A Long-Discontinued Macintosh Still Thrills Collectors to the Core
By PAUL KUNKEL
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Andre Pichette for The New York Times
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In Japan, die-hard Mac traditionalists keep the Color Classic alive. Members of the Club for Creating the Strongest Color Classic and the Mac Modification Club.
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hen the subject is Macintosh, love
often turns to obsession. Such is the
case for a small group of Apple
aficionados who have decided that the one
true Macintosh is the Color Classic.
As the last toaster-size Mac, the Color
Classic followed the same basic design first
offered in 1984 and was the only model to
offer a built-in color display. Unveiled in
1993, the tiny all-in-one Classic disappeared
from store shelves in 1994, but it still makes
millions of brief appearances each day: the
smiling icon that appears during every Mac
start-up is a holdover from the Classic.
And for some traditionalists, the candy-colored iMac and the new G4 Cube will
never replace it. The design looks modern
even today. But the Web site called LowEndMac, which describes and posts rankings of
older Macintoshes for collectors and die-hard fans, designated the Color Classic a
"road apple" (a technological dud) because
of its unbearably slow 16-megahertz processor and Apple's decision not to offer parts
that let users upgrade their machines.
That does not stop fans like the Rev.
Stuart Bell, who ministers to his parishioners in Sussex, England, by day and finds
unorthodox ways of keeping his Color Classic up to date by night. He replaced the
original circuit board with a PowerMac
board, which he then upgraded with a 275-megahertz G3 chip.
"The original Mac design with the built-in
screen in a box weighing no more than 20
pounds is the definitive and the cutest Macintosh of them all," Mr. Bell said. The iMac,
at 35 pounds, recaptures that concept in
some ways, he said. But, he added, "it's
hardly portable, and I don't think anyone
would call it cute."
One reason the Color Classic is still
adored is the appeal of its case, which was
designed by Daniele DeIuliis at Apple in
1992 (he later created the case for the
Powerbook 500 series). Giving the original
Classic a twist, Mr. DeIuliis (pronounced
day-YOU-lease) lengthened the front, accentuated the forehead above the screen
and carved the floppy disk slot to resemble
a drooping mouth, a combination that reminded many users of Bart Simpson.
He made the side vents resemble gills, a
look that suggested that the computer was
breathing. The plastic around the display
appears to stretch. A mirthful touch was the
tiny round legs that resemble the feet of a
baby elephant. A later Apple design language, called Espresso, used the visual cues
that first appeared on the Color Classic.
"When you see the form and detailing,"
Mr. Bell said, "you know it is classic Apple.
It's almost a living thing."
The Color Classic was a favorite among
university students, who wanted a small
machine that could handle word processing.
But the hottest market of all was in Japan,
where tight spaces made the Color Classic's
small footprint especially desirable.
In 1994, Apple discontinued the product in
the United States and offered the slightly
faster Color Classic II in Japan; that model
was discontinued the following year. By
1997, hundreds of Japanese users who had
refused to trade in their beloved machines
joined forces with the two-man team of
Takashi Imai, who writes for the Japanese
magazine MacPower, and Makoto Akizuki,
known together as Takky. Together they
founded the Club for Creating the Strongest
Color Classic, which functions as a clearinghouse for information on how to upgrade the
Color Classic using spare parts taken from
later machines.
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A computer high on cute
appeal that disappeared
from shelves in 1994. | |
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With nearly 300 members, the club has a
Web site ( homepage2.nifty.com/Kan-chan)
that offers detailed instructions for upgrading the Color Classic's video output and
installing a G3 motherboard, a new hard
drive, a second power supply (for PCI expansion), an on-board CD-ROM drive, stereo sound and more. Currently, the strongest
machine, owned by a club member known
as Mr. Misutiku, has a 500-megahertz G3
chip, two power supplies, Ethernet and a
TV-FM radio tuner with a remote control.
The first step is to find a discarded Color
Classic, which often sells on eBay for less
than $100. Next, open the back of the machine, replace the motherboard with one
from a discarded Power Macintosh 5000 or
6000 series machine (as Mr. Bell did). Enhance the Color Classic's resolution by cutting one wire and soldering a new wire on
the video circuit board (that increases the
scanning voltage from 60 to 84 volts, which
increases the screen density from 560-by-384 pixels to 640-by-480, which is needed for
running Photoshop or browsing the Web).
You now have one of the most sought-after
cult objects in the Mac universe.
A Color Classic running at G3 speed can
give the most confirmed iMac user a case of
techno-envy, said Siu Chi Tang, who finances his Color Classic obsession by working as a Linux distributor in Montreal.
The club site warns that tinkering with a
Color Classic can be dangerous (the cathode-ray tube can deliver a potentially lethal
shock).
Many users prefer to order an already built unit from Maxus Computer in
Japan (www.maxuscomputer.com), a Macintosh upgrade specialist that can remove
the 333-megahertz G3 motherboard and 4-gigabyte hard drive from an iMac and install it in a Color Classic for $2,600, more
than twice the price of a new iMac.
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Andre Pichette for The New York Times
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Siu Chi Tang, with a rare clear-case Color Classic prototype and a G3 conversion.
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"The price is not really an issue," Mr.
Tang said, "because having a strong Color
Classic is like owning a hot rod car. It's
impractical, but it's cool. There are a lot of
people who will pay any price to have one."
Mr. Tang displays his own jet-black G3
conversion on his company's Web site
(www.tangal.com), where he also shows a
souped-up Apple IIc and a machine that he
considers his ultimate trophy: a clear plastic Color Classic, one of only three in existence, which Apple engineers used for testing. Asked to put a price on it, Mr. Tang
paused, then said, "I can't."
Patrick Ng, an Internet executive in Hong
Kong, has taken his obsession to more lyrical heights. A vice president at PacificDotCom, Mr. Ng has documented his self-diagnosed case of "CCFS" (Color Classic Fixation Syndrome) on his amusing Web site,
Color Classic Forever
(grus.hkstar.com/patrickn/colorclassic). The story began
in October 1998, when Mr. Ng saw a photo of
the Color Classic. He alerted a newsgroup to
his quest for one and visited several shops
until he found a dirty nonworking model.
After giving it a scrub, Mr. Ng rhapsodized in a diary entry on his site: "I now see
the uncompromising beauty and elegance of
CC even more obviously, it simply shines.
As this mystic discovery continues, my super-ego seems to warn me the danger of the
game, the emotional attachment to a physical object."
On New Year's Eve, while others were
partying, Mr. Ng was otherwise occupied, as
a later diary entry showed: "I embraced
the dusted classic during the countdown.
The rest of that night, perhaps I should say
the rest of the millennium, I gradually
slipped away and fell into a deep trance,
everything went blurred except a single
point of vision, I naturally put that point on
the shining Color Classic."
He then decided that he wanted the machine to carry his child, "to give her life," he
wrote. As it turned out, Mr. Ng's "child" is
his Siamese fighting fish, Faust, who now
swims in an aquarium installed in the Color
Classic's chassis.
Cured of his obsession, Mr. Ng now keeps
his Macquarium in his office, which overlooks Hong Kong. "I receive e-mails from
all over the world asking about Faust," he
said. "He's doing fine."
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