[NOTE: I originally posted this in early 2009 elsewhere, but I think it's still relevant and I'd like to make it available to readers on this blog.]
Whenever I visit Silicon Valley, I always make it a point to visit the Stanford University Bookstore to buy a book (or usually several). I do the same for my alma mater, Harvard, but fate has decreed that I seldom go to Boston these days. Recently I bought a book, which I am reading in occasional bursts as the mood strikes. It is called Making Silicon Valley, with the subtitle Innovation and the Growth of High Tech, 1930-1970, by Christophe Lécuyer. I thoroughly enjoyed the early chapters, which chronicle the events leading up to World War II that ended up being crucial to the emergence of the electronics business in Silicon Valley.
There are several names which are familiar, but which today we associate more with defense technology than Silicon Valley technology, and chief among these is the name of Charles Litton. He and two other pioneers, William Eitel and Jack McCullough, made their names originally as innovators in the technology of vacuum tubes. Specifically, they built tubes to enable their hobby of amateur radio. Even more interesting, it turns out that patents had a huge role to play, and it is interesting to note that the role of patents was the one which legal theorists have often stated is the goal of patent law: the existence of patents stimulated yet more innovation.
In short, what happened is that these men were forced to work around a large patent pool that had been accumulated by RCA, which was created at government request near the end of World War I to maintain US dominance in radio technology. The licensees of the RCA patents were not concerned with amateurs in Northern California, so in order to accomplish their goals Eitel, McCullough and Litton worked closely to study the RCA patents and develop non-infringing tube designs. This required great ingenuity, and the efforts were done under tremendous strain (they ran small shops during the Depression, when the “get rich quick” mentality of today’s Silicon Valley was not even a gleam in anyone’s eye). Eventually, they sold long-range radios to an innovative shipping company, the Dollar Shipping Line (from which eventually today’s American President Lines arose out of bankruptcy), and this helped keep them going.
When World War II broke out, their luck changed, because it turned out that their new designs had superior quality to the RCA designs for high output power tubes, and the demands of the US military for long-range communications drove the rapid growth of the electronics business in the Bay Area.
As a side note, a curious thing happened shortly after I read this history in the book. I went to a well-known historical eatery in San Francisco, the Tadich Grill, to meet a client. Arriving early, I bought a cup of coffee and sat down outside at a café to enjoy the brilliant day. After a couple of minutes, I began admiring another of San Francisco’s architectural treasures, an elegant three- or four-story office building directly across the street from me. Suddenly I noticed the engraved name on the building: “The Robert Dollar Building”. Dollar? Dollar! It couldn’t be a coincidence. In one of those ironies emblematic of the Silicon Valley story, I pulled out my shiny new iPhone and Googled “Robert Dollar” – sure enough, he was the founder of Dollar Shipping Lines (and had quite a life story). The willingness of the self-made Scottish lumber and shipping businessman who owned that building in the 1920s and 1930s to back some upstarts who took on a large patent-heavy corporate giant led directly to the founding of the semiconductor business a few years later, and ultimately made it possible for me to learn about him on my iPhone!
What does all this have to do with the patent situation today? While it is clear that there are problems with patent quality, many critics of patents in general, or software patents in particular, have been questioning the utility of patents quite bluntly. One of the key charges laid against patents is that they suppress innovators. At first glance, the (very brief) story I narrated above would seem to reinforce this view: patents slowed down the natural vacuum tube innovators. But in fact, without patents, they would have merely copied RCA designs, and they would have found a ready market in the same places they eventually did with their non-infringing tubes. But, in a classic example of how patents are supposed to be used, they studied the published patents in order to figure out how to legally “design around” them to create non-infringing products. This pressure to innovate led to long hours of experimentation, of trials and many errors, but ultimately results in superior non-infringing tubes.
Today, large software vendors noisily protest that they are held hostage by “patent trolls”, non-practicing entities (NPEs) who charge a “tax” on them by asserting patents that they don’t intend to use. But these companies really act more like RCA did in the 1920s and 1930s (for a long time RCA didn’t make anything, but merely licensed the patents to GE and others and then marketed the resulting products), and their protests are just an example of how they use their market presence to good effect. These vendors often say that they cannot write any code without violating someone’s patents. But in fact the same has always been true of companies who make complex products with many parts in competitive industries. The automotive industry, for example, has been dealing with patents for decades (and they’re not the reason for the Big Three Bailout pleading – that honor goes to health care costs, pensions costs, and so forth). People who make cars understand that they have to clear patents through licensing or designing around (or engaging in premeditated litigation with “the little guy”, famously narrated in the book Flash of Genius, by John Seabrook), and they know how to do this. Those who make large software systems don’t, at least not yet.
At any rate, I highly recommend you check out the book – it’s a very interesting story, and starts much earlier than most Silicon Valley histories.
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