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In
2012, I was overjoyed to get involved with a curious new publishing project
from former Yahoo! Exec Tim Sanders. Net Minds was created to empower
independent publishing and help connect writers, editors, designers, artists
and marketers. Another co-founder of Net Minds was Andrew Garroni, a producer
of note in late 70s/80s low-budget cinema—most specifically, the cult serial
killer flick Maniac (1980). As a fan of genre cinema, it was thrilling
to chat with Garroni (even though I’d not seen Maniac) and hear tales of
filmmaking from the era (for instance, they got Tom Savini to do makeup and effects
for Maniac because he was already nearby doing the same for Friday
the 13th).
After
months of back and forth with the author of a Net Minds project that was going
nowhere (there was never a full draft; author kept on submitting new “chapters,”
completely replacing others and changing the focus of the book—it was all too fluid),
Sanders hit me up for some last-minute copy editing on what would be Net Minds’
first published book. I wanted to grow my professional experience (similar to
Savini taking the Maniac gig) and gladly accepted the opportunity. The
book: Finding the Next Steve Jobs by Atari co-founder Nolan Bushnell.
Nolan fucking Bushnell!
The editing itself was straightforward (William Gibson wrote Neuromancer,
not Necromancer) and I turned it around in a weekend. In my day job, as
features editor for a business association magazine, I pitched a profile of
Bushnell—the result of which was a supremely fun interview and award-winning
story. I also recommended Bushnell as a speaker for our upcoming conference—he’d
spoken at events plenty but was looking to expand the reach of that career. That
year (2013), Finding the Next Steve Jobs was recognized with an Independent
Publisher Book Award and picked up by Simon & Schuster.
An
important element of this story, which is discussed in the book, is that while
Steve Jobs was working at Atari, Bushnell tasked him with creating a two-player
Pong. Jobs lacked the skill and/or desire to actually build the prototype,
so he contracted with a shy, but talented, friend—Steve Wozniak—to create what
would become Breakout (1976). This was especially groovy as my wife previously
devoured Woz’ autobiography and, in the process, deciphered his phone number. Of
course, she called him to see if she got the number right. No answer, so she
left a message—and he fucking called her back! My involvement with Bushnell was
feeling increasingly serendipitous.
In
early 2014, at a Colleyville, Texas, estate sale, I picked up two remnants of 1970s
U.S. pop culture: an early skateboard ($7) and an original arcade art bezel for
Space Invaders ($25). The skateboard sold quickly online for $20 or $30;
the Space Invaders art bezel proved to be more difficult to unload at a
profit due to the necessary shipping costs.
Back
at work, there was good news brewing, though. Bushnell agreed to speak at our
conference in Minneapolis that summer—so I’d actually get the chance to meet
him in person. Also for that conference, our events team asked if I’d like to lead
a couple of small sessions about the nascent augmented reality (AR) technology.
This was gonna be great! I messaged Bushnell and his daughter Allison, inviting
him to join one of my AR sessions, if he was available. He said, “Sure.” That sort
of blew my mind.
After
almost giving up on selling the Space Invaders piece with any kind of
profit, I researched arcade art bezels in general just a little more. During
that process, I found an original Breakout bezel for sale online…and the
universe started to reveal itself: Clearly, I needed to have Bushnell autograph
the Breakout bezel, that’d make a unique and visually pleasant
collectible—a reminder of my work on his book and appreciation of his
pioneering involvement in video games, a field that had entranced me since
early childhood.
Again,
the shipping cost was an issue, and I didn’t have the expendable cash. I
messaged the seller (incredibly, he was local) offering to trade my Space Invaders
for his Breakout. A key point: Space Invaders is more popular and
better remembered than Breakout, so that bezel would be easier for him
to sell as he was an arcade restoration hobbyist and had a network of vintage
arcade collectors. He instantly agreed and that weekend I gave him the
fine-condition Space Invaders bezel (really great colors!) and gladly
took home a Breakout bezel covered with vintage cigarette burns from
where gamers would stamp out their butts on the actual bezel so as not to lose
their turn.
Soon
there was more good news about our upcoming conference. Because the event next year would be in San Francisco, the preview lunch, organized by Bay Area volunteers,
opted for an on-stage Q&A with Steve Wozniak. Yes, now Woz was going to be
at the conference, too! Mission update: Get bezel autographed by Bushnell and
Woz—the two main figures responsible for the creation of Breakout! Related
to that, I was tasked with interviewing Woz for the magazine. The interview, of
course, was a blast, and I even told Woz how my wife deciphered his phone
number and called him.
“Oh,
cool,” he said. “I’ll actually get about a call a week, [usually] somebody is
just kind of testing to see if it’s really my number. And I’m always polite
with them if I have time, if I don’t, I explain why I don’t have time,
politely, and tell them to please call back or something. And nobody hounds me,
no harassment, you know.”
Yes,
the co-founder of Apple takes the time to call strangers back and explain to
them why he doesn’t have time for an in-depth conversation—if he doesn’t have
time. This guy is awesome.
“I
try to be nice,” he said. “I mean, every time people grab me—sometimes it’s
dozens or hundreds a day—for photographs or autographs...I do it gladly. It’s
easy for me.”
Given
the bezel’s awkward size, for safe transport to the event I had to carry it on
my flights. I covered it with bubble wrap, sandwiched between two pieces of
cardboard, taped closed and stored in the plane’s coat closet. The transport
was the hard part mentally—that is, I almost gave up rather than deal with the potential
hassle (thinking about it was more stressful than actually doing it) as I was
concerned I may be told the bezel had to be checked, and I didn’t trust that
would be safe. I felt no shame in turning fanboy once onsite.
Prior
to Bushnell’s keynote, I grabbed one of our photographers and led him backstage
for my meeting with Bushnell. There Bushnell grew a large smile when he saw the
Breakout bezel and happily signed it, explaining to some Millennials in
the room the importance of the game.
Later
that day or the next day, was my first AR session. Bushnell showed up for that
and, sitting next to me, we geeked out for an hour on the future of technology.
According to the attendee reviews, we went way over their heads very quickly
(and I forgot to introduce myself), but it seemed Bushnell had fun—and I
certainly had a blast! (If you were in attendance and were disappointed, I apologize but also...nah, there was a second AR session without Bushnell the next day and the flaws of that first session were resolved for the second one.)
On
the last day of the conference, our events team let me in to the ballroom early, where the preview lunch for next year’s conference would take place. Minutes
later, Woz arrived for a meet-and-greet with the lunch’s volunteer organizers. But
first…sign this, please. His reaction was similar to that of Bushnell upon
seeing the Breakout bezel: happiness and an opportunity to reminisce. Woz
also explained Breakout to those around us, some of whom actually
remembered playing the game in arcades in the 70s.
During
the Woz Q&A, I stood in the back of the room with a colleague and Bushnell,
a giant, grandfather-like figure. There, Bushnell looked to the stage like a
proud father watching a grown-up child excel—and he shared what this experience
felt like to him. He recalled what Woz was like when they first met in the 70s
(quiet, couldn’t look people in the eyes), and marveled at what Woz had become:
an opinionated, verbose, intelligent tech futurist.
On
the way home, I was feeling like a victorious explorer and then spotted Woz at the airport checking
into his flight two people in front of me. When it was my turn to check in, I
was called to the same person who just took care of Woz. I couldn’t hold back. “Do
you know who that is?” I asked after Woz had left the immediate area. An empty
look on the person’s face. “He founded Apple with Steve Jobs.” You could see
the realization of what that meant as it crept across the worker’s face. I
think another airline staffer mumbled something about recognizing Woz from his run
on Dancing with the Stars. Walking to security screening, I saw Woz—like
a school kid with an overstuffed backpack—approached by a twenty-something geek.
He gladly took a pic and chatted briefly with the fan. Here’s a guy who could
(should?) be flying on private planes, instead he’s humping around the
Minneapolis airport with a backpack on, welcoming encounters with adoring
strangers.
It’s
been nine years and the Breakout bezel, signed by Bushnell and Woz, enjoys
a prime location in an overloaded shelf of collectibles, shielded from sunlight
by packaged Ren & Stimpy and Beavis and Butthead animation
cels. For several years after getting the bezel signed, I kept my eye out for the piece that would transform
this unique video game art into a genuine museum piece. You see, the bezel has
art around the edges, but the majority of the panel is clear (so you could see
the arcade monitor behind it). Wouldn’t it be cool if there was something Breakout-related
to float behind that clear spot? The item already checks the “art” bucket…so
something functional and non-traditional. And so it was, years later, that I gave the chef's kiss, finding an original, unused Breakout arcade
PCB board, likely an unfinished version as it still shines a golden color. Now just have to find a way to make it float behind the bezel.