“Each one thought he was smarter than the other one, but Steve generally treated Bill as
someone who was slightly inferior, especially in matters of taste and style,” said Andy Hertzfeld.
“Bill looked down on Steve because he couldn’t actually program.” From the beginning of their
relationship, Gates was fascinated by Jobs and slightly envious of his mesmerizing effect on
people. But he also found him “fundamentally odd” and “weirdly flawed as a human being,” and
he was put off by Jobs’s rudeness and his tendency to be “either in the mode of saying you were
shit or trying to seduce you.” For his part, Jobs found Gates unnervingly narrow. “He’d be a
broader guy if he had dropped
acid once or gone off to an ashram when he was younger,” Jobs once declared.
Their differences in personality and character would lead them to opposite sides of what would
become the fundamental divide in the digital age. Jobs was a perfectionist who craved control and
indulged in the uncompromising temperament of an artist; he and Apple became the exemplars of
a digital strategy that tightly integrated hardware, software, and content into a seamless package.
Gates
was a smart, calculating, and pragmatic analyst of business and technology; he was open to
licensing Microsoft’s operating system and software to a variety of manufacturers.
After thirty years Gates would develop a grudging respect for Jobs. “He really never knew
much about technology, but he had an amazing instinct for what works,” he said. But Jobs never
reciprocated by fully appreciating Gates’s real strengths. “Bill is basically unimaginative and has
never invented anything, which is why I think he’s more comfortable now in philanthropy than
technology,” Jobs said, unfairly. “He just shamelessly ripped off other people’s ideas.”
When the Macintosh was first being developed, Jobs went up to visit Gates at his office near
Seattle. Microsoft had written some applications for the Apple II, including a spreadsheet program
called Multiplan, and Jobs wanted to excite Gates and Co. about doing even more for the
forthcoming Macintosh. Sitting in Gates’s conference room, Jobs spun an enticing vision of a
computer for the masses, with a friendly interface, which would be churned out
by the millions in
an automated California factory. His description of the dream factory sucking in the California
silicon components and turning out finished Macintoshes caused the Microsoft team to code-name
the project “Sand.” They even reverse-engineered it into an acronym, for “Steve’s amazing new
device.”
Gates had launched Microsoft by writing a version of BASIC, a programming language, for the
Altair. Jobs wanted Microsoft to write a version of BASIC for the Macintosh, because Wozniak—
despite much prodding by Jobs—had never enhanced his version of the Apple II’s BASIC to
handle floating-point numbers. In addition,
Jobs wanted Microsoft to write application software—such as word processing and spreadsheet
programs—for the Macintosh. At the time, Jobs was a king and Gates still a courtier: In 1982
Apple’s annual sales were $1 billion, while Microsoft’s were a mere $32 million. Gates signed on
to do graphical versions of a new spreadsheet called Excel, a word-processing program called
Word, and BASIC.
Gates frequently went to Cupertino for demonstrations of the Macintosh operating system, and
he was not very impressed. “I remember the first time we went down, Steve had this app where it
was just things bouncing around on the screen,” he said. “That was the only app that ran.” Gates
was also put off by Jobs’s attitude. “It was kind of a weird seduction visit,
where Steve was
saying, ‘We don’t really need you and we’re doing this great thing, and it’s under the cover.’ He’s
in his Steve Jobs sales mode, but kind of the sales mode that also says, ‘I don’t need you, but I
might let you be involved.’”
The Macintosh pirates found Gates hard to take. “You could tell that Bill Gates was not a very
good listener. He couldn’t bear to have anyone explain how something worked to him—he had to
leap ahead instead and guess about how he thought it would work,” Hertzfeld recalled. They
showed him how the Macintosh’s cursor moved smoothly across the screen without flickering.
“What kind of hardware do you use to draw the cursor?” Gates asked. Hertzfeld, who took great
pride that they could achieve their functionality solely using software, replied, “We don’t have any
special hardware for it!” Gates insisted that it was necessary to have special hardware to move the
cursor that way. “So what do you say to somebody like that?” Bruce Horn, one of the Macintosh
engineers, later said. “It made it clear to me that Gates was not the kind of person that would
understand or appreciate the elegance of a Macintosh.”
Despite their mutual wariness, both teams were excited by the prospect that Microsoft would
create graphical software for the Macintosh that would take personal computing into a new realm,
and they went to dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate. Microsoft soon dedicated a large team to
the task. “We had more people working on the Mac than he did,” Gates said. “He had about
fourteen or fifteen people. We had like twenty people. We really bet our life on it.” And even
though
Jobs thought that they didn’t
exhibit much taste, the Microsoft programmers were persistent.
“They came out with applications that were terrible,” Jobs recalled, “but they kept at it and they
made them better.” Eventually Jobs became so enamored of Excel that he made a secret bargain
with Gates: If Microsoft would make Excel exclusively for the Macintosh for two years, and not
make a version for IBM PCs, then Jobs would shut down his team working on a version of BASIC
for the Macintosh and instead indefinitely license Microsoft’s BASIC. Gates smartly took the
deal, which infuriated the Apple team whose project got canceled and gave Microsoft a lever in
future negotiations.
For the time being, Gates and Jobs forged a bond. That summer they went to a conference
hosted by the industry analyst Ben Rosen at a Playboy Club retreat in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin,
where nobody knew about the graphical interfaces that Apple was developing. “Everybody was
acting like the IBM PC was everything, which was nice, but Steve and I were kind of smiling that,
hey, we’ve got something,” Gates recalled. “And he’s kind of leaking, but nobody actually caught
on.” Gates became a regular at Apple retreats. “I went to every luau,” said Gates. “I
was part of
the crew.”
Gates enjoyed his frequent visits to Cupertino, where he got to watch Jobs interact erratically
with his employees and display his obsessions. “Steve was in his ultimate pied piper mode,
proclaiming how the Mac will change the world and overworking people like mad, with incredible
tensions and complex personal relationships.” Sometimes Jobs would begin on a high, then lapse
into sharing his fears with Gates. “We’d go down Friday night, have dinner, and Steve would just
be promoting that everything is great. Then the second day, without fail, he’d be kind of, ‘Oh shit,
is this thing going to sell, oh God, I have to raise the price, I’m sorry I did that to you, and my
team is a bunch of idiots.’”
Gates saw Jobs’s reality distortion field at play when the Xerox Star was launched. At a joint
team dinner one Friday night, Jobs asked Gates how many Stars had been sold thus far. Gates said
six hundred. The next day, in front
of Gates and the whole team, Jobs said that three hundred Stars
had been sold, forgetting that Gates had just told everyone it was actually six hundred. “So his
whole team starts looking at me
like, ‘Are you going to tell him that he’s full of shit?’” Gates recalled. “And in that case I didn’t
take the bait.” On another occasion Jobs and his team were visiting Microsoft and having dinner at
the Seattle Tennis Club. Jobs launched into a sermon about how the Macintosh and its software
would be so easy to use that there would be no manuals. “It was like anybody who ever thought
that there would be a manual for any Mac application was the greatest idiot,” said Gates. “And we
were like, ‘Does he really mean it? Should we not tell him that we have people who are actually
working on manuals?’”
After a while the relationship became bumpier. The original plan was to have some of the
Microsoft applications—such as Excel, Chart, and File—carry the Apple logo and come bundled
with the purchase of a Macintosh. “We were going to get $10 per app, per machine,” said Gates.
But this arrangement upset competing software makers. In addition, it seemed that some of
Microsoft’s programs might be late. So Jobs invoked a provision in his deal with Microsoft and
decided not to bundle its software; Microsoft would have to scramble to distribute its software as
products sold directly to consumers.
Gates went along without much complaint. He was already getting used to the fact that, as he
put it, Jobs could “play fast and loose,” and he suspected that the unbundling would actually help
Microsoft. “We could make more money selling
our software separately,” Gates said. “It works
better that way if you’re willing to think you’re going to have reasonable market share.” Microsoft
ended up making its software for various other platforms, and it began to give priority to the IBM
PC version of Microsoft Word rather than the Macintosh version. In the end, Jobs’s decision to
back out of the bundling deal hurt Apple more than it did Microsoft.
When Excel for the Macintosh was released, Jobs and Gates unveiled it together at a press
dinner at New York’s Tavern on the Green. Asked if Microsoft would make a version of it for
IBM PCs, Gates did not reveal the bargain he had made with Jobs but merely answered that “in
time” that might happen. Jobs took the microphone. “I’m sure ‘in time’ we’ll all be dead,” he
joked.
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