PHOTO: joSon
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“ANYTHING BUT MOORE’S LAW”: Semiconductor pioneer Gordon E. Moore hopes
his philanthropic work will have an enduring impact.
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Gordon E. Moore,
cofounder and chairman emeritus of Intel
Corp., the world’s 288th richest man, and the eponymous
soothsayer of one of technology’s most famous “laws,”
sits across from me, eating a turkey sandwich.
He’s been interviewed hundreds, maybe thousands of
times by the likes of me. So I’m kind of at a loss for
questions that won’t bore him. “What would you like your
legacy to the world to be?” I finally ask.
“Anything,” he says, shaking his head ruefully, “but
Moore’s Law.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him how unlikely
that’s
going to be. People who couldn’t tell you exactly what
DRAM does have heard of Moore’s Law.
Moore was a 36-year-old research physicist at
Fairchild Semiconductor Corp. when he wrote his famous
forecast, in the 35th anniversary issue of Electronics magazine.
He predicted that the number of transistors
manufacturers would be able to put on a chip would
double every year. At the time, a state-of-the-art chip
had about 50 transistors. In 1975, Moore revised the
doubling period to two years, thinking that the pattern
would last at most a decade longer. To his surprise, it
still holds true today, as a new Intel chip, code-named
Tukwila, hits the market with 2 billion transistors.
He’s not entirely averse to the renown the brash
prediction has conferred, mind you. “I have to admit,”
he says with a sheepish grin, “a while back I Googled
Murphy’s Law and Moore’s Law, and Moore’s has twice as
many references as Murphy’s.”
Nevertheless, he’d prefer to be remembered as one of
the people who started the semiconductor industry, a
niche business when he got involved, now generating some
US $300 billion in annual sales worldwide. There’s no
disputing his important roles. He helped develop early
silicon transistors at Shockley Semiconductor
Laboratory, cofounded Fairchild Semiconductor in 1957,
leading the team that produced the first high-frequency
silicon transistor, supervised the development of the
metal-oxide semiconductor (MOS) process, and created
Intel in 1968 with Robert Noyce, building it into an
empire with profits of $7 billion a year by the time he retired.
He also helped train an entire cadre of people now
running vast parts of the industry. “Gordon was the only
boss I ever had,” says Andy Grove, to whom Moore turned
over Intel’s chairmanship in 1997. “He’s one of the very
few people who shaped my knowledge and understanding and
approach as a scientist and a manager. Without Gordon, I
would not be me.”
It’s for all those accomplishments, and more, that
he’s receiving this year’s IEEE Medal of Honor.
But since his retirement from a day-to-day role at
Intel, he has been spending his billions in a carefully
crafted program of technology- and science-oriented
philanthropy that is creating a legacy of its own. As he
did half a century ago in electronics, Moore is
focusing on big problems. Through the Gordon and Betty
Moore Foundation, he and his wife of 57 years are trying
to preserve the world’s biodiversity, reinvent
engineering education, and uncover the secrets of the galaxies.
“When history looks back,” says his son Kenneth, “my
dad’s most important legacy will probably be the
foundation. Because while Fairchild and Intel were
exceptional companies and important for their time, the
foundation may be what really helps the world.”
Moore didn’t select the foundation’s goals
haphazardly. He famously calls himself an “accidental
entrepreneur,” explaining that, had he not been repulsed
by William Shockley’s abrasive behavior, he would have
remained contentedly in the laboratories of Shockley
Semiconductor instead of plunging into the stress and
risk of managing the start-up Fairchild. Moore’s steps
into philanthropy, however, have been far more
deliberately planned and tie into deep passions.