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- <f1><c000> Jack Tramiel
- Survival and Starting Over
- <f0> From "Everything in History Was Against Them,"
-
- Fortune magazine, April 13, 1998
- --------------------------------------------------------- - -------- ----------
-
- Only 10 when the Nazis marched into his city of Lodz, Poland, in 1939, Jack
- Tramiel (then named Idek Tramielski) initially had a kid's thrilled reaction to
- the sheer spectacle of the scene: weapons glinting in the sun, soldiers
- goose-stepping, planes overhead. "It as a fantastic thing," he remembers.
-
- Reality crashed down after that. Lodz's Jews -- one-third of the city's 600,000
- people -- were ordered out of their homes and into a crowded ghetto. For nearly
- five years Jack (an only child) and his parents lived there in one room,
- scavenged for food, and worked -- his father at shoemaking, Jack in a pants
- factory. The faces that the Tramiels saw in the ghetto changed constantly: Jews
- left, new Jews came in, often from other countries. Later Tramiel learned that
- the Jewish leader of the ghetto was parcelling out its residents to the Germans
- believing that the community would be left in relative peace as long as he
- periodically delivered up a contingent of its residents for deportation -- and
- no doubt extermination.
- In August '44 the Tramiels themselves were herded into railroad cars, told they
- were going to Germany to better themselves, and instead shipped to Auschwitz.
- Jack's most vivid memory of the three-day trip is that each person received a
- whole loaf of bread as a ration -- a feast beyond his imagination. At journey's
- end, the men were separated from the women (at which point Jack lost track of
- his mother) and then themselves split into two groups, one permitted for the
- time being to live, the other sent to Auschwitz's gas chambers. Jack and his
- father were thumbed into the group that survived.
- A few weeks later, Jack and his father were "examined" by the notorious Dr.
- Josef Mengele and thumbed again into a survivors line. "What do you mean --
- examined?" Tramiel is asked."He touched my testicles. He judged whether we were
- strong enough to work." Having passed, Tramiel and his father were transported
- to a spot just outside Hanover, Germany, and there set to building a
- concentration camp into whose barracks they themselves moved. In weather that
- was often bitter cold, they worked in thin, pyjama-like garments, and they grew
- increasingly emaciated on a deprivation diet: watery "soup" and bread in the
- morning, and a potato, bread, and more "soup" at night.
-
- By December 1944 the Tramiels were assigned to different work crews and seeing
- each other only occasionally. At one of their meetings the father told the son
- that many young people in the camp managed to smuggle food to their elders
- -- and why hadn't Jack done that for his father? Stung, Jack studied for days
- how to deal with an electric fence that stood between him and an SS kitchen and
- finally succeeded in burrowing his thin frame under it to steal food -- one
- potato and some peels. But when he got the food to his father, malnutrition had
- gripped he older man and grossly swollen his body. He could not eat. Soon
- after, he died in the camp's infirmary. Later, Jack learned that the death was
- directly caused by an injection of gasoline into his father's veins.
-
- As the winter stretched into the spring of 1945, Jack Tramiel himself grew
- increasingly fatalistic. But then a strange end-of-the-war tableau unfolded.
- First, the Germans vanished from the camp; second, the Red Cross moved in
- briefly, overfed the prisoners to the point that some died, and then left;
- third, the Germans returned and then vanished again. On their heels came two
- American soldiers -- "20-foot-tall black men, the first blacks I'd ever seen,"
- says Tramiel -- who loomed in a barracks door, peered at the prisoners hiding
- beneath the straw of their bunks,said something in English that one Jew gleaned
- as "More Americans will be coming," and left. Next a tank rolled up.In it stood
- a Jewish chaplain in dress uniform, who declared in Yiddish: "You are free,"
- and told the tank to move on. These were troops of the advancing American Army,
- the month was April 1945, and Tramiel was 16.
-
- Tramiel, today 69 and a fireplug in build, stayed in Europe for more than two
- years after his liberation, and many of his recollections of those days concern
- food: how he tricked his way into a sanatorium to a rich, and shamefully
- fattening, diet; how he gorged happily while working in an American Army
- kitchen; how he did other odd jobs for "money or food." But he also learned
- during this time that his mother was alive and back again in Lodz. He saw her
- there but then left, resolved by that time to marry a concentration-camp
- survivor he'd met, Helen Goldgrub, and go with her to the U.S.
-
- The two wed in Germany in July 1947. They got to the U.S. separately, though --
- he first, in November of that year. His confidence, strengthened by what he'd
- survived,bordered on hubris: "I figured I could handle just about anything," he
- says. He started out living at a Jewish agency, HIAS, in New York City; got a
- job as a handyman at a Fifth Avenue lamp store; learned English from American
- movies; and at their end pigged out on chocolate instead of eating regular
- dinners.
- Then, in early 1948, he did the improbable, joining the U.S. Army. By the time
- he left it four years later,he'd been reunited with his wife and fathered a son
- (the first of three). The Army had also pointed him to a career by putting him
- in charge of repairing office equipment in the New York City area.
- When Tramiel checked back into civilian life, he entered a long period of close
- encounters with machines that typed words and manipulated numbers. He first
- worked, at $50 a week, for a struggling typewriter-repair shop. Using his Army
- connections, Tramiel got the owner a contract to service several thousand
- machines. "The guy flipped," says Tramiel, but did not give his enterprising
- employee a raise. "I have no intention of working for people who have no
- brains," said Tramiel to the owner, and quit.
-
- Tramiel then bought a typewriter shop in the Bronx. He did repair work for
- Fordham niversity and, when he once got a chance to buy scads of used
- typewriters, rebuilt and resold them. He next prepared to import machines from
- Italy but found he could get the import exclusivity he wanted only by moving to
- Canada. It was in Toronto, in 1955, that he founded a company he called
- Commodore, an importer and eventually a manufacturer of both typewriters and
- adding machines. Why Commodore? Because Tramiel wanted a name with a military
- ring and because higher ranks, such as General and Admiral, were already taken.
-
- Commodore went public in 1962 at a Canadian bargain-basement price of $2.50 a
- share -- a deal that raised funds Tramiel needed to pay off big loans he'd
- gotten from a Canadian financier named C. Powell Morgan, head of Atlantic
- Acceptance. Deep trouble erupted in the mid-1960s when Atlantic, to which
- Commodore was almost joined at the hip, went bankrupt, amid charges of
- fraudulent financial statements, dummy companies, and propped stock prices.
- Tramiel was never charged with illegalities, but an investigative commission
- concluded that he was probably not blameless. In any case, the Canadian
- financial establishment ostracized him. Struggling to keep Commodore itself out
- of bankruptcy, he was forced in 1966 to give partial control of the company to
- Canadian investor Irving Gould.
-
- Commodore's line then was still typewriters and adding machines, but the
- electronics revolution was under way and setting up shop in Silicon Valley.
- Tramiel himself moved there in the late 1960s and soon, displaying a
- speed-to-market talent that has characterized his whole life, had Commodore
- pumping out electronic calculators. In time, one product, a hand-held
- calculator, grew so popular that it was self-destructive: The company that
- supplied Commodore with semiconductor chips, Texas Instruments, decided to
- produce calculators itself -- selling them at prices that Commodore couldn't
- match.
-
- With Commodore again reeling, Tramiel vowed never again to be at the mercy of a
- vital supplier. In 1976 he made a momentous acquisition: MOS Technology, a
- Pennsylvania chip manufacturer that also turned out to be extravagantly
- nurturing about 200 different R&D projects. Tramiel, a slash-and-burn, early-
- day Al Dunlap in management style, killed most of the projects immediately. But
- he listened hard when an engineer named Chuck Peddle told him the company had a
- chip that was effectively a microcomputer. And small computers, said Peddle,
- "are going to be the future of the world."
-
- Willing to take a limited gamble, Tramiel told Peddle that he and Tramiel's
- second son,Leonard, then getting a Columbia University astrophysics degree, had
- six months to come up with a computer Commodore could display at an upcoming
- Comdex electronics show. They made the deadline. "And everyone loved the
- product," says Tramiel, relishingly rolling out its name, PET, for Personal
- Electronic Transactor. Unfortunately, this was potentially an expensive pet,
- carrying a lot of risk -- and demanding, says Tramiel, "a lot of money I still
- did not have." So he determined to gauge demand by running newspaper ads that
- offered six-week delivery on a computer priced at $599, a seductive figure on
- which Tramiel thought he could still make a profit. The ads appeared, and a
- hugely encouraging $3 million in checks came back.
-
- Commodore got to the market with its computer in 1977, the same year that Apple
- and Tandy put their micros on sale. In the next few years, Tramiel drove those
- competitors and others wild by combatively pushing prices down and down, to
- levels like $200. He also became famous for rough treatment of suppliers,
- customers, and executives -- and about it all was fiercely unrepentant.
- "Business is war," he said. "I don't believe in compromising. I believe in
- winning."
-
- Which is what he did in those early years for computers, leading Commodore to
- $700 million in sales in fiscal 1983 and $88 million in profits. At its peak
- price in those days,the stock that Tramiel had sold in 1962 at a price of $2.50
- a share was up to $1,200, and his 6.5% slice of the company was worth $120
- million.
-
- But then, in early 1984, just as annual sales were climbing above $1 billion,
- Tramiel clashed with a Commodore stockholder mightier than he, Irving Gould --
- and when the smoke had cleared,Tramiel was out. The nature of their quarrel was
- never publicly disclosed. Today, however, Tramiel says he wanted to "grow" the
- company, and Gould didn't.
-
- Commodore was really Tramiel's last hurrah. True, he surfaced again quickly in
- the computer industry, agreeing later in 1984 to take over -- for a pittance --
- Warner Communications' floundering Atari operation. But in a business changing
- convulsively as IBM brought out its PC and the clones marched in, Atari was a
- loser and ultimately a venture into which Tramiel was unwilling to sink big
- money.Eventually he folded Atari into a Silicon Valley disk-drive manufacturer,
- JTS, in which he has a major interest but plays no operational role.
-
- Today Tramiel is basically retired and managing his money.From four residences,
- he's cut down to one, a palatial house atop a foothill in Monte Sereno, Calif.
- In its garage are two Rolls-Royces, a type of luxury to which Tramiel has long
- been addicted.
-
- Naturally, charity fundraisers look Tramiel up. When those for the Holocaust
- Memorial Museum appeared, he at first thought of it as just one more
- philanthropic cause to be supported. But his wife, Helen, 69, who spent her
- concentration camp days at Bergen-Belsen, is intensely aware that both she and
- her husband survived what millions of other Jews did not. "No," she said
- adamantly, "for this one we have to go all out."
-
-
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- CHOSNECK team contact us:
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