Bookshelf
The Lab of the Future
By STANLEY W.
ANGRIST
Imagine that, around 1975, one
company had a group of people working for it who had a clear picture of the
way computing would develop over the next 25 years. Suppose that -- years
before Microsoft and Apple -- the same company developed prototypes of a
personal computer, a mouse, a word-processing program, a computer network
and an operating system that allowed programs to be accessed by screen
icons.
One company did have those people and did develop those prototypes, but
it didn't become the dominant player in computers today. How could that
happen? That question and others are answered in "Dealers of Lightning" (HarperBusiness, 448 pages, $26) by
Michael Hiltzik.
The company was Xerox. The lab that it funded -- Xerox Palo Alto
Research Center, or Xerox PARC -- was purposely set up far from corporate
headquarters in Connecticut. In that way the company bigwigs wouldn't see
people bicycling down hallways or playing computer games. And PARC's
eccentric employees wouldn't be reminded how people who work for big
companies wear ties to work, write memos and form committees.
Of course, not too long after the lab was founded, its activities were
made public. The first time this happened was in 1972, when Rolling Stone
ran a story on what it called "computer bums." The folks in Stamford,
Conn., were less than thrilled when Alan Kay, one of the more brilliant
people at the lab, was quoted saying: "People are willing to pay you if
you're any good at all and you have plenty of time for screwing around."
Things tightened noticeably after that.
Xerox had been an early technology leader with its copying machines,
developed in the 1960s. But its success eventually attracted competition,
and something new was needed. But what? The mind-set gulf between Stamford
and Palo Alto was never wider than on "Futures Day" in 1977, when the lab
put on a dazzling display of what could be done with the Alto, the personal
computer it had developed. The demonstration was for the Xerox anointed and
their wives. (This is four years before IBM introduced its PC.)
As the PARC people showed, you could type on the Alto and draw pictures
on it using a strange pointing device called a mouse. Its developers talked
about sending their handiwork by way of Ethernet to networked printers or
storing data in electronic "file servers." They also announced the capacity
to send documents anywhere in the world without generating a single piece
of paper.
The Xerox executives were plainly discomforted by these strange
machines, although not their wives, who would walk up to the lab techs and
say, "Could I try that mouse thing?" (The wives, it turned out, had often
been secretaries, so they had actually used office machines.) It was clear
right then that the corporate types at Xerox were not able to see any
compelling reasons for hitching the company's star to a digital future.
Xerox did not shun every idea that came out of PARC, but development did
require some effort. One researcher, Gary Starkweather, developed the laser
printer, which was launched in 1977 and became a huge business for Xerox.
But before it made it to market the project was killed three times by the
company's narrowly focused bosses. It was saved by Jack Lewis, an executive
who ran the company's printing division and who ignored the last kill
orders from above.
Mr. Hiltzik doesn't let Xerox Corp. off the hook when it comes to
judging how things might have been. But he does point out that very few
companies at the time would have been able to handle a lab full of
visionary prima donnas. It is way too easy, he also notes, to conclude that
Xerox blew it when it came to personal computers. After all, the computer
industry is capricious about rewarding its participants -- look at Apple's
tiny market share in personal computers.
Obviously, inexpensive, reliable computing has changed the way business
is done. So how should corporations adapt? Carl Shapiro and Hal
Varian, in "Information Rules" (Harvard
Business School Press, 352 pages, $29.95), offer several ideas. The authors
forgo buzzwords and hype, for the most part, to describe proven strategies
based on enduring economic principles. According to Messrs. Shapiro and Varian, one
of the most important and tricky areas in the brave new information-driven
world is pricing. Price your product wrong and you can quickly become
an observer rather than a player. Because information is costly to produce
but cheap to reproduce, price competition can be fierce. The authors cite
the example of Encyclopedia Britannica, which until recent years sold
its 32-volume paper edition for $1,600. Then Microsoft developed the rival
(though smaller) reference source Encarta, selling it to computer manufacturers
for $49.95 and including it in their software packages.
Britannica tried an online edition for a fee of $120 a year but found
few takers. Finally, it brought out a top-rated CD-ROM edition for $89.95,
which has the same content as its $1,600 edition. Can the company survive
on such slim pickings? The answer to that question lies in how many people
buy the CDs and whether Britannica will be done in by the high front-end
costs it endured to produce the first CD -- and by the costs of keeping it
updated.
Of course, most of the content won't change from year to year, although
one entry certainly will -- the one under the heading "Computers."
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