49ers’ 1st Super Bowl victory provided stressed-out city a needed distraction
San Francisco knows how to throw a spontaneous party in the streets, celebrating new bridges, old buildings, the end of wars, and the court decisions that begin eras of social change.
But there may never be a greater public release than the early evening of Jan. 24, 1982, when the clock wound down, the 49ers won their first Super Bowl, and a city of euphoric fans poured into the streets.
Yes, there were crimes and injuries as the night went on, but most of the activity ranged from joyous to admirably brazen. (We’re setting the statute of limitations for hopping from the top of a Muni bus to a police cruiser at 25 years.) As seen in hundreds of Chronicle photos from the night, it was like a pedestrian version of the bike protest Critical Mass, except almost nobody was angry, and the seas of humanity were everywhere.
“The people of San Francisco came together in giddy triumph yesterday, surging out of homes and bars in wild celebration of the 49ers’ Super Bowl victory — the city’s first professional sports championship,” Gary Swan wrote in the front page story the next day. “Delirious fans interrupted Municipal Railway service in various parts of the city, either by making streets impassable with their cars or by pulling trolley bus poles off the wires. Cable cars were unable to get up Powell Street against the tide near Union Square.”
The scene seems extra mythical when viewed
from 2017, with the 49ers starting their season on Sunday, Super Bowl dreams seemingly forever in the distance.
That’s also how it was in the late 1970s. The city had already won a couple of professional sports championships, with the San Francisco Seals hockey team in 1963 and 1964, and the Golden State Warriors (mostly relocated to Oakland) in 1975. But the 49ers football and Giants baseball teams had spent a combined 60 years, in the city limits, without a title.
Add to that a series of 1970s tragedies — the assassination of Supervisor Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone, the Zodiac killings, the Jonestown massacre, the Golden Dragon murders. San Francisco in 1981 was in need of a positive distraction, and the 49ers provided this release, winning on the highest stage with the world watching. And when it was official, fans throughout the Bay Area left their homes and spilled into the streets.
Cow Hollow, of all places, became San Francisco party central after the win. Chronicle photos show clogged streets and fans clustered atop the Muni 41-Union bus, arms raised upward. The driver is still inside, windows closed, looking nervously toward the roof.
“A fire engine raced down Ellis Street with sirens blaring,” The Chronicle reported. “A sign on the side said, ‘Go Niners.’ Fans parted to make way for the truck, then converged and beat on its side.”
On Union Street between Fillmore and Laguna, “A Christmas tree was set ablaze and a street sign torn down before jubilant fans commandeered a Muni bus. They climbed atop the vehicle dancing, shouting, ‘We’re No. 1,’ as the passengers disembarked. Police arrived at the scene and ordered the revelers down from the bus. They complied — only to jump on the police cruiser.”
The Chronicle reported on the Piedmont wedding of Miranda May and Harris Miller, who knew about the Super Bowl conflict when they set the date the previous year, but figured the 49ers were the longest of longshots.
“We discussed it and decided that it didn’t matter,” Miller said, watching a TV the couple brought to the reception. “No Bay Area team was going to make it to the playoffs anyway.”
Neighbors shut off a block of Douglass Street, hauling couches and a TV with an extra-long extension cord into the middle of the street. Celebrations were reported on the main drags from San Rafael to Burlingame.
But the best party, according to the photos, was in the Mission District, where fans cruised the length of the street, high-fiving and oneupping each other with displays of jubilation. One superfan in a Paul Hofer jersey and kneehigh socks tucked into football pants surfed on top of a sturdy American car, waving a 49ers helmet in the air in triumph.
It would go downhill from there. There was a knife fight on Market Street later that night, and four police officers were injured attempting crowd control. The Chronicle ran a notice on Jan. 25, 1982, with a map of the parade route — 20,000 fans were expected and 500,000 showed up, forcing police to detour the players away from their own celebration.
But for a few hours at least, we were all that fan standing on the car, wind blowing through his hair. The long wait was over, and San Francisco’s first sports dynasty had begun.