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Lewin crisply spat out a ream of numbers that sounded like the authoritative opening paragraphs of an annual report. He told the group that Apple produced an Apple II every thirty seconds and a disk drive every eighteen seconds. He steered them through a management chart and observed, “We are growing into a more traditional organization.” He acknowledged that some details about Lisa had seeped into the press but said this was part of a corporate strategy. “Apple,” Lewin noted, “is controlling the press very well. But until you see what we’ve done I doubt whether you can understand it. No other company would be prepared to take the risk. Most companies are interested in making big computers.” Lewin explained that the conceptual foundation for the Lisa had been laid, not at Apple, but at Xerox Corporation during the mid-to late seventies. “We took those ideas,” Lewin said, with the pride of a muffler-franchise holder, “and we internalized them. We Apple-ized them.”

After he finished with the opening remarks, Lewin introduced Burt Cummings, a round-faced, curly-haired engineer. Cummings sat beside one Lisa whose screen was enlarged on two television monitors fitted to the wall. He immediately plunged into technical details. “Why do you call it Lisa?” interrupted one of the men from Crocker Bank.

“I don’t know,” Cummings shrugged. “There really isn’t much of a reason for anything.” He continued with the demonstration and suddenly the screen became a distorted jumble of letters. Cummings wriggled uncomfortably, surveyed the mess, and added hastily, “It tends to bomb. It’s six-month-old software.”

Cummings typed some commands into the computer, which proved to be the right medicine, and proceeded with his demonstration, flashing a string of different pictures onto the screen. “Is this all canned?” asked Kurt Schweer, another of the Crocker visitors.

“You’ve seen the Xerox Star,” Lewin said. “That’s what makes you think this is canned. This is incredibly fast. That’s what our engineers are proud of.”

Every fifteen or thirty minutes Lewin introduced another manager from the Lisa group. John Couch, the head of the Lisa division, who looked worn and weary, gave an antiseptic history of the computer’s development and of the importance Apple placed on the control of software. Lisa, he explained, was part of a concerted effort to shield the user from the crust of the machine with snowfalls of software. He explained that the Apple III had been introduced with about ten times as much software as the Apple II, while Lisa was going to come with about ten times as much software as the Apple III. He stressed that Apple had moved from supplying programming languages like BASIC with the Apple II to programs for things like financial analysis with the Apple III, while on Lisa the user could do a variety of tasks with a minimum of fuss. “Lisa,” Couch emphasized, “originally stood for ‘large integrated software architecture.’ Now it stands for ‘local integrated software architecture. ’” He took a quiet jab at the competition: “Quite a bit of the problem with Xerox was that they weren’t building a personal computer. They weren’t giving it to the individual.”

The bankers were ushered, with much flashing of security badges, into an adjoining building which served as the center of assembly for Lisa. Wasu Chaudhari, a genial manufacturing man, gave them a tour of the test production racks where dozens of computers were running through proving cycles. Chaudhari demonstrated that Lisa was easy to take apart. He removed the back panel and slipped out different parts. “One person builds one product,” he smiled. “It’s a modified Volvo concept.”

“Rolls-Royce would be better. Aston Martin better still,” countered Tor Folkedal, a burly Crocker manager.

After lunch in a cluttered conference room which had been hurriedly converted into dining quarters, the bankers were steered back to the computers. They were allowed to play with the machines, nudged and prompted by Lisaguide, the computer’s private Baedeker, which appeared on the screen.