By now it's widely-accepted that few if any publicly-traded companies are as inextricably linked to the fate and fortune of their commander-in-chief as is Apple Computer and its CEO Steve Jobs.
It's almost a fairy-tale story: the early growth of the company, Steve's adoption of and then ousting by that soft drink man followed by his triumphal return, the results of which have been nothing short of miraculous.
Say what you will about Steve Jobs, the man (and plenty has been said); the results speak loud and clear. Apple Computer would certainly not be where it is today without him.
But there's the issue of his health...and there is much concern. Try googling this week's modest announcement about the iPod, and almost all of the coverage makes reference to concern about Steve's health. Why is that?
Well, if you missed logging in earlier this year, the word emerged that Steve had in 2003 been stricken with pancreatic cancer. He was lucky. It was a treatable form. Not that he chose to have it treated in a conventional way. According to a March issue of Fortune magazine, Steve, being a Buddhist and a vegetarian, chose for nine months to "employ alternative methods to treat his pancreatic cancer, hoping to avoid the operation through a special diet." This failed, and he eventually agreed to an operation, and the result was apparently successful.
What many will find shocking in the Fortune article is that Apple's bigwigs "secretly agonized over the situation -- and whether the company needed to disclose anything about its CEO's health to investors. Jobs, after all, was widely viewed as Apple's irreplaceable leader, personally responsible for everything from the creation of the iPod to the selection of the chef in the company cafeteria. News of his illness, especially with an uncertain outcome, would surely send the company's stock reeling. The board decided to say nothing, after seeking advice on its obligations from two outside lawyers, who agreed it could remain silent."
The Fortune article later notes that "the SEC requires that any public company disclose material information to investors so that they can include it in their calculation of whether to buy or sell a stock. But there are no specific guidelines governing health issues, and the SEC has never taken action against a company in this area."
I am not a lawyer, no penalty was levied against Apple in this case, so it is up to each reader to make their own judgment.
My point in creating this blog entry is that the future of publishing is not just the story of major issues and influences, but sometimes the story of one man. Looking at Apple Computer, the future of publishing is going to be strongly influenced by whether or not the CEO who made the company what it is can remain at the helm. And in these small tales, there are much larger stories to be told.
I'm catching up on my old New Yorker magazines. I prefer the print version because the best articles are long, and, I think, far more enjoyable to read in print than on the Web (although The New Yorker has become increasingly generous in sharing most of its content on the Web). Today I read a March 31, 2008 essay by the always erudite and often hilarious film critic Anthony Lane examining the career of film director David Lean, who directed many fine films, but is probably best known for Lawrence of Arabia.
I do not watch the Oscars, as the pain outweighs the pleasure, and so missed the incident in this year's affair, described by Lane as follows: "(The big screen)...That is (the film's) natural habitat—the only place, you might say, where its proud and leonine presence has any meaning. Anything more cramped is a cage, as Jon Stewart showed during this year’s Oscar ceremony. At one point, we found him gazing at his iPhone. 'I’m watching "Lawrence of Arabia." It’s just awesome,' he said, adding, 'To really appreciate it, you have to see it in the wide screen.' And he turned the phone on its side. Deserts of vast eternity, reduced to three inches by two."
It was a great reminder to me than in this age of Kindles and iPhones and more, there remains an issue of optimal form-factor. I keep seeing comments on blogs from folks who insist that they get as much pleasure from reading an eBook as they would from holding and reading the book itself. I have no reason to doubt them, but they do not sway me. Why do people buy 42-inch plasma TVs if the iPhone is such a great way to watch video? I remain convinced that the best devices for perusing electronic content have yet to be invented, and the current mania for the mini is merely that, a mania (with the possible exception of music).
BTW: Later in the article Anthony Lane reminds us of the marvelous quip by Noel Coward after the première of "Lawrence": "If Peter O’Toole had been any prettier the film would have been called 'Florence of Arabia'"
The title of this blog entry is also the title of a piece
in today’s New York Times. The story
is most simply stated by quoting from part of the second paragraph: “three of
the country’s largest Internet service providers are threatening to clamp down
on their most active subscribers by placing monthly limits on their online
activity.”
Time Warner Cable, Comcast and AT&T are all
experimenting with plans (read this as “about to implement said plans”) to
first of all offer tiered monthly pricing based on the amount of data that can
be downloaded, and supplement that with additional “per gigabyte” charges for
those who go beyond their contracted limit.
The Times
article reads as very sympathetic to these ISPs, with quotes like “all three
companies say that placing caps on broadband use will ensure fair access for
all users” and “the goal, says Mitch Bowling, a senior vice president at
Comcast, is ‘ensuring that a small number of users don’t impact the experience
for everyone else.’”
But the actual strategy is obviously quite different
that what’s quoted in the article. Who are the heavy bandwidth users? People
who are fully engaged in video on the Web. Much of the video is coming out of
Hollywood and TV-land, and from sites like YouTube. These ISPs clearly just
want their “vig” (short for “vigorish”): bookmakers’ and gangsters’ slang for a
cut of the action. They make lots of money; why shouldn’t we (even though we’re
already are raking it in)?
As the article notes: “Even if the caps are far above the
average users’ consumption, their mere existence could cause users to reduce
their time online. Just ask people who carefully monitor their monthly
allotments of cellphone minutes and text messages.”
This is bad news for the future of publishing. As
always, the greed of the companies panning for Internet gold remains limitless.
