By spring 1982, the Mac team was growing so rapidly that we had to move from Texaco Towers back to the main Apple campus on Bandley Drive. We moved into Bandley 4, a medium-sized building across the street from Apple’s main office.
One thing I liked about Bandley 4 was that the software team was at the very back of the building, near the parking lot, so we could go out the back door to our cars or to play basketball without walking all the way around. This worked well for a couple of months, but eventually the facilities group decided to install an alarm on the back door, restricting free access. They didn’t arm the alarm until 5:30 p.m., but that didn’t help me—I usually didn’t go to dinner until after 7 p.m. and returned to work for a few more hours. The alarm became a major annoyance, forcing me to take a much longer route several times a day.
Occasionally, someone forgot the alarm and walked out anyway. It would emit a head-splitting wail, destroying any chance of concentration until a security guard arrived to disable it, sometimes taking over ten minutes.
I complained about the alarm every way I could, to no avail. About a quarter of the software team worked late, so the alarm was unnecessary while we were there. I begged the facilities supervisor not to activate it until after midnight, even offering to arm it ourselves when the last person left. My pleas fell on deaf ears.
Every few months, Bud Tribble would visit from Seattle. We’d show him our latest work to get his valuable suggestions. One late afternoon, he arrived in the software area, and we gathered to demo for him, including Bill Atkinson and Steve Jobs.
Bill had created impressive high-resolution scans using an improved dithering algorithm and wanted to show Bud. The scans were on his hard drive in the Lisa building, so he ran out the back door. It was after 5:30 p.m., triggering the alarm—a horrible, pulsating noise filled the room.
It continued for at least three minutes before Steve yelled, “Can’t someone figure out how to stop that thing?”
I saw a chance to vanquish my nemesis. “Are we allowed to damage it to stop it?” I asked.
“Yes, do anything you want—I don’t care if you break it,” he replied, hands over his ears. “Just make it stop!”
Bruce Horn and I ran to the nearby hardware lab, grabbing every tool we could find. I took a hammer and screwdriver, pounding the screwdriver into the alarm’s center, driving a stake through its heart. It pierced through, but the alarm kept sounding.
Bruce took over, twisting the screwdriver with force, shattering the alarm into a half-dozen pieces. The noise finally ceased.
At that moment, a grizzled security guard entered the back door, witnessing us cheering the alarm’s demise. He looked at us, our tools still in hand, and said, “You guys are in big trouble! Who’s in charge here? Show me your badge.”
Steve stepped forward, handing the guard his badge. “I’ll take responsibility,” he said.
The guard scrutinized Steve’s badge, looking between Steve and the badge several times. Finally, he shrugged, picked up the broken pieces, and left without another word.
We celebrated the alarm’s removal, but exactly one week later, a new one was installed, remaining until we moved to Bandley 3 months later. I’m not sure why, but not even Steve could get them to delay its activation time.