I understand alot of things when it comes to pinball. It is people that surprise me now. Some are sweet, some are stupid and some have let themselves become so boring while bearing little or no consequence on the world around them, what a shame. It's OK, really it is all OK. What will come forth will come forth, and will be dealt with in one way or another by the sheer force of things. I just don't want to be in the way when the time comes for a major adjustment. That's why I hang around people who accept randomness as part of this being alive gig - yes, beautiful terrifying randomness. 

Heartburn, damn heartburn. I hope somebody got this pinball table and saved it from being just a table. I certainly couldn't bear to use it as how it was proposed to me.

Here is the story -

This nice French lady called me at work asking for monsieur Robert. WTF. Mon-sie-ur, ok, let`s dance baby.

"Oui madame, je peux vous aider ?"

"Ah oui, SVP aider moi."

Shit, this one is for the books.

She sounded spaced out but very nice. I have a weakness for weaklings and sweet innocence whenever I detect it, because it is fleeting and likely not sustainable in this graceless age. But then again, fuck the times, beginnings are usually the best part of any experience or encounter, after that, well, things more often than not become less exciting.

She started off by saying that she had a pinball machine she wanted to fix. OK, that is what I do and she knew it from having talked to an old time operator in Montreal who was born out of the years of over spilling cash boxes and decadent smoky cabaret locations. The "saucy stuff" of coin operated amusement business in Montreal before Jean Drapeau and Pax Plante put the hammer down in 1957. Even the law didn't stop these operator cowboys and the runaway cash filled train they were riding on. It took decades to lasso the revenues and their custodians who were riding fast & high. In fact, the frontier town boys fought "the law" to the max, the cowboys had alot to defend and the means to do just that, but that is another story.

So Madame Rose told me how she wanted to resurrect this 1940`s pinball machine from it's present state. It had been reduced to the status of a lowly coffee table. Much like the essence of the coin operated "amusement" industry of late. Her request was innocent enough regarding this pre-flipper gambling pinball machine from the most cowboyish manufacturer of the 20th century, - the mighty Bally Manufacturing Corporation. Nobody says "one more nickel" like they were able to.

I was reluctant to take the job. But I kept listening and responding with hope that she would tell me the whole story behind the pin. We discussed finding (or even making) new legs for the machine to replace the stubs which this pinball cabinet now sported and which was sadly elevated three inches off the carpet in her living room. I then asked her where the head for the body was stashed. She paused for a moment and said that she thinks her husband had put it away somewhere in the basement years ago when he cut the legs off.

"What happened then ?" I asked.

"He had stopped playing it, decided to make a coffee table out of it and then he died."

Then I learned that Rose wanted to get it back together, fixed and playing in order to give it to her recently married thirty year old son, - but, as luck would have it, her daughter in law doesn't want "cette chose" in da house.

After telling me this, Madame Rose admitted in all confidence that she was very disappointed in her son for not standing up to his bossy bride and accepting this beautiful machine which his father played and enjoyed. I told her that times have changed once again and pretty soon there will be no continuity if fathers and sons don't relay what has been loved. Total silence, absolute total fucking silence.

She then asked me if I would buy it from her just to save what she thought was a beautiful piece of furniture. She offered it to me for 50 dollars. I thought about it for a minute and said no. I am out of time and so is this machine. The train will keep rolling even when the engines have been turned off, it just wasn't my turn to buy this particular ticket in the here and now from Madame Rose.

Here is hoping someone out there will want to bring it back to its majestic allure and move it further away from the ground.

Story date : winter of 2013

I understand alot of things when it comes to pinball. It is people that surprise me now. Some are sweet, some are stupid and some have let themselves become so boring while bearing little or no consequence on the world around them, what a shame. It's OK, really it is all OK. What will come forth will come forth, and will be dealt with in one way or another by the sheer force of things. I just don't want to be in the way when the time comes for a major adjustment. That's why I hang around people who accept randomness as part of this being alive gig - yes, beautiful terrifying randomness. 

Heartburn, damn heartburn. I hope somebody got this pinball table and saved it from being just a table. I certainly couldn't bear to use it as how it was proposed to me.

Here is the story -

This nice French lady called me at work asking for monsieur Robert. WTF. Mon-sie-ur, ok, let`s dance baby.

"Oui madame, je peux vous aider ?"

"Ah oui, SVP aider moi."

Shit, this one is for the books.

She sounded spaced out but very nice. I have a weakness for weaklings and sweet innocence whenever I detect it, because it is fleeting and likely not sustainable in this graceless age. But then again, fuck the times, beginnings are usually the best part of any experience or encounter, after that, well, things more often than not become less exciting.

She started off by saying that she had a pinball machine she wanted to fix. OK, that is what I do and she knew it from having talked to an old time operator in Montreal who was born out of the years of over spilling cash boxes and decadent smoky cabaret locations. The "saucy stuff" of coin operated amusement business in Montreal before Jean Drapeau and Pax Plante put the hammer down in 1957. Even the law didn't stop these operator cowboys and the runaway cash filled train they were riding on. It took decades to lasso the revenues and their custodians who were riding fast & high. In fact, the frontier town boys fought "the law" to the max, the cowboys had alot to defend and the means to do just that, but that is another story.

So Madame Rose told me how she wanted to resurrect this 1940`s pinball machine from it's present state. It had been reduced to the status of a lowly coffee table. Much like the essence of the coin operated "amusement" industry of late. Her request was innocent enough regarding this pre-flipper gambling pinball machine from the most cowboyish manufacturer of the 20th century, - the mighty Bally Manufacturing Corporation. Nobody says "one more nickel" like they were able to.

I was reluctant to take the job. But I kept listening and responding with hope that she would tell me the whole story behind the pin. We discussed finding (or even making) new legs for the machine to replace the stubs which this pinball cabinet now sported and which was sadly elevated three inches off the carpet in her living room. I then asked her where the head for the body was stashed. She paused for a moment and said that she thinks her husband had put it away somewhere in the basement years ago when he cut the legs off.

"What happened then ?" I asked.

"He had stopped playing it, decided to make a coffee table out of it and then he died."

Then I learned that Rose wanted to get it back together, fixed and playing in order to give it to her recently married thirty year old son, - but, as luck would have it, her daughter in law doesn't want "cette chose" in da house.

After telling me this, Madame Rose admitted in all confidence that she was very disappointed in her son for not standing up to his bossy bride and accepting this beautiful machine which his father played and enjoyed. I told her that times have changed once again and pretty soon there will be no continuity if fathers and sons don't relay what has been loved. Total silence, absolute total fucking silence.

She then asked me if I would buy it from her just to save what she thought was a beautiful piece of furniture. She offered it to me for 50 dollars. I thought about it for a minute and said no. I am out of time and so is this machine. The train will keep rolling even when the engines have been turned off, it just wasn't my turn to buy this particular ticket in the here and now from Madame Rose.

Here is hoping someone out there will want to bring it back to its majestic allure and move it further away from the ground.

Story date : winter of 2013