Sanyo Betacord 6400

This was the first VCR we had in our house. It seems like we must have had one earlier than this, but I can't remember another one. This was it: the Sanyo Betacord 6400.

I remember everything about it now, right down to the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics sticker on the front. Just seeing that sticker again gives me a strange little jolt of recognition. There are objects you haven't thought about for decades that somehow retain an entire room around them. You see the object and suddenly you remember where the television was, where everybody sat, and what it felt like when bringing a movie home to watch was still an event.

I think the first movie we ever rented was Blood Simple. We were all excited about having a movie in the house that we could start whenever we wanted. Unfortunately, I had been awake all day and fell asleep almost immediately. I woke up several times during the movie, and every time I opened my eyes somebody seemed to be getting murdered. For years that was essentially my memory of Blood Simple.

The remote control for the Sanyo was attached to the machine by a cord. That sentence alone probably requires explanation for anyone who didn't live through this era. You could control the VCR from across the room, provided "across the room" was no farther away than the cord allowed. At the time this seemed luxurious.

And yes, we had Beta.

The old story is that Betamax lost the format war because the pornography industry chose VHS. Pornography probably played some role in VHS adoption, but the actual defeat of Beta was considerably less entertaining and more complicated. VHS offered longer recording times early on, more manufacturers adopted the format, machines became widely available at competitive prices, and video stores increasingly devoted their shelves to VHS. Once enough people owned VHS machines, everybody else had another reason to buy one too.

What's interesting is that Beta wasn't simply some terrible technology that deserved extinction. In several respects its picture quality was excellent, and our Sanyo certainly didn't behave like a disposable appliance. It served us for years.

During dinner with guests tonight we got onto the subject of planned obsolescence and the strange experience of remembering old machines that seemed as if they were built with the expectation that somebody might still be using them ten years later. Every subsequent VCR I owned seemed to have a lifespan barely longer than a housefly.

The Sanyo was a machine.

But what I really miss isn't Betamax.

I miss what the machine represented.

Home video changed the relationship people had with movies. Before that, if you wanted to see a movie, you generally saw whatever happened to be showing at the theater or whatever one of the television stations decided to broadcast. Suddenly there were shelves full of movies you could choose yourself, take home, watch at midnight, rewind, watch again, lend to somebody, forget to return, and then sheepishly pay the late fee.

Video rental stores appeared everywhere. Grocery stores had them. Gas stations had them. Little independent shops had them. Different stores had different selections, which meant finding movies sometimes required physically going places and looking for them.

The trip was part of watching the movie.

I've been tempted to buy another Sanyo Betacord 6400 on eBay. They're pricey enough that I've resisted, particularly because I have absolutely no practical use for one. I'm not even sure how large the community of serious Beta collectors is.

Of course, "I have no practical use for it" has rarely been an effective argument against collecting something.

I've already had to accept the stark and horrifying realization that I will eventually start collecting VHS tapes and vinyl records again. Maybe Beta is waiting somewhere farther down the road.

I wouldn't even need to use the Sanyo. I'd be perfectly happy just letting it sit on top of the television looking operational. Every once in a while I could plug it in, push one of those enormous mechanical buttons, and pretend it was 1985 and we'd just come home from Cacciatore's Food Mart with Day of the Dead or Better Off Dead.

And that little 1984 Olympics sticker would still be there on the front.

For some reason, that's the part that gives me goosebumps.

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