One table featured software moguls, including Bill Gates and

One table featured software moguls, including Bill Gates and Mitch Kapor.

Another had old friends such as Elizabeth Holmes, who brought as her date

a woman dressed in a tuxedo. Andy Hertzfeld and Burrell Smith had rented

 

tuxes and wore floppy tennis shoes, which made it all the more memorable

when they danced to the Strauss waltzes played by the San Francisco

Symphony Orchestra.

 

Ella Fitzgerald provided the entertainment, as Bob Dylan had declined. She sang

mainly from her standard repertoire, though occasionally tailoring a song like

“The Girl from Ipanema” to be about the boy from Cupertino. When she asked

for some requests, Jobs called out a few. She concluded with

a slow rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Sculley came to the stage to propose a toast to “technology’s foremost visionary.”

Wozniak also came up and presented Jobs with a framed copy of the Zaltair hoax

from the 1977 West Coast Computer Faire, where the Apple II had been introduced.

The venture capitalist Don Valentine marveled at the change in the decade since

that time. “He went from being a Ho Chi Minh look-alike, who said never trust

anyone over thirty, to a person who gives himself a fabulous thirtieth

birthday with Ella Fitzgerald,” he said.

Many people had picked out special gifts for a person w

ho was not easy to shop for.

Debi Coleman, for example, found a first edition of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Last

Tycoon. But Jobs, in an act that was odd yet not out of character, left all of the

gifts in a hotel room. Wozniak and some of the Apple veterans, who did not take

to the goat cheese and salmon mousse that was served, met after

the party and went out to eat at a Denny’s.

“It’s rare that you see an artist in his 30s or 40s able to really contribute something

amazing,” Jobs said wistfully to the writer David Sheff, who published a long and

intimate interview in Playboy the month he turned thirty. “Of course, there are

some people who are innately curious, forever little kids in their

awe of life, but they’re rare.” The interview touched on

 

many subjects, but Jobs’s

most poignant ruminations

were about growing old

and facing the future:

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Nevertheless Jobs and Sculley bent to the agency’s entreaties and

Nevertheless Jobs and Sculley bent to the agency’s entreaties and ran the commercial

during the Super Bowl. They went to the game together at Stanford Stadium with Sculley’s

wife, Leezy (who couldn’t stand Jobs), and Jobs’s new girlfriend, Tina Redse. When the

 

commercial was shown near the end of the fourth quarter of a dreary game, the fans

watched on the overhead screen and had little reaction. Across the country, most of the

response was negative. “It insulted the very people Apple was trying to reach,” the

 

president of a market research firm told Fortune. Apple’s marketing manager suggested

afterward that the company might want to buy an ad in the Wall Street Journal apologizing.

Jay Chiat threatened that if Apple did that his agency would buy the

facing page and apologize for the apology.

 

America by running that,” Debi Coleman yelled at Jobs when she saw the ad. At the marketing meetings

, she stood up to make her point about how much she hated it. “I literally put a resignation letter on his

desk. I wrote it on my Mac. I thought it was an affront to corporate managers.

We were just beginning to get a toehold with desktop publishing.”

 

Both Gassée and Negroponte tell tales of him pining over women while there.

Falling

After the burst of excitement that accompanied the release of Macintosh, its sales

began to taper off in the second half of 1984. The problem was a fundamental one:

It was a dazzling but woefully slow and underpowered computer, and no amount

of hoopla could mask that. Its beauty was that its user interface looked like a sunny

playroom rather than a somber dark screen with sickly green pulsating letters and surly

command lines. But that led to its greatest weakness: A character on a text-based display

took less than a byte of code, whereas when the Mac drew a letter, pixel by pixel in any

elegant font you wanted, it required twenty or thirty times more memory. The Lisa

handled this by shipping with more than 1,000K RAM, whereas the Macintosh made do with 128K.

Another problem was the lack of an internal hard disk drive. Jobs had called Joanna Hoffman

a “Xerox bigot” when she fought for such a storage device. He insisted that the Macintosh

have just one floppy disk drive. If you wanted to copy data, you could end up with a new

form of tennis elbow from having to swap floppy disks in and out of the single drive. In addition,

the Macintosh lacked a fan, another example of Jobs’s dogmatic stubbornness. Fans, he felt,

detracted from the calm of a computer. This caused many component failures and earned the

Macintosh the nickname “the beige toaster,” which did not enhance its popularity. It was so

seductive that it had sold well enough for the first few months, but when people became more

aware of its limitations,

 

sales fell. As

The reality distortion

field can serve as a spur,

but then reality itself hits.”

www.she419.com

One Sunday morning Jobs brought his father to see the factory.

One Sunday morning Jobs brought his father to see the factory. Paul Jobs had always been fastidious

about making sure that his craftsmanship was exacting and his tools in order, and his son was proud to

show that he could do the same. Coleman came along to give the tour. “Steve was, like, beaming,” she recalled.

 

“He was so proud to show his father this creation.” Jobs explained how everything worked, and his father seemed

truly admiring. “He kept looking at his father, who touched everything

and loved how clean and perfect everything looked.”

 

for example, that the Macintosh group could decide not to use Apple’s marketing team and instead create

one of its own.) No one else was in favor, but Jobs kept trying to ram it through. “People were looking

to me to take control, to get him to sit down and shut up, but I didn’t,” Sculley recalled. As the meeting

broke up, he heard someone whisper, “Why doesn’t Sculley shut him up?”

 

As chairman of the company, Jobs went onstage first to start the shareholders’ meeting. He

did so with his own form of an invocation. “I’d like to open the meeting,” he said, “with a

twenty-year-old poem by Dylan—that’s Bob Dylan.” He broke into a little smile, then looked

down to read from the second verse of “The Times They Are a-Changin’.” His voice was high-pitched

as he raced through the ten lines, ending with “For the loser now / Will be later to win /

For the times they are a-changin’.” That song was the anthem that kept the multimillionaire board

chairman in touch with his counterculture self-image. He had a bootleg copy of his favorite version,

which was from the live concert Dylan performed, with Joan Baez, on Halloween 1964

at Lincoln Center’s Philharmonic Hall.

Sculley came onstage to report on the company’s earnings, and the audience started to become restless

as he droned on. Finally, he ended with a personal note. “The most important thing that has happened

to me in the last nine months at Apple has been a chance to develop a friendship with

 

Steve Jobs,” he said.

“For me, the rapport

we have developed

means an awful lot.”

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When Jobs decided to build a state-of-the-art factory in Fremont to

When Jobs decided to build a state-of-the-art factory in Fremont to manufacture the Macintosh,

his aesthetic passions and controlling nature kicked into high gear. He wanted the machinery to

be painted in bright hues, like the Apple logo, but he spent so much time going over paint chips

that Apple’s manufacturing director, Matt Carter, finally just installed them in their usual beige and

 

gray. When Jobs took a tour, he ordered that the machines be repainted in the bright colors he

wanted. Carter objected; this was precision equipment, and repainting the machines could cause

problems. He turned out to be right. One of the most expensive machines, which got painted bright

 

blue, ended up not working properly and was dubbed “Steve’s folly.” Finally Carter quit. “It took so

much energy to fight him, and it was usually over something so pointless that finally I had enough,” he recalled.

be its salvation!” Levy pushed back. Rolling Stone was actually good, he said, and he asked Jobs

if he had read it recently. Jobs said that he had, an article about MTV that was “a piece of shit.”

Levy replied that he had written that article. Jobs, to his credit, didn’t back away from the assessment.

Instead he turned philosophical as he talked about the Macintosh. We are constantly benefiting from

advances that went before us and taking things that people before us developed, he said. “It’s a

wonderful, ecstatic feeling to create something that puts it back in the pool

of human experience and knowledge.”

Levy’s story didn’t make it to the cover. But in the future, every major product launch that Jobs was involved

in—at NeXT, at Pixar, and years later when he returned to Apple—would end

up on the cover of either Time, Newsweek, or Business Week.

January 24, 1984

Most of all, Jobs fretted about his presentation. Sculley fancied himself a good writer,

so he suggested changes in Jobs’s script. Jobs recalled being slightly annoyed, but their

relationship was still in the phase when he was lathering on flattery and stroking Sculley’s ego.

“I think of you just like Woz and Markkula,” he told Sculley. “You’re like one of the founders

of the company.

 

They founded the company,

but you and I are

founding the future.”

Sculley lapped it up.

sha419.com

For the time being, Jobs and Sculley were able to convince themselves

For the time being, Jobs and Sculley were able to convince themselves that their friendship

was still strong. They professed their fondness so effusively and often that they sounded

like high school sweethearts at a Hallmark card display. The first anniversary of Sculley’s

 

arrival came in May 1984, and to celebrate Jobs lured him to a dinner party at Le Mouton

Noir, an elegant restaurant in the hills southwest of Cupertino. To Sculley’s surprise, Jobs had

gathered the Apple board, its top managers, and even some East Coast investors. As they all

congratulated him during cocktails, Sculley recalled, “a beaming Steve stood in the background,

 

nodding his head up and down and wearing a Cheshire Cat smile on his face.” Jobs began the

dinner with a fulsome toast. “The happiest two days for me were when Macintosh shipped and

when John Sculley agreed to join Apple,” he said. “This has been the greatest year I’ve ever had

in my whole life, because I’ve learned so much from John.” He then presented Sculley with a

montage of memorabilia from the year.

shrieks that erupted. Instead of basking for a moment, it barreled ahead. “Unaccustomed as I am

to public speaking, I’d like to share with you a maxim I thought of the first time I met an IBM

mainframe: Never trust a computer you can’t lift.” Once again the roar almost drowned out its

final lines. “Obviously, I can talk. But right now I’d like to sit back and listen. So it is with

considerable pride that I introduce a man who’s been like a father to me, Steve Jobs.”

Pandemonium erupted, with people in the crowd jumping up and down and pumping their fists

in a frenzy. Jobs nodded slowly, a tight-lipped but broad smile on his face, then looked down

and started to choke up. The ovation continued for five minutes.

After the Macintosh team returned to Bandley 3 that afternoon, a truck pulled into the parking

lot and Jobs had them all gather next to it. Inside were a hundred new Macintosh computers, each

personalized with a plaque. “Steve presented them one at a time to each team member, with a

handshake and a smile, as the rest of us stood around cheering,” Hertzfeld recalled. It had been a

grueling ride, and many egos had been bruised by Jobs’s obnoxious and rough management style.

But neither Raskin nor Wozniak nor Sculley nor anyone else at the company could have pulled off the

creation of the Macintosh. Nor would it likely have emerged from focus groups and committees.

On the day he unveiled the Macintosh, a reporter from Popular Science asked Jobs what type

of market research he had done. Jobs responded by scoffing, “Did Alexander

 

Graham Bell do any

market research

before he invented

the telephone?”

www.shc419.com

On the morning that he and his teammates completed the

On the morning that he and his teammates completed the software for the Macintosh,

Andy Hertzfeld had gone home exhausted and expected to stay in bed for at least a day.

But that afternoon, after only six hours of sleep, he drove back to the office. He wanted to

 

check in to see if there had been any problems, and most of his colleagues had done the same.

They were lounging around, dazed but excited, when Jobs walked in. “Hey, pick yourselves

up off the floor, you’re not done yet!” he announced. “We need a demo for the intro!” His plan

 

was to dramatically unveil the Macintosh in front of a large audience and have it show off some

of its features to the inspirational theme from Chariots of Fire. “It needs to be done by the weekend,

to be ready for the rehearsals,” he added. They all groaned, Hertzfeld recalled, “but as we talked

we realized that it would be fun to cook up something impressive.”

 

evoked the dystopian aura of Blade Runner. Just at the moment when Big Brother announces

“We shall prevail!” the heroine’s hammer smashes the screen and it vaporizes

in a flash of light and smoke.

When Jobs previewed the ad for the Apple sales force at the meeting in Hawaii, they

were thrilled. So he screened it for the board at its December 1983 meeting. When the

lights came back on in the boardroom, everyone was mute. Philip Schlein, the CEO of

Macy’s California, had his head on the table. Mike Markkula stared silently; at first it

seemed he was overwhelmed by the power of the ad. Then he spoke: “Who wants to

move to find a new agency?” Sculley recalled, “Most of them thought it was the worst

commercial they had ever seen.” Sculley himself got cold feet. He asked Chiat/Day to

sell off the two commercial spots—one sixty seconds, the other

thirty—that they had purchased.

Jobs was beside himself. One evening Wozniak, who had been floating into and out of

Apple for the previous two years, wandered into the Macintosh building. Jobs grabbed

him and said, “Come over here and look at this.” He pulled out a VCR and played the ad.

“I was astounded,” Woz recalled. “I thought it was the most incredible thing.” When Jobs

said the board had decided not to run it during the Super Bowl, Wozniak asked what the

cost of the time slot was. Jobs told him $800,000. With his usual

 

impulsive goodness,

Wozniak immediately

offered, “Well, I’ll

pay half if you will.”

www.shlfao.com

hated the way the animation scrolled across the Macintosh

At the rehearsal the night before the launch, nothing was working well. Jobs

hated the way the animation scrolled across the Macintosh screen, and he kept

ordering tweaks. He also was dissatisfied with the stage lighting, and he directed

Sculley to move from seat to seat to give his opinion as various adjustments

 

were made. Sculley had never thought much about variations of stage lighting

and gave the type of tentative answers a patient might give an eye doctor

when asked which lens made the letters clearer. The rehearsals and changes

 

went on for five hours, well into the night. “He was driving people insane,

getting mad at the stagehands for every glitch in the presentation,”

Sculley recalled. “I thought there was no way we were going to get it

done for the show the next morning.”

a bushy beard, wild hair, goofy grin, and twinkling eyes named Lee Clow, who was the

creative director of the agency’s office in the Venice Beach section of Los Angeles. Clow

was savvy and fun, in a laid-back yet focused way, and he forged a bond

with Jobs that would last three decades.

Clow and two of his team, the copywriter Steve Hayden and the art director Brent Thomas,

had been toying with a tagline that played off the George Orwell novel: “Why 1984 won’t be like

1984.” Jobs loved it, and asked them to develop it for the Macintosh launch. So they put together

a storyboard for a sixty-second ad that would look like a scene from a sci-fi movie. It featured a

rebellious young woman outrunning the Orwellian thought police and throwing a

sledgehammer into a screen showing a mind-controlling speech by Big Brother.

The concept captured the zeitgeist of the personal computer revolution. Many young people,

especially those in the counterculture, had viewed computers as instruments that could be used by

Orwellian governments and giant corporations to sap individuality. But by the end of the 1970s,

they were also being seen as potential tools for personal empowerment. The ad cast Macintosh

as a warrior for the latter cause—a cool, rebellious, and heroic company that was the only thing

standing in

 

the way of the big evil

corporation’s plan for

world domination

and total mind control.

www.sh419dd.com

At the end of the presentation someone asked whether he thought

At the end of the presentation someone asked whether he thought they should do some market research

to see what customers wanted. “No,” he replied, “because customers don’t know what they want until

we’ve shown them.” Then he pulled out a device that was about the size of a desk diary.

 

“Do you want to see something neat?” When he flipped it open, it turned out to be a mock-up

of a computer that could fit on your lap, with a keyboard and screen hinged together like a notebook.

“This is my dream of what we will be making in the mid-to late eighties,” he said.

They were building a company that would invent the future.

 

York get this story and say, “We can’t make this guy Man of the Year.” That really

hurt. But it was a good lesson. It taught me to never get too excited about things

like that, since the media is a circus anyway. They FedExed me the magazine, and

I remember opening the package, thoroughly expecting to see my mug on the cover,

and it was this computer sculpture thing. I thought, “Huh?” And then I read

the article, and it was so awful that I actually cried.

In fact there’s no reason to believe that Moritz was jealous or that he intended his

reporting to be unfair. Nor was Jobs ever slated to be Man of the Year, despite what

he thought. That year the top editors (I was then a junior editor there) decided early

on to go with the computer rather than a person, and they commissioned, months in

advance, a piece of art from the famous sculptor George Segal to be a gatefold cover image.

Ray Cave was then the magazine’s editor. “We never considered Jobs,” he said. “

You couldn’t personify the computer, so that was the first time we decided to go

 

with an inanimate object.

We never searched

around for a face to

be put on the cover.”

www.goshlf419.com

The retreat in September 1982 was at the Pajaro Dunes near

The retreat in September 1982 was at the Pajaro Dunes near Monterey.

Fifty or so members of the Mac division sat in the lodge facing a fireplace.

Jobs sat on top of a table in front of them. He spoke quietly for a while,

then walked to an easel and began posting his thoughts.

 

applicant could think in unexpected situations. One day he, Hertzfeld, and Smith interviewed a

candidate for software manager who, it became clear as soon as he walked in the room, was too

uptight and conventional to manage the wizards in the fishbowl. Jobs began to toy with him

 

mercilessly. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” he asked.

“I guess I’m not the right guy,” the poor man said as he got up to leave.

 

so that the Macintosh case could not be opened with a regular screwdriver. “We’re going

to design this thing so nobody but Apple employees can get inside this box,” he told Cash.

Jobs also decided to eliminate the cursor arrow keys on the Macintosh keyboard. The only

way to move the cursor was to use the mouse. It was a way of forcing old-fashioned users

to adapt to point-and-click navigation, even if they didn’t want to. Unlike other product

developers, Jobs did not believe the customer was always right; if they wanted to resist

using a mouse, they were wrong.

There was one other advantage, he believed, to eliminating the cursor keys: It forced

outside software developers to write programs specially for the Mac operating system,

rather than merely writing generic software that could be ported to a variety of computers.

That made for the type of tight vertical integration

 

For all of his obnoxious behavior, Jobs also had the ability to instill in his team an esprit de corps.

After tearing people down, he would find ways to lift them up and make them feel that being part

of the Macintosh project was an amazing mission. Every six months he would take

most of his team on a two-day retreat at a nearby resort.

between application

software,operating

systems, and hardware

devices that Jobs liked.

sh419bb.com

As the Macintosh team grew, it moved from Texaco Towers to the

As the Macintosh team grew, it moved from Texaco Towers to the main Apple buildings on Bandley

Drive, finally settling in mid-1983 into Bandley 3. It had a modern atrium lobby with video games,

which Burrell Smith and Andy Hertzfeld chose, and a Toshiba compact disc stereo system with

 

MartinLogan speakers and a hundred CDs. The software team was visible from the lobby in a fishbowl-like glass

enclosure, and the kitchen was stocked daily with Odwalla juices. Over time the atrium attracted even more

toys, most notably a B?sendorfer piano and a BMW motorcycle that Jobs felt would inspire

an obsession with lapidary craftsmanship.

 

a philosophical component, one that was related to his penchant for

control. He believed that for a computer to be truly great, its hardware

and its software had to be tightly linked. When a computer was open

to running software that also worked on other computers, it would end

up sacrificing some functionality. The best products, he believed, were

“whole widgets” that were designed end-to-end, with the software closely

tailored to the hardware and vice versa. This is what would distinguish the

Macintosh, which had an operating system that worked only on its own

hardware, from the environment that Microsoft was creating, in which its

operating system could be used on hardware made by many different companies.

“Jobs is a strong-willed, elitist artist who doesn’t want his creations mutated

inauspiciously by unworthy programmers,” explained ZDNet’s editor

Dan Farber. “It would be as if someone off the street added some

brush strokes to a Picasso painting or changed the lyrics to a Dylan song.”

In later years Jobs’s whole-widget approach would distinguish the iPhone,

iPod, and iPad from their competitors. It resulted in awesome products.

But it was not always the best strategy for dominating a market. “

From the first Mac to the latest iPhone, Jobs’s systems have always

been sealed shut to prevent consumers

 

from meddling and

modifyingthem,”

noted Leander Kahney,

author of Cult of the Mac.

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