It's a labour of love.
Gregory Punshon watches as one of the other collectors tinkers inside his pinball machine called Pat Hand. All of them have names like this. The newer machines are often themed to a new movie or pop culture reference - in the other room, you could almost hear the Blues Brothers over the cacophony of sounds chattering away near John Wick and a few others. The Australians are represented too: Peter Brock and Holden from Vector Pinball, to name a couple. These older machines have broader themes.
Pat Hand is named for the poker reference and is adorned with an image of a woman fanning a hand of cards. El Dorado is not far down the line, all kitschy cowboy gold rush aesthetic. The art matters more than the reference in the classics, and when they're running, they ding and click over their mechanical score counters like happy automatons. But they can be temperamental.
"They don't like being moved," Mr Punshon says as he watches the mechanic at work tinkering with the array of switches and gadgets inside. He has owned it for decades and watches the operation like a concerned parent.
Pat Hand was built in the United States by Williams Electronics in May 1975 before it found its way to Germany. Its coin inserts are still written in German. Mr Punshon has restored and maintained Pat Hand after it was eventually important to Australia, and builds machines in his spare time.
When the public arcades and laundromats entered their twilight, the pinball machines that used to haunt the corners of those places became a private affair. Collectors bought them up and restored them, moved them into their homes and garages, and lost themselves in the intricate art, lights, and little chimes.
What was once the hobby of teenage boys challenging each other on a high score and trying to impress their girlfriends became art pieces and loving obsessions of nostalgic tinkers.
"Once you buy your first pinball machine, you better have space for more because there are more coming," Chris Slevin, the organiser who wrangled 105 pinball machines to Argenton at the weekend for Pinfest in an annual tradition that he says is about bringing the classic arcade game back to the public.
"Very few people can stop at one. You'll buy a machine and play it for a year or two; if you have space, you'll buy more; if you don't, you will sell it and buy another. It's a very strong second-hand market."
Mr Slevin grew up playing pinball with his brother Dom. They bought their first machine about 24 years ago. Two others followed. They have about 17 in the shed now, and guess they have owned anywhere upwards of about 200 since they began collecting.
"When we grew up in Newcastle, they were everywhere," Mr Slevin says. "We used to play all the games all over Newcastle. Most of these guys are the same; they grew up with them and played them, and then, by the late 1990s, they disappeared.
"That is when people's collections at home started growing ... probably around 90 per cent of new machines bought these days go into homes, not arcades and pubs where people can play them."
Vernon Jackson, who travelled up from Sydney, remembers playing El Dorado when he was 10. His hands find the flipper buttons as he slips into rhythm with the machine. When he hands over the controls to his 14-year-old son, Noah, the pair of them have a near-mirror expression as they track the ball around the table like hawks.
"I remember it from many years ago," Mr Jackson says. "I own one like this but nowhere near in this condition. I haven't seen or played that game in 20 years. It's amazing to see it here, knowing that I own one like it ... the way it's been restored; it's a bit inspiring for me. I think it's the most classic game ever made."
Noah has had a pinball machine in the house since before he was born. His dad says that kids who aren't introduced to them early play video games, but the virtual is no competition for the aesthetic romance of the mechanical physicality of all these paddles and bumpers.
"For me, I think it gives an atmosphere. Having one in the home is ..." he trails off and smiles. "I don't think my wife is that convinced, but we'll get there eventually."
Antoine Dupont's teenage son Gabin wanted to build his own machine but settled when his dad suggested they buy one and restore it instead. Mr Dupont wasn't sure they had the technical skill to build one from scratch but figured it could not be too difficult to bring one back to life. Gabin quickly got to work, found a machine online, and took it upon himself to negotiate a price. It didn't matter that Gabin, in his excitement, might have negotiated a higher price for the machine instead of a lower one, but Mr Dupont says the time they spend working on it is time spent together.
"We're fixing the one at home, and then we come to Pinfest every year, and every time we find a pinball somewhere, we have a game together," Mr Dupont says. "We were in New Zealand last year and spent a week playing pinball all over. I mean, the guy is 11 years old - I didn't expect an 11-year-old to be interested in this old machine, but he loves it."
The Sydney father and son had to learn the intricacies of electromechanics together as they went, balancing study and restoration with play every chance they got. Spare parts aren't hard to find, and there is a thriving collectors market brimming with technicians who can offer advice.
Mr Dupont sighs.
"It's been a lot of reading," he says, beaming. "A lot of searching the internet, trying to find the part there, the part here. We messed up a couple of times as well - a lot of failures - but the machine is working. We just have to find one condenser. That's why we love coming here; we love doing it.
"I mean, it's pretty cool. And Gabin knows how to play and he enjoys it. He can spend a day playing pinball."
Mr Punshon began tinkering with machines as an apprentice electrician. The mechanics inside the machines are not that different from those in an overhead crane, he says, just on a different scale. When he couldn't find a part, he 3-D printed them instead.
"This is where you come to get lots of wonderful ideas and talk to other people who build machines," he says.
Later, after placing an out-of-order sign on Pat Hand, he says he will probably spend Saturday night trying to fix it. Before it came into his collection, it was converted to run in Australia, but he says the process was bungled.
"Look at that artwork," he says, fit to bust with pride. "Look at the complexity in there. It took a long time to overcome "the repairs"."
Mr Slevin, at one stage, owned the Pizza and Pinball business at Broadmeadow, which became the forerunner of Pinfest. The event runs each September, where collectors and nostalgic players come to swap stories and swim in the lights and sound.
"People have their favourites and the ones they remember," Mr Slevin says. "It's nostalgic. Some of them have been restored and look like they are brand-new from the '60s and '70s - like they have just come out of the box. They're works of love and dedication."
The event raised funds over the weekend for Cardiff domestic violence prevention charity Survivors R Us, and Mr Slevin estimated they would donate close to $25,000. Pinfest was founded in 2012 and is associated with the Newcastle Pinball Association - a group of self-described "pinheads" from the Hunter and Central Coast whose goal is to bring pinball back to the public. Pinfest has since donated more than $100,000 to charity.
About Topics:
- Topics is the Newcastle Herald's daily column exploring stories that shape the unique cultural identity of Newcastle, its suburbs, and the Hunter region. Simon McCarthy is a Herald journalist and feature writer covering culture, local news, and community issues in the region since 2017. He has been the Topics correspondent since 2023. Contact the writer via email. To read more from Topics, visit the Herald's opinion section.
