“I just had a thought,” I said to Hillary.
“What’s that?” Hillary asked.
“It’s about Pixar. I never realized it before. Pixar is a great metaphor for the ideas of the Middle Way.”
“How do you make that connection?” Hillary asked, eager to discuss it.
“All those risks we took to balance artistry with business discipline,” I went on, “they’re an example of what the Middle Way is talking about.”
As we sat there on the beach, with rain falling around us, I excitedly shared what I meant.
When I joined Pixar in 1994, it was full of artistic and creative wizardry. That is what mesmerized me when I sat in Pixar’s ramshackle screening room watching scenes from Toy Story for the first time. But I quickly learned that Pixar was stuck. For all its genius, it had no momentum. It was like a starving artist. Just as the Middle Way holds that if we are too ungrounded, we can be frustrated by lack of momentum, Pixar too was ungrounded and frustrated by lack of profitability, cash, stock options, and a business road map.
Pixar’s entire success depended on developing enough strategy, order, and bureaucracy to give it momentum without killing the creative spirit. This is the entreaty of the Middle Way: to inspire us to give expression to our spirit, creativity, and humanity and still take care of day-to-day needs and responsibilities. The Middle Way is a dance between order and freedom, bureaucracy and spirit, efficiency and artistry. Every film that Pixar made struggled with this tension and ended up better for it.
The lessons of the Middle Way can apply to any organization wrestling with these forces. What we accomplished at Pixar was rare. Very rare perhaps. But it doesn’t have to be. We can build extraordinary organizations that foster creativity, dignity, and humanity while respecting business disciplines. We just have to be tuned to it; we have to be willing to balance bureaucracy with the depth and subtlety of creative inspiration, and awareness of the human dimension of our endeavors. This won’t make us weak or soft. Pixar was certainly neither of those. As it did for Pixar, it will simply make us better.
As I sat there in the gentle rain, I also reflected on the broader questions that inspired my journey beyond Pixar. I am convinced that we humans do better when we have something to ground us, a deep source from which we can draw wisdom, insight, and inspiration. The goal of that source is to empower us, to bring depth and fulfillment to our lives, to give us the means to soar. Myths, customs, and community rituals have long served these purposes—the Ohlone spoke to the sun each morning for good reason. What will serve us in these ways going forward? Unbridled efficiency, for all the prosperity it provides, can exact a heavy toll on our humanity if we are not careful. To truly soar, we need something from which we can push off, something to guide us.
For myself, I found in the Middle Way a solution that believes in the potential and possibilities of the mind and calls upon us to tap into that potential. It is a means to discover how what we take as truths are often merely paradigms that we can go beyond. I found this to be both a beautiful methodology and an inspiring way of thinking and being. This is why I wake up each morning and, before the rush of the day begins, take a few minutes to sit down, recollect the wisdom of the Middle Way masters, and enjoy my meditation.
The car accident gave me an unexpected chance to reflect on the different strands of my life. Looking back at Pixar all these years later, I felt immense pride at the way we transformed a struggling organization into a magnificent studio that mesmerized audiences the world over. Now, it was uncanny to observe how the threads of the Middle Way were woven through my different experiences, even when I was barely aware of it.
And so it was that I found myself sitting on the beach in the rain, recovering from the narrowest of escapes. In the quiet of that moment, as I took in the beauty that surrounded me, I could not help but marvel at seeing a shining example of my favorite philosophy in the story of a little company called Pixar.
Epilogue
“I’m delighted to introduce my old friend Lawrence Levy,” Ed announced. “Few people understood the strategic issues Pixar faced the way that Lawrence did. I’m quite sure we’ll learn things today that we’ve long forgotten.”
This is how Ed introduced me in May 2015, as I sat in the wings of the beautiful auditorium on Pixar’s sparkling campus in Emeryville, California. The auditorium was a far cry from the old screening room in Point Richmond; it was a proper movie theater, with spacious velvet-covered seats, sophisticated lighting controls, and the quiet serenity of soundproofed walls. Ed had invited me to give a talk at Pixar a couple of months earlier, after we met for a walk in San Francisco one Saturday afternoon. We had forged a nice habit of meeting every so often for dinner or a walk. It was always great to reconnect with Ed, and we easily picked up our conversation right where we had left off.
“I developed this talk about Pixar,” I told Ed during that walk. “It tells the strategic and business story behind the company and links it to bigger ideas about the Middle Way. I gave it recently at the Harvard Business and Law schools. They loved it.”
“We should do it at Pixar,” Ed said immediately. “I want people to understand Pixar’s history. This is a really important part of it.”
“That would be wonderful,” I said. “It would be very meaningful for me to do that.”
That is exactly how I felt when I got in my car a couple of hours earlier to make the drive to Pixar. I didn’t have to drive as far as Point Richmond anymore. Years earlier Steve had orchestrated the building of Pixar’s campus in Emeryville, just across the Bay Bridge, tucked to the south of the Berkeley Hills. It had been a couple of years since I had visited Pixar, but I never tired of seeing the film posters that lined the walls. The Incredibles, Cars, Wall-E, Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., Up, Ratatouille, Brave—who could have imagined such a legacy from Pixar’s humble beginnings?
Pixar’s campus was not the only thing that had changed.
Jenna, our Toy Story baby, was now nineteen, a sophomore at the University of Washington in Seattle, majoring in psychology and communications. Sarah, our gleeful seven-year-old playing with Lite-Brite at Toy Story’s premiere, was twenty-six. She had studied psychology and neuroscience as an undergraduate at the University of Southern California and was now at the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary in Boston, finishing a clinical doctorate degree in audiology from the University of Washington. She had connected with Stanford Medical Center about a possible position there. Jason, now twenty-nine, had studied economics and creative writing, also at USC, and earned an MBA from Stanford. He was passionate about developing high-quality story experiences and was producing his first one for Pocket Gems, a mobile gaming company in San Francisco. Hillary and I remained engaged in our work at Juniper.
There had been one other change too.
My drive to Pixar took me past Steve’s house, still just a few blocks from mine. It had been three and a half years since he died. Three and a half years. How could so much time have passed? My memory of our time together was as vivid as if I had seen him the day before. I could only imagine the things we might have discussed had he still been here: the political infighting in Washington, trends in blockbuster film releases, Pixar’s and Apple’s newest quests, the latest adventures of our children. Or maybe we would have said few words. Just sat and enjoyed a few moments of quiet.
On this day, as I headed to Pixar for the first time in a few years, I slowed down as I drove by Steve’s house. I felt moved by a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. How nice it would have been to pull over just one more time and see if he was home. How good it would have felt to enter through the side gate, admire the great variety of vegetables growing in his garden, and walk through the kitchen door; to say hello to the chef working quietly in the kitchen and enjoy the delicious smells of the day’s foods; to walk down the hallway to Steve’s office and knock gently on the door; to peer inside and check if he was there; and then, just one more time, to see him look up, smile
, and say to me:
“Hey, Lawrence. You up for a walk?”
Acknowledgments
This project would never have come to fruition were it not for the invaluable efforts of some extraordinary individuals.
Jamie Malinowski has been all I can hope for in a writing coach. At one moment during the project, I told Hillary, “Forget the book; all I want is a gold star from Jamie.” Jamie’s unrelenting, critical eye and heartfelt concern for every part of the book made for a potent if not humbling source of guidance.
If a literary agent is meant to be a steady, guiding hand and a staunch defender of an author’s interests, then I can testify that David McCormick and the staff at McCormick Literary are amazing at what they do. The same would go for my editor, Rick Wolff, at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. He believed unwaveringly in the book from day one and has been a steady, grounding force behind the scenes the whole way. Many thanks also to the entire team at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; I am very fortunate to have been in their very capable and dedicated hands.
One of my favorite parts of writing this book was reconnecting with the people in it. It proved to be a wonderful opportunity for reminiscing with old friends and hearing their insights on the story. I remain immensely grateful to Ed Catmull, John Lasseter, Larry Sonsini, Skip Brittenham, Sam Fischer, Todd Carter, and Hal Vogel for their contributions, friendship, and support.
Many thanks to my dear friend Lisa Brennan-Jobs, who helped me believe I could turn this story into a book even when I doubted it. I am deeply grateful for her encouragement and support.
Much gratitude also to my great friend Peter Glassman. From long walks along the seawalls of Vancouver to our inspiring correspondence, Peter’s encouragement spurred me on more than I think he knows.
Very special thanks to Christina Juskiewicz, Pam Moriarty, Terry Moriarty, Will Pierog, and David Pirko, each of whom took much time and care to read the manuscript and share their many thoughtful insights.
If there were a living example of what it means to embody the Middle Way, it would be Segyu Rinpoche. The vitality and energy of life course through him, and he is a tribute to selfless action. He has taught me what it means to enjoy simultaneously a beautiful friendship and a profound teacher.
Which brings me to my immediate family, Hillary, Jason, Sarah, and Jenna.
Jason has blossomed into a wonderful creative leader. His penetrating critiques of each chapter, sensitivity to story structure, and willingness to patiently talk through any detail helped me every step of the way.
Sarah has long brought the highest standards of excellence to all she does. I have now discovered that this includes an uncanny eye for editing. The book benefited tremendously from her discerning comments and many thoughtful ideas.
Jenna has insight way beyond her years. She took to playfully using smiley faces and sad faces on her reviews of the manuscript. Although the moment in the story when she was born received the biggest smiley face, ignoring the sad faces would have made for a far lesser book.
Hillary is my partner in life. She has always skillfully encouraged me to be my best while remaining my staunchest defender. Her keen critical eye watched over the evolution of the book, making sure it reflected what happened to the best of her, and my, memory. The story reveals a good part of our adventure together. I am ever thankful that after more than thirty years, we are still on that adventure.
At the end of Jason’s review of the final draft he wrote:
“You wrote a book. Yay!”
We all did it together.
Index
A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z
A
Academy Awards and nominations
Best Animated Feature Film, 215
Best Animated Short Film, 13, 38
Best Sound Editing, 215
Scientific and Engineering Achievement, 30
Academy of Motion Pictures, 205
Allen, Tim, 18–19
Anderson, Darla
co-producer, A Bug’s Life, 204
manager, animated commercials group, 36–37
animated commercials group
business ended, 93
Clio Awards, 36
profit and growth potential, 37
animation, computer, 13. See also Pixar departments
challenges of, 51–55
early version, 14
success of, 178–79
understanding complexity of process, 29
Apple IPO
Morgan Stanley and, 115
Wilson, Sonsini, Goodrich & Rosati, 5
Arazi, Efi, 21–24, 105, 128
Avida, Dan, 23
awards. See Academy Awards and nominations; Clio Awards; Golden Globe, Toy Story 2; Grammy Award, A Bug’s Life
B
Bean, Brian, 128–32, 156
Benjamin, Keith, 129, 133
board of directors. See Pixar, business side
Bohm, David, 234
box office comparisons
Disney films, 44, 96, 141
domestic box office defined, 95
Frozen, 222
Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, 141–42
Universal’s An American Tail, 141
Universal’s The Land Before Time, 141–42
Brandeau, Greg, 193, 203
branding. See Pixar, business plan
Brittenham, Skip, 110–12, 179, 184, 186–87
joining Pixar’s board of directors, 111–12
Bronfman, Edgar, 109
Buddhism, 236–38
Juniper, public meditation center, 240–41
meditation practices, 239–40
and Middle Way, 235
studies of, 237–238
Buena Vista Distribution, 67, 142
Bug’s Life, A, 120
awards, 214–15
creative decisions, 166–67
early steps, 164
film credits, 202–3, 205–6
release date, 164
technological challenges in, 164
Buzz Lightyear, 15, 53, 56, 155
Disney influence, 45
C
Campbell, Joseph, 234
Carlisle, Tom, 203
Carter, Todd, 128–30, 132, 156, 158–59
Case, Dan, 137
Catmull, Ed, 9–11, 15, 246
and branding, 189
carrying costs in animation, 78
chief technology officer, 24
film credit question, 205
Hollywood opening, 150
live-action film business compared to animation, 71–72
Pixar, culture of, 33
president of Studios, 221
relationship with Jobs, 62–63
Climan, Sandy, 109
Clio Awards, 36
computer-animated feature films, 40. See also Toy Story
Pixar’s path going forward, 80
Cook, Dick, 219
corporation, stock in
Crash and Great Depression, 103
defined, 99–100
Pixar, mostly owned by Jobs, 100
public or private, 100
valuing, 115
Cowen and Company, third bank of Pixar IPO, 135–37
Cozzetta, Kathi, 203
culture of companies
Hollywood, 84–85
large corporations, 84
Pixar, 27–28, 83, 85
Silicon Valley, 84
D
Dallas, Jill, 137
DeCola, Mary, 203
deFrancisco, David, photoscience department, 54–55
Dillard, Annie, 230
Disney, Roy, 218
Disney, Walt, 67–68
Disney Animation, 221–22
Disney Company, 10–11. See also Buena Vista Distribution; Walt Disney Studios
ABC merger, 185
animated feature films and, 64–65
creative decisions, 167
; financial model, 56–57, 76
history of, 67
Pixar sale to Disney, 220–21
public corporation, history as, 65
Toy Story marketing, 149
Disney Company films. See also Frozen
Aladdin, 44, 64–65, 96, 141, 158
Beauty and the Beast, 44, 64–65, 141, 166
creative decisions in, 170
Lion King, The, 44, 56, 65, 96, 141, 158, 166
Little Mermaid, The, 141, 168
Mary Poppins, 68
Pocahontas, 141
Return of Jafar, The, 173
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 67
Disney Company production agreement
Beauty and the Beast, compensation comparison, 44
exclusivity and compensation, 41–44
terms and prospects, 46–47, 173
terms for sequels, 46
Toy Story and, 40
Disneyland television show and theme park, 67
Docter, Pete, 171, 197
as member of Pixar’s brain trust, 164
DreamWorks, 168, 179
To Pixar and Beyond Page 25