The Silicon Wizards
by
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Charles Swift stared at his image in the mirror and shook his head in disgust. He looked like a damned twelve year old, a geek with unruly sandy hair, horn rimmed glasses that kept sliding down a prominent nose, thin lips, square chin. No wonder, Charles thought, that girls avoided him. Charles retreated from the bathroom and went to the window where he scraped a hole in the ice and peered into the gray gloom. Two feet of snow blanketed the landscape, rendering the unplowed roads and unshoveled walks formidable. Charles smiled at the sight of four intrepid students who ignored the heavy flakes floating from the sullen sky as they pelted each other with large, soggy snowballs. Charles, amused by his housemates’ antics, turned and leaped to touch the ceiling. "For Christ sakes Charles," his roommate complained. "Perch somewhere. I have to study for this exam even if you don’t." "You need a break," Charles countered. "You need a life." Undaunted, Charles leaped again. This time his heavy ski boots landed with a thud. Before Bill Oldham could complain, the student in the room below grabbed the broomstick that he kept next to his desk just for this purpose and thumped against the ceiling. "We would all be happy if you went out for the ski team," Bill said. Charles smiled at the gibe. It was no secret that the boots were an affectation. Charles did not ski nor engage in any type of athletic activity. He doubted that jumping and touching the ceiling counted. At five ten and a meager hundred and thirty pounds, he had no chance at passing as a jock. When younger, he had often yearned for an athlete’s body, not because he wanted to compete on the court or field, but because girls seemed to be attracted to the type. Such concerns no longer troubled him, much, not all the time. During his sophomore year in high school, he had settled on his niche. Fortunately, he was blessed with a sharp analytical mind. The jocks made the marks on the playing fields while Charles distinguished himself in the classroom. At least he did for a few days every year until he grew bored with the academic routine. If it had not been for his discovery of the wonderful world of computers, Charles’ adolescence would have been terrible. Despite his fine mind, his high school grades had not been particularly good. He crunched the tests but failed to maintain a sufficient interest in his academic courses to perform adequately on the day to day work. Consequently, the C’s, D’s, and Incompletes for daily work more than offset the A’s of his brilliant examination papers. If it had not been for his mother’s contacts -- she was a prominent board member of several important corporations -- and the fact he had aced his SATs, Charles would not have been accepted by Harvard’s Overseers. If the truth were known, he ranked below borderline for applicants. Charles had arrived at Cambridge full of confidence, expecting to conquer Harvard. Unfortunately, things had not turned out as he had expected. It had not taken long to learn that there were two types of students at Harvard, the aristocratic elite and the extremely bright scholarship boys. To his disappointment, Charles had not meshed with either group. He could do nothing about the hard fact that his father was merely a successful Seattle lawyer. Charles had always assumed that his family ranked in the upper class. They belonged to the country club and lived in one of the better domiciles in their exclusive suburb. Their home even abutted Seattle’s fabulous Lake Washington. It had been a shock to find Harvard’s aristocrats unimpressed. This was not the worst, though. Charles had expected to dominate Harvard with his brilliant brain. He had arrived with no doubts about his ability to compete academically with the best of the scholarship boys. Charles’ first months had rudely introduced him to the cold fact that there were others with even finer minds, and his bad study habits, acquired against the lesser competition of his protected suburb, rendered him an also ran. He found it difficult adjusting to his place in the second and third files. Now, in his second year at Harvard, he was adrift. Charles smiled at Bill, then decided to give him a break. "Think I’ll check the game out." "Thank God." Charles was a regular at the non-stop poker game on the second floor. "And he entered the room with a clatter," Charles shouted as he flung open the closed door. "Oh shit," the players chorused. The familiar greeting delighted Charles because he knew the other players sincerely did not welcome his presence. His appearance changed the nature of the game. Charles, a methodical player, carefully calculated the odds on every card. Charles won steadily, not big on any one day, but consistently. Charles knew to a penny exactly how much he had won over the course of the year, but he kept his own counsel. The others could only estimate the size of Charles’ winnings by calculating their own losses. They did not know, however, that Charles was indifferent to the money. Winning was important. "What’s the game?" Charles asked as he took the last empty chair. "Cut the shit, Charles," the dealer said. The portly boy whose father ran a trucking company in Boise waited for Charles to ante a dollar. They used dollar bills instead of chips, and each boy had his stash of Washingtons piled in front of him, some much smaller than others. Charles deliberately pulled a modest roll of ones from his pocket. "You’re going to need more than that," the dealer jibed. "Probably," Charles agreed, then leaped and touched the ceiling for luck before sitting down.
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About the Book
This is the story of a revolutionary device that changed the world. We follow its development along three lines: A young Harvard sophomore, Charles Swift, and his high school mate, James Clapper, learn that a small company in New Mexico has built a desktop computer, the Taurus. Bored with Harvard and fearing that the Taurus might start a technological revolution without him, Charles phones the Taurus’s inventor and offers to provide software for the new machine. After a successful demonstration, Charles and Clapper form their own company, Digital Software. Clapper moves to Albuquerque, but Charles’ parents insist that he remain at Harvard. After a year, Charles abandons Harvard and devotes himself to Digital Software, which he eventually moves to Seattle. Digital Software shares in the explosive growth of the new industry. Charles successfully navigates a turning point when he licenses an operating system to IBM. Eventually, Digital Software makes Charles the richest man in the world. This in turn attracts the attention of the antitrust busters of the Department of Justice. Two California college dropouts, Stanley Pitts and Harold Dumbroski, start a business in the Pitts family garage. Stanley, an arrogant aesthete, decides to market Harold’s inventions. Harold, a self-educated engineering genius, designs his own computers. They name their company Astron and their computers Astron 1 and Astron 2. Stanley sells Astron 1 to a local computer chain. After considerable difficulty, Stanley and Harold meet a venture capitalist named Stuart Miller who joins with the two young men to form a corporation, Astron Computers. They move to a new building, hire employees, acquire advertising support and market Harold’s Astron 2. Miller insists that they hire a professional manager, Willard Temple. Stanley and Temple clash as Stanley interferes in Astron’s internal operations. Despite the disharmony, Astron undergoes phenomenal growth reaching the Five Hundred Company List in three short years. When Astron goes public, Stanley and Harold each become millionaires 250 times over. The charismatic Stanley becomes Astron’s symbolic leader. Harold, interested in only engineering, drops to the wayside, but Stanley spearheads the development of a new computer, the Asteroid. The Board fires Temple and hires Lawrence Starkey. Internal problems fomented by Stanley plague the company. IBM’s Personal Computer diminishes their market share, and the Astron Board in desperation bars Stanley from the premises. Stanley starts Again Corporation and builds Starlight. Astron hires then fires a company saver and invites Stanley back. David Howard, an ex Cornell running back, joins IBM. Ernie Hendricks, the Chief of the General Products Division, takes David on as his protege. David, an IBM lone duck, IBM slang for a duck who refuses to fly in formation, fails to adapt to adapt to the regimented IBM culture. Ernie sends David to the IBM Research facility in Boca Raton to research a proposal for assembling a microcomputer using components manufactured by others. This flies into the face of IBM’s policy of making whatever it needs for its products. David succeeds, and the Management Committee reluctantly authorizes the Personal Computer, the PC project. David negotiates with Digital Software for an operating system. Ernie recalls David to Armonk to create a PC Sales group; reluctant to leave Boca Raton, David marries Terry Mitchel, then accedes to his mentor’s request. The PC overcomes a lukewarm reception and experiences phenomenal sales. Ernie sends David to Oshkosh to obtain production experience while managing an IBM mainframe plant. David returns to Armonk to take over the General Products Division. Ernie becomes IBM CEO and selects David as his Associate CEO. They face an overwhelming problem. IBM’s bureaucracy has stunted the company, and they face severe market loss because of inflexible policies. Ernie tasks David with restructuring the company, eliminating many layers of supervision and downsizing drastically. David turns to Charles and Digital Software for support. In twenty years, the personal computer transforms itself from a hobbyist toy into a vital machine whose reach extends deep into the lives of mankind worldwide. During its evolution, it creates dominating new industries and incredible wealth for countless citizens. A changed world will never be the same.
About the Author
A graduate of West Virginia University and a teaching assistant at the University of Wisconsin where he worked on his doctorate in American History, Robert L. Skidmore spent thirty-five years in the Foreign Service of the United States government. Now long retired, he devotes himself to two lifelong passions; historical research and writing, both of which allow him to play with his computers.