It was one of the few times Intel veterans can recall a "constructive confrontation" turning into a personal attack. The outburst would serve as a reminder of what could happen when the pressure got so intense that people forgot a basic tenet of a management-by-objective system, which is the faith that talented people, given an objective and the freedom to do things the way they think best, will produce results. It changed Casey Powell's life -- and, as it turned out, the lives of a lot of other people as well.
Powell refuses to comment on this incident for publication, but shortly afterward, he told a friend that he was going to execute the marketing plan in the manner outlined in the meeting, and then quit. The senior executive later apologized again, and praised the marketing effort as one of the best ever executed at Intel. But Powell never looked back.
He realized that he was tired of solving problems that were the result of comeone else not doing something right. So when a venture capitalist asked if he would like to try turning around a troubled company, Powell said he would rather deal with his own mistakes. He decided to start a company that would: a) provide him with a job in Oregon; b) enable him to work quickly and efficiently, which was one of the things he liked about Intel; c) give him the opportunity to satisfy professional goals without sacrificing his family; and d) create a working environment that would motivate people as well as Intel did without beating them up.
It was an ambitious agenda, but Powell set about making it happen in a very systematic way. Over the next several months, while still working at Intel, he approached a number of the people he wanted to help him. He was looking not only for outstanding track records and talents, but for people who shared his values.
The first person he talked to was Scott Gibson, a 30-year-old buy wonder from the Midwest who years earlier had become Intel's youngest general manager. Gibson was extremely bright and possessed of an enormous capacity for detail that complemented Powell's intuitive management style; he was also interested in building a company that valued both people and achievement. Systems architect Gary Fielland had a streak of pragmatism that let him focus his inventiveness on the kind of product an embryonic company needed. Larry Wade, another general manager who had spent much of his professional life at DEC, was looking for a way to make money and have fun -- with fun defined as working with people he enjoyed and producing something beneficial to society.
After agreeing to work together, Powell, Gibson, Fielland, and Wade quickly and discreetly chose 13 other Intel employees and one engineer who was working as a consultant in England.
On January 17, 1983, all 17 Intel-ites resigned.
That night, they celebrated at the Upper Level Pub, a bar at a nearby shopping mall. They sat at a long table in the back drinking beer and talking about the shock waves at the company, the attempts to get them to stay, and the local TV coverage describing them as "the cream of the crop" at Intel. One of the first toasts of the evening was about allowing the simultaneous accomplishment of company goals and personal objectives. The last toast was made as the sun came up.
There were 15 men and three women, ranging in age from 23 to 39, wearing everything from pinstripes and shined loafers to T-shirts and running shoes. Some were close friends, some knew each other only by reputation. All had agreed to buy stock, to work for as long as six months without salary while the company lined up financing, and to do whatever was necessary to make the company succeed. For months, this included taking home the company garbage in large plastic bags; there was no dumpster on the premises.
Within days, they had arranged a lease on a "deathlike space" in Portland recently vacated by a company on the road to bankruptcy. They negotiated what they came to call "very special terms" -- six months use for free -- persuading the owners that they would benefit later when Sequent got its financing.
That first Saturday they held a "Name the Company" party to which they invited family, friends, business associates, and The New York Times. More than 100 people ate, drank, and wrote suggestions on large paper banners hung on the walls. They vetoed such names as Trillium, Topaz, and Osprey, settling on Sequel, the name of a local rock band.
After the party, they gathered to write down their corporate objectives. Powell was the Thomas Jefferson, holding the pen longer than anyone else. Ten drafts later, they came up with six objectives, involving profitability, customer satisfaction, market domination, "a culture that rewards our employees for their contributions," "an organization that provides individuals with the means to accept the maximum responsibility for the overall success of their company," and acceptance of community responsibility.
During the next two months, they worked on their business plan and negotiated for various necessities of life -- furniture, telephones, a copy machine, legal and accounting advice, and a VAX computer -- all on "very special terms."
In April a group of well-known venture capitalists, led by Reid Dennis of Institutional Venture Partners, agreed to pay an unprecedented $5.2 million for 35% of a company that consisted of 19 people and a business plan the size of a small-town telephone book.
