Which SimCity is the Greatest SimCity?

This originally appeared in Pixel Addict Magazine. It’s been expanded and revised for a video version. You should subscribe to Pixel Addict for more content like this!

Here in Userlandia: I dunno. I never heard ‘ah no mayah.

It’s rare when a game combines art and science in such a way that it becomes a cultural phenomenon. SimCity’s one of them, and I became a SimAddict the first time I plopped a zone. It doesn’t matter if it’s new or old, because I always enjoy a good city building experience. But you never forget your first love, which is why I always come back to the one that started it all. Poll a random gathering of gamers and chances are you’ll find many with happy memories of Will Wright’s SimCity. Whether you’re dutifully detailing a downtown district or marshaling monsters to make mayhem in midtown, there’s no wrong way to play. But maybe it’s been a while since you’ve micromanaged a microcomputer micrometropolis, and you’re ready to dive back into city planning. Thankfully, classic SimCity is the choice for you, with the right amount of charm and complexity to entertain newbies and veterans alike.

Or it would be, if it existed. What is “the original SimCity,” anyway? There's over a dozen “original SimCities,” each for a different platform, each with its own perks and quirks. Just check out this list—Commodore 64, Sinclair ZX Spectrum, Amstrad CPC, BBC Micro and Acorn Electron, Macintosh, Atari ST, IBM PC, Super Nintendo, UNIX, Psion, Palm Pilot, Sharp X68000, FM Towns, Amiga, enhanced Amiga, Amiga CDTV, and a partridge in a pear tree. The same gamers polled earlier will probably share their fond memories of whatever system they played it on too. Before you know it, they’ll all be arguing about which SimCity is the true classic.

“The BBC Micro version did the most with the least!”

“No, the PC version  had the most add-ons!“

“Oh yeah, well, the Super Nintendo version had the best graphics and sound!”

“Fools, the UNIX version had network play!”

There’s nothing gamers love more than an old-fashioned platform fight, and I’m happy to oblige. My history with SimCity started on the C64, where I treated it more like a drawing app than a city builder. I soon graduated to the SNES version, where I spent countless hours crafting copious cities. I even played my fair share on PCs and Macs at school. SimCity ignited a love of city building games that still burns in me today. I’ve played every SimCity sequel and spinoff—even that weird one on the Nintendo DS. So fear not, because as a SimCity expert who's spent years preparing for this moment, I'm here to tell you which classic SimCity is the true classic SimCity.

First to be eliminated, and first chronologically, is the Commodore 64 version. Yes, it's the first game to bear the SimCity name, but it's not the best. Its gameplay was limited, and slower than rush hour traffic when you didn't build enough roads. And its presentation was noticeably worse than the other 8-bits. Think of C64 SimCity as a historical curiosity, like Action Comics #1: something to check out to see where the series began, but not the definitive take. Speaking of the other 8-bits, the Acorn, ZX Spectrum, and Amstrad CPC versions manage to cram the complete gameplay experience into their tiny memory footprints, which is an impressive feat on its own. They have better graphics and sound than the Commodore version, but obviously they're not up to the caliber of the 16-bit platforms. The PC-98, FM Towns, and X68000 versions are nice to play for gamers fluent in Japanese—or so I assume, because that group doesn't include me. The UNIX version may have multiplayer, but it’s so hard to run that you’ll never get to try it, much less find a buddy to share it with. PDA versions are right out. These may be good SimCities, but they are not great SimCities.

This leaves the Atari ST, Commodore Amiga, Apple Macintosh, IBM PC, and Super Nintendo.  Now it gets tougher. You can play the Amiga, Atari ST, or Mac versions and be confident you'll get the complete gameplay experience. There’s even a terrain editor and custom graphics packs, for those who like to customize. Of these three, the Mac supports larger, higher-res screens, but the enhanced Amiga version has better graphics. Still, actually running these versions is more challenging than using the Deluxe PC CD-ROM or emulating the SNES. They’re still not the greatest SimCities.

That leaves us with two contenders: the IBM PC and Super Nintendo. The IBM PC itself had multiple versions—MS DOS, OS/2, Windows 3.1, and Deluxe 32-bit for Windows 95. The DOS version is more like the Amiga and ST versions, but in the interest of fairness, we’ll use the Deluxe 32-bit Windows version as a point of reference. It’ll even run on modern Windows, making it the easiest way to experience classic SimCity. Playing SNES SimCity is almost as easy, thanks to ubiquitous SNES emulation.

The Super Nintendo version makes a strong opening argument thanks to its audiovisual prowess. A crack team of Nintendo pixel artists created brand new graphics, taking full advantage of the system’s capabilities. Watching the seasons change to the tune of Soyo Oka’s brilliant soundtrack is one of the most Zen experiences in gaming. Not satisfied with just updating the graphics and sound, Will Wright and Shigeru Miyamoto teamed up to tweak the gameplay too, crafting the best SimCity possible on a console. New mechanics like bank loans, special rewards, and enhanced tiers of city services are major improvements over other versions of SimCity. Computer gamers wouldn’t get these features until SimCity 2000!

The PC version’s graphics and sound might not be as good as the SNES, but it takes the lead in performance and usability. As good as the SNES version is with a controller, a PC gamer with a mouse and keyboard is a master of multitasking. Maps, tools, and charts are displayed in their own windows alongside your city view, which makes it easier to track your city’s growth without interrupting construction. Plus, the gameplay is literally faster—a 486 PC runs rings around the Super Nintendo’s 65C816. I appreciated these advantages when playing SimCity on a PC, even though I missed the SNES's changing seasons. Plus, PC gamers can create their own custom maps, which is impossible on a console.

It’s a tough call, but SimCity for Super Nintendo is the greatest SimCity. The PC version might be a better simulation, but the SNES version is a better game. It’s the definitive version of a classic that still endures because it’s the complete package. You’ll be charmed by the graphics and sound, but you’ll keep coming back to try to reach the next population milestone. Or you can just enjoy the bonsai experience of putting roads and residences wherever you like, because you’re the mayor and it’s your city. Just remember that happy citizens make for a happy mayor.

What’s Inside A NeXT Computer Accessory Kit?

Here in Userlandia, we’re entering the NeXT dimension.

Ah, NeXT. Now there’s a corporation as lousy as it was brilliant. With their bold black hardware, their object-oriented software, their memorable marketing—and unfortunately, their problematic pricing—NeXT workstations were unlike anything the competition put out. Steve Jobs often bragged that the NeXT was five years ahead of its time—hence the name. But being ahead of your time is no guarantee of world domination—just ask the creators of the Amiga. After five long years selling very few of its very expensive computers, NeXT retreated from the hardware business and shuttered its highly automated Fremont factory. It survived as a software company long enough to be acqui-hired by Apple in a last-ditch effort to save the faltering Macintosh. RIP NeXT Computer Corporation. It died as it lived: spending Ross Perot’s money.

Death for corporations is as certain as it is for humans, but unlike with humans, it doesn't have to be the end. Like your favorite underappreciated artist, NeXT was far more successful after its demise. Every Apple device sold over the past twenty-ish years runs an operating system based on NeXT software. More people know about NeXT today than ever before because of Apple's miraculous turnaround after Steve Jobs rejoined the company. That awareness, combined with the trendiness of retro computing, means a hot market for old NeXT gear. Even a non-functioning NeXT looks good on a shelf. But actually getting a NeXT on that shelf is easier said than done. According to my sources—which, annoyingly, don't cite their sources—barely fifty thousand NeXT computers were actually sold. Most were used in corporate or university settings, which makes finding complete examples even more difficult because institutions have a tendency to sell off unused hardware. The spooks at the CIA loved NeXT machines, maybe theirs were melted down.

Victory at the Auction!

But owning hardware isn’t the be-all and end-all of the vintage computer hobby. Tons of peripherals, software, manuals, merch, and media are ready to move in with your old computers. The best way to find this memorabilia are places like swap meets and vintage computer shows, and that’s how I acquired the subject of this episode. Listed in the 2022 VCF Midwest Auction preview was a “Complete NeXT Cube Documentation Set.” “Big deal,” I thought, “it’s just some manuals.” But when it came up for bids, I realized I was wrong to judge an item by its listing. It was actually a complete accessory kit for a first-generation NeXT Computer. This NeXT box contained not only a complete set of documentation, but also software, warranty cards, setup sheets, and the famous NeXT computer brochure. Topping it off was a sheet of NeXT logo stickers, and I’m a sucker for shiny stickers. If no one else had been interested, I could have walked away with it for a mere $50, but apparently I'm not the only one with excellent taste in antiquated computer paraphernalia, and after an honest-to-god bidding war, I paid $270. A small price to pay to support the convention.

Discovering a complete-in-box NeXT Cube or NeXTstation might not even be possible these days. I thought the same thing for a complete accessory kit. This accessory box might be the closest I ever come to getting a new NeXT computer. But buying a new computer isn’t just about the computer—at least, not for me. It’s also about the experience of setting it up and settling in. That means perusing the packaging, browsing the booklets, and enjoying the extras. It’s the same vibe you get when opening up an old big-box computer game and combing through all the feelies. NeXT certainly obliged on this front, providing a hefty accessory kit that held everything you needed to get started.

The NeXT Brochure

Opening the box reveals the famous NeXT computer brochure. Granted, the NeXT brochure has long since been scanned and uploaded, but actually holding a real one is a different experience. This particular example shows some signs of use but it’s in otherwise excellent condition. Actual-sized photographs of the one-foot cubic computer adorn the front and back covers, giving you a taste of what’s to come. Each page is printed on heavy 100 to 120 pound satin text paper, which is almost as thick as the cover. This isn’t some throwaway piece—the designers wanted you to treat this brochure with respect.

The NeXT System Board

In keeping with NeXT's intended user base of academics, the brochure opens with a thesis statement. A NeXT Computer was, and I quote, “the yardstick for measuring computing in the nineties.” This remarkably persuasive argument plays out over twenty-six pages, describing seven unique features. The actual-size depictions continues with the system board and storage sections. These cutting-edge creations are impressively captured in a full-scale full-color reproduction. Each component on the NeXT board is purposefully arranged in a model of engineering elegance where no square inch is wasted. That’s due to an overwhelming usage of surface-mount components. NeXT invested millions of dollars developing an automated assembly robot that could pack both surface-mount and through-hole components closer than ever before. That’s old hat today, but cramming this many circuits and components on to a board was cutting edge in 1988. It was complete overkill, of course, and this very expensive automaton would become a symbol of NeXT’s delusions of grandeur. But it’s hard to argue with the actual finished product. If circuit boards could be art, this would be it.

Magneto-optical didn’t kill the hard drive star.

Turning the page brings us to a magneto-optical disk, which still looks kind of futuristic, even thirty years later. Both the board and cube are tough acts to follow, and the marketing copy makes a case for the disk by promising vast rewritable storage that wasn’t chained to one computer. You could transform any NeXT cube into your own computer by popping in an optical disk with your own OS, documents, and applications. Unfortunately, this first-generation Canon MO drive didn’t live up to the hype. It was slow and unreliable, which are bad qualities to have in a boot device. No other computers used the format—it was proprietary—so exchanging data without a network or an external disk drive was literally impossible. Even if you had the non-NeXT version of that Canon MO drive, it couldn’t read NeXT disks. NeXT quickly abandoned the MO drive and pivoted to floppies, CD-ROMs, and networked storage. The only legacy of that optical disk today is, of all things, Mac OS' "busy" cursor. Yes, that spinning rainbow beach ball was originally a spinning magneto-optical disk.

Motorola 56001 DSP

More impressive than magneto-optical disks was the Motorola 56001 Digital Signal Processor. A DSP endowed every NeXT computer with powerful 16-bit 44.1KHz sound playback and recording capabilities. Every app in NextStep had access to the DSP’s digital audio and MIDI music capability thanks to the included SoundKit and MusicKit frameworks. Sadly, the brochure is only paper, and can’t convey the difference between CD-quality digital sound and the 8-bit 22KHz that most PC sound cards were capable of at the time. The brochure also claims that the DSP can be used for all sorts of things, like emulating a fax modem entirely in software, or controlling a very impressive array of external devices. While there were DSP-specific add-ons like imaging boards and sound samplers, my reading of old NeXT newsgroups and modern NeXT forums indicates that most NeXT users never plugged anything into their DSP ports.

PostScript for both display and print.

Software also gets its due, with the Display PostScript engine billed as the next generation of “What You See Is What You Get.” By using PostScript for a device-independent display model, the same commands used to print were also used to create the computer’s display—a revolutionary idea at the time. NextStep’s window server could combine high-resolution raster images, vector graphics, and outline fonts to render a high-resolution display that far outclassed a Windows PC or Mac… as long as you were okay with grayscale. NeXT wasn’t the first to utilize a device-independent display—look up Sun’s NeWS for a contemporary competitor. But since Display PostScript was an official Adobe product, it gave NeXT serious graphical bonafides. DPS, like the MO drive, was an attempt to disrupt the status quo. But unlike the MO drive, DPS was more successful, even though it wasn’t exactly speedy and NeXT took a lot of heat for not initially supporting color. Speed improved over time and NeXT did announce color machines in late 1990. DPS was replaced by the PDF-based Quartz in Mac OS X, which carries on the legacy of a device-independent display layer.

UNIX for Mere Mortals

Another familiar quote is “UNIX for mere mortals.” Other UNIX systems had GUIs, but NextStep was arguably the easiest one to live with on a daily basis. It had all the benefits of a multitasking, multithreaded, protected-memory environment with ease of use that rivaled a Macintosh. You didn’t have to use a command line to get your daily tasks done, but it was there just in case. Apple used the same exact sales pitch when OpenStep became Mac OS X, which appealed to a new wave of techies and developers who previously overlooked Macs.

The software story continues with several pages about NextStep's bundled applications. The parallels to Mac OS are noticeable, with today's Dictionary.app serving as the heir to NextStep’s Webster and Digital Library. Same goes for NextStep’s e-mail application, to which Mac OS’ Mail.app still bears a passing resemblance. It was the most advanced e-mail system you could buy in 1989, and Steve loved demoing NeXTmail and its advanced features. Combine that with WriteNow—a full-featured word processor—and you could be writing your dissertation minutes after setting up your NeXT.

Developers! Developers! Developers!

Last in the brochure are pages discussing software development and NeXT’s third-party partnerships. NeXTstep’s application framework kits allowed developers to spin up custom applications in no time by using common code objects. Then, after you built the app, you created the UI in Interface Builder by dragging and dropping controls on to a window template. This was the most revolutionary part of NextStep, but it only got one page of copy! Mac OS and iOS still use this framework methodology, and other visual toolkits have copied NextStep’s philosophy with varying degrees of success.

Third Parties Will Surely Come, Right?

The final page is NeXT’s closing argument, restating their thesis that they have created a new standard of computing. Endorsements from leading third-party developers project an air of legitimacy, as does retail sales support from BusinessLand—which was ultimately that company’s undoing. Lotus is making a spreadsheet! Adobe is porting Illustrator! FrameMaker will be there too! And it’s true that all these apps eventually shipped for the NeXT. But that's the problem: eventually. Jobs and NeXT were perpetually behind schedule. It was a classic example of Steve Jobs' hubris. He thought he could bring this into existence by sheer force of willpower, Green Lantern-style. He thought that once everyone saw it, they would agree and say "oh yes, this is brilliant!” The brochure concluded by saying the NeXT decade had already begun, which is just begging to disappoint

The Quick Setup Guide

But that's in NeXT's future. We're pretending to be in NeXT's present. We're done thumbing through the brochure, and now it's time to set up our new cube. We won’t have to do it alone, because the Quick Setup card is here to help. An overhead photograph shows a complete NeXT computer system with each cable numbered in the order you’re supposed to connect them. It’s a nice picture, but as a step-by-step guide it’s a bit weak. There’s no flow to the layout, and that triggers my comic book page layout sensibilities. Your eyes ping-pong around the page instead of naturally flowing from left to right. Or you’ll follow the steps at the top and ask “where’s number four again?” because the numbers don’t stand out on the page. Despite everything Steve Jobs ever said about functional design, this is a case of aesthetics over practicality.

A Library of Documentation

Next comes a reminder that this box wasn't advertised as "unopened", just “complete.” Instead of the standard three-prong IEC power cord, there's some thin ethernet terminators and jumpers, and a laser safety data sheet. "Do not look directly into the laser with your remaining eye" indeed. The magneto-optical drive does have a laser in it, but this datasheet has the word "printer" on it, so it's probably from a NeXT laser printer's box. Maybe that's what I'll get at the next auction, no pun intended.

NeXT Documentation Library

With the miscellany out of the way, we’re left with a pile of documentation. These books are less fancy than the brochure, but they’re still quality examples of late eighties documentation. As far as I can tell, these NextStep 1.0 manuals aren't anywhere online, so this might be the first time you've seen them. Maybe I'll get myself an overhead scanner for Christmas, so I can put them on archive.org without damaging their binding. All the books follow NeXT’s minimalist packaging style, featuring plain white covers, Helvetica Italic type, and a giant NeXT logo. Hey, when you’ve got a logo that good, you place that cube front and center.

First in the stack is the Registration, Warranty, and License booklet. Your introduction to NeXT documentation cheerfully reminds you to fill out your warranty card and make sure all your doodads and thingamabobs arrived safely in their boxes. If you fill out the registration card as intended, and can find a mailbox that goes to 1989, you can get a free NeXT t-shirt, which is an offer I wouldn’t have refused. Inside the license booklet are illustrations of the contents of the NeXT computer box, the NeXT accessory kit, and the MegaPixel display box. And yes, I can confirm that everything except for the power cord is in this kit. NeXT tried to get away with a mere 90-day warranty on the original NeXT computer and accessories. If you weren’t satisfied, a NeXT dealer or service provider could sell you a one-year extended warranty for $600 plus the reseller’s markup. Not including hard drive coverage, of course—that’s another $300 plus markup! And remember, all these prices are in 1989 dollars. I’m sure Steve Jobs thought that was a bargain. NeXT eventually realized that expecting people to accept a 90-day warranty on a ten grand computer package was pushing their luck. Newer models had warranties for a full year.

Batting second is the Getting Started booklet. If you skipped—or, more likely, lost—the Quick Start sheet, this guide helps you connect your NeXT computer and peripherals. It also introduces the basic concepts of the NextStep GUI, Workspace Manager, and the Laser Printer. The guide’s user tutorials cover the basics of using a graphical interface, which was still novel in 1989. If you were new to computers, this guide would get you comfortable with using your NeXT in about an hour.

A more advanced user might dive right into the thickest tome: the NeXT User’s Reference Manual. This 460-page book is admittedly pretty dry, but it's well-written for a computer manual, and exhaustively details included applications like the Workspace Manager, NeXTmail, and the WriteNow word processor. This book’s got your back when you need the steps for building a bootable optical disk, pruning the print queue, or finding forgotten files. In addition to NextStep there’s several chapters about the care and feeding of the NeXT computer and peripherals. Need to peek inside that ominous black cube to add some memory or change the clock battery? There’s a complete walkthrough for disassembling the cube, and port pinouts for the technically curious—like you!

If you were in charge of a network of NeXT computers, the Network and System Administration guide was up your alley. This manual guides you through setting up Netinfo, the directory service that NextStep used to locate other servers, manage user accounts, and enable network booting. NeXT developed Netinfo instead of licensing Sun’s Network Information Service, because Sun was, at the time, their bitter rival. NetInfo hung on until Mac OS 10.4, and this material might look familiar to you if you were a Mac network admin around the turn of the century.

Last but not least is one of the more interesting booklets: the Release Notes. Printed in November 1989, this is the last-minute stuff that missed the deadline for the Getting Started or User’s Reference manuals. NeXTstep 1.0 was famously late and a little rough around the edges, and I’m not surprised that there’s a nine page booklet full of uncomfortable little admissions. Here’s a few of the more humorous ones.

  • Initializing an optical disk appears to freeze the Workspace Manager. Don’t panic! The highlighted menu item means it’s busy, you see, and for some reason there was no dialog box with a progress bar. I couldn’t find that reason on record anywhere, but I’m sure there was one. So be patient.

  • A period on its own line in an email message is interpreted as the “end” of the email by NeXTmail. Anything after that gets ignored. Period, end of story, I guess.

  • If you print to a network printer and the job fails with an error, you have to abort the print job on both the client and server before anyone can print again.

  • Don’t choose an invalid startup device. Apparently 1.0 didn’t hide unavailable boot options, and you could easily put your NeXT in an unbootable state if you picked the wrong one. So don’t accidentally choose NetBoot when your machine isn’t connected to a network. The only way out is using a magic key command to enter the ROM monitor, and then typing in the code to boot from another device. Good luck.

If you happen to run into a problem not mentioned in this long list of limitations, NeXT helpfully provided two feedback forms at the end of the booklet. Simply mail or fax your bug report to Redwood, California and they’ll get right on it.

Stickers and Stuff

And now, the part you've all been waiting for, the reason why I spent way too much money on this box of stuff. Behold: a letter-sized sheet of NeXT logo stickers! With fifteen stickers across three different sizes, NeXT really wanted you to slap their logo on everything. Compare this to Apple, whose contemporary sticker sheet gave only gave you four stickers. I’m very fortunate that only one sticker’s been used from this sheet, and that it was one of the smaller ones. The previous owner apologized for the missing sticker, but I told him it was okay. Stickers are made for sticking, and I’m lucky that he chose one of the little ones.

The NeXT Generation of Stickers

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Why did you spend so much money on those stickers when you can buy stickers from some rando on Redbubble?” Well, there’s some advantages to the genuine article. If you look closely at most of the NeXT logos on the web or on knockoff products, you’ll notice that they just swiped a flawed logo from Wikipedia. It’s got the wrong colors and a non-uniform gap separating the sides of the cube. Symmetrical means all sides have to be the same! These stickers are actual, 100% accurate NeXT logos, and that satisfies the fussy little designer in me. Amusingly, despite my fussing about Wikipedia having a slightly wrong version of the NeXT logo, I didn't think to check that they still had the slightly wrong version. On November 14, a few days before I recorded this episode, Wikipedia user DigitalIceAge extracted a clean version from a copy of the press kit on archive.org. Thank you, DigitalIceAge. Nice to know I'm not the only one who cares about that sort of detail.

But let’s say you’re okay with a mildly inaccurate NeXT logo. After all, there’s very few genuine NeXT stickers out there, and I recognize that most people aren’t as picky as I am. I don’t begrudge them their knockoffs, because the market abhors a vacuum. If Apple won’t supply NeXT merch, someone else will. But even if you don’t care about the accuracy of the logo, you might be wondering about the construction of these stickers. How do they compare to a knockoff? First, these stickers are solid spot-color inks based on vector artwork. The linework is sharp and the colors match the Pantone swatches selected by Paul Rand. Second, they’re clear, not white, so there’s no distracting borders. Third, they’re vinyl and not paper, which makes them significantly more weather resistant.

I’ll grant that a lot has improved in sticker printing technology over these past thirty-odd years. We’ve got magical direct-print inks that don’t need fussy flexography or sensitive silkscreening to make a durable, water-resistant design. Redbubble will happily sell you stuff printed on clear or white gloss vinyl. But the wildcard is fade resistance. If you’ve used one of the old rainbow Apple stickers, you know that they eventually fade under the sun’s unforgiving ultraviolet rays. These NeXT stickers would likely do the same even if they used fade-resistant inks, but that process usually takes years of outdoor abuse. Redbubble vinyl stickers are printed with UV-resistant inks, but I’ve yet to get one that’s lasted more than a year outdoors without fading significantly. Still, $280 buys a lot of knock-off stickers. When they inevitably fade, you can slap on a new one. Not so much with these genuine NeXT stickers—once they’re gone, they’re gone.

There’s three items of interest left in the accessory kit, and two of them are these magneto-optical disks. One is blank, the other is a system software disk for installing NextStep on a hard drive. I didn’t have MO disks of any kind in my collection until I bought these, and now I’ve got some of the most infamous. While NeXT’s MO disks may have missed the mark, the technology was still used for many years as a high-capacity archival format. The lesson here is that even the most promising tech can fall flat if circumstances are wrong.

The Magneto-Optical Disks and the Hex Wrench

And last, but certainly not least, is a NeXT-branded hex driver. Odds are most users won’t have a hex driver to loosen the cube’s screws, and NeXT solved this problem by including one. Why they did that instead of using  Phillips or Torx screws—well, I assume they had a reason, but like with the absence of a disk initialization progress bar, I haven't been able to find anyone willing to go on the record about it. Its handle is molded in the same angular fashion as the cube and MegaPixel display, with distinctive ribs and—ooh, fancy—a NeXT logo. It’s even got a ball-point at the end—not a pen, obviously, it's a little thingy that doesn't seem to have a technical name other than ‘ball-point.' These normally help hex drivers fit in tight spaces, but those clever engineers at NeXT figured out another use. Check the reference manual and you’ll see that you’re supposed to use the ball end to help pull the system board out of the case! Just snap the ball head’s groove into the conspicuous hole on the bracket and pull out the board. Sure, you can use your thumbs, but where’s the fun in that?

Now that we’re left with an empty box, one question remains: was this worth almost three hundred bucks? I could have bought an actual computer for that much money, but this is rarer and neater. Perhaps that’s flimsy post-hoc justification, but it’s nice to have something genuinely rare to call my own. None of this stuff is particularly useful on its own, except for the stickers and perhaps the hex driver. But something doesn’t have to be useful to be collectible—it can be appreciated in the context of its time. NeXT was on a mission to redefine computing, and in spite of its troubles and Steve Jobs’ flaws, the enduring legacy of NeXT in Mac OS and iOS proves that they got something right. These accessories and extras were expressions of that mission, and this box shines a seldom-seen light on that past. All that’s left is to find a NeXT cube and complete the set.

The Adobe and Pantone Color Apocalypse: Frequently Asked Questions

Here in Userlandia, we’re brought to you in glorious ultra-color.

If you’ve been reading some parts of the internet lately, you might’ve seen a brouhaha over the quote-unquote “fact” that Pantone has “copyrighted colors.” They’re forcing Adobe to pay them oodles of money for color swatches, and Adobe said “no you.” Now users have to pay $15 a month just to use COLORS? Madame is outraged!

Well, it’s more complicated than that. The reality is that the world of color is difficult, even for those of us that see and feel it every day. Many working designers don’t know all the fiendish intricacies surrounding the tools of their trade. Your real questions are “how does this affect me” and “what can I do about it?” Or maybe you’re used to picking colors from all those swatch books in Photoshop and wondered why it’s such a big deal that they went away.

In the name of expedience I’m writing this in a question-and-answer format. Sit back, grab some popcorn, and be prepared for more than you wanted to know about the Pantone Matching System.

Q: Who am I and why should you care?

I got my start in the graphics industry back in the nineties. My high school had a graphic arts program, and that’s where I fell in love with computer graphics. I graduated from college in 2006 with a bachelor’s in art with a concentration in graphic design. During those years I also worked several jobs as a designer, prepress technician, and all-around computer toucher. In 2007 I was hired by a prepress workflow software company as an apps specialist, which is a fancy way of saying “you’re a quality assurance engineer, tech support person, and a hardware tech.” I then spent the next fifteen years developing software that solved printing problems for mom-and-pop shops, megacorporations, and the US Federal Government. I had to know about software, hardware, color, fonts, screening, process control… In short, my fingers have been in a lot of ink tins. I changed careers last year and I’m out of the graphics industry today, but I still help solve people’s PostScript problems. I’m still a graphic artist at heart.

Q: What is Pantone?

If you’re not in the print or advertising business, this might be the first you’ve heard of Pantone. Pantone’s sales pitch is about solving a specific but very real problem: consistently reproducing a particular color amongst a variety of media and substrates. If you’re the brand manager for Coca-Cola, you want Coke Red to be Coke Red regardless if it’s on a bottle, can, or wax cup. If you’re the printer that prints the labels for Coke bottles, you want a consistent way to measure and confirm the color of ink when you print it. If you’re an ink manufacturer making the inks used by that printer, you want to guarantee that every tin of Coke Red ink is the same color ink every time. Pantone’s ink-spertise is the binding factor between these groups.

Most companies don’t have Coca-Cola’s copious cache of coins to commission Pantone to develop a specific ink formulation for their brand colors. Most designers choose colors from one of Pantone’s many color libraries. This is the company’s bread and butter and why they’re so entrenched in various creative industries. If you’re a designer hired by a company to select a signature color, you’d crack open your Pantone Solid Coated book and choose from one of the many hues available. Might I suggest Pantone 185 C? It’s a classic, saturated red that’s guaranteed to catch your eye. Now that you’ve picked a color, you can tell anyone that utilizes Pantone’s system to match that color when designing a logo, printing a brochure, or silkscreening a T-shirt. Congratulations, you’re now a brand expert.

For decades Pantone’s primary business was selling swatch books to printers and designers, formulating inks, and licensing said formulas to ink manufacturers. Because there’s only so much growth in that market, Pantone leveraged their dominance in print to other markets. They soon expanded their color production expertise into plastics, fashion, makeup, and more. With PR stunts like “Color of the Year” Pantone continually tries to cement their brand as the canonical source for color. While I’d say they’re more mainstream now than two decades ago, I don’t think they’re on the tip of the general public’s tongue.

Q: Can you copyright a color?

The answer is no, you can’t. That’s a glib, reductive answer to the idea of colors as intellectual property, but it’s not wrong. What is color anyway? Think back to your middle-school science classes and you’ll recall that color comes from varying wavelengths of light. The mushy organic bits in our eyes are sensitive to those differing wavelengths across the visible spectrum. Since we can’t trust our lying eyes, humans invented color science to mathematically and scientifically measure what, exactly, is color. Since color science is math, the law in the United States is pretty clear: math can’t be copyrighted. You can’t like, own red, man.

However, you can copyright a book or database. Cookbooks are a perfect example. Recipes can’t be copyrighted, but if you wrote a fancy nerd cookbook with photos and recipes for “goblin cookies” and “magical roasted beast?” That’s a different story. Your new transformative work certainly qualifies for copyright protection. What’s eligible for copyright in a cookbook is the presentation, commentary, and organization applied to otherwise uncopyrightable recipes. Think of the Pantone Matching System as a cookbook for colors. Pantone has carefully organized their color recipes into specific groups, applied a distinct presentation, and designed an identifiable mechanical style with their fan-out guides. The same would go for an electronic database containing Pantone’s color formulas. I’m not a lawyer, but I’ve been involved with enough IP like this to know the general idea.

Q: I hear that UPS owns their own shade of brown. What does that mean?

UPS does not “own” their brown, in the sense that they don’t own the physical properties of said brown. What UPS does own is their trade dress. Colors can be used in specific trade dress, which falls under trademark law and all of its fun foibles. Again, I’m not a lawyer, so don’t take this as legal advice, but there’s a lot of misconceptions around what trade dress means for colors.

Sticking with our example of UPS, you can make brown paint that looks exactly like UPS brown, and sell it too! The catch is that you can’t sell it as UPS brown, and you better not have violated any patents to make it. I would also avoid selling that brown paint to someone else in the shipping industry or using it in your own shipping business. And even then, UPS might sue you for diluting their brand anyway. Whether they’d win would be up to the whims of judges and lawyers. Are you trading on UPS’ reputation by using that color in your trade dress? Other factors would certainly apply, like your logo, typeface, and so on. The point is that UPS or Coke don’t go around suing people for using brown or red, they sue them for infringing on trade dress. But that’s enough of that, let’s get on to the real issue at hand.

Q: So what happened between Pantone and Adobe? Why are we in the current situation?

Around February 2022 news circulated around the print industry that Adobe and Pantone’s licensing agreements were falling apart. This made color and graphics professionals understandably nervous. It’s a safe bet to say money was the cause: Pantone wanted more and/or Adobe wanted to pay less. Most Pantone libraries have already vanished from Creative Cloud, and soon they’ll all be gone. That doesn’t mean you can’t specify Pantone colors, but not having a built-in library certainly makes it more difficult. Of course, Adobe won’t be passing the savings along to you—they’re adding insult to injury by increasing Creative Cloud plan prices this year.

Q: Why were these libraries in these apps to begin with?

Convenience, mostly. Without a swatch library, referencing spot colors was a real pain. Remember that Pantone 185 C I talked about earlier? That’s a spot color—a special ink that exists outside your normal CMYK inks. The vast majority of Pantone’s colors are spot inks. Traditional printing presses use the four-color process of overlaying cyan, magenta, yellow, and black to produce many colors, just like your desktop printer—if you’ve still got one. But this process can’t produce many colors, especially weird ones like metallics, fluorescents, and opaque whites. Referencing spot colors without a library can be a real time sink. You’d have to dig out your Pantone Solid to Process book, type the color name, and then enter all the alternate color space values manually. Because if there’s one thing creative people like, it’s typing in numbers over and over again.

Eventually the early desktop publishing developers—Aldus, Quark, Adobe, and others—licensed libraries from Pantone and other companies to spare you that inconvenience. Now you just clicked on a color and you had a new swatch in a fraction of the time.

Q: Can I use these colors even if I’m not printing a spot color?

Absolutely! Nothing stopped you from selecting a swatch from the Pantone library and converting it to RGB or CMYK. Sometimes your material will run in media like a magazine where they’re not going to print unique spot colors on their interior pages. Even if your particular color doesn’t fit within a traditional CMYK or RGB color model, Pantone made a “close as possible” simulation and included that in the library. Which leads to…

Q: What’s actually in the color libraries used in apps like Photoshop?

The libraries aren’t just lists of color names. Each color has an alternate color space definition that must be included with the ink. In the olden days these were manually calculated CMYK or RGB values. Nowadays they’re LAB values, which I’ll address in a more technical way later. This alternate color space data is written into the PostScript, PDF, PSD, AI, TIFF, and other files written by these apps. When you send your files to a print shop or open them in another application, you’ll see a color preview instead of a mystery black separation. Part of licensing these libraries is to have Pantone-blessed color definitions instead of somebody’s guesses.

Q: Can I still use Pantone colors inside Adobe products?

You sure can! Nothing’s stopping you from scanning a Pantone book with a spectrophotometer, writing down the LAB values, and composing your own swatch library. Perhaps you’ll, uh, acquire a library from somewhere, wink wink. You can also import old swatch libraries from older versions of Creative Cloud. Heck, you could just make a new ink, call it “Pantone 185 C” and set its alternate color value to 100% cyan. The app doesn’t care what you name it, because as far as it’s concerned that’s just another ink. When you use the library to add a swatch, the applications are  copying the alternate color space values and pasting them into the ink you create.

If you were using Pantone color books to pick colors to use in CMYK or RGB colorspaces and not actually creating spot inks, you could definitely explore alternate swatch books. Of course, Pantone would prefer that you shell out $15 per month or $90 per year for their Pantone Connect plugin, a piece of software that I wouldn’t want to use even if it was free. This bloated piece of junk tries to “add value,” when all you really want is a swatch palette.

Q: What if I wanted to make my own Pantone swatch libraries and distribute them? With blackjack and hookers?

You’d be playing with fire, that’s for sure. Pantone’s a litigious company. One of my previous employers never distributed a Pantone spot color library with our workflow software because Pantone demanded an incredibly high licensing fee. Even if we wanted to build a database ourselves, using our own labor and none of Pantone’s provided resources, we would have been sued for distributing it. This led to some of our more enterprising users creating a Pantone database using our format and distributing it amongst themselves. Pantone wasn’t going to roll up to an individual shop and sue them, but I’d expect a cease and desist if you’re posting them on a website.

I can think of many ways to make a non-infringing version of the database, but at the end of the day applications and renderers do some tricks when they detect Pantone names (or variations like PMS 185 C). Another issue that you’ll run into is differing opinions on what constitutes a color. Should your database have the LAB values, or preselected RGB or CMYK values?

Q: Why do people specify Pantone colors?

Something that goes unsaid in a lot of this discourse is that color is hard. There’s an entire industry built around the difficult task of correctly reproducing color, which doing consistently has been a problem for centuries. Computer monitors and printers have magnified the problem, yes, but it’s always been there. Pantone (and its parent, X-Rite, and its parent, Danaher) is one part of the color industrial complex. How do you organize colors, anyway? Names are hard, because you’ll run out of them very quickly and that’s not including language localization. Pantone’s solution to this conundrum was numbers. When you say “I want Pantone 185 C,” every person in the chain has a Pantone book with color chips and formula guides to get you the same hue, every time. At least, that’s the idea—it’s easier said than done.

Q: How is a Pantone ink made?

Painters make different colors by mixing different paints together, and mixing Pantone inks for printing works much in the same way. If you mix a certain amount of Cerulean Blue and Cadmium Yellow paint, you’ll make green paint! But the quality of that green can change depending on the ratio of blue to yellow, let alone if you mix in any Titanium White to lighten things up a bit. The classic Pantone Matching System works in the exact same way, except instead of an artist eyeballing the color, Pantone’s guides contain formulas for recreating the same color every time from a base set of inks. Bob Ross can paint almost any landscape from a palette of fourteen colors, and you can make any one of Solid Coated’s 2,000+ shades from a set of fifteen base inks. It’s amazing how close that is, really. That’s why Pantone persists, because printers needed an agreed-upon way to make the same color every time.

Q: Okay, but I’ve seen Pantone colors written as hex values. Aren’t they the same thing?

You might’ve heard about RGB color, and maybe even CMYK color—these are the two most common color models. RGB adds colors together to create white, while CMYK subtracts them. I’m used to thinking in terms of bits, and hex values are one method of expressing those bits. 8-bit color means 256 different discrete values for a given primitive, with 0 for minimum and 255 for maximum. 255R 255G 255B is white, which is expressed in hex as FFFFFF. It can be none more white. Or can it?

Head back to your science class again and you’ll recall that the human brain perceives color by mixing the responses of various wavelengths of light. Visible light is only a tiny fraction of the entire electromagnetic spectrum, but in terms of frequencies it’s still a lot for us to measure. That chunk of the spectrum spans over 350 terahertz, which means trillions of spectral colors for our peepers to peep. When you see a red rose or a green lime, your eyes are measuring the frequencies of light reflected by those objects. But like a sound wave can have multiple frequencies, so can a light wave. Our brains perceive colors that don’t exist in the sun’s light! That’s because these colors are the result of multiple frequencies mixed together. Purple’s the go-to example, because it’s a combination of reflected red and blue frequencies. Compare that to violet, which exists as a spectral wavelength. This is all wibbly-wobbly colory-wolory stuff, and I won’t bore you with the finer details. But suffice to say that some colors can be reproduced in some media while others can’t, and translating between multiple media is often difficult.

Even if I simplify things and say that we stay within the RGB color model, it doesn’t get easier from there. A device producing RGB color is bound by the spectral properties of its red, green, and blue primitives. Those properties define its “color space,” or the gamut of colors it’s capable of producing. Take red, for example. If you have a computer, a phone, and a tablet, you could ask each to produce 255 red, 0 green, 0 blue. Depending on the manufacturers of the screens and their physical properties, you may see three different reds! One could be dimmer, the other could look more orange-ish. Without knowing the actual spectral properties of these screens, 255 just means “maximum output.” Controlling and accounting for these differences is color management.

Needless to say that you can’t specify the hex value that you entered in for your website’s color in the logo for your printed business cards. Even if you just printed them on your inkjet printer, it must be translated to a CMYK color model, and if your RGB color is too bright, it may be out of the printer’s gamut, rendering it duller than what you’d expect. Color management is out-of-scope here, but this should be enough to give you an idea of why people like an idea of a known, defined library of colors.

Q: Okay, so how did they determine those hex values?

This is the last of the technical bits, I promise. RGB and CMYK values are device-dependent. That means their color rendering is a function of the device’s ability to create (or reflect) light. You can request 255 Red on Monitor A and get a very different result than the same number on monitor B. This has been a known problem for a long time, so the handsomest scientists at the International Commission on Illumination devised the CIELab color space to describe color in a device independent way. This is the foundation of modern production color management, with ICC profiles and rendering intents and all the rest. The LAB color space describes the human perception of color, and we can map the colors our devices produce inside this uniform color space. It’s not the only device-independent space, and it’s certainly not perfect, but it’s good enough for the vast majority of us to get our jobs done.

When you go into Photoshop and choose a Pantone Solid Coated color from the swatch library, it gets converted from a LAB value defined by Pantone into your destination RGB color space. Some color spaces are bigger than others, but Photoshop will try to render an RGB value as close as possible. For most users, that destination color space is sRGB, which is a fairly narrow gamut as far as RGB is concerned.

Pantone does have their Color Bridge guide with CMYK and RGB alternate values for their colors, but they have never documented what gamuts they use to determine those values, along with other relevant color management settings.

Q: Why would Pantone and Adobe do this now? Won’t it annoy a lot of their customers?

Sure will! In fact, both sides are counting on it. You know how cable companies and broadcast networks fight it out every few years over carriage rights? This is basically the same thing. Usually those are just brinkmanship efforts that get resolved with maybe a minor blackout. But this isn’t going that way. Pantone’s had their Connect software live for a while, and Adobe’s let licenses lapse before. If you depend on Pantone colors for your livelihood, you’re gonna be coughing up the cash.

Q: I used one of these colors in my files! What will happen to them?

Unfortunately, it depends on the file and the applications you use! Illustrator files, InDesign files, and PDF files have spot colors—Pantone or otherwise—defined as a unique ink with an alternate color space. You should be able to open them up and see whatever colors you had selected in the file’s swatch palette. You can copy and paste them into a custom library or from document to document. Sometime around… CS6, I think, Adobe introduced a feature called “Book Color” where in addition to the alternate color space they would write in proprietary info that referenced ACB files. Adobe apps prefer this “book color” stuff, which might also trigger a color replacement. The behavior differs depending on the application used.

Photoshop’s a trickier case. The PSD file format has alternate color space declarations for spots, but it’s mostly for the benefit of other applications. If your spot channel lacks alternate color space info, Photoshop used to be able to locate a suitable one in its library. If those libraries don’t exist, you’ll get a very passive-aggressive dialog box warning you that the Pantone libraries are no longer available, and then the dreaded black separation.

Q: Why hasn’t a competitor taken on Pantone?

There are competitors to Pantone, but they mostly exist outside the North American sphere of influence. In Japan there’s DIC and Toyo, and in Europe there’s HKS. There’s also up-and-comers like Spot Matching System. Maybe they could use this as an opportunity to break into the market. But there’s a lot of inertia that will keep Pantone in place in North America. Said inertia has helped and harmed Pantone in the past. Pantone tried creating a new color matching and ink formulation system back in 2007 with the ill-fated Goe system. Goe used fewer base inks to make a wider variety of colors, but its ink was just as proprietary as PMS. Goe failed for a variety of reasons, but the main one was a lack of clarity on the future of PMS. Printers didn’t want to stock two sets of inks, and if PMS wasn’t going away, there wasn’t much of an incentive to change. Before that there was Hexachrome, which was Pantone’s idea to get everyone to move to a six-color printing process of CMYK plus orange and green. This also failed spectacularly because Pantone tried to keep most of the “magic” for itself. Pantone ultimately revamped the existing PMS system via the Pantone+ update, which reorganized the color guide and addressed the formulation of the existing base fifteen inks to give them some of the benefits of Goe’s base inks.

Going back to the traditional Matching System, Pantone controls many patents and formulas regarding the base set of inks used to create their colors. Nothing is stopping an enterprising ink manufacturer from creating knock-off or “compatible” inks, so long as they’re not infringing on patents. After all, Megabloks are compatible with Lego bricks. But as much as people dislike Pantone, there is a level of trust in that name and the ink manufacturers that license it. Print and manufacturing is expensive, and people don’t want to risk trashing their product because a slightly cheaper ink didn’t match.

Q: What if I wanted to switch away from Adobe software? Are there alternatives?

Serif’s Affinity line of products still include Pantone libraries, but who’s to say that Pantone won’t turn the screws on them as well? QuarkXPress still supplies Pantone libraries, but you don’t want to use Quark.

Q: Why are people getting black separations when opening up PSDs?

Photoshop does write alternate color space info into PSD files, but ironically enough doesn’t read it in certain scenarios. In the past it would do a name-based lookup and pick the value from their library. Now that the library’s gone, instead of falling back to the file’s alternate color space it gives you the passive-aggressive dialog box instead. Adobe’s apps in general have gotten aggressive about overriding a file’s internal definition for an alternate color space, and this is the result. I haven’t fully explored all the ramifications yet, but suffice it to say that you can still replace the color in the alternate color space if you have to. Most print workflows and raster image processors will still use their own libraries if you give them one of your PSD files.

Q: Will Pantone lose marketshare because of this? Or Adobe, for that matter?

It’s hard to say. Pantone will absolutely lose mindshare amongst designers and artists who used those Pantone swatch libraries as quick shortcuts. Those same customers will also curse Adobe’s addiction to rent-seeking behavior. But for actual professionals whose livelihoods depend on these standards, they’ll continue to pay while gritting their teeth. For newbies entering the field, their first exposure to Pantone colors are usually in these digital products. I wonder if they really want to lose that.

Pantone should be careful, though, because Adobe knows all too well when a controlling licensor overreaches. Microsoft and Apple made the TrueType font standard in response to Adobe’s iron-grip control over Type 1 PostScript fonts. TrueType eventually morphed into OpenType, which is the standard for font binaries today. All the same conditions are there—font shapes aren’t copyrightable, but binaries are.

I would be surprised if Pantone gets much traction on their plugin outside people who must use it or lose work. It’s lousy software at a terrible price. Piracy of swatch books will rise, and Pantone will have no one to blame but themselves. Maybe this is the kick in the pants that the print industry needs to tell Pantone to pound sand. Or maybe it’ll just be accepted as another tax on the working designer. Either way, the only color Pantone and Adobe seem to care about is green.

A Visit to the Apple Mothership

Here in Userlandia, be very quiet. We’re hunting dogcows.

Brands. Can’t live with ‘em, and in today's hellscape they don't let us live without ‘em. No one in technological society knows a life without Conglom-O relentlessly bombarding them with WE OWN YOU at every opportunity. Our collective wills are assailed every day by these corporate giants, so it’s no surprise that instead of rejecting the marketing, we embrace it. We love that logo stamping on our human faces forever, and happily ask for more, because we love Big Branding. How else can we convince ourselves that a trip to Atlanta is incomplete without a visit to the World of Coca-Cola, or that the Ben & Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard is a must-see Vermont landmark? Maybe it’s the decades of pop-culture contamination talking, but I find something comforting about the self-serving fictions that companies tell you during a factory tour.

Our story begins back in April, when I was on vacation in San Francisco. It was my first time back in the bay area since the pandemic started, and when planning the trip I realized I had some spare time left over. What could I do to fill a morning before flying back to Boston? Why, I could finally visit Apple’s worldwide HQ in Cupertino, California! It wasn’t that far of a drive from where I was staying, and I could easily make it back to the airport in time for my 3 PM flight. Sounds like a perfect way to cap off a trip.

Apple’s called Cupertino their home since 1977, when they opened their first corporate offices on Stevens Creek Boulevard. As Apple’s profits grew, so did their need for real estate. By 1985 they’d occupied so many buildings along De Anza Boulevard that they could’ve asked it to be renamed Apple Boulevard if they thought they could get away with it. Some buildings like Mariani 1 were built from scratch, while others were leased for quick move-ins. Instead of a beautiful orchard, Apple found themselves working in a patchwork campus with little to unify the company, and Steve Jobs thought Apple could do better. In a Wired oral history, John Sculley told the story of SuperSite, Steve Jobs' plan to bring everyone in Apple together under one roof. Steve dreamed of a campus that was more like a theme park than a headquarters, complete with ridiculous gimmicks like a bona-fide electrified six-car monorail.

Unfortunately for Steve, SuperSite was one of his many grandiose ideas that wouldn’t come to pass thanks to his forced departure in 1985. But even after his exit, there was still a desire to unify Apple’s workspace. Sculley devised a new, less ostentatious plan for a central Apple campus and found the perfect site. Right across the street from their then-current HQ at Mariani 1 was De Anza Park, the former site of Four-Phase Systems. Apple bought the land from Motorola, bulldozed the property, and constructed six new buildings arranged in a ring. With a quad-like grassy field inside the ring, it felt more collegiate than corporate. Completed in 1993, Apple christened the new site Infinite Loop and gave everyone who moved in an office of their own.

One Infinite Loop.

Unfortunately for Sculley, the road to bankruptcy is paved with good intentions. Thanks to Apple’s ever-growing head count, they kept many of the buildings that the Loop was supposed to replace. These real estate assets quickly became liabilities, though, when Apple's bright future began to dim. Burdened by failing strategies, incompetent management, and bad product, Apple needed radical intervention just to stay alive. That’s when Gil Amelio made the fateful decision to buy NeXT on Christmas 1996 and use their technology to build the future of the company. And while buying NeXT gave Apple a superlative software stack, it also came with another important asset: NeXT’s executive staff. People like Jon Rubinstein and Avie Tevanian spent the rest of 1997 methodically slashing budgets, cutting anything and everything to stave off bankruptcy. Hundreds of employees were laid off, dozens of projects were cancelled, and the Mac lineup was streamlined.

Apple’s radical downsizing left them with a lot of empty buildings they could barely afford. With leases expiring one by one, employees of all ranks consolidated inside Infinite Loop. Gil Amelio gave up his fancy office at Cupertino City Center and moved back into Infinite Loop just in time for Steve Jobs to launch a boardroom coup and kick him out entirely. Jobs settled into an office on the fourth floor of One Infinite Loop after assuming the role of interim CEO in September 1997. His initial reaction to Infinite Loop was about what you’d expect—he didn’t build it, ergo he didn’t like it. But his opinion changed during Apple’s increasingly successful comeback tour. Although it’s now in the shadow of Apple’s new spaceshippy headquarters that landed to the east, Infinite Loop still has significance both to Apple itself and to people like me who survived the beleaguered era.

While Infinite Loop isn’t a public Apple theme park, there’s still two reasons for Apple enthusiasts to visit, even if one technically doesn’t exist anymore. The first is Apple Store Infinite Loop, which used to be Apple’s company store. Many large faceless corporations have a company store selling tchotchkes of middling utility—apparel, sports gear, office supplies, and such. My personal favorite is Boeing’s at their factory in Everett, Washington. Where else can you buy a 747 t-shirt and an easy chair made out of an engine cowling? Some day I’ll work up the courage to spend three grand on that chair—some day.

The Apple Company Store of the nineties bore little resemblance to a modern Apple retail store. It was very much like other company stores selling branded merch to employees and visitors. You could get an Apple logo on pretty much anything from telephones to teddy bears to tote bags. The Company Store served this role until 2015 when it was closed, gutted, and rebuilt as a modern Apple retail experience. Even though Apple Infinite Loop might not look different from the Apple Store at your local mall, it still owes some of its soul to the old Company Store thanks to specially branded merchandise that isn’t available anywhere else.

The Apple Store at Infinite Loop

If you ever wanted a pen that perfectly matched the color of your MacBook Air, or a coffee mug or steel water bottle with an Apple logo, you're in luck. I picked up one of the canvas sketchbooks—in classic beige, of course. Thirty bucks for a half inch of smooth 60-to-80 pound 8x10 paper is a wildly overpriced alternative to a ten-dollar spiral bound drawing pad, but… eh, Apple tax, what're you gonna do. Meanwhile, the other side of the wall had the real cool stuff: T-shirts! Infinite Loop’s Apple apparel appeals to maniacal Macintosh mavens, with designs evoking eras long past. There’s a couple modern designs, like the "Mind Blown" emoji, but by and large these shirts look like they came straight from the nineties. Apple and the T-shirt are inseparable—there’s even a whole book chronicling the history of Apple-related T-shirts. I don't normally talk about clothing, but hey—it’s from Apple, it's soft, and you wear it. Good enough, let’s go.

A quick note: My own photos of the shirts had some issues, rendering them unusable for this segment, apparently. Please forgive me, 9to5mac, for, uh, borrowing yours.

  • Logo Infinite Loop. A large Apple logo along with Infinite Loop in white Apple Garamond Italic. This is a classic Apple shirt design and a must have, especially in black.

  • 1 Infinite Loop Cupertino Rainbow. More Apple Garamond Italic, but each line of text is a different color of Apple’s rainbow, along with a smaller Apple logo. If Logo Infinite Loop’s big Apple logo is too much, this is your alternative.

  • CUPERT1NO. The letters of the word Cupertino are arranged in a grid of white uppercase Apple Garamond. A gray numeral 1 replaces the letter I, which matches the gray “Infinite Loop” text below. Neat design, yes, but as someone who's actually designed shirts in his day, I think it'd look better on a poster.

  • Mind Blown Emoji. You can do better than an emoji. Skip it.

  • Hello. The latest version of the Macintosh’s Hello script as seen in the M1 iMac’s introduction. If you like subtle shirts, this is your pick. Mac fans will nod in approval, everyone else will just think you’re friendly.

  • Cupertino Script. The word “Cupertino” written in the same script as Hello. Same vibes as Hello, but even stealthier.

  • Pirates. An homage to the famous pirate flag that once flew above Apple HQ. The white variant has an emoji-style Jolly Roger flag, while the black version has a big skull and crossbones print on the chest. The eyepatch is a rainbow Apple logo, and printed on the inside neck is the famous Jobs quote “It’s better to be a pirate than join the navy.” The black version is a must have for any classic Apple fan.

  • Icons. A grid of Susan Kare’s legendary classic Mac OS icon designs are printed all over this shirt. There’s a spray can, stopwatch, command key, Apple logo, happy Mac, and even a bomb. A perfect match for the Classic Mac OS nerd, though the all over print is a very loud design. Whether or not Susan Kare is actually getting royalties for Icons, Pirates, or Hello, she deserves them.

While picking out these shirts, I was assisted by one of Apple’s retail employees. His name was Philippe, and we had a good time chatting about my visit to IL-1 and the various T-shirt designs. Folks like me who come by for a bit of the unique merch and seeing where it all happens aren’t uncommon, and Phil was a pro about it. He had stories about how he got into tech—his dad worked down the road at Sun Microsystems and he grew up surrounded by computers. We had a great talk about my time in the graphics industry and about this very blog, site, podcast—whatever. Hi, Phil! Thanks for listening! After paying for three T-shirts and a sketchbook, my time at the store was done. Now I was ready for the other reason I came to Infinite Loop.

Searching for Clarus

Clarus in the Garden

Clarus roams the garden.
Photo: George Sakkestad, Cupertino Courrier

A small park lives at the corner of Infinite Loop 1 and 6. It’s somewhat larger than the other green spaces around the Infinite Loop buildings, with a concrete walkway and some trees dotting the interior. There’s not much to see there, save for those trees. Probably most people who head to the Apple Infinite Loop store walk right by this little patch of greenery without knowing its significance. But for longtime Apple employees and diehard fans who suffered through the bad old days, this otherwise unassuming park means just a little bit more.

Yes, this field is the former home of the famous—or maybe infamous—Icon Garden. As the legend goes, the government of Cupertino asked Apple to contribute to the beautification of their fair city. When Infinite Loop opened in 1993, Apple honored the city’s request by installing twelve foot tall sculptures of pixelated icons from Mac OS and MacPaint. Whether or not larger-than-life versions of icons like a paint bucket, the stopwatch, and Clarus the Dogcow count as art is open for debate, but it was good enough for the city of Cupertino. Thus, the Icon Garden was born. During its five years of existence the Garden was a place of pilgrimage for Apple acolytes—their way of paying homage to the whimsy that made them fall in love with a computer in the first place. This was when I was a teenager, so I only knew of the Garden through the pages of Mac magazines and Apple fansites. Taking a trip to Silicon Valley was out of the question, so I had to make do with an online QuickTime VR tour.

A morning stroll along the Garden.
Photo: Steve Castillo, Associated Press

But change was in the air with Steve Jobs’ return to Apple, and no dogcow was sacred. Employees arrived at Infinite Loop one morning in May of 1998 to find all the Icons missing from the Garden. Various theories and explanations as to why Clarus and company went AWOL emerged over the years. One Apple spokesperson said they were removed for cleaning, which was just a deflection. Another answer is from former Apple employee David Schlesinger, who said he cornered Steve at a company party and demanded an answer. Schlesinger posted the following in a Quora answer back in 2015:

“[Steve] admitted he’d had it done, he found them too pixellated, and that they were at that point sitting in a warehouse in Santa Clara.”

That’s a cromulent answer, but I think we should look at it from Steve's perspective. When Steve Jobs and Bill Gates were at the 2007 All Things Digital conference, the subject of righting the good ship Apple came up. Steve’s response is one found on many SEO content farm famous quotation pages today.

“And, you know, one of the things I did when I got back to Apple 10 years ago was I gave the museum to Stanford and all the papers and all the old machines and kind of cleared out the cobwebs and said, let’s stop looking backwards here. It’s all about what happens tomorrow. Because you can’t look back and say, well, gosh, you know, I wish I hadn’t have gotten fired, I wish I was there, I wish this, I wish that. It doesn’t matter. And so let’s go invent tomorrow rather than worrying about what happened yesterday.”

While this referred to Steve shipping off Apple’s in-house library and museum to Stanford, which happened in November 1997, it’s the same mentality that deemed the Icon Garden an anchor rather than an inspiration. I can’t fault Steve here, because Apple in that beleaguered era had a lot of problems, and one of them was an unwillingness to make a break with the past. Killing the past was the right thing to do, because Apple’s habit of navel-gazing often turned into abyss-gazing. The company was dying, and it desperately needed to rid itself of bad habits and dead weight. Mistakes like Copland, QuickDraw GX, and OpenDoc were in the past, and if Apple was to succeed, it needed to focus on the future. If that also meant putting away nostalgic memories of happier times, then so be it. With the museum shipped off and the Icon Garden dismantled, Apple set about inventing the future by designing new products to attract more than just the diehards.

And though wild dogcows no longer roam the fields of Cupertino, there have been recent sightings of this endangered species. Yes, Clarus returns in Mac OS Ventura’s page setup dialog box, where she does backflips in sync with your sheet orientation just like in the good old days. New iMacs proudly say hello in Susan Kare script as rainbows shine over Apple once more. Maybe Apple has found the right balance to honor their past without repeating its mistakes. Or maybe it's just a cynical tug at the heartstrings of people like me, diagnosed with a terminal case of retro brain.

The Icon Garden today.

Having paid tribute to an empty field, I hopped in my rental car and took a quick drive around the loop before I left. That’s when I noticed a fun little easter egg. Even though Steve had the icons dragged into the metaphorical trash, some pixelated parts of the past still persist. Each building is identified by a large numeral set in the classic Chicago font used everywhere in the Mac’s interface all those years ago. So although they weren’t technically part of the Garden, these links to Apple's visual past still remain at Infinite Loop. After completing my drive around the Loop, I set a course for across town. I had one more Apple destination to visit before returning to the airport: Apple Park.

The spaceship awaited.

And One Ring-Shaped Building Binds Them

After a short drive down Stevens Creek Boulevard and a left onto North Tantau Drive, I arrived at the Apple Park Visitor Center. With its tall glass walls and a wooden slat roof, you’d be forgiven for thinking “wait a minute, that sounds like an Apple Store.” Congratulations—you’re right! If you’ve been to one of Apple’s flagship stores like Fifth Avenue, then you have an idea of the Visitor Center’s vibe. Unlike Infinite Loop the public isn’t allowed anywhere near the starship, so we have to settle for a shuttlecraft instead.

The majority of the Visitor Center’s floor space is dedicated to the usual tables lined with Macs, iPhones, and iPads. One wall of the store is dedicated to Apple merch, but the selection is different than Infinite Loop’s. Coffee cups and sketchbooks are out, and baby onesies, tote bags, and flash cards are in. The flash cards were amazing, and I regret not having taken a photo of them. They had a set of them permanently mounted to the wall, arranged like a flower so you could see all the individual cards. Unfortunately, they didn't have any sets for sale that day. On the other side of the wall was a selection of T-shirts, three of which—Mind Blown emoji, Hello, and Cupertino script—are carryovers from Infinite Loop. Apple Park’s location specific design is a color or monochrome ring resembling an aerial view of the spaceship with the words “Apple Park” written below.

The T-Shirt Collection at Apple Park.

Forget about that boring Ring design though, because Apple Park is lucky enough to get two absolutely classic Apple shirt designs with Rainbow Streak and Apple Garamond Rainbow. It’s tough to choose between an Apple logo blazing a rainbow across your chest or the classic rainbow Apple lettering—so I bought them both. Odds are you’ll be buying multiple shirts too. It’s hard to say which store has the better shirt selection. Ignoring the three overlapping designs, Apple Park has two absolute killers in Rainbow Streak and Apple Garamond Rainbow. Infinite Loop has two designs that are equally excellent but have more niche appeal: Pirates and Icons. Despite the awesomeness of Rainbow Streak and Apple Garamond Rainbow, I think the nod has to go to Infinite Loop because its location-branded shirts are better than Apple Park’s. Look at it this way—the Ring and emoji shirts are things I expect employees to wear. The One Infinite Loop shirts are far better souvenirs.

Mixed in with the various bits of merch on the wall is a small tribute to iconic Apple designs. Some photos of the Industrial Design Group’s greatest hits are arranged like plaques in a sports Hall of Fame. Superstars like the iPod and iMac G4 are there, of course, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that they've also got journeyman players like the original Pro Mouse and the clear subwoofer from the Harmon-Kardon Sound Sticks. Following these portraits leads you to Caffe Macs Apple Park, where you could take a break for a slice of pizza or a cup of coffee.

We’re waiting on the veteran’s committee to add a plaque for the cinema display.

After perusing the cafe, I climbed some nearby stairs to visit the center’s other big attraction: the observation deck. Some tables and chairs give the hungry Caffe Macs customers a place to sit back, enjoy their coffee or pizza, and take in a scenic overlook. Both the Steve Jobs Theater and the southeast quadrant of the spaceship are visible from this vantage point. It’s not exactly a sweeping vista that rivals the majesty of Yosemite, but it would be a nice place to watch the hustle and bustle around an Apple Event.

The Observation Deck at Apple Park.

As I took in the view of a meticulously manicured monument to Silicon Valley megalomania, an Apple employee came over to talk to me. I don’t quite remember her name—I’m pretty sure it was Stephanie—and she offered to snap a photo of me in front of the spaceship. I accepted and we got to chatting about my quick tour of both Apple campuses. Steph and I wound up having a great conversation about growing up with Commodore 64s. Having what amounts to an Apple Park Ranger on hand is a nice touch.

A Close Encounter of the Apple Kind.

Having seen and done everything I could at the Visitor’s Center, I hopped in the car and headed towards SFO to catch my flight back to Boston. Was it worth all the time and expense to visit the house that the Steves built? I certainly wouldn’t have planned a whole trip around it—flying from Boston to San Francisco just to buy a T-shirt and visit a patch of grass is well outside my budget. But I enjoy visiting San Francisco and the bay area. I’ve hiked amongst the redwoods, I’ve stood at the base of El Capitan, and I’ve listened to the waves in Monterey. Every time I go, I try to do something different, and this time Apple came up on the list.

Touring Infinite Loop also provided a bit of closure for one of my life’s many “what-ifs.” There’s a branching timeline where I could have been an Apple Genius. After I was laid off from a print shop job in January 2007, I spent a few months looking for new employment. In March I saw that Apple was hiring new Geniuses for their new store at the Holyoke Mall. That’s back when the Genius Bar was still something special, so I tossed my résumé into the mix. A few days later one of Apple’s many recruiters reached out for an interview.

It was one of the better interviews I had at the time. Aside from the usual job interview stuff, Apple put prospective Geniuses through a long, forty question test to determine their technical aptitude. I aced the test, even getting five of the six reasons for why a Mac Pro would have no video when four was sufficient. Both the technical and social sides of the interview went well, and then at the end, the recruiter said "One more thing…” No matter how advanced the skills of a potential employee, Apple sent all new technical hires on a two-week all expenses paid trip to Cupertino to instill the values of truth, justice, and the Jobsian way. At that time of my life I’d never been to San Francisco, and a two-week Apple boot camp sounded like a great opportunity. There was only one problem: the Holyoke Apple Store wouldn’t open until July, which was months away. My bank account was getting pretty thin, I had rent to pay, and I wasn’t sure if I could hold out until then.

Until we meet again, SFO.

While talking to Apple I also had an interview with what would eventually be my next employer. It was a job that was available right away and they would cover my relocation expenses so I could move to the Boston area. I said no to Apple, which was the right thing to do at the time. But whenever you make a choice, there’s always that nagging wonder that never goes away. What would my life have been like if I’d taken that two week trip to Cupertino? Maybe I would have been an Apple Store superstar, or maybe I would have turned into yet another jaded Apple employee. In the words of Little Texas, there’s no way to know what might have been. Life’s about making decisions, and you have to live with them—good or bad. Things worked out all right in the end, and now I can put those nagging thoughts out of my mind for good.

If you find yourself in the Cupertino area, stop by Infinite Loop. Technology is the way it is today because of the people that walked its paths, and it’s worth the trip if you’re like me and care about the mythology of personal computing. Or you can buy all the exclusive merch and lord it over your friends. No judgment on that front, because I’m a consumer whore too (and how!). Just make sure to leave a treat for Clarus on your way out.

Oh… one more thing.

With all the time I spent talking about the unique T-shirts offered at these stores, I should at least give an honest review of them as shirts. I admit to being slightly embarrassed over the amount of money I spent on what amounts to wearable corporate advertising—but only slightly. Apple’s obeying the laws of band shirt pricing at $40 apiece, so make sure you’re happy with the fit and style before spending the bills. Or just use the 14 day return policy—that’s what it’s for! I saved one shirt—Infinite Loop Rainbow—to open up at home and document what exactly that $40 gets you.

It won’t surprise you to learn that Apple shirts come packaged just like any other Apple accessory: in a plain white box with a varnished Apple logo. A protective plastic wrap covers the shirt itself, which is easily disposed of in the recycling. No manufacturer’s tag is present, but the shirts are made in China, just like Apple’s computers. The design is silkscreened onto a 100% lightweight cotton shirt, so set your durability expectations accordingly. I’d characterize the fit as athletic or slim, though I’m not sure how differently they cut the larger sizes versus the smaller ones. No size chart was available, and with no demo shirts to try on, you’re flying a little blind if you’re an inbetweener like me. I normally wear medium sized men’s T-shirts, and I’d characterize the fit as “exact.” There’s not much wiggle room, and the sleeves are a bit short. A large would be just so slightly too big, but with this style of fabric you’re better off going a size up if you’re unsure. I was allowed to buy a shirt, try it on, and return it if the fit wasn’t right, so I advise you to do the same if you’re an inbetweener.

Are these shirts worth forty clams? …Eh. The reality is no, they’re not—they’re probably the worst value of anything you can buy at the two stores. And unlike with band shirts, you don’t have the excuse that the extra margin goes to support the group. Even Nintendo doesn’t charge that much at their World Store in Rockefeller Center for a Samus Aran shirt, and they’re one step below Apple on the “we love our margins” chart. This is crass consumerism at its finest. But as bad of a value as they are… they’re infinitely cool. You’re paying for the excellence of the designs, not the shirt they’re printed on. Of course, if you think these are expensive, look how much a vintage Apple Garamond Rrainbow letter shirt goes for on eBay—buying new is actually cheaper. Just pick the one design you really like, make sure it fits, and take good care of it. Whether the money is worth it is between you, your bank account, and how much you love a rainbow Apple.

The 2022 Vintage Computer Festival Midwest Report

Here in Userlandia, my Windows color scheme is Portillo’s Hot Dog.

Hello, Chicago!

Hey everyone, I’m back from the 2022 Vintage Computer Festival Midwest, and I’ve got a mostly off-the-cuff podcast to discuss the ups and downs of the experience. VCF Midwest took place on the weekend of September 10-11 in Elmhurst, Illinois; a Chicago suburb just south of O’Hare Airport. After much prodding by my Chicagoland friend Mark, I booked a flight from Boston to Chicago to get my fill of retro served with a pickle, tomato, and sport peppers.

Despite the words “Vintage Computer Festival,' VCF Midwest isn’t actually related to VCF East or VCF West. Those two are put on by the Vintage Computer Federation, while VCF Midwest is a product of a separate group: Chicago Classic Computing. The two groups are friends that support each others’ events and have no desire to wage trademark war unlike, say, Comic Con International going after shows with “Comic Con” in their name. This is the seventeenth event under the VCF Midwest banner, but its origins stretch back beyond that to various Chicagoland user groups and exhibition orgs in the nineties.

The first thing I noticed about VCF Midwest is that it operates differently than other events. Most conventions I attend require some kind of admission fee at the door—VCF Midwest does not. Most conventions I table at require some kind of table fee—VCF Midwest does not. The show is funded entirely by cash donations, T-shirt sales, auction revenue, and its garage sale. We’ll get to what each of those means in a bit, but this revenue model makes VCF Midwest very much free as in beer. By foregoing any kind of fees or charges, the show tries to uphold the early microcomputer era’s ideals of openness and community.

Mark and I arrived early on Saturday morning—if you consider fifteen minutes before opening time early—and found a nearly full parking lot. Arriving early is important if you’re interested in buying stuff, because the vendor tables will have the most stock at that time. We also had a trunkful of items to donate to the auction, garage sale, and free pile, so we needed to unload the car ahead of prime browsing time. The event takes place at Elmhurst’s Clarion Inn and Waterford Banquet, a run-of-the-mill hotel with attached conference space. When entering the front door you’re greeted with the auction pile, check-in desk, and the vendor’s hallway. A large exhibition hall is divided into four rooms, three of which host the various exhibit tables and a fourth dedicated dedicated to panels.

A very busy opening hour.

After unloading the car and walking around the halls, my impression of the show was a feeling of organized chaos. After years of growth the venue seems to struggle with the number of people that show up on a Saturday. VCF Midwest’s website says over two thousand people showed up over the weekend, and I believe it. People crowding around vendor tables clashed with people streaming in and out of exhibit halls, and navigating the traffic was sometimes tricky. These jams were partially relieved by opening up the movable barriers and creating shortcuts inside the halls. People could cut across from room to room instead of having to exit and navigate the vendor hallway, which helped relieve those bottlenecks. As far as I know there wasn’t a printed schedule or information booklet—not even half-folded xerox copies. Thankfully cellular data was working well and we could check the schedule and exhibit list online.

Sometimes the distinction between exhibitor and vendor gets pretty blurry. Of course VIP guests would sell their branded merch, but I was a bit surprised to see museum-style exhibitions next to a table covered in boxes of random hardware and software. Speaking of that, let’s talk about the various exhibitors and all the neat stuff on the floor.

Exhibits

The exhibition hall was divided into three rooms: “Mostly Micros,” “Youtubers and More,” and “Big Iron.” One brand that had a lot of representation was Silicon Graphics. SGI machines were prominent in two of the three rooms, and seeing an Indigo and Onyx in person was a mesmerizing experience. Some were from System Source while others from Anthony Bolan, and their applications ranged from Maya demos to the requisite Nintendo 64 development kit. A few were running Irix desktops with productivity software and games. Even oddballs like the Tezro were on display. It’s been fifteen years since I’ve touched an Octane, and I still regret not taking it with me when it was retired. These SGI enthusiast groups are frequent guests to VCF Midwest, so if you want to see real SGI gear in person, you’ll want to make the trip.

Meridian Telephony

A Meridian PBX System

A complete office PBX phone system with a Windows NT Telephony server anchored the Big Iron room along with the minicomputers and terminals. Two exhibitors, Dial 1 for IT and The Phone Company & More set up a switched phone network complete with real phones and fax machines. It was connected to the publicly switched telephone network too, so you could dial in with any phone and speak to someone right at the table. This phone setup was the most Rube Goldbergian contraption in the entire hall.

Along with old phones were plenty of old televisions! You might remember from my VCF East report that there’s enthusiast groups keeping old cable TV equipment alive, and one of them was at VCF Midwest. Behind the Screens had two tables chock full of your favorite ‘90s cable TV time wasters. On one side was a Weather Channel broadcasting setup with a Macintosh TV tuned to the forecast. Given that my Macintosh TV is currently inoperable, it was nice to see one working in the flesh. I talked with the fellow behind the table and clued him in to the fact that his Sony remote control could also control the Mac TV. His mind sufficiently blown, he thanked me for the tip and we talked about restoring one of the coolest flawed Macs. Next to their Weather Channel equipment was a Prevue Guide setup running on an Amiga, which was the real hidden gem of the show. The slow scroll of TV listings stopped me dead in my tracks. I haven’t seen a scrolling guide in almost twenty years, yet I felt like I was immediately transported back to my parents’ living room in a Ratatouille-like trance. Other attendees also fell under its spell—I guess that Saturday afternoon “What the Hell is on TV?” vibe is a universal one.

An Amiga 2000 hosting Prevue Guide.

Another great opportunity is experiencing computers and software that may have passed you by, and VCF Midwest had plenty of exhibits to fill in your blanks. Jeff Fetta had two tables full of Sinclair products, like various Spectrum and ZX computers. Another table run by Chris Ellmore had more British computers, including Acorn products. Japanese PCs were well represented, with multiple Sharp X68000s, NEC PC-88s, and a Casio Loopy MySeal. It’s a console… computer… thing? Danielle Herbert AKA thegirlgeek had it running some JRPGs I’ve never heard of with some very cute graphics.

Though Commodore had the most representation of the eight-bit brands, other popular systems of the eighties got their due as well. CoCoFest consumed a whole corner of one room with the largest collection of Tandy computers I’ve seen in one place. Atari users were represented by the funnily named SCAT, or the Suburban Chicago Atarians group. Add the aforementioned British micros and you’ll have hands-on with most of the major players of the eighties.

While there were plenty of IBM compatible computers spread across the floor, Big Blue got a lot of love from Joshua Conboy’s Warped! The end cap of the Mostly Micros room was a celebration of everything OS/2, with boxes, memorabilia, and a PS/2 running OS/2 Warp. Featuring games and productivity software, the display challenged you to experience a “better Windows than Windows.” I gave SimCity 2000 a run, only to find it unplayable because the mouse sensitivity was cranked to the maximum. I poked and prodded everywhere, frantically right-clicking through OS/2’s endless settings windows to find its version of Control Panel. After five minutes of flailing I finally discovered the mouse settings, adjusted the sensitivity, and was ready to go. I tabbed back into SimCity 2000 to build a quick town and, well, it’s SimCity 2000 all right. Other than OS/2 styled menus it plays exactly the same as the other versions. But OS/2 users had one big advantage over their Classic Mac or Windows 3.1 counterparts: if the game crashed, it wouldn’t bring the rest of the computer down with it.

And, of course, the VIPs had exhibits as well. These were personalities like Clint Basinger (LGR), David Murray (8-Bit Guy), and Ken (Computer Clan). Adrian Black from Adrian’s Digital Basement didn’t have a table, but he was roaming the floor talking to people. Mark told him the tale of a Mac Classic he resuscitated thanks to Adrian’s video about the reset line under the sound chip, much to Adrian’s amusement. These were some of the busiest tables at the show, and not just because of the celebrities. Each table had computers or items featured in their videos, which attracted lots of attention on their own. Ken’s NeXT cube got a lot of love, as did Clint’s eMachines iMac knockoff. If you’d never heard of their channels, you’d think they were just like any other exhibitor at the show—and that’s a good thing! But not all exhibitors are there just to show stuff off. Some were there to make some cash, and that’s where vendors come in.

Vendors, Auction, and Sales

Most of the pure vendors were lined up along the main hallway. The majority were people selling various old computers, hardware, and software. Some, like Bonus Life, are vintage resellers that fix machines to sell them at a markup. Others are collectors that are looking to divest themselves of pieces they don’t need anymore. Rounding out the selection are local groups like the Wisconsin Computer Club and the remnants of FreeGeek Chicago.

My favorite vendor that I couldn’t afford to buy anything from was MacEffects. They make the clear transparent Macintosh SE case that you’ve seen floating around. Clear Mac and Apple II cases were in stock, but they one upped themselves with their color cases. The Mac was available in red, green, and blue translucent acrylic, but the real star was the gloss black Apple II case. Unfortunately, gloss black plastic has a huge drawback: it shows every single fingerprint and a feather could scratch it. But for those few moments that you take it out of the box, it’ll be the coolest looking Apple II in the world. Take that, Bell & Howell!

Commander X16

Another favorite was the BlueSCSI team. It’s the hottest hard drive emulator in town, and you could buy your BlueSCSI either as a kit or preassembled. I bought preassembled external and internal versions, and they’ll be perfect for my various SCSI computers. Meeting the team in person further cemented my appreciation for the project, as their infectious enthusiasm comes through at every opportunity. I believe this is their first time tabling at a show, if my vague memories of Twitter are correct. The Commodore-centric group DDI had a full range of MagicCarts for various computers for sale, which allows you to load disk images without much fuss, or create custom ROMs. Seeing old machines and modern hardware working in harmony is the most exciting part of this scene, which is a big reason to go to this show. TexElec’s booth was showing off the Commander X16, which is a new 6502-based microcomputer. Think of it like a modern successor to the Commodore 64. Working examples were showing off games, and as of this writing I don’t know when it will be released. Still, they’ve clearly made a lot of progress.

In addition to actual vendors, the show also had what it dubbed “the garage sale” and “the free pile.” The free pile is exactly what you’d expect: anything there is up for grabs. Make sure to follow the ground rules—no uncool inkjet printers, you should give an item when you take an item, and don’t leave stuff behind when the show ends. Tons of cool stuff flowed through the free table, like a Dutch copy of ClarisWorks, various monitors, busted computers, a box full of webcams, and a pile of round mousepads. Stuff kept showing up as the days went on, so we were constantly checking it for new things. I nabbed a copy of PageMaker 3.0 for the Mac and Norton Utilities for Windows 95. The latter will probably be more useful, but that PageMaker came on 800K floppies which are pretty rare these days. I donated a Linux-based Sharp Zaurus PDA to the free table, and I hope whoever took it makes good use of the parts.

The free pile.

This Sun Server was a standout at the garage sale.

What about the garage sale? When visitors donate an item to the auction, it gets “graded,” which is a fancy term for “we decide if it’s interesting enough to generate a lot of bids.” Stuff that doesn’t make the cut gets tagged with a price and put on the garage sale table. I donated a set of new in box Packard Bell CRT monitor speakers to the garage sale. Mark donated some computers, NAS devices, and other doodads, some of which wound up in the auction. A minifridge-sized Sun server was the standout item, and yes, someone did buy it. Dozens of computers, monitors, accessories, and more moved through the garage sale during the weekend, generating much-needed money to fill the show’s coffers.

Items that do make the grade end up in the Saturday evening auction. Although head honcho Jason Timmons isn’t an actual auctioneer, he played the role so well that I thought he stayed at the Holiday Inn and not the Clarion Inn. Items ranged from voltmeters and oscilloscopes all the way up to an Amiga 2000, with many Macs, PCs, and doodads from every era of computing up for grabs. That A2000 wound up selling for over $500, making it the highest grossing item. A Mac Performa 640 with a DOS Compatibility card netted over $400, while a C64 kit with monitor and extras went for over $300. A particularly grody NeXT Cube, covered in mold and maybe a little bit of rust, went for over $300.

Bidding at the auction.

After several items came and went, something caught my attention. This offering was listed on the auction site as “NeXTCube documentation set (complete),” but that belied its true significance. We’re not talking about a pile of manuals here—this was a 100% complete original NeXT computer accessories box. Before the bids started, they opened up the box and displayed the manuals, warranty cards, disks, and more, but they saved the best for last: a sheet of NeXT stickers. They’re just like Apple stickers, but NeXT! “God Damnit,” I muttered, because I knew I had to have them.

The bidding started at fifty bucks and went up in ten dollar increments. I kept raising my hand as the price went up. Eighty dollars. One hundred dollars. One hundred and fifty dollars. It kept going on as one person kept bidding against me. Someone even pulled the whole “wait for going twice and then bid” trick. Such tactics wouldn’t deter me, though, and I was eventually victorious at the cost of $270. I’m planning on doing a separate post or maybe even a video about the accessory kit. I don’t normally buy things at auctions, but the money directly benefited the show and the odds of finding this again is astronomically low. And yes, those stickers will be stuck on things and given away to other NeXT fans in my orbit.

Panels of Fun

How about the talks and panels? Can’t have a convention without those. The show had one large panel hall, and it was booked solid on Saturday. Another sign of growing pains is that the Saturday afternoon YouTuber panel was so full that we couldn’t get in after returning from lunch. Thankfully the panels were recorded, so I can eventually watch the YouTuber panel… on YouTube. Other panels weren’t as difficult to attend, as the Apple Lisa documentary and Vintage Mac Collecting panels were both held later in the evening. Unlike most small conventions, the audiovisual setup for all the events in the main hall was excellent. Bad AV is an easy trap for small shows to fall into, and the technically minded volunteers nailed it. We’ll see how the recordings come out, but I’m sure they’ll be fine.

Dave Greelish hosted a panel about the Apple Lisa documentary he’s working on. You might think it was a screening of the film, and that’s an honest mistake to make. The panel was about the process of writing and directing a celebratory film about the Apple Lisa. Dave played several clips from interviews he conducted for the film as well as some teaser footage. He even got time with John Sculley, which surprised me. After Dave’s panel was the vintage Mac collecting panel, hosted by Ron from Ron’s Computer Vids and Steve from Mac84. Though its content was targeted towards those entering the scene, it was still a fun time for experts like myself. Slideshow graphics were suitably rainbow colored as the duo covered the earliest Macs up to the end of the beige era.

My award for “panel that surprised me the most” goes to Bill Degnan from the Kennet Classic Computer Museum. “What does it take to start an indie computer museum?” is a very valid question that I didn’t think to ask. I’m unlikely to start my own museum of course, but the answers were fascinating. How do you attract people who are just walking by? How do you keep kids entertained? How do you keep your artifacts from crumbling to dust? Bill matter-of-factly addressed a bunch of concerns and pitfalls that would trap unsuspecting newbies. Even if you’re not going to open your own museum you’ll still enjoy this peek behind the curtain.

Stuff!

I came home with plenty of things. Here they are, in some particular order.

  • A Japanese parallel card. By itself, it’s merely an ordinary Enhanced Parallel Port. I bet it’ll work just fine in any PC. What makes it special is the box! This was an auction item that came at the very end of bidding, and it wasn’t getting much love. I bid ten bucks and adopted it for my collection.

  • A complete-in-box Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball for the Super Nintendo. There was little console representation at this show, but some random vendor happened to be selling this copy of Griffey for ten bucks. He wasn’t at his table, so I left a note and a ten dollar bill under his water bottle saying that I bought it. When I say complete in box, I mean it—the exclusive baseball card is there too.

  • Two BlueSCSI. As mentioned earlier, I bought an internal and external BlueSCSI.

  • IBM Model M Keyboard with built-in TrackPoint. Desktop keyboards with built-in TrackPoints are rare finds, and I bought this one for $60 from someone wandering around the show. I’ll talk more about him later.

  • Free Copies of PageMaker 3.0 for Mac and Norton Utilities for Windows 95. Thank you, free table.

  • A floppy drive for the Toshiba 460CDT. This was from Mark’s collection, since he didn’t have that model of laptop and thought it needed a home with my Toshibas.

  • A Tangerine iBook. Another gift from Mark, since he had a spare in his collection. Fair enough, since I gave him a new old stock Jaz drive!

  • The NeXT accessory kit. Stickers! A hex driver! Magneto-optical disks! This will get proper coverage in a future post. Maybe even a video!

Too Much of a Good Thing

I really enjoyed my time at VCF Midwest. Conventions are fun! It’s great to be around like-minded people, and the variety on display means there’s something for everyone to enjoy. But as the hours went on and Saturday turned into Sunday, I couldn’t shake the feeling that VCF Midwest’s greatest strength—its freewheeling, anything-goes vibe—is also its greatest weakness.

From my selfish attendee point of view, I loved not having to pay an admission fee. But from a sustainability point of view I can’t see that surviving in the long term. If the show gets big enough and the current venue can’t host it, I don’t think they’ll have a choice. The show sustains itself on various kinds of donations, but the downside of donations is that they’re not predictable. Without public knowledge of the show’s finances, I can’t say if charging admission would actually net them more money. A way to keep admissions free would be selling stuff like booster packages. People love being “platinum sponsors” and will pay for the privilege.

Things were much quieter on Sunday morning.

If you’re hungry and don’t want to wait in line, Fry the Coop had delicious spicy chicken sandwiches.

Speaking of the venue, I’d rank it as “fine.” It’s exactly what you expect—no more, no less. I’d rank this Clarion in middle of the pack. If you’ve done a convention at a small suburban hotel, you know exactly the decor, amenities, and facilities available. It’s a thrifty, sensible pick in terms of space, but the number of attendees exposed some weaknesses. Lunch was an issue on Saturday, as the hotel’s cafe was hopelessly swamped by the crowd. It’s designed to serve average hotel visitors, not thousands of people. We wanted to support the venue, but waiting in line a for half an hour wasn’t in the cards. There’s nothing to eat within walking distance, so going out for lunch requires a car, or maybe a call for delivery. A great idea would be to get the venue to partner with a food truck to split some revenue.

When it comes to vendors and exhibitors, I think the show is doing all right. The variety of exhibits is excellent, and that’s largely thanks to the breadth and depth of the community’s expertise. But the experience could be improved by a better organization of actual “exhibitors” versus people looking to sell stuff, sort of like how comic cons separate out “artists” versus “vendors.” I realize they’re working within space constraints of the venue, but ideally people selling random stuff shouldn’t be intermingled with people showing off a collection or a proper exhibit.

Adjacent to vendors is the protocol and organization of the free pile. The ground rules were largely adhered to during the show, but the corner of the hallway that these tables were relegated to wasn’t sufficient for the amount of people and items around it. If the show gets bigger, this won’t work going forward. Some staff observing and tending to the area would’ve been nice. Also, it’s not cool to take stuff off the table with the intent to resell it. I mean, you can, but that’s not the spirit of the free pile.

When it comes to vendor etiquette, the freewheeling chaos had its pros and cons. One pro is that there were plenty of people willing to make deals, but Mark commented that everything was more expensive in general. Retro and vintage computing is in the midst of a bubble, and prices are outstripping inflation by quite a bit. One vendor didn’t even put prices on the product, as when I inquired about a few computers his response was “How much are you offering?” He was the exception, but most people tend to negotiate down from sticker price. Making customers name prices isn’t the way I would do business.

One reason events charge for tables is so they can vet and control who’s selling stuff at the show. Unofficial buying and selling goes on at shows of all sizes, but the spirit of VCF Midwest is that if you’re not an official vendor, the stuff you want to unload should go into the auction or garage sale. One person didn’t get the memo, though. When the show was opening up in the morning, someone was wheeling in a tub of keyboards. I assumed he was one of the official exhibitors unloading his stuff in to set up. He offered to sell me a keyboard at a low price in exchange for watching his stuff, and I took him up on it—that’s how I got the Model M. But after he finished bringing in his computers, he said he was looking for some space to set up, and eventually just started walking around the show with his items in tow. I told him that he should put his computers into the garage sale, but he demurred, saying he needed the money. I don’t have a problem selling stuff to make money, but there’s a social contract with this particular show. If you don’t have a table, put your stuff in the garage sale. It’s the right thing to do in the absence of a consignment room.

The Show Must go On

I don’t want to leave you with a negative impression of the show—I had an excellent time. The overall atmosphere is welcoming and enthusiastic. The problems I mentioned earlier are really just growing pains, and I have full confidence that Jason and his crew will address said pains. Everyone wants the to succeed, and the new people coming into the fold are making the community more vibrant. A successful event means more people get a chance to share their love for computing, and that’s what the goal should be.

If you’re asking yourself “Should I go to VCF Midwest?” I would say yes, yes you should! I had a great time hanging out with people I knew and making some new friends. Sure, it’s nice seeing a particular computer for the first time, but talking to the person who brought it is nicer. Don’t forget to bring some contributions for the auction and the free pile, too. I only hope that it’s able to cope with its growth in a sustainable fashion. I don’t envy Jason and the organizers’ predicament. YouTubers and podcasters posting trip reports only increase the demand. Unfortunately most of that demand gets funneled into Saturday, as Sunday was noticeably less busy. Having some more events on Sunday might even things out a bit. I’m sure I’ll be back there next year, and I hope to see you there too. I look forward to what the VCF Midwest crew will do to make the show even more entertaining.

The Compaq ProLinea 4/33 - Computers of Significant History, Part 3

Here in Userlandia, I think I’m a clone now.

Welcome back to Computers of Significant History, an analysis of the history of computing in terms of how it affected the life of one writer/podcaster. In previous episodes, we looked at two pivotal computers from 1983, when I was a baby. Now let's jump forward to 1993, when I was in grade school. The unpredictable and chaotic market for personal computers had settled into a respectable groove. IBM compatibles were number one in home and business computers, with the Macintosh plodding slowly behind them. High powered RISC workstations from Sun, Silicon Graphics, IBM, and Hewlett-Packard had completely overtaken the high end of the market. Commodore was in a death spiral, and Atari had already crashed and burned. Acorn hadn't dropped out of the desktop market just yet, but was finding more success in licensing their ARM architecture for portable devices. Other companies had switched to making their own IBM PC clones… if they hadn't given up on computers entirely. If you wanted to replace your aging Eighties machine, you could get an IBM compatible, or you could get a Mac, or you could sit back and not complain because there were starving children in other countries who didn't have any computers at all.

Jack Welch, recurring guest on the hit TV show 30 Rock. Boo this man.
Attribution: Hamilton83, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

As I mentioned a few episodes back, my family kept a Commodore 64 as our primary computer until nineteen ninety-seven. Actually replacing the old Commodore was difficult from a financial standpoint despite its growing obsolescence. True, that old C64 was becoming more obsolete every day, but two thousand dollars—in early nineties money—was a tough ask for a working-class family like mine, because General Electric CEO and cartoonish supervillain Jack Welch was busy destroying tens of thousands of lives in his ruthless quest for efficiency and profit. Not that I'm bitter. Jack started his professional life in my hometown of Pittsfield, Massachusetts, but fond nostalgia didn't stop him from lopping off various parts of the city's industrial apparatus and selling them to the highest bidder. First to go was GE’s electric transformer factory, which was raided, closed, and left to rot. Next in line was the defense business, sold to Martin Marietta for three billion dollars. Only GE's plastics division—which, by pure coincidence, is where Welch got his start—was spared. My father was one of thousands laid off from their well-paying blue collar industrial jobs at "the GE.” My dad joined GE straight out of high school, and 25 years later it was all he knew. He had to scrounge for work, and my mom had to start a career too. My oldest brother was a freshman in college, and tuition was priority number one. Big-ticket items like a new computer were way down the list.

A PS/2 Model 30/286. My own photo, but not my own machine.

When mom and dad can’t open their wallets, enterprising teens look for alternatives. Sometime in the spring of 1997 I rescued an IBM PS/2 Model 30/286 from my middle school’s e-waste pile. My tech teacher discreetly permitted this misappropriation of school property, telling me it was better that I took it than it wind up on the scrap pile. With two whole megabytes of RAM and a whopping great 10MHz 286, that machine could run Windows 3.1… technically. And, technically, you can still listen to music on a hand-cranked gramophone. Running MS-DOS in 1997 wasn’t much of an improvement over the C64 status quo, but there was one thing I could do with the PS/2 that I couldn’t with the Commodore: I could dial into bulletin boards. But those tales are best saved for another day, and perhaps another episode.

The PS/2 and the C64 were uneasy roommates until October 1997, when my uncle made a surprise visit. In the back of his Ford Taurus was none other than his Compaq ProLinea 4/33 with Super VGA monitor and Panasonic color dot matrix printer. He had recently bought a shiny new Pentium II minitower, you see, and the Compaq needed a new home. I was thrilled—I finally had a computer that could run modern software! I didn’t have to stay late after school anymore to write papers in a real word processor. More importantly, the internal 28.8K modem was twelve times faster than the 2400 bits per second slowpoke I’d been using over the summer. I handed the Commodore and PS/2 their eviction notices and installed the Compaq in its rightful spot on the downstairs computer desk.

Next up was a thorough inspection of this new-to-me PC. The ProLinea's exterior was… well, it was an exterior. While Compaq had their own stable of design cues, they’re all in service of maintaining the PC status quo. Sure, there are horizontal air vents and an integrated floppy drive, but Compaq’s desktops don’t stand out from the crowd of Dell, Gateway, and AST. Say what you will about IBM, but at least they have a distinct sense of industrial design. You’re more likely to notice the ProLinea’s height, or lack thereof—it was significantly thinner than the average PC clone. An embossed 4/33 case badge proudly announced an Intel 33MHz 486DX inside, but there’s more to a computer than the CPU. How much RAM and hard drive space did it have? What about its graphics and sound capabilities? None of that can be gleaned from the exterior, and the only way to know was to crack open the case.

The ProLinea’s exterior. A well-worn example seen on RecycledGoods.com.

If you're like me—and, let's face it, if you're reading this you probably are—then you would have done what I did: after a few days of using my new computer, I opened it up to see what was inside. Undoing three screws and sliding the cover off was all it took to gain entry. Compaq utilized several tricks to minimize exterior footprint and maximize internal volume. Floppy drives were stacked on top of each other, the power supply occupied the space behind them, and the hard drive stole space above the motherboard. Beside the hard drive is a riser card, which shaved height off the case by changing the orientation of the expansion slots. Three standard 16 bit ISA slots lived on side A of the riser, and one decidedly non-standard half-height ISA slot for Compaq’s proprietary modems lived on side B. One of the full-height slots was populated with a US Robotics 28.8K modem, which was decent for the time. Four SIMMs of 4MB each lived in four slots for a total of 16 megs of memory. A 240MB Quantum hard drive left the PS/2’s 20 meg drive in the dust.

The slots and ports on the ProLinea.

These were sensible specifications for the affordable 486’s golden age of 1992 or ‘93. Aside from a faster CPU, most 486-based computers had two major advancements over their 386 predecessors: an external SRAM cache and VESA local bus graphics. Unfortunately, there’s no level 2 cache in the ProLinea, which puts a bit of a damper on the 486’s performance. Was this lowering the barrier of entry, or artificial segmentation to push people towards a pricier mid-range Deskpro/I? You decide. At least Compaq included local bus graphics by integrating a Tseng Labs ET4000/W32 graphics chip and 1MB of dedicated graphics memory to the motherboard. Windows performance was more important than ever in 1993, and the W32 variant included Windows graphics acceleration without sacrificing performance in DOS. A lack of cache hurts Excel, but a wimpy graphics processor hurts every application.

But at the time I got this computer, none of that mattered. Cache or no cache, a 33MHz 486 couldn’t hang with a 233MHz Pentium II. Still, it was rare for most PCs to live through the 90s without getting upgrades to extend their lives, and my ProLinea was no exception. I was constantly tinkering with it from the day my uncle gave it to me until its retirement in 2002. After surveying what I had, I prioritized two specific upgrades: a sound card and a CD-ROM drive. Compaq didn’t include any onboard sound in the ProLinea except for the buzzy internal PC speaker. Since the hand-cranked gramophones weren't compatible, you had two choices for better sound: buy an optional sound card or spend even more money on a Deskpro/I with integrated sound I’m sure Compaq would have preferred the latter.

As a broke teenager, my goal was to get some form of sound card and CD-ROM drive without spending a lot of money. In those days, eBay was still just a startup—I’d never heard of it—so that meant a trip to our local used computer store: ReCompute. Located on First Street in beautiful downtown Pittsfield, ReCompute bought and sold all kinds of old computers and parts. The clerk recommended a double-speed Creative Labs CD-ROM drive which connected to—you guessed it—a Creative Labs SoundBlaster. Sound cards back in the day often had ports to connect a CD-ROM drive and companies like Creative sold “multimedia upgrade kits” combining a sound card, CD-ROM, cheap speakers, and software. Sometimes you'd get lucky and get a nice Encyclopedia and a copy of Sam & Max Hit the Road, other times it'd just be a clump of shovelware to inflate that dollars of value sticker.

Before ATAPI, installing a CD-ROM drive into a PC required either a SCSI adapter or a proprietary interface card. There were some sound cards that had cut-down SCSI controllers, but SCSI is overkill for attaching a single CD-ROM drive. If you're selling low-cost upgrade kits, though, every penny matters, so a costly SCSI controller doesn’t make much sense. Luckily, Creative had a margin-padding solution at the ready. Panasonic, the company actually building Creative-branded drives, had their own proprietary CD-ROM interface. It was cheaper than SCSI, used familiar 40 pin ATA cables, and took up minimal board space. Panasonic’s interface lacked SCSI's messy complexity like terminators, so it was simple to install too. Just don’t make the mistake of thinking that Panasonic’s interface was compatible with ATA, even though they used the same cables. The downside to proprietary is that without a matching card—in this case, a SoundBlaster Pro 2.0—the drive might as well be a doorstop. I don’t remember the cost—it couldn’t have been much, honestly—but it was enough that I had to borrow a few dollars from one of my brothers to close the sale.

Then again, you get what you pay for—even if, to 15-year-old me, that was a major investment—and my wonderful bargain of a Creative Combo turned out to be on the unreliable side. It got exasperating, having to fix the speaker jack again and again and again and again. Fortunately, after a rather frustrating year audio-wise, I had both a new 16-bit ESS sound card with wavetable synthesis and a faster 24X ATAPI CD-ROM drive—thank you, birthday and Christmas presents. The 28.8K modem gave way to 56K, which eventually gave way to an ethernet card to connect to a cable modem. Yes, these were all very sensible upgrades, but they’re like adding suspension parts to a car: they’re helpful for handling, but they won’t give the car more power. The ProLinea needed more power, and this brings us to the most momentous upgrade of them all: a Kingston TurboChip.

Kingston’s Air Force ad for the TurboChip.

Based on a 133MHz AMD Am5x86, the TurboChip was a drop-in upgrade CPU that was four times faster than my 33MHz 486. Although it ran at 133MHz, its architecture is derived from a 486 so its level of performance is similar a 75MHz Pentium. At a cost of $100 in 1999, the TurboChip was considerably less money than a new computer. Even though upgrade processors are never as good as a new system, it still gave the ProLinea a much needed boost. A 33MHz 486 barely met the minimum requirements for Office 97 and Internet Explorer 4.0, let alone IE 5.0. The TurboChip breathed new life into the sputtering ProLinea, improving performance in those apps and opening doors to new ones. Somehow this computer managed to play a video of the South Park movie, which I'm sure I obtained legally even if I don't remember precisely how. Such a feat would've been impossible without the upgrades. Where the TurboChip wasn’t as helpful was in gaming. Even a speedy 486 couldn’t keep up with the superior floating point performance of a Pentium. Games like Quake were a choppy mess, but I wasn’t missing that much since I could, uh, borrow my brother’s PlayStation.

TigerDirect ad for another Am5x86-based accelerator. AMD sold these processors to companies like Evergreen, PNY, Kingston, and Trinity Works.

But no matter how many upgrades I stuffed into the ProLinea, time was catching up to the aging PC. No further CPU upgrades were available, and that proprietary motherboard layout with the riser card meant I couldn’t swap in a new board without impractical modifications. The hard drive was slow and cramped and the BIOS complained loudly about drives larger than 500MB. I couldn’t fight reality anymore—I needed a whole new computer. Millions of people across America were facing the same conundrum, and wouldn’t you know it, companies like Compaq were right there waiting to give them a hand. They ranked number one in marketshare from 1994 to 2000, and only disappeared from the chart after merging with HP. But they wouldn’t have achieved that market dominance without the ProLinea. How’d they manage that, anyway? Would you believe… boardroom backstabbing?

…Of course you would.

The Clone Wars

With years of hindsight, it’s easy to say that Compaq would dominate the PC clone world. After all, they started the fire by building the first commercially successful IBM compatible computer that could withstand legal challenges from Big Blue. But that’s the thing about cloning—once you’ve proven it can be done, someone’s going to copy your copy. Compaq handled competition the best way it could: by becoming a leader. Soon it was IBM against Compaq and the horde of cloners fighting for control of the Intel-based MS-DOS ecosystem. Compaq took the performance crown by shipping the first 80386 PC in 1986, showing that IBM was no longer in control of their own platform.

One reason Compaq beat IBM to the punch was that they were iterating on an already proven design. The Deskpro 386 didn’t have fancy new slots and it wasn’t inventing new video standards. IBM, on the other hand, was hard at work on what they believed would be the true next generation of PCs. Announced in April 1987—seven months after Compaq announced the Deskpro 386—IBM’s Personal System/2 was a declaration that Big Blue was still the leader in personal computing. The PS/2 wasn’t just a new PC AT—it was an actual next generation PC platform. It introduced standards that lasted for decades, like VGA graphics and their eponymous keyboard and mouse ports. With such a show of engineering force, IBM was sure that all of those copycat cloners would fall in behind the might of Big Blue. How else could they stay “IBM compatible?”

IBM’s grand plan for regaining control of the PC platform came in the form of Micro Channel Architecture. While Compaq beat IBM to shipping a 386 PC, they did so by using the same 16-bit AT bus—better known as ISA… or eye-sah… however it’s pronounced—found in every other PC clone. Of course, the Industry Standard Architecture wasn't industry standard because it was particularly good. It was industry standard because IBM's Boca Raton dev team decided to publish the specs for anyone to read and copy, royalty-free. The explosive popularity of IBM’s PC and PC AT combined with a royalty-free bus created a fertile field for all kinds of add-in cards. Its open nature also meant a cloner could include ISA slots on a motherboard. But ISA had its limits. With a maximum width of 16 bits and sensitive clock timing, ISA was too slow to take full advantage of the 386. Plus, Installing ISA cards required arcane rituals like setting jumpers or DIP switches to configure memory addresses and interrupt requests—and woe betide you if those settings were hard-wired.

Micro Channel Slots. Attribution: Appaloosa, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

In 1986, shipping a machine with the ISA bus was a smart choice despite its limitations. 32-bit memory could be put on SIMMs or proprietary memory boards and avoid the worst of ISA’s speed penalties while keeping ISA slots free for peripheral cards. Even if a 32-bit bus was available, most peripherals of the era wouldn’t saturate it. For the time being, keeping compatibility with existing cards was the winning move for Compaq. But that wouldn’t always be true—ISA needed to be replaced some day. IBM decided that day was April 2, 1987—the PS/2’s launch—and the boys from Boca thought they had a winner. MCA slots had advanced features like plug-and-play software configuration, 32-bit bus width, and more megahertz for more throughput. But all these benefits came with a catch: MCA used a completely different connector than ISA, breaking compatibility with existing cards. That wouldn’t have been so bad if IBM had included an ISA slot or two in MCA PCs, but MCA was an all-or-nothing proposition. Software configuration required system-specific disks that you’d better not lose, unlike the literal plug-and-play found in NuBus on the Mac or Zorro on the Amiga. But the most aggravating thing of all was that IBM patented Micro Channel. After all, MCA took a lot of research and development, and that didn’t come for free. They thought everybody would line up to integrate this next-generation bus and wouldn’t mind paying for the privilege.

8-bit ISA, 16-bit ISA, and 32-bit EISA cards.
Attribution: Nightflyer, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

It wasn’t long before IBM’s grand plan collapsed under the weight of their hubris. Compaq and the other cloners weren’t willing to give IBM a chunk of money for every machine they built. Instead, Compaq led a group of eight other companies in designing their own 32-bit expansion slot called the Enhanced Industry Standard Architecture, or EISA. Or “Eee-sah.” Still not sure how that’s pronounced. Backwards compatible and royalty free, EISA meant that no one needed to license Micro Channel, and MCA slots never went mainstream. Then again, EISA never went mainstream either; it was mostly found in workstations and servers. Most PCs would have to wait until the arrival of PCI to finally kill ISA dead.

While Compaq was a market leader, they weren’t without their faults. Truthfully, they weren’t that different from Apple in terms of how they pitched and priced their products. Compaq’s main clientele were businesses, power users, and professionals who demanded powerful machines that cost less than IBM’s. Other cloners, like AST, Dell, and Zenith were all competing with Compaq in that same market, but they were more popular in mid-range segments where they were constantly undercutting each other. If you’re too thrifty for a name brand, white-label PCs from places like Bob's House of Genuine Computer Parts, wink wink, or Mad Macy’s Mail Order Motherboards were always an option. Buyer beware, though—most of these small fry lacked the kind of warranty or support that you’d get from a brand name company.

Everything changed when Packard Bell and Gateway 2000 attacked. These upstarts were building computers with specs that could trade blows with the more prestigious companies while selling at white-label prices. Gateway was a mail-order operation, while Packard Bell attacked the growing big-box retail segment. Dell, AST, and other cloners responded by lowering prices and building cheaper PCs. Compaq didn’t, and their balance sheet suffered accordingly. Boardroom battles erupted in 1991 between chairman Ben Rosen and CEO Rod Canion. Rosen wanted Compaq to aggressively pursue the home and entry-level markets, while Canion wanted to stay the course. He was one of Compaq’s founders, and the company had amazing success under his leadership. Compaq was still making money hand-over-fist, so if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?

Compaq's corporate reckoning came on October 23, 1991, halfway through that year's Fall COMDEX. Faced with the company's first quarterly loss, Rod Canion had to take serious action. The next day he laid off over 1,400 employees and then presented an eighteen month plan to attack the entry level market. For most companies this would have been a sensible turnaround plan. But what Canion didn’t know was that Rosen had dispatched a team to Las Vegas to covertly attend COMDEX and do a little recon. That secret team put together an alternate plan that could bring a low-cost PC to market by the summer of 1992—half the time of Canion’s proposal. With his new strategy in place, Rosen and the board fired Canion on October 25th, 1991—the final day of COMDEX.

The ultra-slim ProLinea 3/25ZS as seen in a Compaq brochure.

Compaq’s COO Eckhard Pfeiffer was promoted to CEO and the company poured everything it had into building a new low-cost product line. Announced on June 15, 1992, Compaq’s new ProLinea range of personal computers arrived a month ahead of schedule and with much fanfare for the press. Tech company press releases can get pretty schlocky, and Compaq’s were no exception. A nameless Compaq executive really thought they hit the jackpot with “the Goldilocks strategy” of offering papa, mama, and baby computers. That’s not subtext, it’s actual text! I don’t like this analogy for a variety of reasons, mainly because it’s creatively bankrupt and condescending. I’m sure the nameless executive thought this was their most brilliant idea, even though they fundamentally misunderstood both the setup and moral of Goldilocks and The Three Bears.

Still, you gotta work with what they give you. If the existing Deskpro/M was Papa Bear, the new Deskpro/I was Mama Bear and the ProLinea was Baby Bear. Starting at $899, the tiny two-slot ProLinea 3/25ZS was a warning to other low-cost makers that Compaq was ready for war—price war. Joining the compact ZS series was a bigger three-slot ProLinea S desktop with a 5 1/4” drive bay and options for more powerful processors. If either of those weren’t enough for you, the Deskpro/I and /M were there to satisfy all your power user needs. It was up to you to determine which machine was Just Right… and then eat its porridge and sleep in its bed? My opinion of fairy-tale-based marketing strategies aside, these machines were an immediate hit. Compaq didn’t let off the gas, either—a year later in 1993 they simplified the lineup by retiring the 386 CPUs and ditching the undersized ZS model, so that was goodbye to one of the baby bears. The S model was now the standard ProLinea, featuring CPUs ranging from a 25MHz 486SX to a 66MHz 486DX2. 4 megabytes of RAM came standard, and hard drive sizes ranged from 120 to 340 MB. In addition to all the standard specs, Compaq had a long options list of modems, storage, networking, and multimedia.

A Compaq Ad from 1993 featuring the new ProLinea and Deskpro families.

How much did my uncle pay for his sensible mid-range computer in 1993? I hit the books and found several reviews of the ProLinea 4/33. My old standby of PC/Computing reviewed the 1992 models, which had plenty of useful information, but for accuracy’s sake I needed a 1993 review. PC Magazine’s September 1993 value PC roundup had just what I needed. Roundup reviews like these are a fun relic of the electronics press—a time long past when budgets were big enough that editors could write a bunch of checks to review ten computers at once. PC Magazine staff writer Oliver Rist was generally positive on the ProLinea, citing its competitive performance at a low price along with Compaq’s above-average service and support. His only knock was against the video chipset, which doesn’t really square with the results in the benchmark charts. The ProLinea is right in the middle of the pack for the Graphics WinMark scores, with only a few outliers completely destroying the rest of the competition.

PC Mag’s ProLinea came with 8 megs of RAM, a 240MB hard drive, dual floppies, and a monitor for the cool cost of $2300. That was still a decent chunk of change for a computer, but a year earlier a powerful Compaq Deskpro with a 33MHZ 486DX cost nearly three times as much. Now ordinary people could buy Windows PCs that could run multiple applications simultaneously with an.... acceptable level of performance! Until the machine crashed or froze, of course, because we're still talking about Windows 3.1. Still, you could do a lot worse in 1993 than these PCs.

The ProLinea was step one in Compaq’s multi-point plan for world domination. If the new game was being number one in marketshare, then so be it, they would be number one. First, Compaq changed their sales strategies by adding new channels in addition to their traditional dealer network. The most obvious move was creating a new factory direct sales operation to compete head-to-head with Gateway and Dell. Next, they needed to counter Packard Bell in the growing big box retail segment. Stores like Circuit City, Nobody Beats the Wiz, and even Sears were pushing computers as they became cheaper and more mainstream. Apple Performas and IBM PS/1s were already in stores, and Compaq joined the fray with the Presario in 1993. Originally an all-in-one model, the Presario name grew to represent Compaq’s entry-level retail brand. For a while the same desktops and towers were labeled as ProLinea or Presario depending on whether they were sold in dealer or retail channels, but by the end of 1996, Compaq realized that was silly and condensed everything under the Presario label.

Think about famous computer names—ThinkPad, Macintosh, Vaio. All of those brands conjure up something specific, something emotional. ThinkPad is a black-and-red machine that means business and reliability. Macintosh means style, ease of use, and “it just works.” Vaio evokes cutting-edge hi-fi design and multimedia prowess. When I hear Presario, I think of nondescript beige boxes that were no different than a dozen other PCs. Far more important than the Presario's B-list name was its A-list marketing strategy, though. Compaq’s aggressive marketing combined with just the right level of hardware for the average user meant that millions of people connected to the web for the first time thanks to a Compaq computer. Presario had enough recognition to get some eulogies when HP retired the Compaq and Presario names in 2013. The ProLinea, though... as far as I can tell, nobody cared enough to write an article, or even a press release, about the retirement of Compaq's first entry-level computer brand.

Beige to the Future

I moved on from the trusty ProLinea in the year 2000 when I bought a Hewlett-Packard Pavilion with a 600MHz Pentium III, using my salary as a supermarket cashier. My dad kept the Compaq as his own personal machine, but even his tolerance for slow computers had a limit. He replaced it in October 2002 with a Compaq Presario from Staples—something in the 5000 series that had a white case with transparent gray plastic. What happened to the ProLinea after that? I have no idea. I was off to college at the time, and my younger sister wasn’t far behind. With the last of their children ready to leave the nest, my parents cleaned out the detritus generated by three sons and a daughter. Maybe it went to some e-waste pile, or maybe it was picked up by someone who cared about old technology. Hopefully it was the latter.

Unlike the move from the Commodore to the Compaq, my next PC wasn’t as much of a quantum leap. It still ran Windows, it still connected to the internet, and it still played games—it just did them all faster and with more bells and whistles. By the late 90s most traces of personality were beaten out of most PCs, leaving the workstation makers and Steve Jobs’ resurgent Apple as the only real purveyors of character. I suppose that’s the nature of many mass-market products—a Sony Walkman was a novel idea, and then the portable tape player market slowly grew stale as manufacturers built disposable items at the lowest possible cost. To their credit, Sony kept at it until the bitter end, and they still manage to put a bit of character in everything they make.

A portrait of the author’s uncle as a younger man.

So why does this boring bland basic beige box—which didn’t stick out from the crowd at all—still have a place in my heart? It’s because it was from my uncle, of course. As a microbiologist, he was deeply involved with science and technology. He saw my growing love of computers and tech and wanted to help me towards a career in that field. Yes, he knew I would spend just as much time playing games or surfing online than using it for schoolwork. But that’s OK—just having an environment to explore was enough. The world was growing more connected by the day, and you could get on board, or be left behind.

It’s hard not to look at the millions of Wintel machines shipped during the nineties and ask “where’s the character?” After all, they looked the same, used the same processors, and ran the same operating systems. Few manufacturers innovated and many ended up chasing trends, Compaq included. But the mistake I made was not recognizing that even the most neutral of computers is colored by its user. Every vintage PC I’ve picked up has some story to tell. A machine with bone-stock hardware can have the wildest software lurking on its hard drive. An unassuming beige box can conceal massive modifications. There was nothing unique or special about this particular computer—at least, not until I hot-rodded it with a bunch of upgrades. It didn’t really matter that it was a Compaq—the role could have been played by a Gateway, Packard Bell, or even a Zeos and the show would have gone on. I would’ve upgraded and stretched out any PC I owned, because it’s my nature.

I’ve grumbled quite a bit in various episodes about what we’ve lost from the golden age of microcomputing. I can’t help it; middle-age nostalgia is brain poison, and it’ll infect you if it hasn’t already. But as I’ve gotten back into serious computer history research, my old man yells at cloud instincts have given way to a more pleasant sense of wonder. By itself, a computer is just a steel box with some sand inside of it. Whether it’s a common Compaq or a colossal Cray, a computer can’t do anything without a person behind it. That was true in the eighties during the golden age, it was true in the nineties, and it’s still true today.

So even though Windows was kinda crashy and software never quite worked the way it was supposed to, things in the nineties were a Hell of a lot easier to use than they were in the eighties—and more reliable to boot. Maybe the lack of platform diversity was worse for us nerds, but it was better for society for us to settle down a bit and not introduce mutually incompatible computers every couple of years. All of the criticisms of machines like the ProLinea, and the Presarios that replaced, it were correct. Without this army of beige PCs heralded by Compaq, maybe the world wide web wouldn’t have taken off like it did. Maybe I’ve been a little too hard on beige. But at the end of the day, we all want something that gets out of our way and lets us be who we are. What’s more beige than that?

The New Computer Desk Workshop

From the desk of Userlandia…

When I was a kid, TV and movies told me tales about the study: a mythical room in the house just for dear old Dad. An invitation to a man’s study was an invitation to his inner sanctum, where you would walk among rows of bookshelves, tiny ships in bottles, and elaborately framed artworks. While surely nice in their own right, these were the supporting cast to the real star: the desk. Crafted from cherry, walnut, or mighty oak, a stately desk tied the whole room together. Where else could you build tiny ships in bottles after writing a day’s worth of correspondence? But like most things on television, that study was a comforting fiction. Most American fathers were lucky to have a corner of the garage to themselves. But underneath all that Hollywood varnish was a woodgrain of truth: a good desk is the foundation of your workspace..

After years of making do with merely adequate desks, I was ready to invest in something more substantial. One reason I stuck with merely adequate desks for so long was a lack of space. My previous apartment was pretty cramped—at around 600 square feet there wasn’t much room for fancy setups. I was recording podcasts in the living room and my computer area was just big enough for a table and some shelves. All that changed in February 2020 when I moved to my current place. With double the square footage, I now had a second bedroom large enough to be a home office. There’d even be space left over for my vintage computer collection! A cheap tabletop with legs would no longer be appropriate. It was time for a real, honest-to-God desk.

This Old Desk

As tasteful a design as its name implies.

With all this newfound space, I knew the right kind of desk for the job: a corner-spanning L-shaped workstation. Normally this would be a job for the Ikea Galant system. With modular legs, frames, and tabletops, you could build a Galant desk to your exact specifications. L-shaped? Lovely. U-shaped? You got it. Even an ultra-long wall-spanning horizontal desk was possible, if that was your thing. Any of these configurations could be had at a reasonable price just by mixing and matching parts. Unfortunately for the Galant and its fans, Ikea replaced it in 2014 with the inferior Bekant system. The change wasn’t all bad—Bekant legs and frames are fairly sturdy, and the new sit-stand mechanisms were an improvement over the Galant’s. But the tabletops are thinner and cheaper, the fasteners can’t survive disassembly, and modularity is nowhere to be found.

Without the Galant, there’s no obvious choice for an inexpensive modular desk. Office furniture companies—the kind that sell cubicles—make modular furniture, but the general public isn’t their clientele and they charge accordingly. I scoured the depths of Amazon, Staples, and Wayfair but I couldn’t find a desk that met my requirements. I wanted an L-shaped desk that was at least six feet wide, with equal depth on both the main desktop and the return. I wanted a clear area underneath the desktop so I could move from one side to the other without the desk’s legs getting in the way. Some cabinets or drawers for storage would be great. The ability to easily disassemble the desk when I eventually move would be lovely, too.

Those all sound like reasonable requirements, but the devil is in the details. One of my monitors is a Wacom Cintiq tablet display for creating digital artwork. Thanks to an Ergotron monitor arm, I can pull the Cintiq into my lap for a more comfortable drawing position. But the downside is that the arm clamps to the desktop, which requires an overhanging lip. This eliminated a bunch of contenders which had flush-mounted frames or backing panels that would obstruct the clamps.

A photo from when I acquired this Cintiq in 2014. Note the Ergotron arm hold ing it up.

After I spent days rejecting countless prefabricated desks, I discovered the current trend in homebrew computer desks: the battlestation. I don’t particularly like this name—it sounds like something coined by people who use the term “PC Gaming Master Race” unironically and without realizing the implications. But I’ll grant them the benefit of the doubt and think of it more in the Star Trek sense. These so-called battlestations are usually made by setting a countertop or solid-core door on top of two filing cabinets, adjustable trestles, or steel tube legs. This isn’t a new concept, because tables and workbenches made from simple materials have been around for centuries. Office desks in cubicles around the globe have tabletops set upon filling and storage cabinets. So what’s different?

The most common example of a battlestation-type desk is an Ikea Gerton or Karlby countertop perched on two Alex drawer cabinets. For around $300 out the door, you could have a sturdy desk with ample workspace, weight capacity, and storage to rival $600 options at an office supply store. Of course, that means dealing with Ikea, purveyor of meatballs and stoic Scandinavian design. One catch is that you’re still bound to the whims of Ikea product planners. Ikea’s a global company whose pursuit of margins is legendary. They’re not afraid to rethink existing products to wring out more profit, and even simple countertops can’t escape the Swedish eye. Gerton countertops—made of actual solid wood—were replaced by the Karlby, which is wood veneer laminated to medium density fiberboard. Granted, the veneer is actual wood, and it’s fairly thick too. But laminated MDF can suffer from bowing without support underneath the entire surface. A Karlby is still better than flimsy honeycomb-shaped cardboard sandwiched between particleboard like the Linmon or Lagkapten.

To be kinder to “engineered wood,” solid wood options also have their caveats. Karlby countertops come pre-finished, which can be a real time saver. You can sand and refinish them if you choose, but it’s completely optional. Gertons, like most butcher blocks, are unfinished and require some kind of treatment. Be it stain, oil, or polyurethane, you’ll need something to protect the wood from yourself and the environment, and the finishing process takes time, space, and effort.

Another downside to Ikea is they might not be available to you. Many parts of America and the world don’t have access to an Ikea store. You might also have opinions about Ikea’s less-than-stellar corporate citizenship. Luckily, you can duplicate the battlestation look without going to Ikea. Any home improvement, hardware, or lumber store carries butcher block countertops in a variety of woods, sizes, and thicknesses. While you’re there, you can pick up legs and finishing materials. After that, you can stop at the office supply store to pick up filing cabinets. Even a solid-core door can serve as a nice tabletop if you can’t source a butcher block. Building one of these desks is a great first-time DIY project for a newbie, especially if you only need one of them. Even if you suffer from a mild case of carpenteria like The Lobe in Freakazoid, you can still put one of these together.

I ultimately settled for a hybrid approach for my desk: Ikea’s Alex drawers with butcher block countertops from Home Depot. Since I was building an L-shaped desk, my minimum equipment list looked something like this:

  • Two 6 foot long by 25 inch wide by 1.5 inch deep birch butcher blocks.

  • Three Alex drawers in gray-turquoise.

  • Two adjustable Olov table legs, saved from a previous table.

  • Two wire cable management trays.

  • Finishing materials.

The simplicity of this list undersells the amount of time it took to compile it. My goal here is to present all the information and research I collected during the month-long process of constructing these desks back in summer 2021. The end result is a sturdy, attractive desk that can take a lot of punishment and not fall apart.

Frequently Asked Questions

First, I must state up front that I am not a professional woodworker. All this information is compiled from my best research and advice from people I know who are better at this stuff than I am. I grew up watching The New Yankee Workshop, and Norm Abram’s advice is still the best: Before you use any tools, be sure to read, understand, and follow all the safety rules that come with your tools. Knowing how to use your tools properly will greatly reduce the risk of personal injury. And remember this: there’s no more important safety rule than to wear your safety glasses. You’ll also want to wear nitrile gloves and a respirator when sanding and finishing wood.

Before barreling into the build process, there’s some decisions you need to make. I had a lot of questions while doing my research, and depending on who I asked, I got a variety of answers. Before you spend a single dollar, you need to know exactly what you want to build. Here’s a list of frequently asked questions from myself and others about materials, finishes, and other decision points you’ll encounter when DIY-ing a desk.

Laminate or Hardwood? Most people assume that hardwood is always superior to engineered wood, but there’s advantages and disadvantages to both. The big advantage of laminated surfaces is that they don’t require any finishing. They’re ready to go out of the box, and they’re usually lighter and less expensive. While MDF-type engineered woods can be more susceptible to moisture damage or sagging, they can still withstand a lot of traditional abuse. An extra leg in the center of the back edge can prevent any sagging. While hardwood is more solid and less prone to warping, you’ll need to finish it, and that requires time and space. Speaking of that…

Finished or unfinished? When you go to Lowe’s or Home Depot to check out their stocks of butcher block countertops, you’ll notice that they’re all unfinished wood. That means you’ll need to sand, clean, and finish the entire surface of the block before putting it into service. Finishing is not particularly difficult—if you can build a PC, you can sand wood and apply polyurethane. But this process takes time, and you’ll need to spend a few days finishing the block. If you leave the block unfinished, it’ll be exposed to all the dangers of your environment. Spilled liquids, skin oils, and damp glasses all threaten to damage the wood. Plus, unfinished blocks are at risk for warping in humid environments. Don’t discount the risk of microbial contamination, either. You don’t want a moldy desk, right? Based on all of these factors, I always recommend finishing the wood.

Polyurethane, Oil, or Stain? There’s more than one way to finish wood, and the right one depends on the wood in question and where it’ll be used. Since we’re building a computer desk, we’re more concerned with aesthetics and maintenance. The easiest finish to apply is polyurethane, available in wipe- or brush-on formulas. Oils are next, with tung oil as the most common choice. Lastly, stains have the most color options, but they’re the most difficult to apply and you still need to seal it with polyurethane afterwards. All of these finishes are valid, but you should consider carefully the level of maintenance and curing time required for each of them.

  • Polyurethane: The easiest and fastest method to seal the wood and get it in service is a polyurethane finish. If you have a steady hand, you can use brush-on polyurethane to minimize the number of coats required to seal the block. An even easier method is wipe-on polyurethane, which can be applied with rags, applicator pads, or sponge brushes. Since wipe-on poly is thinner, it’s easier to apply a smooth, even coat of finish to the wood. That ease comes at a cost of money and time. Wipe-on poly is more expensive per quart and it usually takes three coats of wipe-on to get the same thickness as one coat of brush-on. You need a minimum of one coat of brush-on or three coats of wipe-on for the display side of the desk. Two or three coats of brush-on or six coats of wipe-on would be even better.

  • Oils: Most butcher blocks are installed in kitchens, therefore finishing discussions usually revolve around withstanding the abuse of knives and food safety. Oils are most frequently used in those environments since they’re easy to apply and food-safe. However, I recommend against oil finishes for desks. One reason is that most drying oils take a long time to properly cure, and most people aren’t willing to wait a month for a full cure. Another reason is that they require maintenance. Some oils require wipe down refreshes every few months, while others are once a year. Lastly, some oils like mineral oil are not “drying” finishes and can transfer to items set on the finish for a very long time. Mineral oil finishes are great for an actual countertop or cutting surface, but not so much for a computer desk. Oil finishes look beautiful—just be aware of the time and maintenance involved.

  • Stains: A stain can bring out the best in a wood’s natural character, but there’s many to choose from and applying consistent coats is difficult. Some types of woods are more receptive to staining than others. Stains can be tricky to apply for newbie finishers. If you want to take the time to stain, then go ahead, but be mindful of the block manufacturer’s recommendations. Also, all stained surfaces should be protected by a clear topcoat, so don’t forget to include that in your time and effort budget. Three coats of wipe-on polyurethane should be sufficient for a sealant.

How shiny should the finish be? I prefer a satin or matte finish. This is entirely a personal choice, but I think a glossy desk would be distracting.

What about pre-finished butcher blocks? You can definitely buy a pre-finished butcher block. Local woodworking businesses often sell pre-finished countertops or worktops, and home improvement warehouses offer pre-finished blocks shipped to your door. I recommend dealing locally if you’re going this route, as shipping with a carrier like UPS can end in tragedy. I ordered a pre-finished block from Home Depot and it arrived chipped and cracked due to shipping damage. You’ll pay a hefty premium for a professionally finished block, but that premium saves you time. An unfinished six foot birch block from Home Depot cost me $180. A stained and sealed six foot maple block from a local hardwood dealer in the greater Boston area would have cost $460. If you don’t have the time or space to finish things yourself, that might be a price you’ll have to pay—only you can decide.

Drawers or Legs? Just because the average Reddit battlestation uses filing cabinets doesn’t mean you’re forced to use them.  If you’re on a tight budget and are willing to sacrifice some storage space, you can save considerable cash by getting table legs from hardware or home improvement stores.

Consider that Alex drawers are $80 $90 to $110 per set, and you’ll need two to hold up a desktop. The various Alex knockoffs aren’t much cheaper, and quality metal file cabinets can be pricey. A set of four adjustable metal legs is only $40 from the home improvement store. Even if you need a fifth leg for extra stability, that’s still a considerable cost savings. The downside of using legs instead of drawers is that you sacrifice a lot of storage space, which you might find useful for a computer desk. Mixing and matching is always a possibility, so see what you can build within your budget.

The Finishing Line

After acquiring all of the necessary ingredients, I was ready to start building. Assembling the Alex drawers was easy enough—if you’ve built one Ikea product, you’ve built them all. The real test was finishing the desk tops. If you’re like me and don’t have a workshop, this can be a little tricky, but I still made it work, and you can too! I’m an amateur woodworker at best—I learned the basics from Sunday mornings with my grandfather in his basement workshop. It just takes time, patience, and a willingness to learn. Remember those warnings I gave you about tools and safety, and remember that this is just one nerd’s DIY advice.

Step one: Prepare your work area. I constructed a makeshift workbench out of a folding table, PVC pipe fittings, and no-slip rubber mats. The fittings kept the counter off of the folding table, and the no-slip rubber mats kept them from marring the block’s surface. Big box fans placed in the windows worked as my exhaust ventilation. Use some newspaper or drop cloths to save your floors from any spilled or dropped finish. Don’t forget to wear clothes that you won’t mind getting dirty and don your safety gear. A respirator mask, eye protection, and nitrile gloves are highly recommended.

My makeshift work area.

Step two: Prepare your countertops. Check the spec sheet that came with your block to see what level of sanding needs to be done. In my case, I used 220 grit sandpaper to sand along the grain of the wood. The block should feel nice and smooth when you’re done. Disposable sanding blocks or sponges make sanding easy, so don’t skip it. When you’re finished sanding, you’ll need to clean up all the dust you created. Use a vacuum cleaner with a soft bristle attachment to suck up any wood dust, and then wipe down the block with a damp tack cloth. You can use mineral spirits, but a dry lint-free cloth worked well enough for me.

After sanding, make note of which side of the block has the least amount of knots, dings, and flaws in the wood. The cleanest side should be the actual desk top, and you’ll want apply more coats of finish to that side.

Step three: Applying the finish. This is for sure the longest and most difficult step, depending on what you’ve selected for a finish. I chose satin wipe-on polyurethane for my blocks because I wanted an easy to apply finish with a smooth, muted character. Remember: three coats of wipe-on poly equals one coat of brush-on. Wipe-on poly is easy to apply, but the extra coats and drying time adds up. Since I wasn’t in a rush, wipe-on was fine with me.

You want the polyurethane container stirred, not shaken—sorry, Mister Bond. Don’t pour the finish straight from the container onto the block—that’s a rookie mistake. Do pour the polyurethane into something sacrificial, like a plastic bowl. Next, rip up some clean white cotton t-shirts to make some applicator rags. Fold one up into a square, gently dip it into the bowl, and apply the finish along the grain. You want to channel Mister Miyagi here—wipe it on, then wipe off the excess in broad, overlapping strokes. Double check for any missed spots by using an overhead lamp, and don’t forget to finish the side of the block along with the top. Pretty soon you’ll have your first coat finished, and it’ll take about one to two hours for that coat to dry. Before applying the next coat, lightly sand the surface with a fine grit sandpaper block and wipe down with a dry lint-free cloth to remove any dust. This light sanding is optional, but it helps the finish stick and avoids high spots.

If you’ve never worked with wipe-on polyurethane before, make sure your environment is well-ventilated and that you use a fresh applicator or rag for each coat. When you’re done with the coat, take the rag and lay it flat outdoors so it can dry and cure. We’ll talk about rag disposal later, but remember: never ball up wet rags, don’t store wet rags in an enclosed space, and don’t layer wet rags on top of each other.

A fully finished, cured block ready to go into service.

One day and six coats later, the top and sides were finished. I debated on whether or not to finish the bottom side. It is technically optional, but in the end I spent the extra time to do it. I only applied three coats to the bottom, but hey, it’s still finished. After I finished finishing the finish, I put the first block aside in another room for twenty for hours to allow the finish to completely cure. That freed up my workspace so I could start finishing the second block.

Once the finish was cured, it was time for Step Four: the final touches. Before setting the block on to the cabinets, I rubbed down all the surfaces with a folded paper grocery bag. This was an old trick I learned from my grandfather. Paper bags have a texture similar to ultra-fine grit sandpaper, and they’re great for polishing off any remaining high spots or dust bits. With both blocks finished, it was time to actually put the desk together. Joy!

But before I do that, I needed to clean up my work space. Make sure you follow the instructions provided by your finish’s manufacturer and dispose of all of your materials properly. If you’ve never done finishing work before, remember this: never ball or pile up oily rags, and don’t store them near flammable material! Always take your rags outdoors, unfold them, and either hang them up or lay them out on the ground to dry. Polyurethane rags are usually cured stiff and safe to dispose after twenty four hours or so, but other finishes might take longer. Why is this important? Most oil-based finishes like stains, penetrating oils, and polyurethanes cure via an exothermic reaction—meaning the oxidization that hardens the finish generates heat. If those rags are piled on top of each other or balled up in a container, the heat generated by the oxidization has nowhere to go. A few hours later, this heat can reach the flashpoint of the oily material—like cotton rags—and cause spontaneous combustion. The last thing you want is a fire, so be careful! Consult with your local fire or hazardous waste department for the best way to dispose of used finishing rags. I also suggest following the Dry, Dunk, Dispose method preached by UL if you can. Also, for the love of God, don’t pour polyurethane, mineral spirits, stains, and so on down your household drain.

Fully Armed and Operational

Most battlestation builders are done when their countertops are fully cured. Lay the block on top of two filling cabinets, and ta-da, your desk is ready for action. But one of the advantages of DIY is that you can modify and customize things to your liking, and my L-shaped setup needed a few fixtures before entering service. First up was a pair of legs to support the inside corner of the L. Some pilot holes and a few screws later and they were securely fixed to the block. Next was a cable management guide, again easily attached to both blocks with a few screws. Finally, I cut some no-slip shelf mats—the kind you use in cupboards—to put between the blocks and the drawers. These mats keep the countertops from moving or shifting on top of the drawers, though nothing is stopping you from screwing the blocks into the drawers for an even firmer connection. I chose not to connect the two halves of the L together with brackets, but you can if you like.

After a week’s worth of shopping, assembly, preparation, and more, the desks were finally complete. I understand why people who put these together swear by them—they look and feel great. The clear satin finish brings out the woodgrain’s understated character—a perfect match for my New England sensibilities. Combine that with the dark turquoise drawers and the whole package has an eye-popping contrast that looks stylish and professional.

Now that’s what I call a desk.

No desk would be complete without the items it was built to hold. An L-shaped desk is easy to divide into two workspaces: one side for my work computer, the other side for my personal one. I could have just tossed my monitors and computers on the desks and called it a day, but I wanted to make things look and work even better than before. If I was going to spend the time and effort to do this, I should do it right.

One element that elevates the style of any computer desk is monitor arms. I was already a fan of VESA-mount arms thanks to the Ergotron arm I use with my Wacom Cintiq, and I wanted to bring that level of flexibility to the rest of my displays. Most monitor arms clamp to the edge of the desk, and this frees up valuable desk space occupied by traditional stands. They also tend to have more freedom of movement in all three axes. Built-in cable management disguises unsightly wires and keeps your desk clutter-free. Plus, they just look cooler than the cheap, plasticky stands most monitors come with these days. Even a Monoprice monitor arm looks better than the sorry excuse of a stand LG ships with their very expensive monitors. That’s what I wound up buying, by the way—the Monoprice arms are doing a great job for just fifty bucks a piece. They even support my 34 inch 5K ultrawide with no complaints. Of course, clamps aren’t just for monitors, either. iPad holders, ring light poles, and webcam scissor arms all easily attach to the edge of the desk. Don’t underestimate this ability, because it helps keep your working surface clear for the stuff you actually need to work on.

Maintaining a polyurethane finish is super easy—just wipe it down with a damp cloth. Got a scratch or a nick? Some clear acrylic nail polish can fill in flaws, and once it’s dried just polish up the fixed area using those brown bags or ultra-fine grit sandpaper. A great way to keep your desk free of marks and dings is to use a desk mat. Just like blotters or those big desk calendars back in the day, desk mats keep your keyboards, mice, and pens from mucking up your finish. Plus, they act as giant coasters, so they’re perfect for the requisite cups of coffee or other beverages that you’ll have by your side.

Why Build One When You Can Build Two For Twice The Price?

So how much damage did this do to my wallet? Here’s the cost of the materials for the desks:

  • 2x Hardwood Reflections Butcher Blocks: $180 each ($229 as of this post)

  • 3x Ikea Alex Drawers: $80 each ($90 for white or $110 for turquoise in 2022)

  • 2x Ikea Olov legs: $15 each (I already had them, but I’m listing the price anyway)

  • 2x Ikea Signum cable management guides: $15 each ($20 in 2022)

  • Finishing materials (wipe-on poly, rags, mineral spirits, disposable drop cloths, spacers, anti-slip mats, sandpaper): $50

That puts the total around $710 before tax for an L-shaped setup. That was back in 2021, and I’m betting prices have only gone up. If I built a single desk, it would have been more around $400. How does that compare to a prefab option from Amazon, Wayfair, or an office supply store? Amazon and Wayfair carry everything from Ikea knockoff garbage up to real wood office furniture, but anything within the $3-400 price range is going to be laminated MDF, sometimes of dubious origin. Office supply stores have more recognizable brand names, like Sauder and Bush, but you might not like their staid, boring style. It’s hard to argue with the value here If your time and budget allows for it. Another popular alternative is Husky workbenches, usually sold at home supply stores. You can buy a pre-finished top and use your own legs or frames, saving you time as long as you like a natural finish. Husky is even making kits targeted towards desk use—and they’re very affordable.

Overall, I’m very satisfied with the setup. I’ve never had something that felt so solid—I’m used to particleboard or MDF desks with flimsy frames. The amount of workspace is similar to what I had at my office job for a long time. But I don’t think I would have been as satisfied if I didn’t attach all my monitors to VESA arms. The amount of desk space that monitor arms free up can’t be underestimated. If you’re going to commit to this style of desk, you should plan on using VESA arms as well. You don’t need the most expensive Ergotron arms unless you are constantly moving your displays around. Monoprice is good enough for the price.

One last point that got me to open up my wallet and put in my time to do this was the knowledge that I could hold on to these for the long haul. These desks are super simple to take apart—just pick up and move the components. I don’t have to worry about losing screws or brackets or bits. When I eventually move, these desks aren’t getting torn apart or sent to the thrift store—they’re keepers. Overall, this setup is an easy way to get a great desk for your dollar. It works well in a modern workspace or a retro environment. You don’t even have to buy new to do this—you can pick up used cabinets and old tabletops to build these on the cheap if you want to match your vintage computer equipment. The only limit is your imagination.