for those who believe that software accessibility will happen by the force
of corporate HQ on its underlings  consider the following story in some
new ways of how software is being developed.

kelly 

from The Wall Street Journal 


   March 18, 1999 [The Wall Street Journal Interactive Edition]
     _________________________________________________________________
   
The Puffins Guide Hewlett-Packard
Into an Alien Culture on a Mission

   By LEE GOMES 
   Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
   
   Wayne Caccamo is an M.B.A. intent on helping Hewlett-Packard Co. sell
   high-end computers to large businesses. Christopher Beard and Alex
   deVries are Canadian computer programmers who are trying to save the
   world with free software.
   [Wayne Caccamo illustraion]
   
   The two camps have little in common: Mr. Caccamo, 38 years old, is a
   straight-laced H-P marketing strategist and a father of two. When not
   at their daytime programming jobs, Messrs. Beard, 26, and deVries, 25,
   both single, work on their computers or cruise downtown Ottawa clubs
   with their pals. Nonetheless, the three men have teamed up in a
   project that could create a new model for technology deal-making and
   software development. And in the process, they might be building the
   infrastructure of a new computing world -- one not dominated by
   Microsoft Corp.
   
   With Mr. Caccamo as point man, H-P is helping Mr. Beard, Mr. deVries
   and some of their friends -- a loosely knit band called the Puffin
   Group -- adapt an operating system known as Linux to work on H-P
   computers. In doing so, the Palo Alto, Calif., company is giving the
   Puffins free hardware, numerous H-P internal documents, virtually
   unlimited access to key company engineers, but not one red cent in
   cash.
   
   New Brand of Capitalism
   
   The arrangement between the $50 billion H-P and the shoestring Puffin
   Group is a marriage between the stodgy world of big computer companies
   and a form of capitalism being hatched by Linux zealots around the
   globe.
   
   The software itself is the brainchild of Linus Torvalds, a 29-year-old
   Finn who started developing Linux in 1991 as a college student,
   because he wanted a powerful operating system to run his personal
   computer. By asking for help on the then-fledgling Internet, Mr.
   Torvalds, now employed by a Silicon Valley start-up, got others
   involved in the project, which he still oversees.
   
   Today, Linux's contributors number in the thousands. They can make
   improvements or add new features because the software's source code --
   or blueprint -- is freely available. This global network of developers
   has made Linux fast, resistant to crashes and open for inspection and
   endless enhancement. That's why fans, like Messrs. Beard and deVries,
   say the world would be a better place with Linux -- rather than
   Microsoft's flagship Windows NT operating system -- on every desktop.
   
   For their part, big computer companies see Linux as a way to even
   things up with Microsoft, the Redmond, Wash., software giant, and are
   joining the bandwagon. Already, International Business Machines Corp.,
   Oracle Corp., Compaq Computer Corp. and Silicon Graphics Inc., among
   others, have joined H-P in announcing support for the software.
   
   "The big computer industry battle of the future will be waged between
   Linux and Windows NT," says Rob Pike, a researcher at Lucent
   Technologies Inc.'s Bell Labs unit.
   
   But while Linux is free, the Linux movement is scarcely opposed to
   profit. Donald Becker, 33, was a key developer on Beowulf, a NASA
   research project that used Linux to tie scores of PCs into a single
   supercomputer. Now, Mr. Becker has founded Scyld Computing Services
   LLC, Columbia, Md., to spread the technology. "It's not communism,"
   says Mr. Becker. "There has to be some money there."
   [Christopher Beard and Alex de Vries illustration]
   
   Messrs. Beard and deVries say they have worked on Linux for years
   without pay, largely because they enjoy tough technical challenges.
   But they also know it makes them more hirable. "It isn't totally
   altruistic," says Mr. Beard. Indeed, the Puffin Group hopes to become
   one day a for-profit consulting operation.
   
   But personal gain was the last thing on anyone's mind when the Puffin
   H-P project began last October at a Linux convention in Atlanta. Over
   pizza, the Puffins -- named after a big-billed sea bird, in tribute to
   Linux's official mascot, the penguin -- discussed their next venture.
   They seized on H-P's PA-RISC line of computers, which are widely used
   in business and engineering but hadn't inspired a Linux adaptation. No
   one in the group actually used the machines; that wasn't the point.
   "We dove into it because it hadn't been done," says Mr. Beard.
   
   He and Mr. deVries figured the H-P project would take a year or two of
   work. They announced the endeavor to Linux groups on the Internet and
   promptly got many offers of help, including some from H-P engineers
   volunteering nights and weekends.
   
   Largely shooting in the dark, Mr. Beard sent an electronic message to
   an H-P official he saw named on the company's Web site. He got no
   response. Since the Puffin team had always assumed it would be working
   without any official help from H-P, the silence didn't seem a setback.
   
   What Mr. Beard didn't know was that for months H-P had been watching
   the Linux groundswell and had been grappling for a response. But it
   was in a quandary. The software could be considered a rival to H-P's
   own HP-UX operating system; both are based on the widely used Unix
   system. Linux might also gum up H-P's increasingly close ties to
   Microsoft.
   
   Mr. Caccamo, who works at H-P's business-computer division in
   Cupertino, Calif., early last summer was directed to draw up a
   concerted H-P response to Linux. He decided to immerse himself in the
   freewheeling Linux culture, which H-P found hard to fathom. For
   example, while Mr. Torvalds oversees Linux, he draws on an inner
   circle of advisers who have nearly the same standing as he does in the
   Linux community. They debate technical questions in public Internet
   postings and in steady streams of private e-mail.
   
   One such Linux high priest is Alan Cox, a programmer in Wales who is
   widely regarded as a potential heir to Mr. Torvalds. Mr. Cox keeps a
   picture of himself on his Web site; his abundant hair and beard recall
   the rock group ZZ Top. His electronic diary is widely read among the
   Linux faithful.
   
   Mr. Caccamo initially was wary. "I thought these guys should get a
   life," he says. "But then I started reading the diary, and I got
   hooked." He now keeps Mr. Cox's photo in his cubicle, telling visitors
   the picture is of his "spiritual adviser."
   
   Mr. Caccamo also learned about political correctness, Linux-style.
   "You're never supposed to say you are developing a new 'version' of
   Linux," he says, since that would suggest an attempt to take control
   of the software. "It's not a 'version.' It's Linux."
   
   One day last month, when a news story used the "v-word" to describe an
   H-P Linux effort, Mr. Caccamo got even more insight into the Linux
   world. Logging onto Slashdot, a Web site popular with Linux
   aficionados, Mr. Caccamo saw H-P getting "flamed." In truth, H-P was
   slightly intimidated by Linux, and was taking baby steps into a
   vaguely scary new world. But on Slashdot, the company was being
   accused of masterminding a diabolical plot for control.
   
   Slowly, Mr. Caccamo became known inside H-P as a Linux ambassador. His
   background in the business side gave him credibility with senior
   managers, and he tried to stress practical benefits over philosophy in
   selling the technology. "I'm not a zealot," he says. In fact, he has
   never used Linux.
   
   Daunting Tasks
   
   The company, however, began inching toward Linux. It decided to adapt
   the software to run on the coming Merced family of chips it is
   developing jointly with Intel Corp. But there were some tasks H-P
   wasn't sure it could afford to take on, including making Linux run on
   its existing PA-RISC machines. Such a project could tie up a handful
   of engineers for a year or more.
   
   Then one day early this year, Mr. Caccamo heard about the Puffin
   Group, and checked out its Web site. He was surprised by what he saw;
   the group was announcing an endeavor that H-P itself wasn't sure it
   had the resources to undertake.
   
   He sent the Puffins an e-mail message, and then called them to
   introduce himself. He said H-P might want to help.
   
   When they heard of H-P's interest, the Puffins initially worried that
   the company might lose interest in the project after a short time. But
   the pair decided that if they had a chance, they would work with H-P,
   requesting some free computers, as well as the hardware's
   documentation.
   
   Asking for money, though, was never in the cards. "We were going to do
   this anyway," says Mr. Beard.
   
   Working with the Puffins still presented some risks for the company.
   One concern was that H-P's competitors might portray an H-P move
   toward Linux as evidence of the company's lack of support for its own
   Unix-based system. The company quickly decided to go forward, however,
   and Mr. Caccamo called Mr. Beard with the news.
   
   The Puffins celebrated with vodka martinis. They also relayed word of
   H-P's decision to other key Linux developers via a secret Internet
   Relay Chat channel many of them are logged into during the day.
   
   "It was great news for the Linux community," says Mr. Beard. "Even
   without H-P, we could have found out everything we needed to, just by
   hacking the hardware bit by bit. But with H-P helping us, a problem
   that could have taken a month to solve will take 30 seconds."
   
   Days later, Mr. Caccamo got a strong signal that H-P's support of
   Linux wouldn't upset its clients. When an H-P official told a meeting
   of big customers in Silicon Valley that the company would sharply
   expand such support, the audience of several hundred rose in a
   standing ovation.
   
   Over the next few weeks, in a succession of e-mail messages and phone
   calls, the three men worked out the details of their project. Last
   month, for example, Mr. Caccamo set up a conference call between the
   Puffins and some top H-P software engineers.
   
   The Puffins used their mastery of the Internet to wow their new
   corporate sponsor. One day, Mr. Caccamo sent the Puffins an e-mail
   message suggesting they enlist Mr. Cox's help. He was startled to get
   a reply a few minutes later saying that Mr. Cox had joined the team.
   What Mr. Caccamo didn't know was that the Puffins were in almost
   constant contact with Mr. Cox on their private Internet back channel,
   and had already raised the issue with him.
   
   Mr. Caccamo finally met the two Puffins on March 1 when he flew them
   out, at H-P's expense, to a big Linux trade show in Silicon Valley.
   The two arrived at lunchtime in a hotel suite rented by H-P. Mr.
   Caccamo shook their hands, and joked about finally meeting "the
   world-famous Puffin Group." They sat around a conference table, all
   attired in a sort of Gap casual; Mr. Caccamo gave them an update on
   his efforts to get them additional machines and guidebooks. "Tell us
   what you need," he said to the pair.
   
   Mr. deVries warned Mr. Caccamo that some of the company's hardware
   investment in the project would be for naught. "You'll ship a box to
   some people, but they will never produce a line of code," he said.
   "But you'll also get a lot of valuable stuff from people who just show
   up out of the blue."
   
   After a half-hour of chit chat, the trio stood and toasted their
   undertaking with Evian water. Messrs. Beard and deVries presented Mr.
   Caccamo with a present, a puffin Beanie Baby.
   
   The alliance with H-P has made the Puffins the talk of the Linux
   community; it has also brought them to the attention of many other
   companies. Mr. Caccamo, in fact, discovered the Puffins' new stature
   as Linux superstars when, at the end of the meeting, he told the two
   men he wanted to meet with them again later in the week.
   
   Mr. deVries flipped through the pages of his scheduler. "Well, you're
   going to have to book something now," he said. "We're getting kind of
   busy."
     _________________________________________________________________

   Copyright © 1999 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved.


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