This photograph, taken of Steve Jobs in his living room in 1982, is one of my favorites. At the time he was quoted as saying “This was a very typical time. I was single. All you needed was a cup of tea, a light, and your stereo, you know, and that’s what I had.”
When Steve visited the Times last spring when the iPad first came out, the effect was electric, exactly as Carr describes it. The morning of our meeting, he was already in the building, but we didn’t see him. He waited until we were all seated in a conference room and then he made his entrance. Not one second sooner. I was too nervous to ask too many questions, but at the end of the conversation, I hesitated, then walked over to shake his hand and say hello.
I wasn’t even a year into my job at the paper and I felt shy, anxious, unsteady. Unworthy of being included in that room. Steve was thin, thinner than we expected, but even so, his eyes were flinty, sharp and curious, his lips curving into a mischievous half-smile. I introduced myself and his ears perked up. “I’ve read your stuff,” he said. “It’s good!” It was a tiny moment in time, lasting no longer than a few minutes, and it would be silly to say that I never looked back after that. But it would be even sillier to downplay the mark that it left, the boost that it gave me at that point in my career as a business and technology journalist. Others have said it better, but I’ll tack mine on anway: RIP, Mr. Jobs. You will be missed.