It’s one act, and the brilliant but complicated Apple CEO is in every scene. KEN HOWARD

During the middle of the Second World War, Schumpeter, a great Austrian-born economist who for a period taught at Harvard, argued that the hero of capitalism, the entrepreneur, was doomed. He saw the only business figure worthy of myth-making being displaced (if not devoured) by managers, boardrooms, and shareholders. Weirdly, he saw this as part of the rise of socialism. The hero of capitalism would be smothered by the machine of corporate governance.

Of course, he was wrong. The myth of the heroic entrepreneur has persisted. It is today represented by figures like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos. But in our era, no other entrepreneur captured the public's imagination more than the late Steve Jobs. He started Apple with a friend in his parents' garage. Later, he was thrown out of the corporation. Later still, he returned to Apple and, after making it one of the greatest corporations of our times, died at the relatively young age of 56.

It’s difficult to strike up a conversation with people who are doing this (which everyone in Seattle is at all times). SKYNESHER/GETTY IMAGES

I learned this the hard way, and more than once. When I first moved here five years ago (it feels more like 50), I went out with a potential new friend who immediately asked for my astrological sign. "Wait!" she said. "Let me guess." She got it right on the twelfth try. Right around then, I remembered that I had a late-night dentist appointment and left. And that was one of my more successful friend dates.

I never had trouble meeting people before Seattle. At first, I did the thing you are supposed to do to meet people: I joined a running club. Just kidding! Why would anyone do that? I actually went to bars and tried talking to people. This technique had been successful in other cities—but in Seattle, I found that most people were less interested in strangers than in their iPhones.