Harvard's Apple Two?

While much of the Class of 1985 was scrambling around in grey suits and brushing up on their business lingo, Marc A. Elvy and Alan B. Langerman '85 were no doubt sitting back laughing at the entire scene. And next year when others go off to New York to work for big business, Elvy and Langerman will be working for themselves, running their computer consulting company.

Together, they represent two-thirds of the board of directors of Marble Associates. The third is their lawyer--"Shows you how much he believes in us," their boast. They gave birth to MARBLE Associates, a computer consulting firm with their ex-partner Robert E. Brown '85, who has since left the company.

Now, the Cambridge-based outfit boasts clients the likes of Digital Equipment Corporation (DEC) and AT&T, and the pair are courting the likes of the Internal Revenue Service for future deals.

How did it happen?

Elvy and Langerman met in what they call their "psycho singles" in Hurlbut. They got along well, despite their different backgrounds, Elvy grew up on a farm in Maryland with his mother, a race car-drive Langerman grew up in the suburbs of Cambridge.

Elvy did the normal things a teenager is expected to do. He had fun and played a bit with modems. Langerman was even less of the quintessential teenager. Four or five years before he came to Harvard, he ran what he terms two "small--we're talkin' real small" consulting companies which had him writing mailing programs for which he charged a little over a hundred dollars, but which ended up taking a couple of hundred hours. "I learned the hard way," he said. When his parents offered him the usual car or computer, he took the computer.

I didn't really know anything about computers before I met Langerman," Elvy readily points out. "It all started when he talked me into taking AM 110," he adds, almost in an accusatory tone.

"Unscrupulous as Hell"

So what really made the combination work? "He knows everything about computers," Elvy says of Langerman. "And he's as unscrupulous as all hill," Langerman retorts.

Their collective brainchild, MARBLE, helps companies design and implement computer networks; simulates potentially devastating reactions--such as a nuclear reaction; designs software and hardware; and designs languages. "We market a service, not a product," the two say.

The firm is based in Cambridge and has branches in Washington, D.C. and Santa Clara, California. The physical plant of the Cambridge branch is limited to their dorm room in Leverett House, but this poses few serious problems; if they want to meet with clients, they pay a visit in their Cadillac limousine.

Their what?

Langerman quickly defends the purchase: "We didn't think about it that much. Mare's mom just saw it at a car-dealers in Annapolis and bought it on our behalf. I mean, we paid for it. It was a choice between a limo and a hearse. We were tempted to get a hearse for offensive clients."

"This is not an egalitarian society," he adds. "I mean, just look at which cars get ticketed. Policemen see little economy cars and know that their owners will be able to pay the parking ticket. But I mean, people look at the car and know it's a gas-guzzler and feel bad for you."

In addition to this questionable asset, the limo has also allowed them to pull some gags. For the premier of the latest Bond thriller, "A View to a Kill," they asked the manager of the Sack Cheri to set aside some seats for the film's author and his party. Elvy pretended to be the chauffeur while a friend from M.I.T. pretended to be the author. When they arrived, the manager eagerly shook the alleged author's hand and showed him and his "bodyguards" in to a row of prime seats. The pair attest that the plan came off without a hitch.

Neophytes in Demand

Their computer career began freshman year, when they began giving computer advice to commercial firms, sometimes with a fee, sometimes without one. Once they developed a reputation in the area for being able to solve computer problems, they formed MARBLE Associates. MARBLE was designed as an acronym of our names--Marc, Alan, and Robert, the original founders of the partnership. On the first of this year, MARBLE Associates became a corporation, thus limiting their personal liability: "If we get a lot of people who 'abuse' us [i.e., don't pay], and we go under, then we don't have to worry about becoming liable for losses," Elvy explains. "We have a credibility problem sometimes because we're just kids."

The two remaining heads--of the corporation, Elvy and Langerman, are proud of the fact that, unlike most companies, they did not need venture capital to incorporate. Instead, they used the profits from the partnership to finance their corporation.

So far, the future looks bright for the firm. They have written books to accompany Digital's courseware and have basically taught AT&T's salesmen, "salesmen who before were just selling telephones," how to use their minicomputer, the UNIX PC. In fact, many retail stores selling AT&T computers now use the demo the two wrote to show off the features of the UNIX.

Langerman and Elvy have also done several jobs for the federal government and are currently waiting to hear the results of a bid they submitted to the IRS: "We figured it was about time that we got back some of the money we've given them," Langerman jokes.

In addition to the three directors, MARBLE has three officers, all of whom work for and are stockholders in the corporation, as well as several other workers who are hired as business requires. But Elvy and Langerman plan to keep the firm relatively small--and flexible. "We don't take too well to a structured job." Langerman says, citing his experience at Microsoft and Elvy's at IBM--where Elvy says he was forced to wear "IBM grey" every day, until one day he rebelled and wore plaid pants. "We work a heck of a lot better by ourselves," Langerman adds.

Japanese-Style Management

Their own management style borrows from the Japanese tradition of worker input. "Everyone has the right to say what they want, to suggest any changes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they have the right to institute those changes. No, really, we do listen to what they have to say," the two attest.

They claim they're "normal, red-blooded Americans," and that their business has not interfered with their schoolwork: "I wouldn't have done any anyway," Langerman claims. Elvy chimes in: "It was a choice between the real world and school. I've chosen the real world." In reality, it has convinced Elvy and Langerman to change their majors from Philosophy and Applied Math, respectively, to Computer Science.

Nor has the enterprise unduly restricted their leisure pursuits. "We have 'active social lives,'" they claim. "It's just a problem because in this business, you have to be on call all the time. You never know when it will force you to cancel weekend plans."

The two are, in the end, seemingly nonchalant about their promising business. Asked to summarize the impact of his self-generated material well being, Elvy replied, "of course the business has changed our lives, but we're still students, and I don't think it will really change our lives until we're out of here." Right now, they're using their personal profits to pay for their entire tuition and to make such investments as their limousine.

Not a Lot of Sleep

MARBLE has, however, affected their sleep schedule. "I can only go to sleep when it's light out," Elvy claims. When pressed to give a realistic schedule, they admit to missing most of their classes and usually catching the tail-end of lunch each day. "About 10 till two each day, I say to Elvy, 'Marc, we have to get up. We have to make lunch.'"

What do they do for fun? "We've perfected the art of hanging out," they say. Their roommate, Jeff Ferguson, founder of the Boston chapter of the Guardian Angels, introduced them to many of his co-workers, who now "hang out" in their Leverett room.

So what do what are their goals? "To form a microrepublic," they joke. "We buy a few islands, then declare war on the U.S. Of course we lose the war, then are rebuilt by the U.S. with war reparations. Then we declare ourselves allied to the U.S. and get loans from the U.S. government. Once we have the loans, we populate the republic with natives."

And how do they see themselves? "Are you familiar with the John Wayne movie in which he puts out fires on oil rigs?" Elvy asks. It seems vaguely familiar. 'Okay. Well, I see us as John Wayne figures, only there's no fire and we don't have the TNT to blow up the oil barrels."

Next they hope to work on books for Digital Press, which has offered to publish their work. But what's in store for them in the long term? Elvy takes the lead is admitting he wants to settle down eventually with the "white picket fence and dozens of kids, I want to write a book someday. I'll call it Hick from Harvard,' Hick from tobacco farm tobacco to Harvard, makes good," Langerman reacts with horror. "That's him, I don't have long-term goals. I'm 21. I figure I've got 30 years ahead expect to live to be 100. I can't predict what will happen."