You may recall that the antiapartheid divestment movement got its start here in the Bay Area, but what you may not know is the key role that conservative Central Valley farmers and a Republican governor played in that effort.

The push to dump holdings in companies doing business in South Africa was big on the UC Berkeley campus starting in the late 1970s, and soon Assemblywoman Maxine Waters was trying to get a state divestment bill through the Legislature. Every year, it died.

Then in 1986, Central Valley farmers - not exactly known for their civil rights record - needed something from the Assembly. Waters, who was the most powerful member on the Ways and Means Committee, knew a little something about old-fashioned horse trading in the pursuit of high ideals. She cleverly stapled the two ideas together - politically linking the divestment authorization to the farmers' bill.

Suddenly, farmers and their supporters became some of the biggest advocates of divestment, and the bill made it all the way to Republican Gov. George Deukmejian - who signed it. And Maxine and her supporters became advocates for the farmers' bill. It was a win-win situation for all.

Then for good measure, Deukmejian joined me on the UC Board of Regents in voting to divest the university's South African holdings.

The Christmas season is bubbling over with two, three or sometimes four events each night.

The first Thursday in December is always set aside for Dede Wilsey's party. This year's was a wonderful affair as usual, with all the bluebloods in attendance.

As for fashion: tie-dye appeared to be all the rage among the men, as in ties around the neck and dye in the hair.

I went to two tech parties the other night. Man, do the techies all look the same. They all look like they just parked their bicycles outside, and not one of them is over 35.

I walked out of both parties thinking something wasn't right. It wasn't until much later that it dawned on me that not a single person at either one had been looking at a smartphone.

Instead, everybody was actually talking to each other, interacting with each other. Totally uncharacteristic of what you observe on the street. It was very impressive.

A few nights earlier, more than 200 people sat down at the Opera stage for a black-tie dinner to celebrate Charlotte Shultz's decades of service to San Francisco as chief of protocol and party planning.

She has made this city shine through six Super Bowl contests, six mayors, four World Series and an earthquake. And let's not forget the 50th anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge, when she crammed 1 million of us onto that deck and flattened it out.

At the party, I had a quick conversation with Nancy Bechtle, who chairs the Presidio Trust board. She said to me, "People seem to think you don't like what I'm doing with the Presidio."

I said: "Seem to think? I think I said very clearly that I am a George Lucas supporter, period, and you're trying to kill the George Lucas museum project."

"No, I'm trying to protect the park," she said.

Cecil Williams and Glide Memorial United Methodist Church celebrated their 50 years together at the Opera House. It may be the first time they served fried chicken at the Opera.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein and her husband, Dick Blum, drew the biggest crowd in the VIP section.

District Attorney George Gascón won the security detail award, with three bodyguards.

And let's not forget the Christmas tree lightings.

The Bank of America's lighting was fabulous, with UCSF officials, Salesforce's Marc Benioff, Ron Conway, Ronnie Lott and the local bank people all in attendance.

It was cold as ice, and most everyone was either grumbling about how Obamacare is going to affect their bottom line or how great it is that UCSF is all but taking over Children's Hospital in Oakland.

They asked Ronnie and me to lead the singing.

Big mistake. Luckily, the children's choir joined in and saved the day.

Movie time: "Homefront." Mix one part rednecks and one part bikers, add a load of meth and one endangered daughter, and you pretty much have the recipe for the latest Jason Statham head-buster.

Sylvester Stallone isn't going to win any Oscars for his screenplay, but it makes for a good matinee if you want a break from shopping.