Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Chuck Sanderson
The tip of Gary Vollmer’s index finger touches the glass surface of a pinball machine and traces a hopeful path. Red and purple lights reflect off the walls of the inner cabinet as the game waits for the stocky, goateed 53-year-old to push the glowing green START button and pull back on his plunger. But first, Vollmer takes a moment to scout his moves.
“See that light flashing?” says Vollmer, tapping the tip of his finger above a twinkling white arrow embedded in the middle of the playfield. “That’s showing a skill shot. I hit that, and that’s a million points.”
Vollmer would know. He’s one of the many players who drive here from across the region each weekend to tap flippers and swat silver balls. Most Saturdays, Vollmer posts up in this same spot in front of the Iron Maiden Premium table inside the second of three buildings on the premises of CP Pinball at 115 Sinclair Ave. in South Roxana, Illinois. Here, $7.50 affords gamers an hour of unlimited play, while $20 provides four hours of access to the more than 70 pinball machines in owner Chuck Sanderson’s collection. Vollmer has tried just about all of them. But it’s this Iron Maiden machine, in particular, that keeps him coming back.
“If I had to pay to play it each time instead of paying by the hour, I probably could’ve bought one,” Vollmer says.
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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Instead, he leaves the wheeling and dealing to Sanderson, who’s been tracking down coveted machines, both old and new, for more than two decades. Sanderson, who spends his days running a tool store in Wood River, says he doesn’t make much money on his arcade enterprise, now in its 14th year in operation. Rather, it’s the opportunity to collect, preserve, and share timeless pinball machines that keeps CP Pinball rolling.
“When it stops being fun, I’ll stop doing it,” Sanderson says.
Even in a world where videogame consoles and PC multiplayer adventures dominate the gaming industry, pinball still has its pull. CP Pinball is just one of the places in the metro region that houses these things. Padavan’s NY Pizza & Pinball in St. Charles—as its name implies—has its own arrangement of pinball units. The Silver Ballroom in Bevo Mill boasts 20 pinball tables, while The Waiting Room in St. Ann and Murphy’s On 21 are among the local haunts that house machines of their own. But it’s hard to beat the offerings inside Sanderson’s pinball mecca in the Metro East.
On a recent Saturday, there are a few small children running around and smashing buttons. The rest of the dozen or so players are middle-aged adults moving from machine to machine, trying new games and getting reacquainted with old favorites. In the background, Axl Rose’s voice screeches out of the Guns N’ Roses–branded table as a gamer accumulates points.
“It’s a real nostalgic thing with pinball,” says George Eye, who’s been visiting CP Pinball since its opening in 2007. “This is something I’ve loved since I was a kid: the art, the aesthetic, the feel of the tables. It’s still an art, just as much as video games.”
Sitting on a couch in the back building, Sanderson reminisces about how his collection started. Nearly three decades ago, Sanderson was a newly married man in his 20s, hanging out at local bowling alleys and bars while his wife, Joyce, worked late. For less than $10, Sanderson found that he could have himself a night, swilling a couple draft beers while he passed the time on a pinball table. Eventually, he wanted his own at home and picked up an old Hurricane cabinet at auction.
“One became two became 10 became about 40,” Sanderson recalls. “So I bought this property here. I got tired of paying the bills myself, so I opened it to the public.”
Sanderson’s property, which sits across from a Phillips 66 Refinery, has three buildings that form an L around a blacktop parking lot. The lot is where visitors have been known to tailgate during extended Saturday stays. Inside, Sanderson rotates games in and out as his whims dictate. He’s always looking for deals and trades. Depending on the condition and brand of used tables, they can run a buyer anywhere from around $500 to upward of five figures.
CP’s regulars not only respect Sanderson’s taste in games but also his commitment to maintaining them. That’s a big reason Sanderson can draw such large crowds for the regular tournaments he hosts: The games actually work. The night before we met, Vollmer matched up against Sanderson twice during a special Friday-night playoff at CP. He beat the owner both times.
“Chuck had a tough night,” Vollmer says. “There’s a little bit of luck and a lot of skill with this. And lots and lots of practice. But this is the place to do it.”
Vollmer spins the cap back onto the top of his Diet Pepsi bottle and stashes it in the drink holster bolted to the side of the Iron Maiden cabinet. It’s time to focus. Over the next few minutes, Vollmer grips the edges of the table, taps his flippers, and navigates the playfield that he knows so well, pushing his score higher and higher before suddenly losing his silver ball in the outside lane. Game over. Vollmer lets go of the machine, purses his lips, and cocks his head.
“That was not very good,” he admits, turning his palms upward with a shrug. “But that’s pinball.”
