From 1983 – 2002, Stewart Cheifet hosted The Computer Chronicles, a public television show devoted to important topics in the field of personal computing. Now viewers can download or stream 560 episodes of the series on their computers from the Internet Archive, with episodes devoted to everything from the Original Macintosh (1984) to the Y2K bug (2000).

I’ve watched a few episodes myself, and they provide a unique contemporary view into the world of vintage computing when it was still the cutting edge. Many of the episodes are co-hosted by the late Gary Kildall, so you rabid Killdall fans out there will quickly get your fill. Go check it out; I highly recommend it.

The two most popular news agencies have published no less than two articles in the last two days about vintage computers. Are the planets in alignment, or does there now exist a vast conspiracy (the conspiracy of “twos” perhaps?) to cover vintage computers in the national media? Either way, it’s been a great week for our hobby.

The first article (Reuters via Yahoo) focuses on the ever-popular Sellam Ismail, organizer of the Vintage Computer Festival, and his lovable buddies (Bruce Damer, Evan Koblentz) from the festival scene. Poor Sellam has been covered so many times that he’s probably getting tired of it by now. The second article (AP via Yahoo) “unearths” a relative newcomer to media publicity, Jeremy Mehrle, whose Basement Mac Museum I covered back in February (along with a short interview with the Mehrleman himself). It’s true that many news outlets get some of their news by culling blogs these days. But with cool topics like these, can you blame them? And obviously, the door swings both ways.

Deep in the heart of Missouri lies a secret underground bunker full of Apple Macintosh computers. Within its stark white walls, you’ll find the computer collection of Jeremy Mehrle, a professional graphic designer with a decided preference for Apple hardware.

Actually, Mehrle’s presentation more closely resembles a swank nightclub than a bunker. The monochromatic color design and minimalistic furniture arrangement compliment the Mac collection perfectly, while adding an incredible touch of class to the makeshift museum. Dozens of compact Macs (mostly Classic IIs), which automatically run screen savers when turned on, engulf a tall bar area in one corner of the basement. In other section, there’s an eye-catching wall full of candy-colored iMacs. And don’t forget to take a stroll down the row of various all-in-one Mac models that includes the rare Twentieth Anniversary Macintosh. Eat your heart out, “Mac Shelf.”

Merhle, who also goes by the handle “soyburger,” posted some pictures of his basement Mac collection on Flickr in August of last year, and links to the gallery have been virally spreading around the web ever since. I just recently ran across the photos myself and was so impressed with the aesthetically adept setup that I decided to contact Merhle and conduct a short email interview, which you can read below. There’s a lot more to see of Mehrle’s basement than the pictures here, so don’t forget to check out the full gallery as well, on Flickr.

[ Continue reading The Basement Mac Museum » ]

Sure, consoles age and get dirty. Heck, I remember a suspicious incident involving my Super Nintendo (SNES) console and a can of Coca-Cola in the early ’90s that left my SNES looking more like a moldy loaf of bread than a video game system. But around five years ago, I noticed that my SNES console was aging particularly badly. I cleaned off all the remnants of fossilized Coke residue from the chassis with a wet washcloth, but the “moldy bread” look still remained. The top half of the console’s plastic body retained a uniformly nasty yellow-brown hue, while the bottom half flaunted its showroom shine — that native SNES gray that we all know and love. I soon realized that a much deeper mechanism was responsible for the aesthetic disfigurement of my beloved SNES than mere dirt and sugar.

To further complicate matters, I have another SNES unit that was obviously produced more recently than my original one, and that console shows no sign of aging whatsoever. Comparing the units and the way different parts of them had discolored led me to believe that there is something different about the two batches of plastics — the one for the top half of the SNES chassis and the one for the bottom, or the plastic for the old unit and plastic for the new — that made them age differently over time.

Immediately below are two photos I took of my actual SNES units. Notice the difference between the colors of the top and bottom halves of the plastic chassis on the older unit, and also how the newer unit shows no sign of discoloration at all.

My first SNES console (right) exhibits discoloration on the top half only.
The newer unit on the left, however, looks as good as new.

The top half and bottom half of my first SNES console, disassembled.
Notice that the underside is yellowed with the same uniformity as the top.

[ Continue reading Why Super Nintendos Lose Their Color: Plastic Discoloration in Classic Machines » ]

It’s the end of an era, my friends. At today’s MacWorld keynote, Steve Jobs announced that the company is changing its name from “Apple Computer, Inc.” to simply “Apple, Inc.” to reflect their increased focus on consumer electronics.

The world’s most beloved computer company is no longer just a computer company. That’s fine with me, of course, because they make some of the best consumer products on Earth. Still, for someone who grew up with the legendary Apple Computer of old, it’s a little sad to see the original name go.

I’ve wanted an Apple Lisa since I first set eyes on one around 1994 in my middle school library. I was studying there with a class when I spotted an exotic-looking Apple machine sitting on a cart across the room. After puzzling for a bit, I realized that it must be an Apple Lisa, an almost mythical machine that I had read about in The Journey is the Reward, but I had never even seen a picture of until then.

I had already been collecting computers for at least two years when I saw the machine, and I was always on the lookout for more additions to my collection. I had heard of a little-known machine called the “Lisa” that Apple released somewhere between the Apple III and the Macintosh, but I had never seen or used one. So when I spotted the Lisa in the library that day, it was an epiphany to me — the Apple story was vividly coming together in my brain. Knowing that the Lisa (a Lisa 2, as it turned out) in the school library was obsolete, I feared that the librarians wouldn’t know what to do with it and would throw it away. I had to take action, but I was painfully shy, and I was only about thirteen or fourteen years old. I was afraid to ask them about the computer because I figured they wouldn’t take me seriously. So I convinced my mother (the best mom ever) to drive back to the library after school and ask the librarians if we could buy the Lisa from them. The librarians had to decline the offer, since it had been donated to the library and was property of the county school system. Sadly, I fear that the Lisa in the library probably met a nasty fate not too long after that incident — a victim of short-sighted middle school bureaucracy.

[ Continue reading The Apple Lisa: My Holy Grail, Attained » ]

In Part I of “Inside a Hamfest: An Annotated Slideshow,” I gave you an introduction to hamfests. In Part II, I told you about guys who try to sell utterly useless crap for too much money, but I also found some choice non-crap to purchase for very little money. We also met a Simpsons-like supernerd with a passion for redheads (himself) and video games. Below, in the concluding part of the series, we pick up exactly where we left off in Part II.

[ Continue reading Inside a Hamfest: An Annotated Slideshow, Part III » ]

Back in the good old days of computer gaming (we’re talking late-80’s to mid-90’s here, folks), one thing that could be said about the games market is that it was a crap shoot. Before the advent of the Internet, the few dead-tree review magazines couldn’t keep up with the number of newly-released titles, and computer game companies didn’t seem to take advertising very seriously. This meant that the chances of knowing the details of a game before purchasing it were pretty slim. Usually, all a gamer had to go on was the box copy, and whatever word-of-mouth could be picked up while hanging out at the local Babbage’s.

Buying a game could be a gamble, pure and simple. Sure, Origin was a safe bet for action or role-playing, and Sierra was the uncontested king of the adventure genre, but so many smaller companies were trying to make it big that it was impossible to know exactly what would be on the shelf on any given day. Sometimes, a search though the $5 rack would reveal an unlikely-sounding game written by two guys in a smelly basement, only to be unmasked later as a true gem of programming skill. More often, a slick-looking box with beautiful images and promising descriptions would turn out, when unboxed at home, to fall somewhere between maddeningly dull and outright unplayable (I’m looking at you, Rocket Jockey). But rarely, very rarely, a game would crop up that would cause an immediate and almost-universal reaction among gamers: “What were those guys smoking, and where can I get some?”

[ Continue reading Eric’s Look at Trippy Computer Games » ]