sure it waved proudly all the way through to the completion of the Mac project. “We were the
renegades, and we wanted people to know it,” he recalled.
Veterans of the Mac team had learned that they could stand up to Jobs. If they knew what they
were talking about, he would tolerate the pushback, even admire it. By 1983 those most familiar
with his reality distortion field had discovered something further: They could, if necessary, just
quietly disregard what he decreed. If they turned out to be right, he would appreciate their
renegade attitude and willingness to ignore authority. After all, that’s what he did.
By far the most important example of this involved the choice of a disk drive for the Macintosh.
Apple had a corporate division that built mass-storage devices, and it had developed a disk-drive
system, code-named Twiggy, that could read and write onto those thin, delicate 5¼-inch floppy
disks that older readers (who also remember Twiggy the model) will recall. But by the time the
Lisa was ready to ship in the spring of 1983, it was clear that the Twiggy was buggy. Because the
Lisa also came with a hard-disk drive, this was not a complete disaster. But the Mac had no hard
disk, so it faced a crisis. “The Mac team was beginning to panic,” said Hertzfeld. “We were using
a single Twiggy drive, and we didn’t have a hard disk to fall back on.”
The team discussed the problem at the January 1983 retreat, and Debi Coleman gave Jobs data
about the Twiggy failure rate. A few days later he drove to Apple’s factory in San Jose to see the
Twiggy being made. More than half were rejected. Jobs erupted. With his face flushed, he began
shouting and sputtering about firing everyone who worked there. Bob Belleville, the head of the
Mac engineering team,
gently guided him to the parking lot, where they could take a walk and talk about alternatives.
One possibility that Belleville had been exploring was to use a new 3½-inch disk drive that
Sony had developed. The disk was cased in sturdier plastic and could fit into a shirt pocket.
Another option was to have a clone of Sony’s 3½-inch disk drive manufactured by a smaller
Japanese supplier, the Alps Electronics Co., which had been supplying disk drives for the Apple
II. Alps had already licensed the technology from Sony, and if they could build their own version
in time it would be much cheaper.
Jobs and Belleville, along with Apple veteran Rod Holt (the guy Jobs enlisted to design the first
power supply for the Apple II), flew to Japan to figure out what to do. They took the bullet train
from Tokyo to visit the Alps facility. The engineers there didn’t even have a working prototype,
just a crude model. Jobs thought it was great, but Belleville was appalled. There was no way, he
thought, that Alps could have it ready for the Mac within a year.
As they proceeded to visit other Japanese companies, Jobs was on his worst behavior. He wore
jeans and sneakers to meetings with Japanese managers in dark suits. When they formally handed
him little gifts, as was the custom, he often left them behind, and he never reciprocated with gifts
of his own. He would sneer when rows of engineers lined up to greet him, bow, and politely offer
their products for inspection. Jobs hated both the devices and the obsequiousness. “What are you
showing me
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