CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE 5 page

were commoditized. In 2010, for example, Apple had just 7% of the revenue in the personal

computer market, but it grabbed 35% of the operating profit.

More significantly, in the early 2000s Jobs’s insistence on end-to-end integration gave Apple an

advantage in developing a digital hub strategy, which allowed your desktop computer to link

seamlessly with a variety of portable devices. The iPod, for example, was part of a closed and

tightly integrated system. To use it, you had to use Apple’s iTunes software and download content

from its iTunes Store. The result was that the iPod, like the iPhone and iPad that followed, was an

elegant delight in contrast to the kludgy rival products that did not offer a seamless end-to-end

experience.

The strategy worked. In May 2000 Apple’s market value was one-twentieth that of Microsoft.

In May 2010 Apple surpassed Microsoft as the world’s most valuable technology company, and

by September 2011 it was worth 70% more than Microsoft. In the first quarter of 2011 the market

for Windows PCs shrank by 1%, while the market for Macs grew 28%.

By then the battle had begun anew in the world of mobile devices. Google took the more open

approach, and it made its Android operating system available for use by any maker of tablets or

cell phones. By 2011 its share of the mobile market matched Apple’s. The drawback of Android’s

openness was the fragmentation that resulted. Various handset and tablet makers modified

Android into dozens of variants and flavors, making it hard for apps to remain consistent or make

full use if its features. There were merits to both approaches. Some people wanted the freedom to

use more open systems and have more choices of hardware; others clearly preferred Apple’s tight

integration and control, which led to products that had simpler interfaces, longer battery life,

greater user-friendliness, and easier handling of content.

The downside of Jobs’s approach was that his desire to delight the user led him to resist

empowering the user. Among the most thoughtful proponents of an open environment is Jonathan

Zittrain of Harvard. He begins his book The Future of the Internet—And How to Stop It with the

scene of Jobs introducing the iPhone, and he warns of the consequences of replacing personal

computers with “sterile appliances tethered to a network of control.” Even more fervent is Cory

Doctorow, who wrote a manifesto called “Why I Won’t Buy an iPad” for Boing Boing. “There’s a

lot of thoughtfulness and smarts that went into the design. But there’s also a palpable contempt for

the owner,” he wrote. “Buying an iPad for your kids isn’t a means of jump-starting the realization

that the world is yours to take apart and reassemble; it’s a way of telling your offspring that even

changing the batteries is something you have to leave to the professionals.”

For Jobs, belief in an integrated approach was a matter of righteousness. “We do these things

not because we are control freaks,” he explained. “We do them because we want to make great

products, because we care about the user, and because we like to take responsibility for the entire

experience rather than turn out the crap that other people make.” He also believed he was doing

people a service: “They’re busy doing whatever they do best, and they want us to do what we do

best. Their lives are crowded; they have other things to do than think about how to integrate their

computers and devices.”

This approach sometimes went against Apple’s short-term business interests. But in a world

filled with junky devices, inscrutable error messages, and annoying interfaces, it led to astonishing

products marked by beguiling user experiences. Using an Apple product could be as sublime as

walking in one of the Zen gardens of Kyoto that Jobs loved, and neither experience was created by

worshipping at the altar of openness or by letting a thousand flowers bloom. Sometimes it’s nice

to be in the hands of a control freak.

Jobs’s intensity was also evident in his ability to focus. He would set priorities, aim his laser

attention on them, and filter out distractions. If something engaged him—the user interface for the

original Macintosh, the design of the iPod and iPhone, getting music companies into the iTunes

Store—he was relentless. But if he did not want to deal with something—a legal annoyance, a

business issue, his cancer diagnosis, a family tug—he would resolutely ignore it. That focus

allowed him to say no. He got Apple back on track by cutting all except a few core products. He

made devices simpler by eliminating buttons, software simpler by eliminating features, and

interfaces simpler by eliminating options.

He attributed his ability to focus and his love of simplicity to his Zen training. It honed his

appreciation for intuition, showed him how to filter out anything that was distracting or

unnecessary, and nurtured in him an aesthetic based on minimalism.

Unfortunately his Zen training never quite produced in him a Zen-like calm or inner serenity,

and that too is part of his legacy. He was often tightly coiled and impatient, traits he made no

effort to hide. Most people have a regulator between their mind and mouth that modulates their

brutish sentiments and spikiest impulses. Not Jobs. He made a point of being brutally honest. “My

job is to say when something sucks rather than sugarcoat it,” he said. This made him charismatic

and inspiring, yet also, to use the technical term, an asshole at times.

Andy Hertzfeld once told me, “The one question I’d truly love Steve to answer is, ‘Why are

you sometimes so mean?’” Even his family members wondered whether he simply lacked the

filter that restrains people from venting their wounding thoughts or willfully bypassed it. Jobs

claimed it was the former. “This is who I am, and you can’t expect me to be someone I’m not,” he

replied when I asked him the question. But I think he actually could have controlled himself, if he

had wanted. When he hurt people, it was not because he was lacking in emotional awareness.

Quite the contrary: He could size people up, understand their inner thoughts, and know how to

relate to them, cajole them, or hurt them at will.

The nasty edge to his personality was not necessary. It hindered him more than it helped him.

But it did, at times, serve a purpose. Polite and velvety leaders, who take care to avoid bruising

others, are generally not as effective at forcing change. Dozens of the colleagues whom Jobs most

abused ended their litany of horror stories by saying that he got them to do things they never

dreamed possible. And he created a corporation crammed with A players.

The saga of Steve Jobs is the Silicon Valley creation myth writ large: launching a startup in his

parents’ garage and building it into the world’s most valuable company. He didn’t invent many

things outright, but he was a master at putting together ideas, art, and technology in ways that

invented the future. He designed the Mac after appreciating the power of graphical interfaces in a

way that Xerox was unable to do, and he created the iPod after grasping the joy of having a

thousand songs in your pocket in a way that Sony, which had all the assets and heritage, never

could accomplish. Some leaders push innovations by being good at the big picture. Others do so

by mastering details. Jobs did both, relentlessly. As a result he launched a series of products over

three decades that transformed whole industries:

• The Apple II, which took Wozniak’s circuit board and turned it into the first personal computer

that was not just for hobbyists.

• The Macintosh, which begat the home computer revolution and popularized graphical user

interfaces.

• Toy Story and other Pixar blockbusters, which opened up the miracle of digital imagination.

• Apple stores, which reinvented the role of a store in defining a brand.

• The iPod, which changed the way we consume music.

• The iTunes Store, which saved the music industry.

• The iPhone, which turned mobile phones into music, photography, video, email, and web

devices.

• The App Store, which spawned a new content-creation industry.

• The iPad, which launched tablet computing and offered a platform for digital newspapers,

magazines, books, and videos.

• iCloud, which demoted the computer from its central role in managing our content and let all of

our devices sync seamlessly.

• And Apple itself, which Jobs considered his greatest creation, a place where imagination was

nurtured, applied, and executed in ways so creative that it became the most valuable company on

earth.

Was he smart? No, not exceptionally. Instead, he was a genius. His imaginative leaps were

instinctive, unexpected, and at times magical. He was, indeed, an example of what the

mathematician Mark Kac called a magician genius, someone whose insights come out of the blue

and require intuition more than mere mental processing power. Like a pathfinder, he could absorb

information, sniff the winds, and sense what lay ahead.

Steve Jobs thus became the greatest business executive of our era, the one most certain to be

remembered a century from now. History will place him in the pantheon right next to Edison and

Ford. More than anyone else of his time, he made products that were completely innovative,

combining the power of poetry and processors. With a ferocity that could make working with him

as unsettling as it was inspiring, he also built the world’s most creative company. And he was able

to infuse into its DNA the design sensibilities, perfectionism, and imagination that make it likely

to be, even decades from now, the company that thrives best at the intersection of artistry and

technology.

And One More Thing . . .

Biographers are supposed to have the last word. But this is a biography of Steve Jobs. Even

though he did not impose his legendary desire for control on this project, I suspect that I would not

be conveying the right feel for him—the way he asserted himself in any situation—if I just

shuffled him onto history’s stage without letting him have some last words.

Over the course of our conversations, there were many times when he reflected on what he

hoped his legacy would be. Here are those thoughts, in his own words:

My passion has been to build an enduring company where people were motivated to make great

products. Everything else was secondary. Sure, it was great to make a profit, because that was what

allowed you to make great products. But the products, not the profits, were the motivation. Sculley

flipped these priorities to where the goal was to make money. It’s a subtle difference, but it ends up

meaning everything: the people you hire, who gets promoted, what you discuss in meetings.

Some people say, “Give the customers what they want.” But that’s not my approach. Our job is to

figure out what they’re going to want before they do. I think Henry Ford once said, “If I’d asked

customers what they wanted, they would have told me, ‘A faster horse!’” People don’t know what they

want until you show it to them. That’s why I never rely on market research. Our task is to read things

that are not yet on the page.

Edwin Land of Polaroid talked about the intersection of the humanities and science. I like that

intersection. There’s something magical about that place. There are a lot of people innovating, and that’

s not the main distinction of my career. The reason Apple resonates with people is that there’s a deep

current of humanity in our innovation. I think great artists and great engineers are similar, in that they

both have a desire to express themselves. In fact some of the best people working on the original Mac

were poets and musicians on the side. In the seventies computers became a way for people to express

their creativity. Great artists like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo were also great at science.

Michelangelo knew a lot about how to quarry stone, not just how to be a sculptor.

People pay us to integrate things for them, because they don’t have the time to think about this stuff

24/7. If you have an extreme passion for producing great products, it pushes you to be integrated, to

connect your hardware and your software and content management. You want to break new ground, so

you have to do it yourself. If you want to allow your products to be open to other hardware or software,

you have to give up some of your vision.

At different times in the past, there were companies that exemplified Silicon Valley. It was Hewlett-

Packard for a long time. Then, in the semiconductor era, it was Fairchild and Intel. I think that it was

Apple for a while, and then that faded. And then today, I think it’s Apple and Google—and a little more

so Apple. I think Apple has stood the test of time. It’s been around for a while, but it’s still at the cutting

edge of what’s going on.

It’s easy to throw stones at Microsoft. They’ve clearly fallen from their dominance. They’ve become

mostly irrelevant. And yet I appreciate what they did and how hard it was. They were very good at the

business side of things. They were never as ambitious product-wise as they should have been. Bill likes

to portray himself as a man of the product, but he’s really not. He’s a businessperson. Winning business

was more important than making great products. He ended up the wealthiest guy around, and if that was

his goal, then he achieved it. But it’s never been my goal, and I wonder, in the end, if it was his goal. I

admire him for the company he built—it’s impressive—and I enjoyed working with him. He’s bright

and actually has a good sense of humor. But Microsoft never had the humanities and liberal arts in its

DNA. Even when they saw the Mac, they couldn’t copy it well. They totally didn’t get it.

I have my own theory about why decline happens at companies like IBM or Microsoft. The company

does a great job, innovates and becomes a monopoly or close to it in some field, and then the quality of

the product becomes less important. The company starts valuing the great salesmen, because they’re the

ones who can move the needle on revenues, not the product engineers and designers. So the salespeople

end up running the company. John Akers at IBM was a smart, eloquent, fantastic salesperson, but he

didn’t know anything about product. The same thing happened at Xerox. When the sales guys run the

company, the product guys don’t matter so much, and a lot of them just turn off. It happened at Apple

when Sculley came in, which was my fault, and it happened when Ballmer took over at Microsoft.

Apple was lucky and it rebounded, but I don’t think anything will change at Microsoft as long as

Ballmer is running it.

I hate it when people call themselves “entrepreneurs” when what they’re really trying to do is launch

a startup and then sell or go public, so they can cash in and move on. They’re unwilling to do the work

it takes to build a real company, which is the hardest work in business. That’s how you really make a

contribution and add to the legacy of those who went before. You build a company that will still stand

for something a generation or two from now. That’s what Walt Disney did, and Hewlett and Packard,

and the people who built Intel. They created a company to last, not just to make money. That’s what I

want Apple to be.

I don’t think I run roughshod over people, but if something sucks, I tell people to their face. It’s my

job to be honest. I know what I’m talking about, and I usually turn out to be right. That’s the culture I

tried to create. We are brutally honest with each other, and anyone can tell me they think I am full of

shit and I can tell them the same. And we’ve had some rip-roaring arguments, where we are yelling at

each other, and it’s some of the best times I’ve ever had. I feel totally comfortable saying “Ron, that

store looks like shit” in front of everyone else. Or I might say “God, we really fucked up the engineering

on this” in front of the person that’s responsible. That’s the ante for being in the room: You’ve got to be

able to be super honest. Maybe there’s a better way, a gentlemen’s club where we all wear ties and

speak in this Brahmin language and velvet code-words, but I don’t know that way, because I am middle

class from California.

I was hard on people sometimes, probably harder than I needed to be. I remember the time when

Reed was six years old, coming home, and I had just fired somebody that day, and I imagined what it

was like for that person to tell his family and his young son that he had lost his job. It was hard. But

somebody’s got to do it. I figured that it was always my job to make sure that the team was excellent,

and if I didn’t do it, nobody was going to do it.

You always have to keep pushing to innovate. Dylan could have sung protest songs forever and

probably made a lot of money, but he didn’t. He had to move on, and when he did, by going electric in

1965, he alienated a lot of people. His 1966 Europe tour was his greatest. He would come on and do a

set of acoustic guitar, and the audiences loved him. Then he brought out what became The Band, and

they would all do an electric set, and the audience sometimes booed. There was one point where he was

about to sing “Like a Rolling Stone” and someone from the audience yells “Judas!” And Dylan then

says, “Play it fucking loud!” And they did. The Beatles were the same way. They kept evolving,

moving, refining their art. That’s what I’ve always tried to do—keep moving. Otherwise, as Dylan says,

if you’re not busy being born, you’re busy dying.

What drove me? I think most creative people want to express appreciation for being able to take

advantage of the work that’s been done by others before us. I didn’t invent the language or mathematics

I use. I make little of my own food, none of my own clothes. Everything I do depends on other members

of our species and the shoulders that we stand on. And a lot of us want to contribute something back to

our species and to add something to the flow. It’s about trying to express something in the only way that

most of us know how—because we can’t write Bob Dylan songs or Tom Stoppard plays. We try to use

the talents we do have to express our deep feelings, to show our appreciation of all the contributions that

came before us, and to add something to that flow. That’s what has driven me.

Coda

One sunny afternoon, when he wasn’t feeling well, Jobs sat in the garden behind his house and

reflected on death. He talked about his experiences in India almost four decades earlier, his study

of Buddhism, and his views on reincarnation and spiritual transcendence. “I’m about fifty-fifty on

believing in God,” he said. “For most of my life, I’ve felt that there must be more to our existence

than meets the eye.”

He admitted that, as he faced death, he might be overestimating the odds out of a desire to

believe in an afterlife. “I like to think that something survives after you die,” he said. “It’s strange

to think that you accumulate all this experience, and maybe a little wisdom, and it just goes away.

So I really want to believe that something survives, that maybe your consciousness endures.”

He fell silent for a very long time. “But on the other hand, perhaps it’s like an on-off switch,”

he said. “Click! And you’re gone.”

Then he paused again and smiled slightly. “Maybe that’s why I never liked to put on-off

switches on Apple devices.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’m deeply grateful to John and Ann Doerr, Laurene Powell, Mona Simpson, and Ken Auletta, all

of whom helped get this project launched and provided invaluable support along the way. Alice

Mayhew, who has been my editor at Simon & Schuster for thirty years, and Jonathan Karp, the

publisher, both were extraordinarily diligent and attentive in shepherding this book, as was

Amanda Urban, my agent. Crary Pullen was dogged in tracking down photos, and my assistant,

Pat Zindulka, calmly facilitated things. I also want to thank my father, Irwin, and my daughter,

Betsy, for reading the book and offering advice. And as always, I am most deeply indebted to my

wife, Cathy, for her editing, suggestions, wise counsel, and so very much more.

SOURCES

Interviews (conducted 2009–2011)

Al Alcorn, Roger Ames, Fred Anderson, Bill Atkinson, Joan Baez, Marjorie Powell Barden, Jeff

Bewkes, Bono, Ann Bowers, Stewart Brand, Chrisann Brennan, Larry Brilliant, John Seeley

Brown, Tim Brown, Nolan Bushnell, Greg Calhoun, Bill Campbell, Berry Cash, Ed Catmull, Ray

Cave, Lee Clow, Debi Coleman, Tim Cook, Katie Cotton, Eddy Cue, Andrea Cunningham, John

Doerr, Millard Drexler, Jennifer Egan, Al Eisenstat, Michael Eisner, Larry Ellison, Philip Elmer-

DeWitt, Gerard Errera, Tony Fadell, Jean-Louis Gassée, Bill Gates, Adele Goldberg, Craig Good,

Austan Goolsbee, Al Gore, Andy Grove, Bill Hambrecht, Michael Hawley, Andy Hertzfeld,

Joanna Hoffman, Elizabeth Holmes, Bruce Horn, John Huey, Jimmy Iovine, Jony Ive, Oren Jacob,

Erin Jobs, Reed Jobs, Steve Jobs, Ron Johnson, Mitch Kapor, Susan Kare (email), Jeffrey

Katzenberg, Pam Kerwin, Kristina Kiehl, Joel Klein, Daniel Kottke, Andy Lack, John Lasseter,

Art Levinson, Steven Levy, Dan’l Lewin, Maya Lin, Yo-Yo Ma, Mike Markkula, John Markoff,

Wynton Marsalis, Regis McKenna, Mike Merin, Bob Metcalfe, Doug Morris, Walt Mossberg,

Rupert Murdoch, Mike Murray, Nicholas Negroponte, Dean Ornish, Paul Otellini, Norman

Pearlstine, Laurene Powell, Josh Quittner, Tina Redse, George Riley, Brian Roberts, Arthur Rock,

Jeff Rosen, Alain Rossmann, Jon Rubinstein, Phil Schiller, Eric Schmidt, Barry Schuler, Mike

Scott, John Sculley, Andy Serwer, Mona Simpson, Mike Slade, Alvy Ray Smith, Gina Smith,

Kathryn Smith, Rick Stengel, Larry Tesler, Avie Tevanian, Guy “Bud” Tribble, Don Valentine,

Paul

Vidich, James Vincent, Alice Waters, Ron Wayne, Wendell Weeks, Ed Woolard, Stephen

Wozniak, Del Yocam, Jerry York.

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Hiltzik, Michael. Dealers of Lightning. HarperBusiness, 1999.

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Levy, Steven. Hackers. Doubleday, 1984.

———. Insanely Great. Viking Penguin, 1994.

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Sculley, John. Odyssey. Harper & Row, 1987.

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Simpson, Mona. Anywhere but Here. Knopf, 1986.

———. A Regular Guy. Knopf, 1996.

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Stross, Randall. Steve Jobs and the NeXT Big Thing. Atheneum, 1993.

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NOTES

CHAPTER 1: CHILDHOOD

The Adoption: Interviews with Steve Jobs, Laurene Powell, Mona Simpson, Del Yocam, Greg

Calhoun, Chrisann Brennan, Andy Hertzfeld. Moritz, 44–45; Young, 16–17; Jobs, Smithsonian

oral history; Jobs, Stanford commencement address; Andy Behrendt, “Apple Computer Mogul’s

Roots Tied to Green Bay,” (Green Bay) Press Gazette, Dec. 4, 2005; Georgina Dickinson, “Dad

Waits for Jobs to iPhone,” New York Post and The Sun (London), Aug. 27, 2011; Mohannad Al-

Haj Ali, “Steve Jobs Has Roots in Syria,” Al Hayat, Jan. 16, 2011; Ulf Froitzheim, “Porträt Steve

Jobs,” Unternehmen, Nov. 26, 2007.

Silicon Valley: Interviews with Steve Jobs, Laurene Powell. Jobs, Smithsonian oral history;

Moritz, 46; Berlin, 155–177; Malone, 21–22.

School: Interview with Steve Jobs. Jobs, Smithsonian oral history; Sculley, 166; Malone, 11,

28, 72; Young, 25, 34–35; Young and Simon, 18; Moritz, 48, 73–74. Jobs’s address was originally

11161 Crist Drive, before the subdivsion was incorporated into the town from the county. Some

sources mention that Jobs worked at both Haltek and another store with a similar name, Halted.

When asked, Jobs says he can remember working only at Haltek.

CHAPTER 2: ODD COUPLE

Woz: Interviews with Steve Wozniak, Steve Jobs. Wozniak, 12–16, 22, 50–61, 86–91; Levy,

Hackers, 245; Moritz, 62–64; Young, 28; Jobs, Macworld address, Jan. 17, 2007.

The Blue Box: Interviews with Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak. Ron Rosenbaum, “Secrets of the

Little Blue Box,” Esquire, Oct. 1971. Wozniak answer, woz.org/letters/general/03.html; Wozniak,

98–115. For slightly varying accounts, see Markoff, 272; Moritz, 78–86; Young, 42–45; Malone,

30–35.

CHAPTER 3: THE DROPOUT

Chrisann Brennan: Interviews with Chrisann Brennan, Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak, Tim

Brown. Moritz, 75–77; Young, 41; Malone, 39.

Reed College: Interviews with Steve Jobs, Daniel Kottke, Elizabeth Holmes. Freiberger and

Swaine, 208; Moritz, 94–100; Young, 55; “The Updated Book of Jobs,” Time, Jan. 3, 1983.

Robert Friedland: Interviews with Steve Jobs, Daniel Kottke, Elizabeth Holmes. In September

2010 I met with Friedland in New York City to discuss his background and relationship with Jobs,

but he did not want to be quoted on the record. McNish, 11–17; Jennifer Wells, “Canada’s Next

Billionaire,” Maclean’s, June 3, 1996; Richard Read, “Financier’s Saga of Risk,” Mines and

Communities magazine, Oct. 16, 2005; Jennifer Hunter, “But What Would His Guru Say?”

(Toronto) Globe and Mail, Mar. 18, 1988; Moritz, 96, 109; Young, 56.

. . . Drop Out: Interviews with Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak; Jobs, Stanford commencement

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