphere.

With no profits to measure, a useful metric is the ratio of the total value of all the company’s stock divided by last year’s revenues, called the price to sales ratio. When the unprofitable Amazon went public in 1996, its total market value was three times its 1995 sales. Google’s 2004 offering priced at 15 times sales, Facebook at a hefty 28 times, and even Musk’s own Tesla launched at a multiple of 15 times sales. SpaceX cleared the tower at an otherworldly 95 times sales, soaring to 130 by the end of day two as the frenzy intensified. During the first full trading day, it comprised 75% of all stock purchases by individual investors. In the prospectus, Musk expatiates on his plan to colonize Mars. He’s halfway there.

There is no precedent for a public offering of this size, with such a long and speculative arc toward profitability and so few shareholder protections. SpaceX is a pure play wager on a precocious space cadet with interstellar aspirations astride a solid rocket booster. Enjoy the ride.

Christopher A. Hopkins, CFA, is a co-founder of Apogee Wealth Partners in Chattanooga.

BURLINGTON, Vt. (WCAX) – Initial public offerings, better known as IPOs, may seem like big investment opportunities, but a financial adviser is warning they could be a risky addition to your portfolio.

Dan Cunningham of the investment management company One Day in July, said he recommends that people stay away when a company starts selling initial shares on the stock market.

Most recently, Elon Musk’s SpaceX became the biggest IPO ever, but Cunningham said people shouldn’t get caught up in the hoopla.

“They generate a lot of excitement, but when you look at long term results, IPOs have not been a good investment. So we really try to encourage people to stay away from the hype. You are really betting on the future and taking an enormous amount of risk by buying IPO shares in many cases,” Cunningham said.

According to Cunningham, the good news is that, over the long term, the market and most retirement funds that mirror it will balance out.

DULUTH — The Duluth Homegrown Music Festival is seeking both new operational leadership and a solution to financial filing issues that caused the organization to lose its federal tax-exempt status, which it has not held since 2022.

The organization is currently operating as a taxable nonprofit, confirmed Don Ness, the former Duluth mayor who serves as president of Homegrown’s

board of directors.

Ness and the board are working to discern whether there might be any outstanding tax liabilities in the wake of an apparent filing lapse.

“It’s a serious matter that requires diligence to do things right, and to correct past oversight, and to make sure that we are in full compliance with all tax and regulatory requirements,” Ness said. “The board is 100% committed to that course of action.”

As the Duluth Monitor first reported, Homegrown had its federal tax-exempt status revoked in 2022 after failing to make required financial reports for three years. The Monitor also reported that Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison’s office has notified the organization it may be in violation of state law requiring the proper registration of soliciting charities.

“All but one of us have been on for less than a year,” Ness said of the current board members. “We’ve been committed to saying, ‘hey, we need to improve the points of accountability.’”

The organization will also require new operational leadership. Co-directors Cory Jezierski and Dereck Murphy-Williams resigned earlier this month, after leading Homegrown through four successful festivals.

“My contract ended at the end of May, and I knew a few days later that I did not want to continue in that position,” Jezierski said. “Simply put, it was the best thing for my mental health. It’s a job that requires many, many hours and a lot of work, and it can be very stressful as well.”

Amy Arntson / Duluth Media Group file photo

Murphy-Williams did not respond to an interview request for this article, nor did preceding Homegrown director Melissa LaTour. According to LaTour’s

LinkedIn profile,

she was Homegrown director from 2016 to 2022.

Jason Beckman, a recent president who is no longer serving on the board, responded to a News Tribune email but did not provide an interview availability before this article went to press.

Ness does not believe the reporting lapses were due to any ill intent. He praised Jezierski and Murphy-Williams for their success managing festival operations. “They cared deeply about the festival,” he said. “It’s amazing to see that our community continues to support this really unique and special festival.”

“Those guys run a hell of a festival,” said Scott Lunt, festival founder and a current board member. “I think they needed help with bookkeeping.”

Clint Austin / Duluth Media Group file photo

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By Jezierski’s account, issues with the festival’s tax status became apparent shortly after he became co-director. “We went to file taxes, they were rejected,” Jezierski said. “At that time we, of course, didn’t know why right away, but once we started pulling on that thread, we unraveled a whole lot of the problems that were going on.”

Jezierski said “it took a long time to try to get any sort of help” from the board, but said that by the time he and Murphy-Williams left the organization, “everything had been turned over to be reconciled” with a financial professional.

Ness, like Lunt, was deeply involved with Homegrown in its first decade but had not had an official role with the festival since then. After launching the festival in 1999 and running it on his own for several years, Lunt was “burnt out,” Ness remembered.

Derek Montgomery / Duluth Media Group file photo

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After a transition period during which the festival was run in partnership with the Ripsaw newspaper, Homegrown established a nonprofit organization in 2006 with Ness as festival director. Ness subsequently stepped down when he was elected mayor in 2007.

By 2025, Ness was in his current position as executive director of the Ordean Foundation.

“I was approached by a couple of longtime music scenesters,” Ness recalled. “They said, ‘There are questions about (Homegrown’s) nonprofit status. There are questions about some governance issues. We’re concerned.’”

Ness agreed to join the board, and became president. The 2026 festival ran smoothly from an operational standpoint, but Ness found the financial reporting to be lacking.

Clint Austin / Duluth Media Group file photo

“The last board meeting that we had prior to the (co-directors’) resignations was intended to be an overview of the festival that was a month before,” Ness said. “I certainly felt very uncomfortable with how little financial information we were receiving.”

Lunt also joined the board in 2025, marking his first time serving in that capacity. He said the new board has been spending significant time addressing the accounting and reporting issues.

“Every year at Homegrown time I’m like, ‘I should get more involved,’ and then I don’t,” Lunt said. “Then this board thing came up, and it was kind of sold to me as, like, four meetings a year. I was like, ‘Oh, that’s perfect.’ And now we’re meeting weekly.”

Clint Austin / Duluth Media Group file photo

Although it’s unclear how the organization’s finances will look when the accounting and reporting issues have been fully addressed, along with any outstanding tax liabilities, both Ness and Lunt said they are confident the annual festival will continue without interruption.

“The organization will continue,” Ness said. “The festival will continue. Homegrown is in no danger in terms of its viability.” The financial documentation Ness initially received indicated budgeted revenues of about $140,000, against about $130,000 in expenses.

“Financially, I think we’re in a great spot. We have the money to hire the (financial) professionals, and we have (done so),” Lunt said. “We were hoping that we could get all this sorted out before it had to become more public.”

“We poured countless hours into this festival, and this is how it ends, with everyone talking about this,” Jezierski said. “It’s rough.”

“There’s a DIY ethos that is really at the core of Homegrown,” reflected Ness. “We’re throwing a music festival that isn’t waiting for some famous band from the East Coast to bless us with their presence. We are doing this on our own.”

Clint Austin / Duluth Media Group file photo

That DIY spirit also means “you’re kind of passing wisdom down from person to person, and sometimes that’s imperfect.” Ness continued. “The ways that we do things evolve over time, because it’s not a buttoned-down corporate sort of thing. That can create its own set of challenges.”

“It’s self-supporting,” said Lunt about the festival. “It’s widely volunteer-run. You do need to pay a couple people, obviously, to keep track of some things, but it’s going to be strong into the future. It’s gone through its bumps before.”