according to Alcorn, “and this was Steve’s

first impression of how things got done.

Nolan was never abusive, like Steve

 

sometimes is. But he had the same driven

attitude. It made me cringe, but dammit,

it got things done. In that way Nolan

was a mentor for Jobs.”

 

“I would rather let it pass,” he said when I pressed the point.

“It’s not something I want to judge Steve by.”

 

 

He confirmed his memory with Nolan

Bushnell and Al Alcorn. “I remember

talking about the bonus money to Woz,

 

and he was upset,” Bushnell said. “I said yes,

there was a bonus for each chip they saved,

and he just shook his head and

then clucked his tongue.”

 

In addition to their interest in computers,

they shared a passion for music.

“It was an incredible time for music,”

 

 

Jobs recalled. “It was like living at a time when

Beethoven and Mozart were alive. Really. People

will look back on it that way. And Woz and I were

 

deeply into it.” In particular, Wozniak turned Jobs

on to the glories of Bob Dylan.

 

“We tracked down this guy in Santa Cruz who put

out this newsletter on Dylan,” Jobs said. “Dylan

taped all of his concerts, and some of the people

 

around him were not scrupulous, because soon

there were tapes all around. Bootlegs of everything.

And this guy had them all.”

 

Hunting down Dylan tapes soon became a joint

venture. “The two of us would go tramping through

San Jose and Berkeley and ask about Dylan bootlegs

 

and collect them,” said Wozniak. “We’d buy brochures

of Dylan lyrics and stay up late interpreting them.

Dylan’s words struck chords of creative thinking.”

 

Added Jobs, “I had more than a hundred hours,

including every concert on the ’65 and ’66 tour,”

the one where Dylan went electric. Both of them

 

bought high-end TEAC reel-to-reel tape decks.

“I would use mine at a low speed to record many

concerts on one tape,” said Wozniak.

 

Jobs matched his obsession:

“Instead of big speakers I bought a pair

of awesome headphones and would just

 

lie in my bed and listen to that stuff for hours.”

Jobs had formed a club at Homestead High to

put on music-and-light shows and also play

 

pranks. (They once glued a gold-painted toilet

seat onto a flower planter.) It was called the

Buck Fry Club, a play on the name of the principal.

 

Even though they had already graduated, Wozniak

and his friend Allen Baum joined forces with Jobs,

at the end of his junior year, to produce a farewell

 

gesture for the departing seniors. Showing off the

Homestead campus four decades later, Jobs paused

at the scene of the escapade and pointed. “See that

 

balcony? That’s where we did the banner prank that

sealed our friendship.” On a big bedsheet Baum had

tie-dyed with the school’s green and white colors,

 

they painted a huge hand flipping the middle-finger

salute. Baum’s nice Jewish mother helped them draw

it and showed them how to do the shading and

 

shadows to make it look more real.

“I know what that is,” she snickered. They devised a

system of ropes and pulleys so that it could be

 

dramatically lowered as the graduating class

marched past the balcony, and they signed it

“SWAB JOB,” the initials of Wozniak and Baum

combined with part of Jobs’

s name. The prank
became part of school
lore—and got Jobs
suspended one more time.
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