The technology world has long been filled inventors - and, every once in a while, one of those inventors happens to live in the same body as an entrepreneur. Most inventors I have met, however, are wonderful, creative people who love to solve hard problems and want to create things that will make a difference in people's lives - yet often are less concerned with how such a thing will make money (or, if they are, don't have a strong idea of how to bring that about).
The other great thing I've seen with inventors is that they keep on inventing. Even if they invent One Big Thing that actually does take the world by storm, they keep going. Take Dan Bricklin, for example, the co-creator of VisiCalc - the world's first spreadsheet. He wrote VisiCalc for the Apple II - and has an excellent series of articles on how he created Visicalc, why he didn't patent it - and on all the fascinating people he met over the years - on his Web site.
But when I met him in the mid-1990s, he was busy touting the products produced by his then-latest company Trellix Corporation. And he was as eager to talk to me (then a freelance journalist for the Financial Times, the Times of London and Canada's Financial Post) as any other young entrepreneur. I found him modest, down-to-earth and engaging. He also seemed to be free of any of the regrets that you might expect from being the co-inventor of something that other people made a LOT of money from, but from which he didn't particularly profit greatly.
Dan told me that when he turned 40, he didn't have to worry about whether he had made a difference in the world. He knew that he already had. And I thought about what a simple and clear view of the world he enjoyed - knowing that he had made a difference in people's lives and that the thing he helped create was changing the lives of millions was enough. He didn't need billions - nor did he need accolades. He was comfortable in his own skin.
A few years later, I met another man whose invention changed the world - Martin Cooper, inventor of the cellphone. At 44 years old, when working at Motorola in 1973, Cooper led a small team that invented the first cellphone - and made the first "public" cellphone call in New York City - a story he has recounted in many places and which he gives a great summary for on his company's Web site. And, like Dan Bricklin, Cooper was not a shameless promoter or marketer. He was, at heart, an inventor who believed in the power of what he was doing.
I have a great sympathy for inventors. My own grandfather - John Sylvester (or Jack) Wheelwright - was an inventor and airship pioneer, whose life was captured in the book "A Man of Invention". I think his life inspired me to spend much of mine following the inventors and innovators of the last 30 years.
