A More Serious Pratfall

My fame at Atari attracted a great deal of press attention, and my candor only enhanced my reputation with the press. I thought I had learned how to handle the press: Tell them the truth and don't ever try to manipulate them. I also learned that sometimes, the truth doesn't make much sense without knowing some of the underlying forces at work, forces that can't be published. In such cases, you tell the reporter, "This is background information and it is off the record," at which point the reporter switches off the tape recorder and you speak freely, secure in the knowledge that such information will go no further.

That's how it's supposed to work, but there are unscrupulous reporters out there, and I had the bad luck to run into one. In a long telephone interview, I was attempting to describe Atari's policy on some matter, and to do so I had to explain some of the internal politics. I asked the reporter if we could go off the record, he agreed, and I proceeded to unload the details, dirt and all. Two months later I saw the interview in a magazine, complete with the "off the record" material quoted word for word.

I was shattered. Some of my comments were not flattering to Atari, and they therefore made my boss, Alan Kay, look bad. By that time I had developed an intense respect for this man, who was virtuous as well as brilliant. I had inadvertently betrayed him, and I simply couldn't live with that. I typed up my resignation, walked into his office, and presented him with the magazine and the resignation letter. I apologized for my stupidity and turned to leave.

"Hold on!" he said. "Let's just look this over." He read the magazine article while I writhed in agony at each chuckle and sigh. "Yep" he announced, "this was pretty stupid, but I can see how you were ambushed. It's a good thing you brought this to me first. I'll talk to Ray Kassar and straighten it out."

I didn't know how to respond. "But…" I stammered, "this is plainly wrong. Ray Kassar had personally warned me about shooting my mouth off…I don't want you to suffer political damage because of my stupidity." Alan assured me that he could handle it. He then gave me a quick lecture about handling the press, and made me promise that I would never trust reporters again. I fell all over myself promising to never again be a bad boy. Then I retired to my office to brood over my mistake.