The Second Coming of Steve Jobs - Alan Deutschman [93]
At the tower that housed Gil’s office and the Apple boardroom, executives from both sides were milling around the hallways, thinking about the ski runs they were missing at Lake Tahoe and the tee times they had forfeited at Pebble Beach.
Finally, late in the afternoon, Steve appeared in his usual casual attire—the black turtleneck and blue jeans—and he summoned them all into the boardroom.
Steve brought in his attorney, Larry Sonsini, the most powerful lawyer in Silicon Valley. He let the anticipation build, then he launched into his dramatic performance.
“Ever since I was a child,” he began, “I never wanted to disappoint anyone.”
He told the sad story of how, one time, when he was a child, he let down his parents.
“Isn’t that right, Larry,” he prodded.
“Yes,” said the lawyer.
“Pixar and my family matter the most to me in my life,” Steve continued. “And I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Isn’t that right, Larry?”
“That’s right,” Larry echoed on cue.
Steve couldn’t commit to a contract because he wouldn’t dare let them down.
Christopher Escher sat at the table, incredulous. Steve was laying on “a thick line of bullshit,” he thought. “His chutzpah was incredible.” But it was working. Steve seemed as though he were willing to walk away from it all. That was his brilliance as a negotiator.
Gil wanted the deal more than Steve did. Gil acquiesced. Steve could be an “informal adviser” at Apple, with no contractual commitments. The deal was done.
• • •
THEY CALLED THE REPORTERS, who rushed down from San Francisco for the press conference.
Gil took the stage first, made a few remarks, and then introduced Steve.
Steve entered not from the wings but rather from the back of the auditorium, prolonging his solo moments in the spotlight as he walked lopingly down the aisle.
As he stood by Gil’s side, Steve looked as though he couldn’t wait to leave. Gil was trying to play the elder master. Steve was signaling that he wasn’t a dog on a leash.
Gil explained to the crowd that Steve had stayed up two nights in a row and that he was too desperately tired to say anything.
Nonsense, thought Louise Kehoe, the Financial Times correspondent, who was in the audience. “It was clearly an excuse for Steve not to say anything specific,” she says.
After the presentation, Louise made her way onto the stage. She saw that Steve recognized her, but she deliberately went over to talk with Gil first.
Aren’t you concerned that Steve will want power? she asked.
“Steve is here to help,” Gil said, seemingly unconcerned.
“I had these same conversations with John Sculley,” she said.
Then she turned to Steve.
“What are you up to?” she said accusingly. “What are you doing?”
Wasn’t he going to try to take over Apple?
“Oh no, Louise,” Steve said. “I have a family. I have other interests.”
• • •
WHEN THE APPLE EXECUTIVES returned from their vacations, they once again found themselves in the spotlight. On January 3, 1997, Gil told Wall Street’s analysts that Apple’s sales fell more than 30 percent in the final three months of 1996 from the same period in 1995.
The Macintosh had bombed at Christmas.
On January 7, Gil and Steve were slated to share the keynote speech at Macworld, an annual ritual that drew some eighty thousand of Apple’s enthusiasts to San Francisco.
The Apple faithful were anxious to see their cult hero and hear his plans for saving the company. But Gil went on first, and he went on and on. He had thrown out his scripted text, and instead he rambled ad lib for two hours, repeatedly losing his train of thought. But he was seemingly oblivious to how thoroughly he was embarrassing himself.
Steve Jobs was backstage, holding his head in his hands.
“What did you think of that?” Steve asked Christopher Escher.
“It was excruciatingly painful.”
“I agree,” Steve said.
Then Steve took the stage, and thousands stood up and cheered.
• • •
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