Politics brought Feinstein, Pac-Man together
There are folders full of Dianne Feinstein photo ops in The Chronicle archive; she was on a cable car with Mick Jagger, in a bathing suit at Pier 39 and, as a 16-year-old, posing with a calf at the Cow Palace. (The future U.S. senator once ran for livestock queen, and did not win. A story for another day …)
But nothing was so bizarre and unexpected and Byzantinely political as the time in 1982 that Feinstein hung out with Pac-Man. Some background: “Pac-Man” was a hugely popular arcade game in 1982, hoping to break out even bigger in the home video game console market. But at the same time, San Francisco city leaders had been considering legislation that would ban arcades in residential areas, which then-Mayor Feinstein supported.
Meanwhile, Feinstein was mounting a high-profile $10 million campaign to save the cable car system, in a race against time, with an additional $50 million for the project from the U.S. Department of Transportation on the line.
A $1 million pledge by Atari was enough to persuade the
mayor to appear in public with a 7-foot-tall Pac-Man mascot and pretend that she liked video games for 15 minutes.
“This is a Bay Area company of which we are very proud,” Feinstein told a crowd of about 100 gathered at the foot of California Street at noon. “Everybody should go and buy a PacMan cassette, because Pac-Man made this possible.”
The photos of the event, taken by Chronicle photographer Steve Ringman, look … awkward.
At a time when smoking was still allowed at some Bay Area high schools, city and county legislators throughout the state were banning arcades, claiming they were a danger to children.
The Chronicle had been printing a stream of articles demonizing games as directly leading to zombified children and a spike in crime. (“Youths Steal to Support Video Game Playing,” read one March 1982 Chronicle headline. “New York Study Links Drugs to Video Game Parlors,” read another.)
At the same time, the future of the cable car line was threatened, with some citizens unbelievably suggesting they were a poor long-term investment and that the city should get rid of them. So when Feinstein’s crusade for cable cars came in conflict with her position against neighborhood arcades, she chose … to hang out with Pac-Man.
Atari executive Raymond E. Kasser pressed a few buttons on an Atari computer and the money was transferred. There was an Atari 2600 video game console set up on the cable car, which Feinstein appeared to avoid.
But the mayor seemed genuinely charmed by the giant Pac-Man mascot, which was oddly covered in thick fur.
“As a token of gratitude to the Sunnyvale-based computer firm, Feinstein unveiled a plaque on Cable Car No. 59 that declares that the car has been adopted by Atari,” The Chronicle reported the next day.
When asked about the brewing neighborhood arcade controversy, Feinstein sidestepped the question.
“I don’t think we’ll discuss that right now,” she said.
The cable cars were saved and continue to prove to be an incredible investment. Later that summer, video game arcades were indeed banned in residential areas, with Feinstein’s backing. That law stayed on the books until 2014.
Meanwhile, the “Pac-Man” cartridge (it wasn’t a cassette, Sen. Feinstein) was a massive failure, and the beginning of the end for Atari, which cratered financially the following year.
But the onetime video game giant will never die, in our collective memories, and on the streets of San Francisco. After The Chronicle posted a query on Twitter, reader Jeremy Whiteman produced photo proof that in 2017 the plaque remains on Car No. 3.
“This cable car has been adopted by Atari,” it still reads, with the Atari corporate symbol underneath. Peter Hartlaub is The San Francisco Chronicle pop culture critic. Email: phartlaub@ sfchronicle.com Twitter: @PeterHartlaub