We moaned and groaned about being tired, but as we talked we realized it would be fun to cook up something impressive. We were too tired to think about it right away, but when we came back the next day, a plan started to emerge.
Capps had an idea to use a gigantic font to scroll “Macintosh” across the screen, one letter at a time, to start the demo, so he worked on that, as well as the slideshow. Bruce Horn wanted to do a starry night with twinkling stars, and a skywriter writing “Macintosh” in cursive across the night sky. Susan worked on an intro graphic of the Mac sitting in its canvas carrying bag, as well as some of the other graphics for the slideshow part. I integrated all the pieces and also signed up for the Chariots of Fire music part since no one else wanted to do it.
It’s hard to write a music editor/player in two days. I managed to put something together that could actually play the Chariots of Fire theme, but it didn’t sound very good, and Steve immediately rejected it and opted for using a CD of the Chariots of Fire song to play in the background instead.
Meanwhile, as we were working on the demo, Mike Boich came by with Mark Barton, a third-party developer who we seeded with an early Mac because he had written an impressive program for the Apple II called SAM the Software Automatic Mouth. SAM was a speech generator that converted text to speech with a distinctive, winning personality. I had helped Mark with sound driver issues as he developed it, and now it had finally made it to fruition. SAM sounded even better on the Mac because we had 8 bits per sample and a higher sampling rate.
When Steve heard SAM talk, he immediately decreed we had to incorporate SAM in the intro demo. “I want the Macintosh to be the first computer to introduce itself!” he insisted. He told Mike Boich to quickly cut a deal with Mark so Apple could bundle the speech generator (rechristened Macintalk) and use it in the intro.
Since my music generator fell through, I got to do the speech part, using Mark Barton’s libraries. I knew I wasn’t clever enough to be the Mac’s speechwriter. I think Susan had the idea of asking Steve Hayden, Chiat-Day’s head writer, to do it. Steve was the guy who conceived the 1984 commercial (see “1984” on page 180) and was as clever as they come. He was excited about helping out and got it done overnight.
Once we integrated all the pieces together, the demo didn’t come close to being able to run on a standard Macintosh. Fortunately, we had a prototype of a 512K Mac in the lab, so we decided to cheat a little (there were only two in existence at the time) and use that for the demo, which made things fit.
The demo started out with Susan’s graphic of the Mac hidden in its carrying bag on a curtained stage. Suddenly, the music swelled (from a CD, not generated by the Mac) and Capp’s big letters scrolled nimbly across the screen, spelling out “Macintosh.” Then we transitioned to Bruce’s skywriter, and then to various screenshots of applications, including third-party applications like Microsoft’s Multiplan and Chart. Finally, the music stopped, the screen went blank, and we waited for Steve to press the mouse button. When he did, the Mac started to speak in strange but somehow endearing tones:
“Hello, I am Macintosh. It sure is great to get out of that bag!
Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I’d like to share with you a maxim I thought of the first time I met an IBM mainframe: Never trust a computer that you can’t lift!
Obviously, I can talk, but right now I’d like to sit back and listen. So it is with considerable pride that I introduce a man who has been like a father to me ... Steve Jobs!”
The Times They Are A-Changin’
January 1984
The big day finally arrives
January 24, 1984—the big day had finally arrived. We had looked forward to this date for so long that it didn’t seem that real to be actually experiencing the long-awaited public unveiling of the Macintosh at Apple’s 1984 annual shareholder’s meeting. We were excited, of course, but also nervous about our hastily contrived demo software, and still exhausted from the final push to finish the system software in time (see “Real Artists Ship” on page 208).
I had attended one of the rehearsals over the weekend, to help set up the demo, and it was fraught with problems. Apple rented a powerful video projector called a LightValve that could project the Macintosh display larger and brighter than I thought possible. The Mac had to be connected to the projector through a special board cooked up by Burrell to compensate for the Mac’s unique video timings. The LightValve was quite temperamental, taking eons to warm up and then sometimes shutting down inexplicably. Plus, Steve wasn’t into rehearsing very much and could barely force himself into doing a single, complete run-through.
Most of the software team usually didn’t come to work until after 10 A.M., but on this morning we gathered in our fishbowl office in Bandley 3 at 7:30, so we could walk over together to the big auditorium at Flint Center, which was a half-mile away. We got to the cavernous room (which seated 2,500) early, but it was already filling up, and soon it was packed tight, with standing room only. The software team sat up close in the second row, in a section reserved for Macintosh division employees.
Finally, the lights dimmed, and Steve Jobs appeared at a podium on the left side of the stage. He was resplendent in a finely tailored black suit complete with a prominent bow tie, looking more like a Las Vegas impresario than a computer industry executive. You could tell he was nervous, too, as he quieted the rousing applause and began to speak.
“Welcome to Apple’s 1984 Annual Shareholders meeting. I’d like to begin by reading part of an old poem by Dylan—that’s Bob Dylan.” Steve flashed a big smile as he started to recite the second verse of “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” stretching an occasional vowel in a Dylanesque fashion.
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide,
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’
Steve thanked Apple’s board of directors individually by name for their support in a turbulent year and then turned the meeting over to Apple’s chief counsel, Al Eisenstadt, to run the formal part of the meeting. Al ran through some procedural stuff and then introduced Apple’s CEO, John Sculley, who had been hired nine months earlier, for a report on the business.
John reported on Apple’s latest quarter, which saw disappointing Lisa sales balanced by a fantastic Christmas for the Apple IIe, whose sales had more than doubled from the previous year. But the crowd seemed distracted, impatiently waiting for the Main Event. John sensed this and hurried through the bulk of his presentation. Finally he concluded by thanking Mike Markkula and the executive staff for supporting him during his first few months at Apple, thanking one individual in particular.
“The most important thing that has happened to me in the last nine months at Apple has been a chance to develop a friendship with Steve Jobs. Steve is a co-founder of Apple, and a product visionary for this industry, and it’s my pleasure now to reintroduce Steve Jobs.”
Steve reappeared on the left side of the stage as the lights dimmed again. “It is 1958,” he began, speaking slowly and dramatically. “IBM passes up a chance to buy a young fledgling company that has invented a new technology called xerography. Two years later, Xerox was born, and IBM has been kicking themselves ever since.” The crowd laughed, as Steve paused.
Steve had cooked up this spiel for the sales meeting in Hawaii the previous fall to introduce the 1984 commercial. I had seen him do it a few times by now, but never with as much passion, intensity, and emotion dripping from his voice.
“It is 10 years later, the late 60s,” he continued, speaking faster now. “Digital Equipment Corporation and others invent the minicomputer. IBM dismisses the minicomputer as too small to do serious computing, and therefo
re unimportant to their business. DEC grows to be a multi-hundred million dollar company before IBM enters the minicomputer market.” Steve paused again.
“It is now 10 years later, the late 70s. In 1977, Apple Computer, a young fledgling company on the West Coast, introduces the Apple II, the first personal computer, as we know it today. IBM dismisses the personal computer as too small to do serious computing, and therefore unimportant to their business,” Steve intoned sarcastically, and the crowd applauded.
“The early 1980s. 1981—Apple II has become the world’s most popular computer, and Apple has grown to a 300 million dollar corporation, becoming the fastest growing company in American business history. With over 50 companies vying for a share, IBM enters the personal computer market in November of 1981, with the IBM PC.” Steve spoke very quickly at this point, picking up momentum.
“1983. Apple and IBM emerge as the industry’s strongest competitors, with each selling approximately one billion dollars worth of personal computers in 1983. The shakeout is in full swing. The first major personal computer firm goes bankrupt, with others teetering on the brink. Total industry losses for 1983 overshadow even the combined profits of Apple and IBM.”
He slowed down, speaking emphatically. “It is now 1984. It appears that IBM wants it all. Apple is perceived to be the only hope to offer IBM a run for its money. Dealers, after initially welcoming IBM with open arms, now fear an IBM dominated and controlled future and are turning back to Apple as the only force who can ensure their future freedom.”
Steve paused even longer, as the crowd’s cheering swelled. He had them on the edge of their seats. “IBM wants it all and is aiming its guns at its last obstacle to industry control, Apple. Will Big Blue dominate the entire computer industry? The entire information age? Was George Orwell right?”
The crowd was in a frenzy now, as the already famous 1984 commercial (see “1984” on page 180), which was shown for the first and only time during the Superbowl two days before, filled the screen, featuring a beautiful young woman athlete storming into a meeting of futuristic skinheads, throwing a sledge-hammer at Big Brother, imploding the screen in a burst of apocalyptic light. By the time the commercial finished, everyone in the auditorium was standing and cheering.
Steve then went on to describe the Macintosh as the third industry milestone product, after the Apple II and the IBM PC. “Some of us have been working on Macintosh for more than two years now, and it has turned out insanely great!”
All this time, a lone Macintosh had sat in its canvas carrying case near the center of the stage. Steve walked over to the bag and opened it up, unveiling the Mac to the world for the very first time. He pulled it out and plugged it in, inserting a floppy, and the demo began to run, flawlessly (see “It Sure Is Great to Get Out of That Bag!” on page 213). The Macintosh became the first computer to introduce itself, speaking in a tremulous voice:
“Hello, I am Macintosh. It sure is great to get out of that bag!
Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I’d like to share with you a maxim I thought of the first time I met an IBM mainframe: Never trust a computer that you can’t lift!
Obviously, I can talk, but right now I’d like to sit back and listen. So it is with considerable pride that I introduce a man who has been like a father to me ... Steve Jobs!”
Pandemonium reigned. Steve had the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face and was obviously holding back tears as he was overwhelmed by the moment. The ovation continued for at least five minutes before he quieted the crowd down.
The rest of the meeting was an anticlimactic blur as Steve ran through some marketing material and introduced new versions of the Lisa. He showed a slide-show tribute to the Mac team, with voiceovers from the most important contributors. Finally, he turned the meeting back to Al Eisenstadt to announce the shareholder tallies and complete the formal portion of the shareholders’ meeting.
Every member of the audience was given a copy of the first issue of MacWorld magazine, with Steve on the cover, as they departed. Most of the Mac team hung around near the stage, congratulating each other and waiting for the crowd to disperse.
A little later, after we had returned to Bandley 3, we were surprised to see a large Apple truck pulling up in the parking lot near the back of the building. It contained 100 brand new Macintoshes, one for each member of the team, each one personalized with a little plaque on the back. Steve presented them one at a time to each team member with a handshake and a smile as the rest of us stood around cheering.
We were so keyed up it was impossible to get back to work that afternoon, but most of us didn’t want to go back home, either. The Macs were supposed to go on sale that very day, immediately following the introduction. I thought it would make it more real to me if I actually could go out and buy one, so five or six of us walked to the nearest Apple dealer to see if that was possible. The first, closest dealer didn’t have any units in stock and told us they weren’t for sale yet, but we didn’t give up. The next dealer was willing to sell me one, even though he didn’t have any units in yet either.
Thanks to Scott Knaster, who had a videotape of the 1984 introduction, which allowed me to quote so much of Steve’s presentation—my memory isn’t that good!
part five
Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction.
Pablo Picasso
Can We Keep the Skies Safe?
January 1984
Burrell and I get our pictures in Newsweek
The marketing campaign that launched the original Macintosh was almost as imaginative and innovative as the product itself. It included a carefully orchestrated press blitz, masterminded by Regis McKenna, the legendary Silicon Valley marketing guru whose business card read “Regis McKenna, Himself,” and his team of bright, young female assistants, who we nicknamed the “Rejettes”: Andy Cunningham, Jane Anderson, and Katie Cadigan.
The basic idea was to create a perception of the Macintosh introduction as an epochal event by garnering as much attention as we could from every possible venue, all coordinated to appear around the January 1984 launch. Because some of the monthly magazines had more than three months lead time, the press briefings and interviews began in October 1983 with Byte magazine (see “The Mythical Man-Year” on page 179), and became more numerous with each passing week.
One of the most sought-after goals of the press campaign was to obtain a cover story from either Time or Newsweek during launch week. Regis and his team were experts at the delicate dance of courtship that such an endeavor required, since journalistic ethics mandated that the cover could not be bought or promised ahead of time. In mid-December, after Newsweek interviewed Steve and some of the design team, we heard they were potentially interested in doing a cover story on the Mac.
It looked promising enough that the Rejettes arranged for Steve to make an impromptu trip to New York City to meet the top brass at Newsweek. Apparently, they were interested in featuring Burrell Smith and me in the article, too, so we accompanied Steve on a whirlwind three days in New York. We stayed at Steve’s favorite hotel, the Carlyle, which cost over $400 per night. We got a tour of Newsweek’s main offices, demoed the Mac to the editorial staff, and even spent some time chatting with Katharine Graham, the long-time publisher of the Washington Post and Newsweek.
After we returned to Cupertino, we got word we had passed muster and that Newsweek was enthusiastic about doing a cover story about the Macintosh introduction. Burrell and I were interviewed again, this time by Newsweek reporter Michael Rogers—who had written a novel called Silicon Valley that I had read the previous year—and were scheduled to be photographed the following day.
The software still wasn’t finished, even though there were only five days left to work on it, and tension around the office was high (see “Real Artists Ship” on page 208). When the Newsweek photographer arrived, he wanted to photograph me in my office, but I was afraid that would be too disruptive to the rest of the team. I told hi
m I often worked at home and convinced him to do the shoot in the messy office of my Palo Alto home.
Unfortunately, the San Jose Mercury News somehow discovered we had been granted the Newsweek cover and mentioned it in their business gossip column that Friday. Newsweek didn’t want the world to think their cover was predetermined, so at the last minute they pulled our cover and used a standby instead. The new cover asked the burning question, “Can We Keep The Skies Safe?”
While we were all really disappointed about the cover flop, it was still amazing to come into work the day before the introduction, and see the January 30, 1984 issue of Newsweek, opened to a four-page story about the Macintosh. The article opened with separate pictures of Burrell and me in our respective homes. Burrell was sitting on the floor playing his beloved nine-string guitar, with engineering diagrams spread out on the rug in front of him. I was sitting on a chair in the spare bedroom of my house that I used for an office, which was in its usual state: extremely cluttered.
There was a long review of the Macintosh, which was generally positive, although it said that the some users might find the graphical user interface to be “visually tiring to use.” Burrell had the best quote in the entire article, which was used to end it. When asked what he wanted to do next, he responded, “I want to build the computer of the 90s. Only I want to do it tomorrow.”
The week following the public launch, Steve Jobs and the Mac design team flew to Boston to recreate the Mac introduction for an East Coast audience: the Boston Computer Society. Steve Wozniak also came along and participated in a panel discussion with the design team following the intro spiel.
On the flight to Boston, Burrell and I were seated together in a row of seats near the middle of the plane. We were just settling in for the long flight when a flight attendant approached us, holding a copy of Newsweek, open to the page with our pictures.
Revolution in The Valley [Paperback] Page 21
