Stories for my grandchildren -Pinball Wizard

When I was in high school, I owned a pinball machine. A real, lights-flashing, bell-ringing, score-keeping, put a quarter-in-to-play pinball machine. Now, I think my older grandchildren understand the concept  of the pinball machine, but I'm pretty sure they have never seen an actual pinball machine, let alone played the silver balls. There are electronic versions of the pinball game, and probably even an app for that, so playing the game may be familiar - but, I realized sadly today the actual machines are no longer around.

I came to this realization after recently hearing Pinball Wizard from the rock opera Tommy (by the Who) on XM satellite radio. The DJ - who normally says next to nothing - said he had seen an article in the Wall Street Journal about how hard it was to find someone to repair pinball machines. I checked out the article and found that the machines in need of repair are all owned by collectors, and while there may be thousands of the machines still out there, they are, for the most part, all in private hands, or in museums. There may be a few old machines in the corner of an arcade somewhere, and there seem to be some clubs where they hold tournaments on beautifully restored games, but when was the last time you touched an actual machine in the wild?

I was reminded also, that pinball machines have a checkered past; they were once illegal, branded as gambling devices by many states and municipalities (including Breckenridge). It was not until the mid-'70's that most of the laws were repealed, so I am guessing that I technically may have been a scofflaw. I guess that's not something I should include in a blog intended for my grandchildren, though, is it? Oh well. As if that were the only skeleton in the closet!

My machine sat outside a gas station, in the rain and the sun, for quite a while before I finally persuaded the owner to let me have it. I think he did so only to get rid of me. I stopped and bugged him asked about that machine every week or so for about a year. When he finally relented and I got it home, it was in pretty bad shape. Fortunately, the glass over the playing surface had protected the deck from the elements somewhat; the real problem was the rust and corrosion of the wiring and electrical components, There were no electronics - solenoids and stepping relays made it work. These devices, however, I knew how to repair and replace, so I got the machine in pretty good working order.

The big pluses of having your own machine? 1) You didn't have to pay to play. Think arcade games  - not Play Station. 2) You could jam the lead weight that registered TILT if you put too much English on the game. 3) You got very good at pinball. Robert Oglesby, (the senior Robert) was the preacher in Breckenridge at that time, and lived across the street. He would sneak over make a clergy visit from time-to-time and engage me in a little game or two. He always lost, but then, where would a CofC preacher get proficient at the game in those days?

So what happened to my pinball machine? I went off to college and my Mom kicked it out of the house, and there was this kid who kept stopping by and bugging her about it...