Century Gadgets Endure in a Disposable Tech Era Today
In the sunlit towns along Western Australia’s south coast, a quiet movement is proving that century-old gadgets can outlast the latest smartphones. Ron Coald, living in Albany, has built a significant collection of film cameras, projectors, and related gear that traces the evolution of media technology from early cinema to the first home video devices. His interest began with the Katanning cinema, where he once scouted the projector box for forgotten reels. The hobby grew into a carefully curated archive: equipment collected over decades, each piece a memory of how people captured and shared moments before digital archives existed. Coald remembers buying his first camera as a schoolboy and notes that the collection now fills a corridor of his home, reminding him that the past still has a place in the present.
Collectors as Custodians of History
Across towns like Albany, the impulse to preserve old technology is less about nostalgia and more about stewardship. The devices tell stories about makers, users, and the social rituals around movie nights, home recordings, and music listening. The film cameras, the projectors, and even the home video gear from the earliest days of consumer video capture reveal how households used to interact with technology—often hands-on, sometimes fragile, and always finite in capability. It’s not merely sentiment that draws Coald and others back to these pieces; it’s a belief that the artifacts deserve care even when they no longer sit at the leading edge of technology.
The Repairers Keep the Door Open to the Past
This sentiment-to-service pipeline is where Neil Harrison enters the story. Based in Albany, Harrison runs a repair shop that has become a refuge for aging electronics. While his early work centered on audio-visual gear, he now finds himself mending a broader range of devices that people simply cannot bear to part with. The demand reflects a broader cultural shift: as people fix what matters, they resist the throwaway cycle that defines so much of modern tech. In Harrison’s words, the repairs are often driven by sentimental value, or by a belief that older gear, when revived, still serves a purpose in today’s world. Vinyl records, for example, have made a remarkable comeback, and people are bringing turntables, amplifiers, and speakers in for restoration as part of a growing hobbyist revival.
Repair Challenges in a Miniaturized Era
Harrison points out a key difference between yesterday’s electronics and today’s devices. Modern electronics frequently relies on highly miniaturised, surface-mounted components embedded in printed circuit boards. When failures occur, the path to repair often requires replacing entire boards rather than component-level fixes. The scale and specialization of contemporary gear can make repairs complex, costly, or impractical for the average enthusiast. Yet this reality doesn’t dampen the interest in keeping older gear alive. Instead, it reinforces the value of skilled repair work and the joy of breathing new life into equipment that once connected homes and communities.
A Kitchen Door to the Past: A 1972 Mixer
Further afield in Quairading, in WA’s Wheatbelt, another simple appliance underscores the enduring design ethic of built-to-last electronics. Elaine Johnson keeps an electric mixer she bought shortly after her 1972 marriage. She recalls being drawn to it after seeing a demonstration when she was a young policewoman in the Hay Street Mall. The mixer is not merely a tool; it is a tangible link to a different era—one where a well-made appliance could accompany a life’s milestones and daily routines for decades. Stories like hers echo the wider truth: century gadgets survive because they were built with care and used with intention.
Enduring Value in a Disposable World
Across Western Australia’s communities, the message is clear: century gadgets stand test of time when paired with a culture of repair, reuse, and storytelling. Collectors like Ron Coald keep the history visible; repairers like Neil Harrison translate that history into usable life for today’s households; and everyday owners like Elaine Johnson show how lasting design can shape a decades-spanning personal narrative. In a world that often prizes the new, these preserved machines remind us that durability, craftsmanship, and a touch of sentimental value are not relics of the past but living connections to the people who used them—and the moments they captured.
