The Man behind the Microchip: Robert Noyce and the Invention of Silicon Valley (review)

Leslie Berlin locates the development of the integrated circuit and the development of Silicon Valley's business culture in the life and actions of Robert Noyce. Noyce, one of the founders of both Fairchild Semiconductor and Intel, also brought his charm and power to a role as public representative for the industry and to fostering an intraindustry research cooperative to help counter the Japanese threat. Along the way, Berlin argues, Noyce established Silicon Valley's culture of innovation, creativity, collaboration, and entrepreneurship.

This, in Berlin's telling, is a personality-driven story. From childhood, perhaps affected by his position as youngest of three boys, Noyce was fiercely competitive both intellectually and athletically. By the end of high school he had gained "experiences that would anchor his adult approach to life" (p. 19), high confidence backed with intellectual brilliance. Some of the childhood stories seem apocryphal (at five, on being allowed to win a Ping-Pong game: "That's not the game! If you're going to play, play to win!" [p. 11]), but they do establish the headstrong, driven personality he exhibited in later pursuits.

Brilliant and personable, Noyce impressed almost all who met him. Grinnell College and MIT success led to his hiring first at Philco, then at the company founded by William Shockley, coinventor of the transistor. In Palo Alto, Shockley brought together many of the finest young semiconductor scientists and engineers, but his poor, even cruel, management drove eight of them to leave and found Fairchild Semiconductor. At Fairchild, they engaged in a heated effort to get transistors into production, deemphasizing scientific research in favor of production development. Their transistor work soon resulted in the integrated circuit; Noyce got the patent, though Berlin acknowledges essential contributions of others. Berlin's description of the activities at Fairchild are the best I've read; one gets a real sense of the excitement, discipline, knowledge, and dedication that thrived in the labs and meeting rooms.

Reacting against Shockley's style, Noyce established a corporate culture of openness and cooperation at Fairchild. Fairchild employees spun firms off and brought this approach with them, fostering a regional culture of innovation and entrepreneurship. As Fairchild stumbled, Noyce and cofounder Gordon Moore became increasingly frustrated, and left to form Intel. Intel's success came rapidly; its innovative microprocessor, for which Berlin gives Noyce great credit, gave it a substantial head start and opened up new markets for semiconductor devices. As Intel matured, however, Noyce lost interest; management frustrated him, and he moved on to other activities, among which was his role as unofficial spokesman for the American semiconductor industry. From the mid-1970s on, his was "the paradigmatic tale of the high-tech industry and of Silicon Valley" (p. 246), and his fame extended beyond its boundaries. He died relatively young in 1990, leaving behind a company, an industry, and a region to which his efforts had contributed greatly.

Berlin's research is deep and wide, her sources—including family papers and more than 100 oral history interviews—are exhaustive. Her explication of technical, scientific, and business matters is admirable, and her writing is rarely less than excellent. This is not hagiography; Noyce does not come off as a universally appealing man. His treatment of his first wife and children at times seems almost cruel, and he seems to have had few close friends.

So what's wrong with this book? The problem is evident in the title. While Noyce's technical achievements, charisma, and public stature merit attention, semiconductor technology was a group effort. Berlin herself often points to the essential contributions of others—Gordon Moore in particular. And Silicon Valley's culture, while influenced by Noyce, was not his lone creation. The question becomes whether his biography can adequately reflect what was clearly the creation of many: the answer is no.

I was reading Bob Spitz's The Beatles at the same time as Berlin...