Last week, as you will no doubt have heard, Steve Jobs, the brains behind Apple Computers, died at age 56 from an uncommon form of pancreatic cancer. The widespread outpouring of condolences, the kind reserved only for losses of the greatest magnitude, reveal just how influential Jobs had been for people all over the world. It’s almost as if the public held a subliminal, but deep-seated appreciation for Apple’s tycoon, an appreciation that rose to the surface upon news of his death.
For me, Steve Jobs’ passing puts a human face on devices that shaped me more than I realized. I’m no expert on Jobs’ life. I do, however, remember my first iPod. Okay, it was my friend’s iPod: the older, bulkier model. It held 20 GB, which felt like an unlimited amount of music at the time. iPods now hold up to 160 GB, but at the time, 2005 or so, it felt like the iPod’s design couldn’t get better. I’d borrow my friend’s iPod while he was in class—his specifically because we had the same taste in music.
I remember strutting down the halls of my high school as I pumped Jimi Hendrix riffs into my brain. I probably looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I felt sorry for the Walkman generation, who could only listen to one CD at a time, or everyone that was forced to sit in front of a bulky record player every time they wanted to get the Led out. The iPod made music truly portable and, as a result, I went mobile to the beat of my friend’s music collection. I can thank Steve Jobs for that. That and my hearing problems. But, Steve, it was worth it.
Beneath Jobs’ notorious perfectionism lies a business philosophy that underscores Apple’s uniqueness as a company. Jobs, always with an eye to the future, never played the game of short-term profiteering that has come to symbolize the worst aspects of large companies. Jobs drew this distinction when, speaking on Apple’s competitor, Dell Computer Corporation, he said, “Pretty much, Apple and Dell are the only ones in this industry making money. They make it by being Wal-Mart. We make it by innovation.” Jobs strived to be transformative, and the companies he founded, Apple and Pixar, cannot be described as defenders of the status quo. Jobs’ drive to innovate is why the public response to his death has been so vast. People rightly fear that the uncommon values that Steve Jobs represents will disappear with him. And that would be a loss on top of a loss.
Finally, speaking as an English major, Steve Jobs is a corporate mogul that even a liberal arts student can love. In class last Friday, Professor Dan Dooghan relayed a piece of Steve Jobs folklore that reveals Jobs’ eye for aesthetics. As the story goes, Bill Atkinson, an enterprising graphic designer discovered during Apple’s early years, created a code that allowed Macs to draw circles. At the time, this represented quite a feat. Steve Jobs, always looking a step ahead, asked Atkinson to take the circles to the next level: rounded rectangles.
“Rounded rectangles are everywhere,” Jobs said, according to lore. After some convincing, Atkinson complied and cracked the “RoundRects” code. Knowing this, I ask the Apple faithful to pull out their iPhones, iPads, Macbooks, etc. You’ll see just how the concept of “rounded rectangles” has factored into the design of Apple’s products. It looks sleek, doesn’t it? I bet you never even noticed. I certainly didn’t. Steve Jobs’ genius is one of vision, imagination, reflection—of reading the world and re-imagining it in his own image.
The loss of Steve Jobs goes beyond the man, because the man lived a life that doesn’t allow us to separate him from his creations. In an era of corporate short-sightedness, it’s clear that we will miss Jobs’ certainty of innovation. Jobs’ life was so influential that we’re all worse off without it.
Mikey Angelo Rumore can be reached at michaelangelorumore@gmail.com.