At this year's VCF Midwest festival, Ron (@Ron's Computer Videos) and Steve (@Mac84) presented an introduction to PowerBook 100 series collecting. It was informative, thorough, entertaining, tailored well for the audience, and of course doing Father Sculley's good work and spreading the Gospel of PowerBook. Praise be!
However, toward the end of the talk, each shared which models he recommended for new collectors, and which models he suggested new collectors avoid. And for both, the PowerBook 100 was a model to avoid.
Ron and Steve were clear about why, and I get it. For the collector who is new to PowerBooks, who simply wants a machine requiring minimal effort to enjoy, the 100 is probably not a great option. Frankly, it's a headache. It suffers greatly from capacitor leakage on both the logic board and display board, leading to a whole range of head-scratching trouble-shooting sidebars. This and other forums are full of threads of epic repair journeys - and not all of them are successes. The 100 also requires an external floppy (which can be difficult to find), has no video-out, no audio-in, and - compared to any other PowerBook model - it's slow.
So, yeah, from a purely pragmatic perspective, they weren't wrong. But I'd like to offer a counter-point.
I propose the following: collecting, owning, and using vintage computers isn't about pragmatism; no, this hobby is about attraction and desire. I know some of us don't think about ourselves as the emotional type, but if we're being honest, we seek, collect, and use these silly old things because there's something that tugs at us. It's going to be different for each of us, but it's there. And if there's one PowerBook that's most liable to engender an emotional attraction and attachment, it's the 100.
Here's my story. Since I became aware of the PowerBook 100, perhaps 20 years ago, I've wanted one. It was a PowerBook, but it was also as much a Portable, a transitional machine that brought Apple's portable computing into the 1990's. It was what the Portable should have been, finally giving Apple consumers what they actually wanted and not what Gassée told them they wanted. Moreover, it gave a lot of non-Apple consumers what they wanted from a portable computer too, being a massive initial success despite microscopic marketing budget.
The 100 is also different from the rest of the family in the best ways possible - unlike the 150, which is different in the worst ways possible (sorry Ron). It's smaller and lighter, has those cute little dials for the brightness and contrast, a super weird SLA battery, those oddball backup batteries with their oddball little door, a storage switch like it's some kind of supercar, and the risers with the auto-extending feet... It's just a funny little duckling, there's nothing else like it and I love it.
And, sure, the 100 quickly became a failure, ultimately being discontinued less than a year after its release. And, okay, it is not as 'useful' as a 165 or 180 with their display ports and a easy-to-rebuild batteries. And, yes, the damage the caps can wreak on 100's is vast and makes repair and restoration daunting even for the more experienced among us. I appreciate my other PowerBooks as well, my 180 especially, for these very reasons.
But the 100's brief, mercurial existence on the store shelves makes it all the more interesting, as does its minimalism. It's still a more capable machine than the Classic or even the LC, fun fact (or so I'm told). And the repair journey, for those of us up to the challenge, is one of the more rewarding among 68k Macs, up there with the Portable, SE/30, and IIci. To emerge through a successful restoration (aided with a bit of luck) makes owning and using a 100 all the sweeter.
So I agree with the idea that the 100, on paper, is not going to be the easiest or most usable PowerBook you can collect; this is not a diss track. But - BUT - I would encourage anyone who wishes to collect more than something merely easy and useful, and instead desires to rescue a machine with legacy and character to consider the PowerBook 100. If you are lucky enough to have a restored and working example, like the one I'm currently writing this post on, I can assure you it feels like more than another Mac on the shelf. It feels like an old friend.
(edited for @'s and accents. Link to Ron and Steve's great talk at VCFMW 18:
)
However, toward the end of the talk, each shared which models he recommended for new collectors, and which models he suggested new collectors avoid. And for both, the PowerBook 100 was a model to avoid.
Ron and Steve were clear about why, and I get it. For the collector who is new to PowerBooks, who simply wants a machine requiring minimal effort to enjoy, the 100 is probably not a great option. Frankly, it's a headache. It suffers greatly from capacitor leakage on both the logic board and display board, leading to a whole range of head-scratching trouble-shooting sidebars. This and other forums are full of threads of epic repair journeys - and not all of them are successes. The 100 also requires an external floppy (which can be difficult to find), has no video-out, no audio-in, and - compared to any other PowerBook model - it's slow.
So, yeah, from a purely pragmatic perspective, they weren't wrong. But I'd like to offer a counter-point.
I propose the following: collecting, owning, and using vintage computers isn't about pragmatism; no, this hobby is about attraction and desire. I know some of us don't think about ourselves as the emotional type, but if we're being honest, we seek, collect, and use these silly old things because there's something that tugs at us. It's going to be different for each of us, but it's there. And if there's one PowerBook that's most liable to engender an emotional attraction and attachment, it's the 100.
Here's my story. Since I became aware of the PowerBook 100, perhaps 20 years ago, I've wanted one. It was a PowerBook, but it was also as much a Portable, a transitional machine that brought Apple's portable computing into the 1990's. It was what the Portable should have been, finally giving Apple consumers what they actually wanted and not what Gassée told them they wanted. Moreover, it gave a lot of non-Apple consumers what they wanted from a portable computer too, being a massive initial success despite microscopic marketing budget.
The 100 is also different from the rest of the family in the best ways possible - unlike the 150, which is different in the worst ways possible (sorry Ron). It's smaller and lighter, has those cute little dials for the brightness and contrast, a super weird SLA battery, those oddball backup batteries with their oddball little door, a storage switch like it's some kind of supercar, and the risers with the auto-extending feet... It's just a funny little duckling, there's nothing else like it and I love it.
And, sure, the 100 quickly became a failure, ultimately being discontinued less than a year after its release. And, okay, it is not as 'useful' as a 165 or 180 with their display ports and a easy-to-rebuild batteries. And, yes, the damage the caps can wreak on 100's is vast and makes repair and restoration daunting even for the more experienced among us. I appreciate my other PowerBooks as well, my 180 especially, for these very reasons.
But the 100's brief, mercurial existence on the store shelves makes it all the more interesting, as does its minimalism. It's still a more capable machine than the Classic or even the LC, fun fact (or so I'm told). And the repair journey, for those of us up to the challenge, is one of the more rewarding among 68k Macs, up there with the Portable, SE/30, and IIci. To emerge through a successful restoration (aided with a bit of luck) makes owning and using a 100 all the sweeter.
So I agree with the idea that the 100, on paper, is not going to be the easiest or most usable PowerBook you can collect; this is not a diss track. But - BUT - I would encourage anyone who wishes to collect more than something merely easy and useful, and instead desires to rescue a machine with legacy and character to consider the PowerBook 100. If you are lucky enough to have a restored and working example, like the one I'm currently writing this post on, I can assure you it feels like more than another Mac on the shelf. It feels like an old friend.
(edited for @'s and accents. Link to Ron and Steve's great talk at VCFMW 18:
