The difference, of course, between Zawinski, version 2000, and Zawinski, version 1993, is his access to cash. Hacking code doesn't cost much money, but buying a night club in the over-heated real estate market of San Francisco doesn't come cheap. Just how much he is paying, Zawinski declines to say, other than a shamefaced "probably too much." But money is not the problem.

"I don't remember who it was that I was talking to," recalls Zawinski, "but I was just whining about it [the decline of the late night scene] as usual, and they were like, 'well why don't you buy a club.'"

As we sit together in the Metreon -- a building that is itself a testament to the vast economic and technological changes storming through San Francisco, a building surrounded on almost every side by companies that have built their business models on providing some kind of service via the Internet -- it seems all too fitting to hear Zawinski recall that moment when he realized that he didn't have to just accept the changes in his neighborhood, but could actually do something about them. Even though his actions could be seen as easy target for contradiction, Zawinski is attempting to roll back changes that are in part caused by the same economic upheaval that has given him the wherewithal to fight those changes.

But Zawinski isn't too interested in following down that narrative path. "Change happens," he notes. And unlike some other club owners, Zawinski doesn't want to get drawn into a debate about whether the pressure on the clubs is a result of dot-com yuppies invading the neighborhood. He'd also rather not fixate on how great things used to be.

"Nothing stands still," says Zawinski. "The real question is can you change it? You can always affect things -- so can you change it in a way that will make you as happy with it in the future as you were in the past? Maybe it won't be the same, but it might be something else you also like."

Perhaps it's the malleability of code that makes some programmers, especially free software programmers, so optimistic that they can fix things, that problems are solvable, that a solution is always waiting to be found. Software can be fixed. Programmers live in a world where reality can be shaped according to their will -- all they have to do is write another line of code.

Zawinski's triumphant appearance before the board of appeals might suggest that he is finding San Francisco politics as amenable to his manipulation as digital ones and zeroes. It does help, of course, to have the cash to buy know-how -- Zawinski concedes that he has hired "many people to advise me on many subjects." It also helps to be on a politically popular side of an issue. The board of appeals commissioners clearly did not want to be accused of killing fun in San Francisco, and several of them grandstanded before the assembled crowd as if they themselves were running for office.

Whether or not the future will be as friendly is, of course, anyone's guess. Zawinski hasn't completed his purchase yet, although it is in escrow and he's confident that "unless something unexpected" happens, he should have no serious roadblocks ahead. There's also no telling if his plans to make the DNA Lounge a "total nerd-space" -- complete with interactive video and live Webcasts for bands -- will be a success. If the police, stung by their defeat at the board of appeals, decide to make Zawinski's life miserable they have the power to do so, no matter how many stock options Zawinski has exercised.

But it's the effort that inspires, not necessarily the outcome. Many free-software programmers believe they can change the world for the better. So far, most have done it by writing software. But there really are no limits to where their passion can be put to work.

Recent Stories