I will post part of it up and then link you to the rest...Deal? Good! The year is 1999. Bill Clinton is the President of the United States, gas is 94 cents a gallon, Bondi Blue iMacs are a staple in dorm rooms across the country, and Microsoft is trying to bring the desktop Windows experience to the pocket, pushing its Palm-size PC concept (after Palm had quashed the original "Palm PC" branding) on a world still feeling jilted by the failures of the Apple Newton. 3Com subsidiary Palm and its heavyweight licensee Handspring have figured out something interesting about the still-nascent PDA market, though: people like simplicity. If an electronic organizer does what it says it's going to do, keeps your information in sync with your PC, runs for forever and a day on a single set of batteries, and does it all with a minimum of fuss, people will buy. It's an exciting, challenging, and rapidly-changing era in the mobile business.
It's the network, stupid
This is the landscape Canadian start-up Research In Motion faced at the tail end of the millennium. It seemed clear that "staying connected on the road" was the Next Big Thing -- email had finally started to become a standard in corporate communication, after all -- but the roadblocks were many and formidable. "Always on" cellular technologies like GPRS and 1xRTT weren't yet readily available, and circuit-switched data running over pervasive D-AMPS and CDMA networks was painfully slow and expensive -- not to mention a death wish for battery life.
Manufacturers and service providers took a two-pronged approach to overcoming the limitations: one, keep data consumption modest; and two, bypass the traditional cellphone networks altogether. Two-way paging networks like ReFLEX didn't have the bandwidth to handle the data demands of a late 1990s-era PDA with a big display, but DataTAC and Mobitex networks -- running at a blistering 19.2Kbps and 8Kbps, respectively -- were already widely deployed across North America. Neither technology had been conceived with consumer use in mind, but they were robust, proven, and most importantly, available.
Palm takes a leap of faith -- and falls flat
Riding a wave of commercial successes, Palm saw the writing on the wall and plunged head-first into the connected market with its Palm VII, which used a Mobitex-based service called Palm.net to offer bite-sized chunks of relevant data -- news headlines, weather, email, flight times, and the like -- on a device that resembled an overgrown Palm III with a flip-up antenna. The product was troubled from the start. Though Palm.net's heart-stoppingly expensive monthly pricing wasn't necessarily an issue for the business-minded target audience, the device relied on proprietary "web clippings" from content providers to reduce data consumption; if your favorite newspaper didn't work with Palm to develop a web clipping app, you were stuck using the shoddy WAP browser. What's more, despite its whopping $599 sticker price, it failed to borrow from the high-end Palm V's legendary industrial design. Palm hobbled along with two more Palm.net-compatible models, the VIIx and i705, before the GSM-based Tungsten W along with Treos obtained through its acquisition of Handspring overshadowed the dedicated network and doomed it to closure in 2004.
The BlackBerrys aren't ripe yet in Waterloo
Palm, of course, didn't need the Palm VII to succeed. The company would go on to see plenty of success from its traditional PDA business and -- eventually, anyway -- the Treo smartphones it was able to add to the line through its acquisition of Handspring. Meanwhile, the always-on, always-connected market was still waiting to be won, and RIM was perfectly positioned to take the prize. It had been making Mobitex radio modules for industrial systems for many years, and in 1995 had introduced its Inter@ctive Pager 900 -- a fairly revolutionary product that promised two-way email communication from a device small enough to fit on a belt holster. The technology was there -- RIM merely had to wait for email to become business-critical while working on making its hardware smaller, sexier, and ultimately, indispensable to anyone who picked it up.
In 1998, the Inter@ctive Pager 900 -- a bulky brick with a flip-top display -- was succeeded by the smaller Inter@ctive Pager 950. As its name implied, RIM considered the 900 and 950 pagers first, emailing devices second; paging was still a force to be reckoned with in the mid-90s (SMS was yet to become relevant in North America) and the company needed to identify with the paging crowd in order to find an audience. Indeed, RIM's own press release for the 950 proudly declared the device a "revolutionary two-way pager that allows users to both send and receive full-length, error-free, alphanumeric messages with guaranteed delivery."
The 950 retailed for $360 with plans starting at $25 a month through BellSouth, one of several companies that would ultimately become Cingular (and eventually AT&T Mobility, though Cingular's Mobitex network -- Cingular Interactive -- would be sold off prior to the name change). That pricing put the device well within the reach of any company who needed its employees a page (or an email) away. RIM estimated that some 80 percent of pages required a response -- and at a time when one-way pagers still dominated the belts of field techs, executives, and doctors, the 950 was priced right to steal some of that market. Even better, the 950 was barely larger than those one-way devices it sought to displace.
A legendary brand emerges
In early 1999, RIM was in fat city. It was coming off a record quarter of earnings thanks to brisk sales of its handhelds and new contracts for its wireless modems, but it wasn't standing still. On January 19 of that year, the company made a bold declaration: email's the future. The Inter@ctive Pager devices were excellent two-way pagers, yes, but that wasn't where the market was going -- and RIM knew that it already had a powerful framework for mobile email in play. It introduced a tight little solution called "BlackBerry," which essentially bundled a version of its Inter@ctive Pager 950 with a PC dock, a new service for synchronizing to Microsoft Exchange accounts, and optionally, a product called BlackBerry Enterprise Server geared at corporations looking to manage fleets of these devices.
Unlike the Palm VII, BlackBerry didn't try to be fancy -- no "web clippings," no huge touchscreen, no handwriting recognition, and no massive flip-up antenna. Instead, RIM's device was almost singly focused on delivering a killer email experience with a scroll wheel, relatively comfortable QWERTY keyboard, and true push service (something many other platforms are still trying to get right ten years later, interestingly). For suits who'd been sucked into the Exchange ecosystem for corporate email, BlackBerry was a brave new world -- a chance to untether -- and they came calling in droves.
And that was just the first couple months of the year. Later in 1999, RIM would release the Inter@ctive Pager 850, which expanded BlackBerry's North American footprint by bringing the technology to DataTAC networks in the US and Canada (battery life dropped from the 950's claimed three weeks to just one week, but the 850's support for rechargeable NiMH packs made it a bit more palatable). Shortly thereafter, the company announced that it would adopt Sun's Java 2 Micro Edition platform for third-party development in its devices, and -- for better or worse -- BlackBerry developers write in Java to this day.
Link to the REST OF THE STORY HERE.


