Moreover, all the Kaypro models, despite their low prices, made some customers pay for their bargains with headaches.
Take Chris Jensen, a writer in Cleveland. He futilely tried for months before he could send his stories to his newspaper from home via the phone lines. His dealer had sold the Kaypro IV, promising that Jensen could. “It’s really scummy to put this out,” the Plain Dealer reporter said of his machine, “and know that the communications software has serious bugs in it. It’s the kind of thing that the government would kick the shit out of the automobile companies for doing.” A Kaypro employee admitted that the communications software for the Kaypro IV had come out with bugs, but not those of the kind that were plaguing Chris Jensen. He confirmed another of Jensen’s complaints: that the Kaypro IV model with the modem couldn’t use the most popular communications software at the time. Coincidentally or not—shortly after Jensen griped to me, the New York Times, and computer writer Peter McWilliams—Kaypro released SuprTerm version 5.3. And that did the trick for him. The machine delighted Jensen in other ways, but he still wondered about all the ordinary customers out there who were unwilling or unable to wage a media campaign to get their software up to snuff.
Jensen’s story was atypical—many Kaypro owners still spoke as if their computers were micro manna.
Still, the new Robie, introduced in early 1984, might be a sign of troubles to come. It was unique, a desktop selling for $2,300 with two 2.5-megabyte floppy disks. But disks didn’t run as quickly as a hard disk, and as of late 1984, the Robie just hadn’t caught on. The Robie looked so ugly—ungainly, plastic cheap, fit for a discount store—that even some value-minded buyers might have thought twice about bringing it into their offices. It was a computer that only a designer could love. And it was just an 8-bit machine.
In the 8- versus 16-bit battle, people were accusing Kay of living in the past. It was Osborne all over again, some might have said—just like Kay’s old rival babbling on and on about the virtues of a machine with a tiny screen. This may have been unfair. For simple word processing, for instance, an 8-bit machine could be a terrific bargain. But many buyers still gravitated to the 16-bitters, worrying that future software might not appear in the Kaypro CP/M format.
Kay’s attitude didn’t help. He was showing less of the adventurousness that had led to his hard-disk portable.
And he now felt that the Kaypro II was just like the old Volkswagen bug and would always be around—an ominous parallel considering VW’s recent fiascos in the auto market.[[13]]
Some software programs endured because enough people learned and liked them; and the Apple II in one form or another would last; but the Kaypro II? Even with hundreds of thousands of users? What about the ill-fated Osborne? No, computer buyers normally spurned antiques. Within a year or two Andy Kay might change his mind and ponder whether to update the Kaypro II drastically or kill it.
In November 1984, well over six months later than Kaypro had promised investors, a 16-bit IBM-compatible machine appeared.
“He’d rather not call it an IBM clone,” said an industry observer. “He’d rather call it just a 16-bit computer. It’s a matter of pride.”