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.
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,
than intellect, in my
opinion. That’s had
a big impact on my work.
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.
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.
His biggest personal gift was to his parents, Paul and Clara Jobs,
to whom he gave about $750,000 worth of stock. They sold
some to pay off the mortgage on their Los Altos home, and their
son came over for the little celebration. “It was the first time in
their lives they didn’t have a mortgage,” Jobs recalled. “They had
a handful of their friends over for the party, and it was really nice.”
Still, they didn’t consider buying a nicer house.
“They weren’t interested in that,”
for a while. His confidence improved and his feelings of inadequacy were reduced.”
Jobs came to believe that he could impart that feeling of confidence
to others and thus push them to do things they hadn’t thought possible.
Holmes had broken up with Kottke and joined a religious cult in San
Francisco that expected her to sever ties with all past friends. But Jobs
rejected that injunction. He arrived at the cult house in his Ford Ranchero
one day and announced that he was driving up to Friedland’s apple farm
and she was to come. Even more brazenly, he said she would have to drive
part of the way, even though she didn’t know how to use the stick shift.
“Once we got on the open road, he made me get behind the wheel, and he
shifted the car until we got up to 55 miles per hour,” she recalled.
“Then he puts on a tape of Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, lays his head
in my lap, and goes to sleep. He had the attitude that he could do anything,
and therefore so can you. He put his life in my hands. So that made me
do something I didn’t think I could do.”
It was the brighter side of what would become known as his reality
distortion field. “If you trust him, you can do things,” Holmes said.
“If he’s decided that something should happen,
then he’s just going to make it happen.”
One day in early 1975 Al Alcorn was sitting in his office at Atari when Ron Wayne burst in.
“Hey, Stevie is back!”
“Wow, bring him on in,”
The Atari experience helped shape Jobs’s approach
to business and design. He appreciated the
user-friendliness of Atari’s insert-quarter-avoid-Klingons
games. “That simplicity rubbed off on him and made him
a very focused product person,” said Ron Wayne. .
Jobs also absorbed some of Bushnell’s take-no-prisoners attitude.
“Nolan wouldn’t take no for an answer,”
“I would rather let it pass,” he said when I pressed the point.
“It’s not something I want to judge Steve by.”
He confirmed his memory with Nolan
Bushnell and Al Alcorn. “I remember
talking about the bonus money to Woz,
and he was upset,” Bushnell said. “I said yes,
there was a bonus for each chip they saved,
and he just shook his head and
then clucked his tongue.”
In addition to their interest in computers,
they shared a passion for music.
“It was an incredible time for music,”
Jobs recalled. “It was like living at a time when
Beethoven and Mozart were alive. Really. People
will look back on it that way. And Woz and I were
deeply into it.” In particular, Wozniak turned Jobs
on to the glories of Bob Dylan.
“We tracked down this guy in Santa Cruz who put
out this newsletter on Dylan,” Jobs said. “Dylan
taped all of his concerts, and some of the people
around him were not scrupulous, because soon
there were tapes all around. Bootlegs of everything.
And this guy had them all.”
Hunting down Dylan tapes soon became a joint
venture. “The two of us would go tramping through
San Jose and Berkeley and ask about Dylan bootlegs
and collect them,” said Wozniak. “We’d buy brochures
of Dylan lyrics and stay up late interpreting them.
Dylan’s words struck chords of creative thinking.”
Added Jobs, “I had more than a hundred hours,
including every concert on the ’65 and ’66 tour,”
the one where Dylan went electric. Both of them
bought high-end TEAC reel-to-reel tape decks.
“I would use mine at a low speed to record many
concerts on one tape,” said Wozniak.
Jobs matched his obsession:
“Instead of big speakers I bought a pair
of awesome headphones and would just
lie in my bed and listen to that stuff for hours.”
Jobs had formed a club at Homestead High to
put on music-and-light shows and also play
pranks. (They once glued a gold-painted toilet
seat onto a flower planter.) It was called the
Buck Fry Club, a play on the name of the principal.
Even though they had already graduated, Wozniak
and his friend Allen Baum joined forces with Jobs,
at the end of his junior year, to produce a farewell
gesture for the departing seniors. Showing off the
Homestead campus four decades later, Jobs paused
at the scene of the escapade and pointed. “See that
balcony? That’s where we did the banner prank that
sealed our friendship.” On a big bedsheet Baum had
tie-dyed with the school’s green and white colors,
they painted a huge hand flipping the middle-finger
salute. Baum’s nice Jewish mother helped them draw
it and showed them how to do the shading and
shadows to make it look more real.
“I know what that is,” she snickered. They devised a
system of ropes and pulleys so that it could be
dramatically lowered as the graduating class
marched past the balcony, and they signed it
“SWAB JOB,” the initials of Wozniak and Baum
combined with part of Jobs’
s name. The prank
became part of school
lore—and got Jobs
suspended one more time.
When Mike Markkula joined Jobs and Wozniak
to turn their fledgling partnership into the Apple
Computer Co. in January 1977, they valued it at $5,309.
Less than four years later they decided it was time
to take it public. It would become the most oversubscribed
initial public offering since that of Ford Motors in 1956.
By the end of December 1980, Apple would be valued at $1.79
billion. Yes, billion. In the process it would
make three hundred people millionaires.
Much of the work was done in the garage of a friend just around the corner,
Bill Fernandez, who was still at Homestead High. To lubricate their efforts, they drank large amounts of Cragmont cream
soda, riding their bikes to the Sunnyvale Safeway to return the bottles, collect the deposits, and buy more. “That’s how we started referring to it as the Cream Soda Computer,” Wozniak recalled.
It was basically a calculator capable of multiplying numbers entered by a set of switches and displaying the results in binary code with little lights.
When it was finished, Fernandez told Wozniak there was someone at Homestead High he should meet. “His name is Steve. He likes to do pranks like you do, and he’s also into building electronics like you are.” It may have been the most significant meeting in a Silicon Valley garage since Hewlett went into
Packard’s thirty-two years earlier. “Steve and I just sat on the sidewalk in front of Bill’s house for the longest time, just sharing stories—mostly about pranks we’d pulled, and also what kind of electronic designs we’d done,” Wozniak recalled. “We had so much in common. Typically, it was really hard for me to
explain to people what kind of design stuff I worked on, but Steve got it right away. And I liked him. He was kind of skinny and wiry and full of energy.” Jobs was also impressed. “Woz was the first
person I’d met who knew more electronics than I did,” he once said, stretching his own expertise. “I liked him right away. I was a little more mature than my years, and he was a little less
mature than his, so it
evened out. Woz was
very bright, but
emotionally he was my age.”
Jef Raskin was the type of character who could enthrall Steve Jobs—or annoy him. As it turned out, he did both. A philosophical guy who could be both playful and ponderous, Raskin had
studied computer science, taught music and visual arts, conducted a chamber opera company, and organized guerrilla theater. His 1967 doctoral thesis at U.C.
San Diego argued that computers should have graphical rather than text-based interfaces. When he got fed up with
teaching, he rented a hot air balloon, flew over the chancellor’s house, and shouted down his decision to quit.
your intuition starts to blossom and you start to see things more clearlyand be in the present more. Your mind just slows down, and you see
Bruce Horn was one of the programmers at Xerox PARC. When some of his friends, such as Larry Tesler, decided to join the
Macintosh group, Horn considered going there as well. But he got a good offer, and a $15,000 signing bonus, to join another
company. Jobs called him on a Friday night. “You have to come into Apple tomorrow morning,” he said.
a tremendous expanse in the moment. You see so much more than
you could see before. It’s a discipline; you have to practice it.
Zen has been a deep influence in my life ever since. At one point
I was thinking about going to Japan and trying to get into the
Eihei-ji monastery, but my spiritual advisor urged me to stay here.
He said there is nothing over there that isn’t here, and he was correct.
I learned the truth of the Zen saying that if you are willing to travel around
the world to meet a teacher, one will appear next door.
Jobs did in fact find a teacher right in his own neighborhood. Shunryu Suzuki,
who wrote Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind and ran the San Francisco Zen Center,
used to come to Los Altos every Wednesday evening to lecture and meditate
with a small group of followers. After a while he asked his assistant,
Kobun Chino Otogawa, to open a full-time center there. Jobs became
a faithful follower, along with his occasional girlfriend, Chrisann Brennan,
and Daniel Kottke and Elizabeth Holmes. He also began to go by himself on
retreats to the
Tassajara Zen Center,
a monastery near
Kobun also taught.
By fourth grade Wozniak became, as he put it, one of the “electronics kids.” He had
an easier time making eye contact with a transistor than with a girl, and he developed the
chunky and stooped look of a guy who spends most of his time hunched over circuit boards.
At the same age when Jobs was puzzling over a carbon microphone that his dad couldn’t explain,
Wozniak was using transistors to build an intercom system featuring amplifiers, relays, lights,
and buzzers that connected the kids’ bedrooms of six houses in the neighborhood. And at an age when
Jobs was building Heathkits, Wozniak was assembling a transmitter and receiver from Hallicrafters,
the most sophisticated radios available.
Woz spent a lot of time at home reading his father’s electronics journals, and he became enthralled
by stories about new computers, such as the powerful ENIAC. Because Boolean algebra came naturally
to him, he marveled at how simple, rather than complex, the computers were. In eighth grade he built
a calculator that included one hundred transistors, two hundred diodes, and two hundred resistors on ten
circuit boards. It won top prize in a local contest run by the Air Force, even though the competitors
included students through twelfth grade.
Woz became more of a loner when the boys his age began going out with girls and partying,
endeavors that he found far more complex than designing circuits. “Where before I was popular
and riding bikes and everything, suddenly I was socially shut out,” he recalled. “It seemed
like nobody spoke to me for the longest time.” He found an outlet by playing juvenile pranks.
In twelfth grade he built an electronic metronome—one of those tick-tick-tick devices that keep
time in music class—and realized it sounded like a bomb. So he took the labels off some big batteries,
taped them together, and put it in a school locker; he rigged it to start ticking faster when the locker
opened. Later that day he got called to the principal’s office. He thought it was because he had won, yet again,
the school’s top math prize. Instead he was confronted by the police. The principal had been summoned when the device was
found, bravely ran onto the football field clutching it to his chest, and pulled the wires off. Woz tried and
failed to suppress his laughter. He actually got sent to the juvenile detention center, where he spent the
night. It was a memorable experience. He taught the other prisoners how to disconnect the wires leading to
the ceiling fans and
connect them to the bars
so people got shocked
when touching them.
was almost five years older than Jobs and far more
knowledgeable about electronics. But emotionally and socially he was still a high school geek.
While a student in McCollum’s class, Jobs became friends with a graduate who was the teacher’s
all-time favorite and a school legend for his wizardry in the class. Stephen Wozniak, whose younger
brother had been on a swim team with Jobs,
Like Jobs, Wozniak learned a lot at his father’s knee. But their lessons were different.
Paul Jobs was a high school dropout who, when fixing up cars, knew how to turn a tidy
profit by striking the right deal on parts. Francis Wozniak, known as Jerry,
was a brilliant
engineering graduate from Cal Tech, where he had quarterbacked the football team, who became
a rocket scientist at Lockheed. He exalted engineering and looked down on those in business,
marketing, and sales. “I remember him telling me that engineering was the highest level of
importance you could reach in the world,” Steve Wozniak later recalled. “It takes society to a new level.”
One of Steve Wozniak’s first memories was going to his father’s workplace on a weekend
and being shown electronic parts, with his dad “putting them on a table with me so I got to play with them.” He watched with fascination as his father tried to get a waveform line on a video screen to stay flat so he could show that one of his circuit designs was working properly. “I could see that whatever my dad was doing, it was important and good.” Woz, as he was known even then, would ask about the resistors and transistors lying around the house, and his father would pull out a blackboard to illustrate what they did. “He would explain what a resistor was by going all the way back to atoms and electrons. He explained how resistors worked when I was in second grade, not by equations but by having me picture it.”
Woz’s father taught him something else that became ingrained in his childlike, socially awkward personality: Never lie. “My dad believed in honesty. Extreme honesty. That’s the biggest thing he taught me. I never lie, even to this day.” (The only partial exception was in the service of a good practical joke.) In addition, he imbued his son with an aversion to extreme ambition, which set Woz apart from Jobs. At an Apple product launch event in 2010, forty years after they met, Woz reflected on their differences. “My father told me, ‘You always want to be in the middle,’” he said. “I didn’t want to be up with the high-level people like Steve. My dad was an engineer,
and that’s what
I wanted to be. I was way
too shy ever to be a
business leader like Steve.”
And he drew his sword on Jia Xu. But the other officers interceded and saved the adviser.
That same night Jia Xu stole out of the camp and, quite alone, took his way home to his native village.
Soon the rebels decided to offer battle. In reply, Cao Cao sent out Xu Chu, Cao Ren, and Dian Wei with three hundred horse. These three leaders dashed into the rebels army but quickly retired. This maneuver was repeated, and again repeated before the real battle array was formed.
then Li Xian and Li Bie, nephews of Li Jue, rode out. At once from Cao Cao’s side dashed out Xu Chu and cut down Li Xian. Li Bie was so startled that he fell out of the saddle. He too was slain. The victor Xu Chu rode back to his own side with the two heads.
[e] Fan Kuai （BC ？-189） a brave general of Liu Bang. He and Liu Bang had been close friends in their native Pei, where he was a butcher and Liu Bang later held a minor office. Enobled as Lord of Zuo. ……
When Xu Chu offered them to the chief, Cao Cao patted him on the back, crying, “You are really my Fan Kuai*！”
Next a general move forward was made, Xiahou Dun and Cao Hong leading the two wings and Cao Cao in the center. They advanced to the roll of the drum. The rebels fell back before them and presently fled. They pursued, Cao Cao himself leading, sword in hand. The slaughter went on till night. Ten thousands were killed and many more surrendered.
Li Jue and Guo Si went west,
flying in panic like dogs from a falling house.
Having no place of refuge they took to the hills
and hid among the brushwood.