"A true entrepreneur is a creative person, who doesn't do things to make money—he does them because he has no alternative." — Trip Hawkins, EA (Electronic Arts)

By 1985 Atari was in financial ruin. ActiVision’s once popular game system was passé and hundreds of developers worked in a flea market environment desperately trying to sell their games to a customer, and market, that didn't exist. Prudence would judge it a dumb place to start a video game cartridge company. Trip Hawkins did just that and clawed his way past 135 other competitors to make Electronic Arts the undisputed leader in video game software development.

By all accounts, Hawkins has for many years been both an entrepreneur and game aficionado. As a Harvard undergraduate he created a fantasy football game that nonetheless folded, and with it his father's seed capital of $5,000. Apparently unfazed, Hawkins immersed himself in the study of games, graduating with a custom degree in strategy and applied game theory. His thesis: a computer model for World War III.

Hawkins came across Mike Markkula while researching the video game market as a Stanford MBA student. Markkula, looking to build a solid team for his startup venture, Apple Computer, persuaded Hawkins to join after graduating from business school. As employee number 68, his charter was to gain entry for Apple products in the business market.

Despite Apple's commercial success, Hawkins chafed and left the company in 1982 to start up his own as soon as his $7.5 million worth of stock options vested.

Taking good measure of the imploding game industry, Hawkins set out to create a company different from the one-hit wonders that pervaded the marketplace. His company, Electronic Arts, borrowed from the Hollywood studio model of media production: project managers were called producers and software game programmers were called artists and given the tools, respect, and freedom to work as the talented, creative people they were.

A stream of successful products spewed forth. Though the market was cluttered with dozens of different hardware standards, two emerged to dominate the industry: Nintendo and Sega. Hawkins bet heavily on the latter and reaped the bene-fits. Electronic Arts boasts yearly revenues in excess of $600 million—a behemoth in the software game industry. Hawkins' own personal fortune has swelled to the neighborhood of $200 million.

A successful entrepreneur, a captain of industry before age 40, Hawkins might have felt content to ride his company toward comfortable revenue growth, new markets, and industry respect. But in 1993, Hawkins took the highly unusual move of appointing a successor at EA and promptly leaving to start his next venture in home computer gaming, The 3DO Company. The firm's ambitious charter was to develop its own game-playing machine and leverage the technology by licensing it to companies around the world.

Hawkins' try at a veritable double dip is complicated by the presence of several large companies including Nintendo, Sega, Sony, and Philips, not all of whom care to see Hawkins promulgate a hardware standard for the industry and capture the profits from doing so.

An excellent dealmaker, Hawkins initially enlisted support from companies like AT&T, Matsushita, Goldstar, MCA, and Time-Warner. Nonetheless, young 3DO's success is far from assured.

In the months prior to our interview, Hawkins' notoriety had extended to the popular press; Billboard magazine anointed him "the guru of interactivity" and, in a less scientific study, People magazine judged him to be one of the 50 most beautiful people in the world.

Perhaps as a backlash to the adulation, business reporters' coverage of 3DO became more aggressive, criticizing 3DO's nonexistent profits despite the company having already gone public. Some predicted imminent doom for the company.

It was at this time that we met with Hawkins at his corporate headquarters, just a stone's throw from Steve Jobs' company, NeXT, to understand the creative drive behind the biggest name in games.

Interview Transcript

How important is it to have a completely original idea in order to start a business?

I guess there are two ways to look at businesses: you can start one that is based on a big, new idea or you simply start one that works on an established idea. But even if it is something like starting a restaurant—obviously, there are other restaurants—the big idea may be why your restaurant is different from the rest. Yours may have a comPletely different approach to some common aspect of the business.

But there is nothing novel about starting a restaurant.

Exactly. One unseen aspect of business is that we all know about the success stories but never hear about the failures. I know what the batting averages look like in my industry because l've seen the turnover of companies for a long period of time. These batting averages are pretty poor. Some of them get lucky—there's a one-in-a-hundred chance. Sounders will get lucky and bootstrap there way to success. Perhaps one in one hundred times the product happens to be really good and original. But if you look at the failures—the 99 out of 100 that fail—many also have original product ideas. With entertainment media it's hard to tell in advance what's a hit and what isn't. This is generally believed to be true about all entertainment media.

The bootstrap approach to starting a business has never appealed to me. I wouldn't want to start a company unless the idea was a big one and then I'd ensure that everything was first class-first-class money, first-class advisers, and a first-class management team.

There's no reason to take a lot of risk in those areas. Creating a startup in a first-class way dramatically improves your chances.

Okay. Let's talk about your big idea for Electronic Arts (EA). The idea was to treat computer game programmers like artists.

Actually, EA was about three big ideas. That was one of them. The business was more than simply treating programmers as artists—as creative people. It would be more accurate to say that we brought a methodology for managing a creative process to what had traditionally been an engineering methodology. This translated into a certain style of recruiting, managing, and rewarding creative people. It also translated into a production process methodology that more consistently, like a cookie cutter, cranked out good titles and products. In the music profession you can't buy a record and hear a single chord played out of tune. In the software business almost everything you buy has mediocre product value. What we did was to say, "Why not treat the talent like they're treated in other professional entertainment fields?" That was the first idea. The second idea was direct distribution. Until then nobody had ever done direct distribution—it was all done through distributors. Frankly, nobody who is anybody in entertainment doesn't do their own distribution. This way we could get shelf space for every product and therefore minimize our dependency on having a hit product.

So the trick was to leverage the retail channel by providing a broad assortment of products?

Yes. Our third big idea was technology leverage. At that time nobody had a planned approach to technology development. We were the first to invest in building a system—almost like a studio. Try to imagine what life in the music business would be like if you had no recording equipment, no professional studio gear, no synthesizers, no nothing. We built what we called the artist's workstation, which was the system we used for creating products for multiple formats. Doing so made us efficient in dealing with the lack of standardization.

So, EA was really a combination of three things—a creative process methodology, direct distribution, and technology leverage. If you think about that combination as a strategy youll realize that you must apply more capital and commit to achieving a certain market share. Otherwise the whole model fails. It's like getting a 747 off the ground; with enough thrust and enough lift you can fly. Once off the ground the plane is passenger-mile efficient. Most of our competitors hadn't incorporated any of our three aspects of strategy—much less two or three of them. Had we done only one part of our three-pronged strategy we might have failed from simply being out of balance.

It is an interesting approach. Did you understand all these points of leverage at the outset? You already had 135 competitors and were relatively late in the game.

We clearly laid it out in our business plan. What I'm saying is that the key to risk reduction is to figure out the right strategy. The right strategy for us was combining those three elements and determining the amount of money we needed to implement that strategy. We raised more money than our competitors raised. Most of our competitors were bootstrapped companies. Broderbund was one of the few that raised any venture capital—a couple of million dollars by 1982—but they sat on the money. We were the first company to use capital as a strategy. What's interesting is that people frequently say that the way to manage risk is to spend less money, to take on fewer initiatives, to do less.

So, the fact that there were so many competitors demonstrated to you that there existed real opportunity for a well-funded company?

Yes. Now we're coming back to entrepreneurship. Here's a key thing to remember about being an entrepreneur: a true entrepreneur is a creative person. Creative people don't do things to make money. They do them because they have no alternative. They have to do it. They have to get it out. So, as an entrepreneur, you don't sit there looking at the number of competitors and think about whether you can beat them or not. You don't have an objective, rational process. You need a certain amount of confidence in your invention. To an extent you're insulated because there are many things that you don't know will go wrong. If you knew in advance of all the things that could go wrong, as a rational person you wouldn't go into business in the first place.

Did you do any market research before starting EA?

I did enough. I had the idea for Electronic Arts when I was in college. I worked at Apple as a means to an end. I knew I wasn't going to stay at Apple forever, but I knew that before I could start a software company there first needed to exist hardware to run it on. So I helped build the market for this equipment and learned from others about running a business. I'm surprised that I stayed at Apple as long as I did-four years. It was such a rocket ship ride. In 1975 I told myself that I would start my own company in 1982. When 1982 rolled around, I felt like I was a bit late because there were other compa-nies, like Broderbund, already out there. They weren't doing very much, but I was definitely behind. Fortunately, I was able to meet anybody in the industry I wanted to meet. I helped start another little game company called SSI with a young game fanatic. I went to game industry trade shows, like the West Coast Computer Fair. That's when I was able to test the hypothesis for Electronic Arts. It was clear to me that many creative people didn't have a clue about how to handle the business side of things—I knew I could offer that to them.

What things, in retrospect, would you have done differently?

A paradigm shift occurred in the industry. Atari was collapsing, this was pre-Nintendo. It was a very tough time because many people wrote off the game business due to Atari's collapse.

Atari was synonymous with games.

Yes. It's unusual for a consumer product company's economic struggles to be so well known. It poisoned the well for many consumers because games suddenly became unfashionable. It wiped out the industry for a couple of years. We should have started the company two years earlier when the tide was in. We built a boat and launched it just as the tide had gone out. It would have been easier if we had launched two years earlier or two years later, but that kind of thing is hard to anticipate.

Let's focus on this. The market is drying up, you've just launched a company and you're sitting there in your office. What do you do?

This is the difference between an entrepreneur and an operating executive: most entrepreneurs don't understand how to operate a business. There is a huge amount of common sense and courage involved in operating a business. You don't need too much more than those qualities.

Most entrepreneurs lack common sense. They may be courageous about their inventions but they're not courageous about things like layoffs because most entrepreneurs are optimists. What you're really looking for in a management team is the right balance between optimism and pessimism. You've got to conserve resources very carefully. Generally, the typical entrepreneur is optimistic to a fault and always has forecasts with hockey stick projections—"We're about to take off....hang in there another couple of months and we'll take off”—it's bullshit. No entrepreneur ever even comes close to the forecast. Once you've been through this a few times you know it, the venture capitalists know it, and pretty much everybody knows how to deal with it.

I'm very satisfied knowing that I'm a good operating executive because of what I did in a series of crisis situations. I'm not interested in being labeled as an entrepreneur in the classic sense. Most of these new companies either come out of the chute and fail or they start growing and the entrepreneur gets the ax because he doesn't manage the growth. Or the company may grow nicely for a while, but the entrepreneur doesn't know how to build the management team. Often when these young companies start to go fast it feels like a World War I biplane trying to go Mach II: the canvas peels off the wings.

Do you think having an M.B.A. gave you the necessary skills?

Probably the most valuable course I took as an M.B.A. was Interpersonal Dynamics. The second most valuable was finance, which explained net present value. I'm not sure there was anything else. I certainly learned technical details about cost accounting and how the accounting system works, but I could have learned that in college. In retrospect, had I not gone to Stanford, I could have gotten started in the industry two years sooner and wouldn't have been any worse off, because those were two pretty interesting years. As it was, I practically worked full time my second year in business school—I just couldn't wait. Everything was happening and I wanted to be there. I did market research and consulting projects pretty much from the spring quarter of my first year.

So the M.B.A. didn't help?

Like I said, entrepreneurship is about being creative. You must be able to think big. You must be able to see things differently and come up with big ideas—not just the product and company concepts, but creative ways of managing the business. If you're going to run a business successfully there are many general skills you need, but much of it comes down to common sense and courage. You've got to face reality.

If you took a hundred middle managers, you would find that the majority of them wouldn't be able to tell a subordinate he or she wasn't performing. Another thing very few managers can figure out is when a workforce reduction is needed. People are generally unable to deal with confrontation or bad news, but frankly, if you're not dealing with the bad news, you're going to fail. I don't mean to say that you should have a culture based around criticism, per se, but if you don't know what's going on, you won't learn very much. These are not things that you must, or can, be taught in school.

Business schools are incredibly arrogant. At Stanford I took a course in sales force management that tried to teach me how to manage a sales force of 400 people, but I could not take a course in how to sell. I had to go to an outside school, like the American Management Association, to get a course in selling. The same applies to public speaking. There are basic skills that are fundamental to doing almost anything in life that a place like Stanford Business School won't teach you.

Then what are business schools' value?

They'll teach you esoteric things. I would never hire a Stanford or Harvard M.B.A. from a consulting firm like McKinsey or Bain & Company. It's just total bullshit. It's absolute, total bullshit. They can't help me. Maybe they can help a Fortune 500 company that is completely clueless about its business. But you can't tell me that some kid fresh out of school is going to teach me something about my business that I haven't observed myself. If that's the case, boy, I've really screwed up. If that's the kind of help I really need, how screwed up must I be?

Some say it's the hand-holding and reassurance they provide management.

Right. Sometimes it's just politics. Sometimes big companies have to line up outside credentialed resources to justify what they want to do.

You mentioned the need for courage to survive a difficult business climate. Can you give us an example of a serious threat that almost put EA under?

It happened continuously. The first seven years were like that.

And how did you handle it?

For example, we had three layoffs on three different occasions in that seven-year period. A couple of times we reorganized and shut down a couple of companies we started. Managing these crises is the most important skill I, as a business person, have. It's probably the most important one for many people. You've got to be resourceful.

Common sense and courage, combined with creativity, is resourcefulness. It's the ability to recognize what is really happening. The first step is: collect the data. You'd better have your finger on the pulse. The second step is: analyze and figure out what's wrong and why it's wrong. Then you'd better have the courage to fix it, and fix it now. Some companies fail because they don't study what's going on, and don't have a reasonable picture of what's happening. Others have a reasonable picture of what's happening but don't want to believe it—they're in disbelief. At others, people may understand what's happening, but are afraid to deal with it.

To me, that is what resourcefulness is all about—collecting information, analyzing it, figuring out what's wrong, and coming up with creative ways to fix problems right away—and pulling the trigger. It's incredibly scary and incredibly stressful. It's not much fun having a layoff. It's not much fun shutting down a business that you started. We shut down our first business in Japan after a year. It was almost like Dunkirk. It was something like, "Whoa man, we don't have a clue here. Let's get the hell off this island. Let's get out of here. Pull up stakes! Get out! Get out! And let's not come back until we figure things out."

If your executives are not doing the job, you must be able to pull the trigger. We brought in someone to be our lead marketing guy. I thought he was great. He thought he was great. He had great credentials, yet we had to fire him three months later. Again, you must have the ability to figure out what is really going on.

So, given EA's poor start, how did you turn it around?

Like I said, the tide had gone out. We hit our forecast the first month. The second month we were off. The third month we were off by more. The fourth month we had a layoff. We cut back spending, hunkered down, and tried to conserve cash. That improved things quite a bit. We looked at the executives who weren't really cutting it and got rid of them. We regrouped. We fired sales reps who didn't produce. CEOs in companies like this one will spend a certain amount of time running every department. You probably can't afford a full team at any one time anyway. So, at any given point in time, the CEO is running more than one department anyway.

You can't afford a full team?

That's the way I look at it because you can't afford to spend the money. I would say that EA is pretty typical; I usually did three jobs aside from what I was supposed to do. When you're small and grow-ing, that's the way it is. Later, when the company gets big and there is an asset to protect, you can afford to keep the CEO in a purely strategic role figuring out how to grow and defend the asset. In the beginning, you're just paddling as fast as you can. There is a benefit to doing the job yourself because you learn how things get done. It makes it much easier to hire people for those jobs because you really understand the different requirements and it's easier to manage them. One of the more valuable aspects to a startup situation is that you've had your hands in every part of the business. I'm not talking about being autocratic or looking over people's shoulders. It's a matter of not being disconnected and out of touch.

At EA, we had issues in sales and marketing. We had to figure out how to generate more revenue. That's another phase you go through as a small company: learning to be really creative with revenue generation. You can come up with literally dozens of ideas for making money.

You've been able to create alliances with many large companies. Is being a dealmaker a talent of yours?

I don't think of myself as a dealmaker. I consider that more a means to an end.

You've given equity stakes to Matsushita and AT&T in your new venture, 3DO. Has this hurt you in terms of preserving autonomy?

No. Company control doesn't, in the end, have that much to do with ownership. Certainly, if you are a subsidiary and one company owns a controlling interest, then they'll feel like they own you and will cast a pretty long shadow. But if nobody has that kind of position, then the question is whether or not these corporate partners can gang up to disagree with management. This situation applies to any CEO at any company. If you're off your rocker they can get rid of you. That's the main thing the board is supposed to do. If you're doing a good job and you're managing an effective process, the board will support you. It's not really an issue.

So in 3DO's case it's not that big an issue?

That's right. Ironically, with the 3DO board, even though most of the board members have a corporate agenda, they've helped more in developing a company strategy than the EA board did.

The EA board was just a bunch of independent board members. It was more difficult to get them to support what the company needed to do. Perhaps it was harder for that particular group of people to understand the business and accept what needed to be done. A classic example: It took me a while to convince the EA board that we needed to move to the Sega platform. Again, conventional wisdom would say, "That sounds very risky, they're going to sue you." Where would EA be today if we hadn't moved to Sega? It would be a pretty small, insignificant company. To be honest, it wasn't that pleasant for me having to convince a lot of people what needed to be done.

If you feel very strongly about a strategy, you must figure out a way to convince people to support it. It's one of the things you don't realize until you've done it for a while. If you're any good as a CEO, part of your job is to be smarter and figure things out before everybody else. And if you can't, what the hell good are you? Why the hell should you be the CEO if you can't do that? This means that if I figure out a problem and a strategy for dealing with the problem, I've probably figured it out before other people have.

So you had to convince your EA board of directors that a layoff was necessary?

If you go to the board and tell them that you want a layoff, they'll be very supportive. Conventional wisdom says that management usually spends money and hires people. It implies that things must be serious if the CEO comes to the board saying that he's screwed up, should cut spending a no the board saying thall the board will say is, "You're not severing any major organs, are you? As long as it's only an arm or a leg or a hand." Pretty procedural things will happen at that point.

That brings up the question of why you were the best CEO for EA.

EA is an unusual combination because obviously, there's a big creative component to the business. I'm creative and I understand how to manage creative people and the creative process. I also got into the business because I really liked the product. Having a personal feel for the product helps a lot. Third, I'm a pretty good businessperson. Any business requires it, but when you look at the computer industry through the 1980's, you'll see that many companies were successes.

Many times the success was driven by market growth. For example, when I was at Apple, we all thought we were the cause of the success, but we weren't. We were just lucky to be at the right place at the right time. The whole industry just took off. That's the only time in my life I've had the opportunity to be in that kind of situation. It's only later on, when you realize that things don't always work that way, that you feel lucky. Many companies experience that kind of a growth and suddenly articles appear about what geniuses the managers are. Then the first thing goes wrong, the wheels come off, and they are suddenly losing money. Many times such market growth will hide real mediocrity in the management or in the strategy.

In games, it was really a tough business throughout the 1980's. There was no slack for anybody. The fatality rate was very high. In fact, out of the 135 companies at the start, only ten of them were still around five or six years later. There was incredible turnover of companies.

Tell us about the headaches you face as the manager of an established company. Is it difficult working with large corporate partners like AT&T?

Yes. AT&T has turned out to be our worst nightmare as a corporate partner. People usually think, "Big companies—solid, reliable." Well, they change direction more often and are completely ruthless about dropping things. In fact, EA and Matsushita were the real key investors in 3DO in the beginning. We assumed that by giving them equity, we would cement them as partners, but equity didn't really do it. The reason it didn't is that most companies are really driven by their operating P&L statement, so partners like EA really concentrate on quarterly revenues, profits, and license terms.

What about your VCs?

EA is a classically funded startup—we had three major venture firms who were involved and contributed well. My experience with venture capital money is that I only work with absolutely first-rate venture guys and only want first-rate thinkers if they are going to be on the board at all. Nonetheless, I didn't let them take over the company when they wanted to. We had a lot of problems in 1987. We had to deal with product transition issues and too much expansion. So we had a layoff, shut down some businesses, got refocused, and developed new growth strategies. The board and the venture guys, by Spring of 1988, were getting really, really nervous.

The funny thing was that EA was already half way through the solution at the time they were panicking. We had already done half of what we needed to fix things, but the results weren't going to show for six months. That was the only time when people on the board thought that they should cut my head off and try somebody else. Some people in that situation probably would have allowed it to happen but I didn't think that was the right thing for the company, so I hung in there tougher than others would have. At that time the VCs would liked to have changed the board in order be in a position where they could pull the trigger on me. I made sure they couldn't do that. Some of it was politics but some of it was ensuring I did the right thing and maintained the relationship the best way I could. The downside to venture guys is that they sometimes think they know more than they do about what's best for your company. They're accustomed to a certain level of performance in companies and in company management. Many times when they want to take over and make executive changes, it's probably the right thing to do. But they don't want to admit it when they make mistakes. If they fire the CEO and the guy they bring in screws things up, VCs say: The other guy was a disaster anyway. Well, maybe he wouldn't have been. Who knows? I'm not here to defend anybody else but I know that the VCs were definitely wrong to think that getting rid of me was the solution, and based on what happened since, they would certainly agree with that assessment now.

When I started 3DO, I just didn't want to go through that ordeal again. I wanted [venture capital firm] Kleiner Perkins in the deal for two reasons. First, [venture capitalist] Vinod Khosla is probably harder working, by a factor of ten, than any other venture capitalist.

There is so much more value having him involved because he's a talented operating thinker, a strategic thinker, a good negotiator, and he'll spend time helping you. Other guys just won't do that. A lot of venture guys are just bankers: show up for board meetings and that's it. Vinod had a good feeling for what we were trying to do; he had a strong personal interest in it. Second, I didn't want 3DO to be in a situation where everybody on the board had some vested corporate interest and therefore didn't necessarily care if the company made money. Venture capitalists, on the other hand, only make money if the company makes it. It's a nice influence to have. Although the corporate influences have never really been a problem with 3DO I think that's mainly because of the high level of class of the individuals involved.

What's the key to success in your business?

It's leverage. It's pure and simple.

What you must realize about capitalists is that capitalism is no longer like Economics 101. It's no longer about building a better product. It's no longer about being more efficient and offering a better product than your competition. Business is now a big Monopoly game. When you talk to venture capital guys about what they're trying to do, they're not trying to make a successful company or product anymore. They're trying to look for situations where they can have commanding market share and really drive it using, frankly, techniques that are supposed to be illegal, but the government doesn't seem to care about anymore. Everyone looks at it that way. In a business such as this one, companies are saying, "How do we achieve critical mass and control things that give me the leverage to squeeze more profit out of that critical mass?" Don't misunderstand me: I'm not willfully disobeying the law. That's not how I look at it. That's the way all these VCs look at it. They want Park Place and Boardwalk with a bunch of hotels on them.

If that is the case, what advice would you give to entrepreneurs who lack the access to huge sums of capital?

There are a couple of different ways to approach this issue. The first thing to note is that someone who's a real entrepreneur doesn't need anybody to tell them to start a company. They'll just do it. I once asked one of my venture capitalists, Don Valentine, if he was politically active in trying to get special tax treatment for capital gains and he said, "No, it wouldn't make any difference in my business." I said, "Gee, why is that?" He said, "First of all, my limited partners' money is municipal, tax-free, fun money. Second, the difference in capital gains profit wouldn't affect the behavior of entrepreneurs at all!" And he's absolutely right. Absolutely right.

So, a real entrepreneur is just going to do it. Nobody can talk them out of it. A real entrepreneur needs to get a good lawyer and become objective about having a good plan and a good team—ensuring the team has the skills to succeed. On the other hand, you can't tell most entrepreneurs anything. They're pretty opinionated about how to go about things. They must learn from their own mistakes, and the ones who do learn from their mistakes and adapt will be the successful ones.

There is a second approach for people who have a desire to start their own company, but don't have a specific product idea or vision. I think that's a lot more difficult. Perhaps it's possible for someone with the right training and the right business discipline. I remember a venture-funded company that was started around the same time as EA—Spinnaker. It was started by two Harvard Business School grads who had been working for Boston Consulting Group. Their approach was to look for a business to start by doing a study to determine which industry to start a company in. Right from the beginning I thought, forget it, they're history. They never figured out how to make any money. The company is still around in some form but they're long gone. The company just never really got anywhere. They were able to raise enough money from people who believed in that approach to starting a business.

On a personal note, what lessons have you learned about balancing your personal life with the demands of starting a company?

I've learned that it's very tough to manage a family life and a business. Many people try and don't succeed. I was married once before to a woman partially because she wanted to start her own company. The situation provided some intellectual attraction but it didn't necessarily make for a stable, long-term relationship. We never saw each other.

Today it's tough to balance, but when things are busy my wife and I make the time by scheduling dates in advance and sticking to them. My advice is to either find someone who's willing to support you and your career or to go it alone.

For more, order a copy of In the Company of Giants: Candid Conversations with the Visionaries of the Digital World.

Browse more of history's greatest speeches →

See Also

Find more from Steve Jobs and others related to this lecture:

• Who was Steve Jobs? Wisdom From The Man Who Built Apple and Pixar.
• Steve Job's "The Lost Interview from 1995"
• Jony Ive's "CCA Commencement Address and Advice for the Graduating Class"
• Steve Jobs “Stanford Commencement Address“ in 2005
• I, Steve: Steve Jobs In His Own Words
• Make Something Wonderful: Steve Jobs In His Own Words
• Insanely Simple: The Obsession That Drives Apple's Success
• Designed by Apple in California

Learn more about Steve Jobs: Who was Steve Jobs? Wisdom From The Man Who Built Apple and Pixar →

‍