The Second Coming of Steve Jobs - Alan Deutschman [82]
The Bad Old Steve reappeared the following month as he reneged on his promises to Stewart Alsop. Stewart was the editor in chief of InfoWorld, a widely quoted pundit and the organizer of Agenda, an annual conference that was attended by four hundred of the most influential people in the computer industry. Bill Gates was always the star attraction. Stewart would schedule Bill as the “anchor,” the final speaker on the third and final day of the gathering at a swanky resort hotel. This year, though, Stewart switched the place and date of the event, from southern California in September to Phoenix in October, and Bill couldn’t make the new date. Bill was going to China in October to meet with the premier.
Stewart invited Steve Jobs to take the place of Bill Gates and be the star of the show, but he had a condition. He insisted that Steve attend the entire conference, like Bill had. Bill didn’t just fly in and fly out. He always stayed around and took part in the discussions. He schmoozed in the hallways and he got into long intense debates with executives and reporters and he hung around drinking late at night in the hotel lobby. That was partly why Agenda was such a sought-after invitation. If Steve wanted to be the new star, he too would have to promise to stay in Phoenix for the entire conference.
Steve promised.
A week before the conference, Stewart was called by one of Steve’s assistants, who was asking about the schedule for flights in and out of Phoenix. Stewart groaned. The next day, the assistant called again saying that Steve would arrive the night before his speech. When that night came, she called again, asking what private airport was closest to the hotel, since Steve was planning to touch down just before he had to go onstage.
Stewart was exasperated. The phone rang again, but this time it was Steve himself, calling from aboard a private plane that was leaving New York to take him to Phoenix.
Stewart told him not to bother.
“You’re fired,” he said.
Bill Gates at the top of the world was easier to deal with than Steve Jobs struggling to make his way back.
• • •
ON OCTOBER 11, the Pixar prospectus was published, and the blood began flowing through the hallways.
Only five people were going to become fabulously rich from the deal.
“The other hundred and thirty-five people at the company were pretty much screwed, and there were really bad feelings about that,” recalls Pam Kerwin. “The people who had been there since the Lucas days got together and expressed a great deal of dissatisfaction.” Steve took many people on walks around the block to try to calm them down. But the bitterness remained. No one begrudged the idea of giving great rewards to Ed or John, but a bunch of the technical geniuses thought that they had made at least as important a contribution as Bill or Ralph. The unsung heroes were getting only 50,000 shares apiece, not 800,000 shares. Those 50,000 shares were worth $700,000, which was a lot more than anyone had ever hoped they’d make at Pixar. They hadn’t come there for the money, but now that truckloads of money were being dumped on the place, it was a viciously divisive issue.
Many people at Pixar who had been the best of friends suddenly stopped talking to each other. It was a sad breakdown. For two decades they had been like a family. They threw big parties and dined at each other’s homes and bought presents for each other’s babies. Their kids played on the same soccer