Rod McQueen
Within a few short years of its little-heralded introduction in 1999, the BlackBerry had revolutionized the wireless telecommunications business, and in the process became one of the world's best-known and most revered consumer brands. It has been labelled an essential service by the U.S. government, and millions of other users insist they can't live without it. U.S. President Barack Obama refused to part with his when he moved into the White House and was told to give it up for security reasons.
BlackBerry's innovative smarts and phenomenal success have elevated Research In Motion (RIM), a 25-year-old Waterloo, Ont., company run by gifted, daring and supremely ambitious entrepreneurial and engineering minds, to the lofty creative heights occupied by Apple and other producers of iconic technology.
The dramatic story of this remarkable achievement, its staunchly Canadian roots and the developers' drive to overcome the enormous odds and the obstacles strewn in their path - not to mention the deep-pocketed global giants who should have been able to devour RIM for breakfast - ought to make for compelling reading. But in the hands of veteran business journalist Rod McQueen, it turns into a prosaic account that amounts to a book-length tribute to the twin RIM deities, founder and guiding light Mike Lazaridis and his co-chief executive, Jim Balsillie, the business and financial architect.
An early warning that this is not going to be a warts-and-all account comes in the effusive forward by Balsillie and Lazaridis themselves. Never mind warts. This model has been airbrushed and exfoliated.
What we appear to have here is one of those deals where the subject essentially picks up all or part of the costs and retains control over content. You can bet that every RIM business associate will soon have a copy to cherish. The company should give one away with every BlackBerry, because this book does cover all the nuts and bolts - or rather microcircuits - of how the highly addictive gadget came into our lives.
That includes how it got its catchy name. A California brand consultant came up with the idea, including the double capitalization for symmetry. Among the rejects: Strawberry (the first syllable was too drawn out).
The author obviously had full access not only to the principals but to their friends, associates and anyone else in the telecom or financial universe with something enthusiastically positive to say about RIM, its culture and its leadership. This enables a full account of its storied rise, but one told essentially from only one perspective. We learn a great deal about how such industry heavyweights as Sweden's Ericsson and California's Palm missed the wireless data rocket ride enjoyed by RIM, but rarely from neutral observers. And anyone with any sour grapes was left to press them in private.
McQueen also puts the most favourable light on some salient developments. His description of RIM's settlement with securities regulators over its improper stock-option practices makes it seem as if unfortunate accounting errors led to incorrect dating of when the options took effect (which happens to be a serious breach of the rules that also occurred in other parts of the high-tech universe).
He does not mention that the options involved represented almost seven million shares over an eight-year period, that the backdating was not disclosed to auditors or that the company's subsequent restatement of its prior earnings amounted to $250-million. Nor do we learn that RIM paid a record sum to settle and that Balsillie agreed to relinquish his role as chairman of the board for at least a year.
What we get in considerably more detail is the long list of well-earned accolades and public honours accumulated by Lazaridis and Balsillie, as well as their generous charitable activities. Both have set up and lavishly fund truly important Canadian scientific and geopolitical initiatives. But does every person interviewed have to be someone with a vested interest in the success and continuing financing of these institutions?
And finally, Canadians may well ask, why is there no mention whatsoever of Balsillie's highest-profile activity outside RIM - his dogged but so-far-futile pursuit of a National Hockey League franchise, with the goal of relocating it from a hockey-ignoring U.S. market to hockey-mad Southern Ontario - and the repercussions of that pursuit on the company.
Anyone who knows Balsillie or Lazaridis is well aware of their fierce nationalistic pride and passion for this country. And there is no doubt in BlackBerry that they are deeply aware of the importance of their company to Canada's future. Indeed, with the failure of Nortel, RIM stands as our greatest technology champion, a model of what can be achieved when we effectively marshal our human resources and not just seek to peddle our natural resources. It's a thrilling story that could have been better told without enough puffery and sugar to fill the shelves of a good-sized bakery.
Brian Milner is a writer with The Globe's Report on Business.