Jobs decided to move back to his parents’ home

In February 1974, after eighteen months of hanging around Reed,

Jobs decided to move back to his parents’ home in Los Altos and look

for a job. It was not a difficult search. At peak times during the 1970s,


the classified section of the San Jose Mercury carried up to sixty pages

of technology help-wanted ads. One of those caught Jobs’s eye.

“Have fun, make money,” it said. That day Jobs walked into the lobby


of the video game manufacturer Atari and told the personnel director,

who was startled by his unkempt hair and attire, that he

wouldn’t leave until they gave him a job.

Atari’s founder was a burly entrepreneur named Nolan Bushnell,

who was a charismatic visionary with a nice touch of showmanship

in him—in other words, another role model waiting to be emulated.

After he became famous, he liked driving around in a Rolls, smoking dope,

and holding staff meetings in a hot tub. As Friedland had done and as Jobs

would learn to do, he was able to turn charm into a cunning force, to cajole

and intimidate and distort reality with the power of his personality.

His chief engineer was Al Alcorn, beefy and jovial and a bit more grounded,

the house grown-up trying to implement the vision and curb the enthusiasms

of Bushnell. Their big hit thus far was a video game called Pong, in which two

players tried to volley a blip on a screen with two movable lines that acted as

paddles. (If you’re under thirty, ask your parents.)

When Jobs arrived in the Atari lobby wearing sandals and demanding a job,

Alcorn was the one who was summoned. “I was told, ‘We’ve got a hippie

kid in the lobby.

He says he’s not going to leave until

we hire him. Should we call

the cops or let him in?’

I said bring him on in!”

Jobs was “Oaf Tobark.” They took the device to college dorms and

Following the lead of other phone phreaks such as Captain Crunch,

they gave themselves handles. Wozniak became “Berkeley Blue,”

Jobs was “Oaf Tobark.” They took the device to college dorms and

gave demonstrations by attaching it to a phone and speaker. While the


potential customers watched, they would call the Ritz in London or a dial-a-joke service in Australia.

“We made a hundred or so Blue Boxes and sold almost all of them,” Jobs recalled.


The fun and profits came to an end at a Sunnyvale pizza parlor. Jobs and Wozniak

were about to drive to Berkeley with a Blue Box they had just finished making. Jobs

needed money and was eager to sell, so he pitched the device to some guys at the next table.

They were interested, so Jobs went to a phone booth and demonstrated it with a call to Chicago.

The prospects said they had to go to their car for money. “So we walk over to the car, Woz and me,

and I’ve got the Blue Box in my hand, and the guy gets in, reaches under the seat, and he pulls out a gun,”

Jobs recounted. He had never been that close to a gun, and he was terrified. “So he’s pointing the gun right at

my stomach, and he says, ‘Hand it over, brother.’ My mind raced. There was the car door here, and I thought

maybe I could slam it on his legs and we could run, but there was this high probability that he would shoot me.

So I slowly handed it to him, very carefully.” It was a weird sort of robbery. The guy who took the Blue

Box actually gave Jobs a phone number and said he would try to pay for it if it worked. When Jobs later called

the number, the guy said he couldn’t figure out how to use it. So Jobs, in his felicitous way, convinced the guy

to meet him and Wozniak at a public place. But they ended up deciding not to have another encounter with

the gunman, even on the off chance they could get their $150.

The partnership paved the way for what would be a bigger adventure together. “If it hadn’t been for the

Blue Boxes, there wouldn’t have been an Apple,” Jobs later reflected. “I’m 100% sure of that. Woz and

I learned how to work together, and we gained the confidence that we could solve technical problems and

partnership that would soon be born. Wozniak would be the gentle wizard coming up with a neat invention

that he would have been happy just to give away, and Jobs would figure out how to

make it user-friendly,

put it together

in a package, market it,

and make a few bucks.

Jobs thus became one of the first fifty employees at Atari

Jobs thus became one of the first fifty employees at Atari,

working as a technician for $5 an hour. “In retrospect,

it was weird to hire a dropout from Reed,” Alcorn recalled.


“But I saw something in him. He was very intelligent, enthusiastic,

excited about tech.” Alcorn assigned him to work with a straitlaced

engineer named Don Lang. The next day Lang complained,


“This guy’s a goddamn hippie with b.o. Why did you do this to me?

And he’s impossible to deal with.” Jobs clung to the belief that his fruit-heavy

vegetarian diet would prevent not just mucus but also body odor,

even if he didn’t use deodorant or shower regularly. It was a flawed theory.

Lang and others wanted to let Jobs go, but Bushnell worked out a solution.

“The smell and behavior wasn’t an issue with me,” he said. “Steve was prickly,

but I kind of liked him. So I asked him to go on the night shift. It was a way

to save him.” Jobs would come in after Lang and others had left and work through most

of the night. Even thus isolated, he became known for his brashness.

On those occasions when he happened to interact with others, he was prone

to informing them that they were “dumb shits.” In retrospect, he stands

by that judgment. “The only reason I shone was that everyone else was so bad,” Jobs recalled.

Despite his arrogance (or perhaps because of it) he was able to charm Atari’s boss.

“He was more philosophical than the other people I worked with,” Bushnell recalled.

“We used to discuss free will versus determinism. I tended to believe that things

were much more determined, that we were programmed. If we had perfect information,

we could predict people’s actions. Steve felt the opposite.” That outlook accorded

with his faith in the power of the will to bend reality.

Jobs helped improve some of the games by pushing the chips to produce fun designs,

and Bushnell’s inspiring willingness to play by his own rules rubbed off on him.

In addition, he intuitively appreciated the simplicity of Atari’s games. They came

with no manual and needed to be uncomplicated enough that a stoned freshman could

figure them out. The only

instructions for Atari’s Star

Trek game were “1. Insert

quarter. 2. Avoid Klingons.”

a high-resolution color display, a printer that worked without

a high-resolution color display, a printer that worked without a ribbon and could produce graphics in color at a page per second, unlimited access to the ARPA net, and the capability to recognize speech and synthesize music, “even

simulate Caruso singing with the Mormon tabernacle choir, with variable reverberation.” The memo concluded, “Starting with the abilities desired is

nonsense. We must start both with a price goal, and a set of abilities, and keep an eye on today’s and the immediate future’s technology.” In other words, Raskin had little patience for Jobs’s belief that you could distort reality if you had enough passion for your product.


sick, a really high fever. I dropped from 160 pounds to 120 in about a week.”

Once he got healthy enough to move, he decided that he needed to get out

of Delhi. So he headed to the town of Haridwar, in western India near the

source of the Ganges, which was having a festival known as the Kumbh Mela.

More than ten million people poured into a town that usually contained fewer

than 100,000 residents. “There were holy men all around. Tents with this teacher

and that teacher. There were people riding elephants, you name it. I was there

for a few days, but I decided that I needed to get out of there too.”

He went by train and bus to a village near Nainital in the foothills of the Himalayas.

That was where Neem Karoli Baba lived, or had lived. By the time Jobs got there,

he was no longer alive, at least in the same incarnation. Jobs rented a room with a

mattress on the floor from a family who helped him recuperate by feeding him

vegetarian meals. “There was a copy there of Autobiography of a Yogi in English that

a previous traveler had left, and I read it several times because there was not a lot to do,

and I walked around from village to village and recovered from my dysentery.”

Among those who were part of the community there was Larry Brilliant, an

epidemiologist who was working to eradicate smallpox and who

later ran Google’s

philanthropic arm and the Skoll

Foundation. He became

Jobs’s lifelong friend.

There was something larger at stake. The cheaper microprocessor

There was something larger at stake. The cheaper microprocessor that Raskin wanted would not have been able to accommodate all of the gee-whiz graphics—windows, menus, mouse, and so on—that the team had seen on the

Xerox PARC visits. Raskin had convinced everyone to go to Xerox PARC, and he liked the idea of a bitmapped display and windows, but he was not as charmed by all the cute graphics and icons, and he absolutely detested the idea of using a point-and-click mouse rather than the keyboard. “Some of the people on the project became enamored of the quest to do everything with the mouse,”

making kits and shipping them to Munich, where they were built into

finished machines and distributed by a wholesaler in Turin. But there was

a problem: Because the games were designed for the American rate of sixty

frames per second, there were frustrating interference problems in Europe,

where the rate was fifty frames per second. Alcorn sketched out a fix with Jobs

and then offered to pay for him to go to Europe to implement it. “It’s got to be

cheaper to get to India from there,” he said. Jobs agreed. So Alcorn sent him on his

way with the exhortation, “Say hi to your guru for me.”

Jobs spent a few days in Munich, where he solved the interference problem,

but in the process he flummoxed the dark-suited German managers. They

complained to Alcorn that he dressed and smelled like a bum and behaved rudely.

“I said, ‘Did he solve the problem?’ And they said, ‘Yeah.’ I said, ‘If you got any more

problems, you just call me, I got more guys just like him!’ They said,

‘No, no we’ll take care of it next time.’” For his part, Jobs was upset that the

Germans kept trying to feed him meat and potatoes. “They don’t even have a word for

vegetarian,” he complained (incorrectly) in a phone call to Alcorn.

He had a better time when he took the train to see the distributor in Turin,

where the Italian pastas and his host’s camaraderie were more simpatico. “

I had a wonderful couple of weeks in Turin, which is this charged-up industrial town,”

he recalled. “The distributor took me every night to dinner at this place where there

were only eight tables and no menu. You’d just tell them what you wanted, and they made it.

One of the tables was on reserve for the chairman of Fiat. It was really super.” He next

went to Lugano, Switzerland,

where he stayed with

Friedland’s uncle, and from

there took a flight to India.

The disagreements were more than just philosophical; they became

The disagreements were more than just philosophical; they became clashes of personality. “I think that he likes people to jump when he says jump,” Raskin once said. “I felt that he was untrustworthy, and that he does not take kindly

to being found wanting. He doesn’t seem to like people who see him without a halo.” Jobs was equally dismissive of Raskin. “Jef was really pompous,” he said. “He didn’t know much about interfaces. So I decided to nab some of his people who were really good, like Atkinson, bring in some of my own, take the thing over and build a less expensive Lisa, not some piece of junk.”

“Ron was an amazing guy,” said Jobs. “He started companies.

I had never met anybody like that.” He proposed to Wayne

that they go into business together; Jobs said he could borrow

$50,000, and they could design and market a slot machine.

But Wayne had already been burned in business, so he declined.

“I said that was the quickest way to lose $50,000,” Wayne recalled,

“but I admired the fact that he had a burning drive to start his own business.”

One weekend Jobs was visiting Wayne at his apartment, engaging as they

often did in philosophical discussions, when Wayne said that there was

something he needed to tell him. “Yeah, I think I know what it is,”

Jobs replied. “I think you like men.” Wayne said yes. “It was my

first encounter with someone who I knew was gay,” Jobs recalled.

“He planted the right perspective of it for me.” Jobs grilled him:

“When you see a beautiful woman, what do you feel?” Wayne replied,

“It’s like when you look at a beautiful horse. You can appreciate it, but you

don’t want to sleep with it. You appreciate beauty for what it is.”

Wayne said that it is a testament to Jobs that he felt like revealing this to

him. “Nobody at Atari knew, and I could count on my toes and fingers

the number of people I told in my whole life. But I guess it just felt right to

tell him, that he would understand, and it didn’t have any effect on our relationship.”


One reason Jobs was eager to make some money in early 1974 was that

Robert Friedland, who had gone to India the summer before, was urging

him to take his own spiritual journey there. Friedland had studied in India with

Neem Karoli Baba (Maharaj-ji), who had been the guru to much of the sixties

hippie movement. Jobs decided he should do the same, and he recruited

Daniel Kottke to go with him. Jobs was not motivated by mere adventure.

“For me it was a serious search,” he said. “I’d been turned on to the idea of

enlightenment and trying to figure out who I was and how I fit into things.”

Kottke adds that Jobs’s quest seemed

driven partly by not

knowing his birth parents.

“There was a hole in him,

and he was trying to fill it.”

Throughout 1979 and early 1980 the Macintosh project

Throughout 1979 and early 1980 the Macintosh project led a tenuous existence. Every few months it would almost get killed off, but each time

Raskin managed to cajole Markkula into granting clemency. It had a research team of only four engineers located in the original Apple office space next to the Good Earth restaurant, a few blocks from the company’


and I was very hungry.” As Jobs was eating, the holy man—who was

not much older than Jobs—picked him out of the crowd, pointed at him,

and began laughing maniacally. “He came running over and grabbed me

and made a tooting sound and said, ‘You are just like a baby,’” recalled Jobs.

“I was not relishing this attention.” Taking Jobs by the hand, he led him

out of the worshipful crowd and walked him up to a hill, where there was

a well and a small pond. “We sit down and he pulls out this straight razor.

I’m thinking he’s a nutcase and begin to worry. Then he pulls out a bar

of soap—I had long hair at the time—and he lathered up my hair and shaved

my head. He told me that he was saving my health.”

Daniel Kottke arrived in India at the beginning of the summer, and Jobs

went back to New Delhi to meet him. They wandered, mainly by bus, rather

aimlessly. By this point Jobs was no longer trying to find a guru who could impart

wisdom, but instead was seeking enlightenment through ascetic experience,

deprivation, and simplicity. He was not able to achieve inner calm.

Kottke remembers him getting into a furious shouting match with a

Hindu woman in a village marketplace who, Jobs alleged, had been

watering down the milk she was selling them.

Yet Jobs could also be generous. When they got to the town of Manali,

Kottke’s sleeping bag was stolen with his traveler’s checks in it.

“Steve covered my food expenses and bus ticket back to

Delhi,” Kottke recalled.

He also gave Kottke

the rest of his own money,

$100, to tide him over.

When Jobs was looking for someone to write a manual for the

When Jobs was looking for someone to write a manual for the Apple II in 1976, he called Raskin, who had his own little consulting firm. Raskin went to the

garage, saw Wozniak beavering away at a workbench, and was convinced by Jobs to write the manual for $50. Eventually he became the manager of Apple’s

publications department. One of Raskin’s dreams was to build an inexpensive computer for the masses, and in 1979 he convinced Mike Markkula to put him in charge


to pick him up. They immediately drove up from Los Altos. “

My head had been shaved, I was wearing Indian cotton robes,

and my skin had turned a deep, chocolate brown-red from the sun,”

he recalled. “So I’m sitting there and my parents walked past me about

five times and finally my mother came up and said ‘Steve?’ and I said ‘Hi!’”

They took him back home, where he continued trying to find himself.

It was a pursuit with many paths toward enlightenment. In the mornings

and evenings he would meditate and study Zen, and in between he would

drop in to audit physics or engineering courses at Stanford.

The Search

Jobs’s interest in Eastern spirituality, Hinduism, Zen Buddhism,

and the search for enlightenment was not merely the passing phase

of a nineteen-year-old. Throughout his life he would seek to follow

many of the basic precepts of Eastern religions, such as the emphasis

on experiential praj?ā, wisdom or cognitive understanding that is intuitively

experienced through concentration of the mind. Years later, sitting in his

Palo Alto garden, he reflected on the lasting influence of his trip to India:

Coming back to America was, for me, much more of a cultural shock than

going to India. The people in the Indian countryside don’t use their intellect

like we do, they use their intuition instead, and their intuition is far more

developed than in the rest of the world. Intuition is a very powerful thing,

more powerful

than intellect, in my

opinion. That’s had

a big impact on my work.

such as when Apple’s stock price would rise,

such as when Apple’s stock price would rise, which Jobs brushed off. Instead he spoke of his passion for future products, such as someday making a computer as small as a book. When the business

questions tapered off, Jobs turned the tables on the well-groomed students. “How many of you are

virgins?” he asked. There were nervous giggles. “How many of you have taken LSD?” More nervous laughter, and only one or two hands went up. Later Jobs would complain about the new generation of kids, who seemed to him more materialistic and careerist than his own.

sit on zafu cushions, and he would sit on a dais,” she said. “We learned how

to tune out distractions. It was a magical thing. One evening we were

meditating with Kobun when it was raining, and he taught us how to use

ambient sounds to bring us back to focus on our meditation.”

As for Jobs, his devotion was intense. “He became really serious and

self-important and just generally unbearable,” according to Kottke.

He began meeting with Kobun almost daily, and every few months they

went on retreats together to meditate. “I ended up spending as much time as

I could with him,” Jobs recalled. “He had a wife who was a nurse at Stanford

and two kids. She worked the night shift, so I would go over and hang out

with him in the evenings. She would get home about midnight and shoo me away.”

They sometimes discussed whether Jobs should devote himself fully to spiritual

pursuits, but Kobun counseled otherwise. He assured Jobs that he could keep

in touch with his spiritual side while working in a business. The relationship turned

out to be lasting and deep; seventeen years later Kobun would perform

Jobs’s wedding ceremony.

Jobs’s compulsive search for self-awareness also led him to undergo

primal scream therapy, which had recently been developed and popularized

by a Los Angeles psychotherapist named Arthur Janov. It was based on the

Freudian theory that psychological problems are caused by the repressed

pains of childhood; Janov argued that they could be resolved by re-suffering

these primal moments while fully expressing the pain—sometimes in screams.

To Jobs, this seemed preferable to talk therapy because it involved intuitive

feeling and emotional action rather than just rational analyzing.

“This was not something to think about,” he later said. “This was something to do: to


close your eyes, hold

your breath, jump in,

and come out the

other end more insightful.”

With Apple’s success came fame for its poster boy

With Apple’s success came fame for its poster boy.

Inc. became the first magazine to put him on its cover,

in October 1981. “This man has changed business forever,”


it proclaimed. It showed Jobs with a neatly trimmed

beard and well-styled long hair, wearing blue jeans and

a dress shirt with a blazer that was a little too satiny.


Jobs confided to close friends that he was driven by the pain he was feeling

about being put up for adoption and not knowing about his birth parents.

“Steve had a very profound desire to know his physical parents so he could

better know himself,” Friedland later said. He had learned from Paul and

Clara Jobs that his birth parents had both been graduate students at a university

and that his father might be Syrian. He had even thought about hiring

a private investigator, but he decided not to do so for the time being.

“I didn’t want to hurt my parents,” he recalled, referring to Paul and Clara.

“He was struggling with the fact that he had been adopted,” according to

Elizabeth Holmes. “He felt that it was an issue that he needed to get hold

of emotionally.” Jobs admitted as much to her. “This is something that is

bothering me, and I need to focus on it,” he said. He was even more open with

Greg Calhoun. “He was doing a lot of soul-searching about being adopted, and

he talked about it with me a lot,” Calhoun recalled. “The primal scream and the

mucusless diets, he was trying to cleanse himself and get deeper into his

frustration about his birth. He told me he was deeply angry about the

fact that he had been given up.”

John Lennon had undergone the same primal scream therapy in 1970,

and in December of that year he released the song “Mother” with the

Plastic Ono Band. It dealt with Lennon’s own feelings about a father who

had abandoned him and a mother who had been killed when he was a teenager.

The refrain includes

the haunting chant “

Mama don’t go, Daddy come

home.” Jobs used to

play the song often.