When self-described "Pinball Amasser" Richard Conger stumbled onto what he believed to be the world's first pinball machine, it was sitting in a farmhouse basement. The owner refused to sell him the game by itself, so Conger bought the entire farm. That was 40 years ago. Today, at age 72, Conger has a truly impressive collection. He owns more than 500 different pinball games, 700 machines if you count duplicates (he sometimes has three of the same game). About 200 are in working order, and he intends to fix the rest. "My time is measurable," says Conger, a retired high school teacher. "In another 30 years I won't be able to fix pinball." Most of the machines are in various states of disrepair. They are piled floor-to-ceiling in storage rooms, and fill up what he calls a "barn," though the structure was erected not for livestock and hay bales but for broken pinball games. He still owns the farm he bought for just that one machine, but Conger lives on a separate eight-acre spread in Northern California that accommodates his collection — a sleepy property he dubbed the Silver Ball Ranch. Pull the plunger and read on to tour the ranch and dust off this impressive collections of aging relics.

Invention of Flippers Conger's collection is not the splurge of a midlife crisis, but a life-long pursuit. His almost-60-year obsession started with a game called Formation, a gift from a neighbor when he was 13. Formation had no flippers, so the ball could be manipulated only be what Conger calls "body English." The term subsumes several techniques of exerting indirect force on the ball, including smacks to the side of the machine and pelvic thrusts that lift its legs slightly off the ground. If stranded on a desert island with just one game, he says, this would be it. Today, Conger has more than 100 working games that date back to the "pre-flipper" era that ended in 1947, with the debut of the of Humpty Dumpty. Declared by its manufacturer to be "The Greatest Triumph in Pin Game History!" Humpty Dumpty was the first machine to sport the electromechanical flippers that now define the game. With this simple innovation, pinball became a challenge rather than a crapshoot, and flippers sparked a rapid increase in the game's popularity.

Parts The Silver Ball Ranch runs the gamut from chaos to perfect order, depending on the room. Two sparkling arcades embody Conger's fastidious side, and are the realization of his goal of getting his entire collection into good condition. In the ranch's half-dozen storage areas, the size of that goal becomes clear. Some spaces are repair shops for nearly perfect machines, while others are warrens of legless plywood carcasses with peeling paint.

Apples, Autos and Wrenches In addition to collecting and restoring pinball games, Conger operates an apple orchard, owns 15 classic cars (none of them running) and has a collection of more than a thousand nonadjustable wrenches. And somehow he still finds the time to be married. Though he is now retired, Conger sustained these numerous projects during his career as a high school teacher and through the demands of raising a family. Reflecting on the countless hours he has dedicated to his pastimes, Conger admits there were times that he put off family obligations in order to pursue his pinball and work on his apple orchards.

Den of Iniquity When pinball machines first appeared in the 1930s, they were used exclusively for gambling. The games of that era weren't good for much else. There were no flippers or other formal means of controlling the ball, so the only hope for changing its trajectory was banging the side of the machine. Like modern pinball, the player would launch the ball onto the playing field with a spring-loaded plunger. As the ball descended towards the bottom, it banged into bumpers and buttons, generating points for each impact. Pinball games were mostly found in bars and dens of iniquity. Though the gambling was not official, it was understood that racking up a certain number of points entitled the player to a free beer. Some machines did actually pay out like slots, employing secret drawers to hide the jackpot from vice cops and tax collectors.

Pinball Propaganda During World War II, pinball machine factories, like the rest of America's manufacturing sector, switched to making products for the war effort. Kits became available for replacing the back glass and other artwork in existing machines with patriotic themes and, in some cases, racist caricatures of the enemy. Conger doesn't support any bigoted rancor, but he wants his collection to be historically comprehensive. The games represent "part of what we went through" during the war years he says. Hit the Japs was released in 1943.

Who's the Boss? When asked what his wife thinks of his hobby, Conger replies with a laugh, "First wife or second?" He jokes that his first wife left after the first 100 games, but acknowledges that "there was probably more to the story than that." Conger's current wife, Valerie, is also retired. Her use of the word hoarding to describe her husband's hobby carries the weight of a master's in psychology, but is said with a bit of a chuckle. Though there are disorderly heaps of pinball detritus on the Silver Ball Ranch, they are all tucked away in neat, unassuming structures. And, Conger says, no machines are allowed on the second floor of the house where the living spaces and bedrooms are located. This, he admits, is his wife's rule.

Glass-Topped Coffins In the late '70s, videogames began to compete for space in the arcades and bars that until then had been the sole province of pinball. Not only were video games far more diverse in their gameplay, they were also cheaper to maintain. Pinball games — filled with light bulbs that fizzled out and mechanical gizmos that broke down — became glass-topped coffins for money. Surprisingly, after a decade of slumping demand, pinball had a minor resurgence in the early '90s. Arcade games were losing ground to home consoles, and pinball manufacturers cut smart deals for movie tie-ins. The Addams Family sold more than 20,000 units, making it the most successful pinball game in modern times. The bubble burst by the beginning of the next decade, leaving only one major manufacturer, Stern, to carry on the pinball tradition.

One Man's Junk ... Conger has been fixing pinball machines since he acquired his first in 1952. He collects dilapidated junkers with the goal of restoring them or harvesting the parts. Lately he has hired an assistant to help revive some of the hundreds of nonworking machines that are literally piling up to the rafters of his storage rooms. Conger wants his collection to live on after he's gone and plans to donate all of his games to the Pacific Pinball Museum and other collections. Despite his affection for older models, Conger actually prefers the gameplay of more recent machines like Guns 'n Roses, guitar riffs included. They feature prominently in the game room which he uses as a showplace when entertaining guests. Though collecting can be a solitary pastime, Conger is eager to share his enjoyment of pinball. He hosts vintage car owners, local kids and scruffy journalists with equal enthusiasm.