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Steven Ballmer's Detroit
and Jewish background
helped mold the
Microsoft miracle.

DAVID SACHS
Editorial Assistant

S

teven Anthony Ballmer, the
billionaire business brain who
succeeded Bill Gates as CEO
of Microsoft Corporation, is
a leader, some say a cheerleader, of
unrelenting enthusiasm and unflinch-
ing loyalty,.
Enthusiasm and loyalty pervade
everything Ballmer does — whether at
the pinnacle of corporate power or on
his own time with family and friends.

The Seeds Of Success

Ballmer has spent the last 20 years
immersed in the entrepreneurial fanta-
sy that is Microsoft, the most lucrative
corporation in Creation.
But no matter what turn his career
would have taken, those who knew
him when say he'd be doing it with
the same great gusto and steadfast
faith.
Ten years ago, Ballmer returned in
triumph to Detroit Country Day
School in Beverly Hills, where he
graduated in 1973 with a perfect 4.0
average, to deliver the high school
commencement address. At that time
Microsoft was considered enormously
successful, with $410 million in pre-
tax income. Today, the amount is 29
times higher: $11.89 billion.
Ballmer advised the graduates:
"[One] thing that is really important
is to be able to focus relentlessly on
what you are doing: to love it, to eat
it, to breathe it, to sleep it and to
enjoy everything about it.
"I'm involved in a business that I
really love, and any time you can pour

executive officer, in charge of the cor-
poration's day-to-day operations.
Ballmer, a kindred spirit of Gates'
when both attended Harvard
University in the mid-1970s, has
worked the business end of the
Redmond, Wash.-based corporation
for two decades while Gates and co-
founder Paul Allen crafted the com-
puter software array.
Gates, remaining as chairman, but
freed of the burdens of being CEO,
said he would devote more effort and
time to developing products for the
growing Internet market. Ballmer will
be in charge of maintaining
Microsoft's market share while fighting
off both competitive threats and gov-
ernment trustbusters.
Ballmer is the right man for the
challenge. Known in business circles
not only as a please-the-customer mar-
keter but also a tough negotiator who
doesn't shy away from a knock-down-
and-drag-out conflict, Ballmer can
look back on his Detroit days for
inspiration.

Mk.

"He's a rah-rah guy," said his
uncle, Irving Dworkin of
Farmington Hills. "In the early days
at Microsoft, he got all the employ-
ees out and said, 'If you guys do
this, I'll jump right here in the lake
with my clothes on.' And he did.
He'd get them all revved up.
"He's a real straight guy," said his
uncle. "He just loves to fight. He loves
what he's doing."
But just how did this 43-year-old
son of a Ford Motor Company
accountant from Farmington Hills get
to be, according to Forbes magazine,
the fourth richest person in the world?
His assets include Microsoft stock
worth $23 billion.
Born to a Swiss-immigrant father
and a Detroit-born Jewish mother,

SA

2/11

2000

6

David Sachs can be reached at
(248) 354-6060, ext. 262, or by e-mail
at dsachs@thejewishnews.com

your heart, body and soul into some-
thing and get the most out of it, you'll
feel great satisfaction."
That's the real Steve, a wear-your-
heart-on-your-rolled-up-shirtsleeves
kind of guy.
Olga Dworkin, Steve's aunt, said, "I
think dedication and loyalty are part
of Steve because of his mother and
father. His father built in a loyalty to
the company you work for. I think his
mother gave him the dedication and
the passion for 'whatever you want to
do, you do the best that you can and
stay with it.'"
Considering his Detroit upbring-
ing, rich in both family support and
intellectual challenges, Ballmer in
1980 was well prepared when Bill
Gates, the rumpled, genius-founder of
Microsoft, came knocking.
Less than a month ago, on Jan. 13,
Gates elevated Ballmer, president of
Microsoft, to succeed him as chief

who would square off against his
teammate during scrimmages. Pollack
attended Harvard with Ballmer as
well, and the two remain close friends.
Pollack, now a Fleet Bank vice presi-
dent in Boston, vacations every year
with his family and Ballmer's, which
includes his wife, Connie, and their
three young sons.
Pollack remembers Ballmer at foot-
ball scrimmages enhancing his less-
than-star-quality athletic ability with
pure tenacity. "He used to keep com-
ing at me," said Pollack. "He had
great enthusiasm."
Ballmer harnessed that enthusiasm
and made it his trademark in the busi-
ness world. But what were the origins of
his eagerness to mix it up in business?
His uncle Irving Dworkin, the
brother of Ballmer's mother, the late
Beatrice Dworkin Ballmer, sees simi-
larities between Steve and Steve's
maternal grandfather, the late Sam
Dworkin.
Sam Dworkin was a Jewish immi-
grant from Pinsk, Russia (now

AMWA t,'-'3„V 'e,

Detroit Legacy

At the Country Day commencement
address, Ballmer described himself as
"very, very shy" and a "math nerd" in
high school. Recalling when he was a
160-pound defensive tackle on the
Yellowjackets football team, he told
the graduates, "I had little interest in
extra-curricular activities except
sports." He left for Harvard in 1973,
planning to become a math professor.
Current Country Day headmaster
Jerry Hansen, Ballmer's calculus
teacher and junior varsity football
coach, said, "I didn't view him as shy.
Sometimes, people's self-image is not
how other people see them."
Ballmer credits his involvement
with extra-curricular activities, such as
manager of the Harvard football team,
with helping to overcome his "shy-
ness."
Ballmer buddy Stephen Pollack was
an all-state center at Country Day

Belarus), who sold parts from junked
and wrecked cars at his Detroit Auto
Parts and Detroit Auto Glass business-
es at Grand River and 12th Street. He
met and married his wife, Rose, in
New York. Rose, also a Russian immi-
grant, died before Steve was born.
"Steve was close to my dad," said
Irving Dworkin. "He used to visit him
every week. They had a good relation-
ship.
"My dad was from the old country.
When he retired he used to enjoy
going to a junkyard and picking up a
wheel that had a little dent in it and
he'd take the dent out. He'd pick it up
for 50 cents and sell it for $5. He'd
feel more pleasure out of that than if
someone gave him $50.
"My dad's business was an operate-
out-of-your-pocket deal," said
Dworkin. "You make a buck and you
make a buck. And he didn't believe in
a lot of overhead either."

