I love Canada. I miss the heat of India, the food, the houselizards

I love Canada. I miss the heat of India, the food, the houselizards on the walls,

the musicals on the silver screen, the cowswandering the streets, the crows

cawing, even the talk ofcricket matches, but I love Canada. It is a great country


muchtoo cold for good sense, inhabited by compassionate, intelligentpeople

with bad hairdos. Anyway, I have nothing to go hometo in Pondicherry.
Richard Parker has stayed with me. I’ve never forgotten him.

Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in mydreams. They are

nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged withlove. Such is the strangeness

of the human heart. I still cannotunderstand how he could abandon me so


unceremoniously,without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once.
That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.shlf1314

The doctors and nurses at the hospital in Mexico wereincredibly kind to me. And

the patients, too. Victims of canceror car accidents, once they heard my story, they

hobbled andwheeled over to see me, they and their families, though noneof them


spoke English and I spoke no Spanish. They smiled atme, shook my hand, patted

me on the head, left gifts of foodand clothing on my bed. They moved

me to uncontrollable fitsof laughing and crying.shlf1314


“I hear the motor, my dear,” Mrs. Langwell interrupted. “You’d better hurry.”

13 “He’s early this morning, but probably he has something to do before schedule.”

The girl hastened with her own preparations so that when the young man


appeared at the door she was properly helmeted and all ready to take the air.

“Top of the morning to you,” Phil called cheerily. “Your esteemed passenger wants

to make an early start, so the boys will have Nike warmed up for you and


you can start as soon as you get to the field.”shlf1314

“It’s mighty good of you to come and fetch me,” Roberta smiled at the president’s

son, who had not so many weeks before gone through a series of exciting,


dangerous air-adventures with her. But those things shlf1314


were all in the day’s

work and belonged

to the past; the new

day awaited them.


It seemed natural that Mr. Patel’s story should be toldmostly

It seemed natural that Mr. Patel’s story should be toldmostly in the

first person – in his voice and through hiseyes. But

any inaccuracies or mistakes are mine.

I have a few people to thank. I am most obviouslyindebted to Mr.

Patel. My gratitude to him is as boundlessas the Pacific Ocean and I

hope that my telling of his taledoes not disappoint him. For getting


me started on thestory, I have Mr. Adirubasamy to thank. For helping

mecomplete it, I am grateful to three officials of exemplaryprofessionalism:

Mr. Kazuhiko Oda, lately of the JapaneseEmbassy in Ottawa; Mr. Hiroshi


Watanabe, of OikaShipping Company; and, especially, Mr. Tomohiro

Okamoto,of the Japanese Ministry of Transport, now retired. As forthe


spark of life, I owe it to Mr. Moacyr Scliar. Lastly, Iwould like to express

my sincere gratitude to that greatinstitution, the Canada Council for the

Arts, without whosegrant I could not have brought together this story


that hasnothing to do with Portugal in 1939. If we, citizens, do notsupport

our artists, then we sacrifice our imagination onthe altar of crude reality

and we end up believing innothing and having worthless dreams.


One of Jobs’s great strengths was knowing how to focus. “Deciding what

not to do is as important as deciding what to do,” he said. “That’s true

for companies, and it’s true for products.”


He went to work applying this principle as soon as he returned to Apple.

One day he was walking the halls and ran into a young Wharton School

graduate who had been Amelio’s assistant and who said he was wrapping


up his work. “Well, good, because I need someone to do grunt work,” Jobs

told him. His new role was to take notes as Jobs met with the dozens of

product teams at Apple, asked them to explain what they were doing,


and forced them

to justify going

ahead with their

products or projects.


It was rough, really rough, the worst time in my life. I had a young

It was rough, really rough, the worst time in my life. I had a young family. I had Pixar.

I would go to work at 7 a.m. and I’d get back at 9 at night, and the kids would be in bed.

And I couldn’t speak, I literally couldn’t, I was so exhausted. I couldn’t speak to Laurene.

All I could do was watch a half hour of TV and vegetate. It got close to killing me. I was


driving up to Pixar and down to Apple in a black Porsche convertible, and I started to get

kidney stones. I would rush to the hospital and the hospital would give me a shot of


Demerol in the butt and eventually I would pass it.This book was born as I was hungry.

Let me explain. Inthe spring of 1996, my second book, a novel, came out inCanada.

It didn’t fare well. Reviewers were puzzled, ordamned it with faint praise. Then readers ignored it.

Despite my best efforts at playing the clown or the trapezeartist, the media circus made no

difference. The book didnot move. Books lined the shelves of bookstores like kidsstanding

in a row to play baseball or soccer, and mine wasthe gangly, unathletic kid that


no one wanted on theirteam. It vanished quickly and quietly.
The fiasco did not affect me too much. I had alreadymoved on to

another story, a novel set in Portugal in 1939.
Only I was feeling restless. And I had a little money.

So I flew to Bombay. This is not so illogical if yourealize three things: that a stint in

India will beat therestlessness out of any living creature; that a little moneycan go

a long way there; and that a novel set in Portugalin


1939 may have very little to do with Portugal in 1939.
I had been to India before, in the north, for five months.
On that first trip I had come to the subcontinent completelyunprepared.

Actually, I had a preparation of one word.
When I told a friend


who knew the

country well

of mytravel plans,

he said casually, 


The narration by Richard Dreyfuss worked well, but Lee Clow had

The narration by Richard Dreyfuss worked well, but Lee Clow had another idea.

What if Jobs did the voice-over himself? “You really believe this,” Clow told him.

“You should do it.” So Jobs sat in a studio, did a few takes, and soon produced a


voice track that everyone liked. The idea was that, if they used it, they would not

tell people who was speaking the words, just as they didn’t caption the iconic pictures.

Eventually people would figure out it was Jobs. “This will be really powerful to


have it in your voice,” Clow argued. “It will be a way to reclaim the brand.”

Jobs couldn’t decide whether to use the version with his voice or to stick with

Dreyfuss. Finally, the night came when they had to ship the ad; it was due to air,


appropriately enough, on the television premiere of Toy Story. As was often the

case, Jobs did not like to be forced to make a decision. He told Clow to ship both

versions; this would give him until the morning to decide. When morning came,


Jobs called and told them to use the Dreyfuss version. “If we use my voice, when

people find out they will say it’s about me,” he told Clow. “It’s not. It’s about Apple.”

Ever since he left the apple commune, Jobs had defined himself, and by extension


Apple, as a child of the counterculture. In ads such as “Think Different” and “1984,”

he positioned the Apple brand so that it reaffirmed his own rebel streak, even after

he became a billionaire, and it allowed other baby boomers and their kids to do the

same. “From when I first met him as a young guy, he’s had the greatest intuition


of the impact

he wants his

brand to have on

people,” said Clow.


Jobs and Clow agreed that Apple was one of the great brands

Jobs and Clow agreed that Apple was one of the great brands of the world,

probably in the top five based on emotional appeal, but they needed to remind

folks what was distinctive about it. So they wanted a brand image campaign,

not a set of advertisements featuring products. It was designed to celebrate


not what the computers could do, but what creative people could do with the

computers. “This wasn’t about processor speed or memory,” Jobs recalled.

“It was about creativity.” It was directed not only at potential customers, but also at

Apple’s own employees: “We at Apple had forgotten who we were. One way


to remember who you are is to remember who your heroes are.

That was the genesis of that campaign.”

Clow and his team tried a variety of approaches that praised the “crazy ones” who


“think different.” They did one video with the Seal song “Crazy” (“We’re never gonna

survive unless we get a little crazy”), but couldn’t get the rights to it. Then they tried


versions using a recording of Robert Frost reading “The Road Not Taken” and of Robin

Williams’s speeches from Dead Poets Society. Eventually they decided they needed

to write their own text; their draft began, “Here’s to the crazy ones.”


Jobs was as demanding as ever. When Clow’s team flew up with a version of the text,

he exploded at the young copywriter. “This is shit!” he yelled. “It’s advertising agency


shit and I hate it.” It was the first time the young copywriter had met Jobs, and he

stood there mute. He never went back. But those who could stand up to Jobs,


including Clow and his teammates Ken Segall and Craig Tanimoto, were able to

work with him to create a tone


poem that he liked.

In its original


version it read:


By this time they had other competitors, in addition to the Altair

By this time they had other competitors, in addition to the Altair, most

notably the IMSAI 8080 and Processor Technology Corporation’s SOL-20.

The latter was designed by Lee Felsenstein and Gordon French of the


Homebrew Computer Club. They all had the chance to go on display during

Labor Day weekend of 1976, at the first annual Personal Computer Festival,

held in a tired hotel on the decaying boardwalk of Atlantic City, New Jersey.


Jobs and Wozniak took a TWA flight to Philadelphia, cradling one cigar box

with the Apple I and another with the prototype for the successor that Woz

was working on. Sitting in the row behind them was Felsenstein, who looked


at the Apple I and pronounced it “thoroughly unimpressive.” Wozniak was

unnerved by the conversation in the row behind him. “We could hear them

talking in advanced business talk,” he recalled, “using businesslike

acronyms we’d never heard before.”


Wozniak spent most of his time in their hotel room, tweaking his new prototype.

He was too shy to stand at the card table that Apple had been assigned near

the back of the exhibition hall. Daniel Kottke had taken the train down from


Jobs and Wozniak took a TWA flight to Philadelphia, cradling one cigar box

with the Apple I and another with the prototype for the successor that Woz

was working on. Sitting in the row behind them was Felsenstein, who looked


at the Apple I and pronounced it “thoroughly unimpressive.” Wozniak was

unnerved by the conversation in the row behind him. “We could hear them

talking in advanced business talk,” he recalled, “using businesslike

acronyms we’d never heard before.”


Manhattan, where he was now attending Columbia, and he manned the table

while Jobs walked the floor to inspect the competition. What he saw did not

impress him. Wozniak, he felt reassured, was the best circuit engineer, and the


Apple I (and surely its successor) could beat the competition in terms of functionality.

However, the SOL-20 was better looking. It had a sleek metal case, a keyboard, a

power supply, and cables. It looked as if it had been produced by grown-ups.


The Apple I,

on the other hand,

appeared as scruffy

as its creators.


One sticking point was that Jobs wanted his payout to be in cash

One sticking point was that Jobs wanted his payout to be in cash. Amelio

insisted that he needed to “have skin in the game” and take the payout in

stock that he would agree to hold for at least a year. Jobs resisted. Finally,


they compromised: Jobs would take $120 million in cash and $37 million

in stock, and he pledged to hold the stock for at least six months.

As usual Jobs wanted to have some of their conversation while taking a walk.


While they ambled around Palo Alto, he made a pitch to be put on Apple’s board.

Amelio tried to deflect it, saying there was too much history to do something like

that too quickly. “Gil, that really hurts,” Jobs said. “This was my company. I’ve been


left out since that horrible day with Sculley.” Amelio said he understood, but he was

not sure what the board would want. When he was about to begin his negotiations

with Jobs, he had made a mental note to “move ahead with logic as my drill sergeant”


and “sidestep the charisma.” But during the walk he, like so many others, was caught

in Jobs’s force field. “I was hooked in by Steve’s energy and enthusiasm,” he recalled.

After circling the long blocks a couple of times, they returned to the house just as Laurene


and the kids were arriving home. They all celebrated the easy negotiations, then Amelio

rode off in his Mercedes. “He made me feel like a lifelong friend,” Amelio recalled. Jobs

indeed had a way of doing that. Later, after Jobs had engineered his ouster, Amelio would


look back on Jobs’s friendliness that day and note wistfully, “As I would painfully discover,

it was merely one facet of an extremely complex personality.”

After informing Gassée that Apple was buying NeXT, Amelio had what turned out to be an


even more uncomfortable task: telling Bill Gates. “He went into orbit,” Amelio recalled. Gates

found it ridiculous, but perhaps not surprising, that Jobs had pulled off this coup. “Do you

really think Steve Jobs has anything there?” Gates asked Amelio. “I know his technology,


it’s nothing but a warmed-over UNIX, and you’ll never be able to make it work on your

machines.” Gates, like Jobs, had a way of working himself up, and he did so now: “Don’t


you understand that Steve doesn’t know anything about technology? He’s just a super

salesman. I can’t believe you’re making such a stupid decision. . . . He doesn’t know

anything about engineering, and 99% of what he says and


thinks is wrong.

What the hell

are you buying

that garbage for?”


Gassée came in afterward, but he acted as if he had the deal

Gassée came in afterward, but he acted as if he had the deal in his hand.

He provided no new presentation. He simply said that the Apple team knew

the capabilities of the Be OS and asked if they had any further questions.


It was a short session. While Gassée was presenting, Jobs and Tevanian

walked the streets of Palo Alto. After a while they bumped into one of the

Apple executives who had been at the meetings.

“You’re going to win this,” he told them.


Tevanian later said that this was no surprise: “We had better technology, we

had a solution that was complete, and we had Steve.” Amelio knew that

bringing Jobs back into the fold would be a double-edged sword, but the

same was true of bringing Gassée back. Larry Tesler, one of the Macintosh


veterans from the old days, recommended to Amelio that he choose NeXT,

but added, “Whatever company you choose, you’ll get someone

who will take your job away, Steve or Jean-Louis.”


Amelio opted for Jobs. He called Jobs to say that he planned to propose to the

Apple board that he be authorized to negotiate a purchase of NeXT. Would he

like to be at the meeting? Jobs said he would. When he walked in, there was


an emotional moment when he saw Mike Markkula. They had not spoken since

Markkula, once his mentor and father figure, had sided with Sculley there

back in 1985. Jobs walked over and shook his hand.


Jobs invited Amelio to come to his house in Palo Alto so they could negotiate

in a friendly setting. When Amelio arrived in his classic 1973 Mercedes, Jobs

was impressed; he liked the car. In the kitchen, which had finally been renovated,

Jobs put a kettle on for tea, and then they sat at the wooden table in front of


the open-hearth pizza oven. The financial part of the negotiations went smoothly;

Jobs was eager not to make Gassée’s mistake of overreaching. He suggested that

Apple pay $12 a share for NeXT. That would amount to about $500 million.


Amelio said that was too high. He countered with $10 a share, or just over $400

million. Unlike Be, NeXT had an actual product, real revenues, and a great team, but


Jobs was nevertheless

pleasantly surprised at

that counteroffer. He

accepted immediately.


By Thanksgiving of 1996 the two companies had begun

By Thanksgiving of 1996 the two companies had begun midlevel talks,

and Jobs picked up the phone to call Amelio directly. “I’m on my way to

Japan, but I’ll be back in a week and I’d like to see you as soon as I return,”


he said. “Don’t make any decision until we can get together.” Amelio,

despite his earlier experience with Jobs, was thrilled to hear from him and

entranced by the possibility of working with him. “For me, the phone call


with Steve was like inhaling the flavors of a great bottle of vintage wine,”

he recalled. He gave his assurance he would make no deal with

Be or anyone else before they got together.


For Jobs, the contest against Be was both professional and personal.

NeXT was failing, and the prospect of being bought by Apple was a

tantalizing lifeline. In addition, Jobs held grudges, sometimes passionately,


and Gassée was near the top of his list, despite the fact that they had seemed

to reconcile when Jobs was at NeXT. “Gassée is one of the few people in my life

I would say is truly horrible,” Jobs later insisted, unfairly. “He knifed me in the


back in 1985.” Sculley, to his credit, had at least been

gentlemanly enough to knife Jobs in the front.

On December 2, 1996, Steve Jobs set foot on Apple’s Cupertino campus for


the first time since his ouster eleven years earlier. In the executive conference

room, he met Amelio and Hancock to make the pitch for NeXT. Once again

he was scribbling on the whiteboard there, this time giving his lecture about


the four waves of computer systems that had culminated, at least in his telling,

with the launch of NeXT. He was at his most seductive, despite the fact that he

was speaking to two people he didn’t respect. He was particularly adroit at


feigning modesty. “It’s probably a totally crazy idea,” he said, but if they found

it appealing, “I’ll structure any kind of deal you want—license the software, sell


you the company, whatever.” He was, in fact, eager to sell everything, and he

pushed that approach. “When you take a close look, you’ll decide you want

more than my software,” he told


them. “You’ll want

to buy the whole

company and

take all the people.”


When Jobs unveiled the NeXT computer in 1988, there was a burst

When Jobs unveiled the NeXT computer in 1988, there was a burst of excitement.

That fizzled when the computer finally went on sale the following year. Jobs’s ability

to dazzle, intimidate, and spin the press began to fail him, and there was a series


of stories on the company’s woes. “NeXT is incompatible with other computers at a

time when the industry is moving toward interchangeable systems,” Bart Ziegler of

Associated Press reported. “Because relatively little software exists to run on


NeXT, it has a hard time attracting customers.”

NeXT tried to reposition itself as the leader in a new category, personal workstations,

for people who wanted the power of a workstation and the friendliness of a personal

computer. But those customers were by now buying them from fast-growing Sun


Microsystems. Revenues for NeXT in 1990 were $28 million; Sun made $2.5 billion that year.

IBM abandoned its deal to license the NeXT software, so Jobs was forced to do something

against his nature: Despite his ingrained belief that hardware and software should be

integrally linked, he agreed in January 1992 to license the NeXTSTEP


operating system to run on other computers.

One surprising defender of Jobs was Jean-Louis Gassée, who had bumped elbows with

Jobs when he replaced him at Apple and subsequently been ousted himself. He wrote an


article extolling the creativity of NeXT products. “NeXT might not be Apple,” Gassée argued,

“but Steve is still Steve.” A few days later his wife answered a knock on the door and went

running upstairs to tell him that Jobs was standing there. He thanked Gassée for the article


and invited him to an event where Intel’s Andy Grove would join Jobs in announcing that

NeXTSTEP would be ported to the IBM/Intel platform. “I sat next to Steve’s father, Paul Jobs,

a movingly dignified individual,” Gassée recalled. “He raised a difficult son, but he was

proud and happy to see him onstage with Andy Grove.”


A year later Jobs took the inevitable subsequent step: He gave up making the hardware

altogether. This was a painful decision, just as it had been when he gave up making hardware

at Pixar. He cared about all aspects of his products, but the hardware was a particular passion.


He was energized by great design, obsessed over manufacturing details, and would spend

hours watching his robots make his perfect machines. But now he had to lay off more than

half his workforce, sell his beloved factory to Canon (which auctioned off the fancy furniture),

and satisfy himself with a company


that tried to license an

operating system to

manufacturers of

uninspired machines.


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