Rhode Island May Retire Its Mr. Potato Head License Plates as Hasbro Heads to Boston

When Hasbro announced last year that it was moving its corporate headquarters from Pawtucket to Boston’s Seaport, it wasn’t just an economic story — it also hit a sentimental nerve for Rhode Islanders. Now, a pair of state lawmakers want to end one of the toy company’s most visible reminders on local roads: the Mr. Potato Head specialty license plates.

Representative Brian Newberry, a Republican from North Smithfield, and Representative Thomas Noret, a Democrat from Coventry, co‑sponsored a bill introduced at the State House last week that would discontinue the plates. The design, featuring the smiling spud, has helped raise money for the Rhode Island Community Food Bank since 2002.

“It’s not the biggest issue we face, but at the end of the day, Hasbro has abandoned the state,” Newberry told NBC 10 News. “It’s causing economic damage, and we shouldn’t be advertising their products on a license plate.” In a separate comment to Boston.com, he said the change was a matter of “self‑respect.”

Under the proposal, drivers who already have the Mr. Potato Head plates could keep them, but new ones would no longer be issued. The measure comes as Hasbro, a company that once defined Pawtucket’s identity, prepares to consolidate its workforce in Boston, leaving behind hundreds of local jobs.

For many residents, though, the cartoonish character is part of Rhode Island’s cultural fabric. “It’s a Rhode Island icon, and I don’t think it’s right,” one resident told NBC 10. Another driver said the plate “has been a staple in Rhode Island for quite a while.”

The debate touches more than local pride. The $41.50 specialty plate fee and annual renewals help fund tens of thousands of meals through the Community Food Bank, turning nostalgia into nourishment. Supporters of the program worry that ending the plate could mean less money for families in need.

Hasbro hasn’t commented publicly on the legislation, but the company’s move — part of a larger restructuring — has transformed a long‑standing partnership between a homegrown brand and its home state.

For residents crossing the border into Massachusetts, the story feels familiar: another example of a Rhode Island institution pulled toward Boston’s growing life‑sciences and innovation economy. Whether the state’s registry ultimately shelves the Mr. Potato Head plates or keeps them around as a quirky relic, the debate captures something deeper — how a small state reassesses symbols of identity when big business packs up and leaves.