Computer Software Guru Trades in His Toga for Pinstripes
By his own admission, Philippe Kahn didn’t spend much time preparing his keynote speech for this spring’s annual meeting of the Software Publishers Assn. But winging it has never been much of a problem for the free-spirited founder and chairman of Borland International.
And so, when the lights went down, Kahn stood up and let it fly--references to flatulence, sexually transmitted diseases and all. The audience, a crowd of mostly 30-ish jeans-clad software publishers and computer programmers, howled in delight.
But the humor was lost on two older men in the group who shook their heads in disgust as Kahn’s speech ended with a touch of bathroom humor. “And to think he’s actually one of their heroes,” one of the men said, pointing to the cheering crowd. “Unbelievable!”
Perhaps so. And Kahn, 36, has apparently gotten the message.
Within the past several months, the Frenchman once best known as the enfant terrible of the personal computer software industry has been developing a new and more corporately correct image. Gone are more than 20 of the 260 pounds that once packed his roly-poly six-foot frame. He’s started honoring the commitments logged in his daily appointment calendar. And, to further demonstrate his new self-discipline, Kahn says he’s trying to pay attention to what he says, before he says it.
“I usually just say what I think. Now I’m also trying to think what I say,” Kahn said.
Major Changes Planned
His efforts are beginning to pay off. “Philippe has cleaned up his act a lot,” observed Stewart Alsop, editor of the Personal Computer Newsletter in the Silicon Valley. “At one time I thought he was a rather silly person. But I’ve changed my opinion.”
Kahn’s self-improvement program is not just a one-man act. He wants his 5-year-old company, the nation’s sixth-largest software publisher, to grow up as well. The goal is to attract the attention of the corporate software buyers and make Borland a household name among the Fortune 1,000 companies just as it is among hobbyists, home computer users and small businesses.
“We’re changing to play in the big leagues now,” Kahn said. “We’ve been criticized for being too loose, and rightly so. . . . It’s time to say we’re going to be serious about this stuff.”
For the plan to succeed, Kahn will have to transform the company from a publisher of cheap software for the cost-sensitive buyer into a supplier for well-heeled corporations more interested in performance than price. It’s a strategy Kahn calls “the Honda way”: enter the market with inexpensive products and follow with fancier and higher-priced programs.
The move may have come just in the nick of time.
The U.S. software industry, which enjoyed sales of more than $30 billion last year, is increasingly being dominated by a few large companies. Large companies, such as Microsoft Corp. of Redmond, Wash., Lotus Development Corp. of Cambridge, Mass. and Torrance’s Ashton-Tate, are wining most of the lucrative corporate software sales.
Kahn made a bid to join that top tier earlier this month with an announcement that Borland--one of the few software publishers to offer a myriad of titles rather than just one or two hot programs--intends to concentrate its marketing, sales and development efforts on just seven of its nearly three dozen software programs. The remainder, including all its programs for Apple Computer’s Macintosh computer line, will be allowed “to coast” without much corporate support.
Borland’s efforts will be focused on its two original hits--Sidekick, the multipurpose program and the Turbo Pascal computer language--and five additional programs, including Paradox, a database management program; Quattro, a spreadsheet program, and Sprint, a word processing program. All seven programs are designed to work exclusively on IBM personal computers and compatible models.
“It’s a logical step for us,” Kahn says. “But it was a very difficult decision because it’s a fundamental departure from the way we had been doing business.”
Kahn credits venture capitalist Ben Rosen for helping the company reach the momentous decision. Rosen joined Borland’s board of directors last year when it acquired Ansa software, a company that Rosen helped create.
According to Kahn, Rosen has helped Borland in other ways, as well. “Now we have systematic board meetings where we only look at the financial statements,” he explained. “We’re getting more business savvy and advice into the company.”
Was Illegal Alien
Given the company’s origins, it’s a wonder that Borland has gotten as far as it has.
When Kahn, a mathematics teacher by training, founded the company in 1983, he was an illegal alien--he deliberately overstayed his French visitor’s visa--with just $2,000 to his name.
When he couldn’t land a job because he couldn’t produce a work permit, Kahn decided to start his own software company. His first product was Sidekick, the software program he wrote with two other software engineers. The program has since become one of the top-selling PC programs.
Opening up for business over an auto-body repair shop, Kahn named the company Borland International because he thought its all-American ring was the perfect cover for an illegal alien.
He was equally creative when it came to equipping his office. In letters to a variety of office equipment manufacturers, Kahn said his company was a worldwide distributor of software and hardware and would gladly evaluate their products for possible distribution. It didn’t take long for Borland to acquire a considerable array of loaned equipment and free samples, including personal computers, printers and copiers.
By the time the collection agencies came calling for some of the equipment, Sidekick sales had taken off and Borland was able to pay its own way.
Within 18 months, Borland was generating sales of about $1 million a month and Kahn was flushed with success. He threw raucous parties, including one where he dressed in a toga and played the saxophone for the assembled guests, bought himself a Porsche and a house in the hills above Santa Cruz and made intentionally outrageous pronouncements for the loyal band of computer journalists on his trail.
“I have all the money I need,” he told one reporter in 1985. “Now I dedicate myself to fun.”
Not any more. Kahn has traded in his toga for pinstripes and is looking to shed his reputation for flamboyance.
It won’t be easy. Just a few months ago, while speeding through the hills near his home in his turbo Porsche, a highway patrol officer nabbed him for exceeding 130 miles per hour. His license was suspended--it was the third such offense--and he was handed a steep fine. Although Kahn has parked the Porsche in his garage and started bicycling to work, he still can’t resist the urge to drive. But his vehicle of choice these days is far tamer: a Suzuki Samurai.
