Dream Destroyed Museum of American-Made Electronics Showcasing the Brilliance of Zenith, Rca, Magnavox, Curtis Mathes

A lifetime of work can be destroyed in the blink of an eye. One generation’s dreams so often fall to the indifference of the next. My dream was to create an extraordinary museum of American-made electronics showcasing the brilliance of Zenith, RCA, Magnavox, Curtis Mathes, and so many others. I envisioned themed rooms that not only displayed the technology but recreated the living spaces of each era, capturing the spirit of the American home across time.

Two Photos Below are of the the large antiqued Maple RCA 1967 or 1968 Victor Television Console with a build in turntable and AM & FM Stereo System. I have been told that it is a Mark I Deluxe Home Entertainment Center HH-852 (The Brandywine). with scalloped gallery and bracket feet; this is a Colonial lowboy with an authentic replica Federal Period Design. This is Antiqued Colonial Maple on selected hardwoods. It is made with selected hardwoods, and lids and top veneers are on reinforced wood fiber. RCA Victor, New Vista, Brandywine, Color Television, Americas First Choice.

For more than thirty years, I painstakingly rescued and restored these treasures from dumps, thrift stores, and estate sales. Each piece—radios, stereos, black-and-white sets, and golden-age color consoles—was fully functional, saved from being lost forever simply because they belonged to a generation fading away. My seven storage sheds and my home became the sanctuary of this collection.

The Photo below, and videos above and below are of the 1969 Morse Console Stereo 81 Series High-Fidelity Multiplex 176615, with a Morse FM AM Solid State Stereo System, BSR Turntable-Phonograph Record Player made in England, and a Morse 8 Track Tape Player, Morse High-Fidelity Speaker System at each end of the hand rubbed and finished Walnut Wood and Walnut Veneers Console.

And now, it is all gone. Dismissed as hoarding, I was told that no one believed in my vision, that the property and its contents would simply be sold off. To watch this extraordinary collection—decades of American design and innovation—consoles, radios, stereos, all of it—shattered and liquidated, was life-altering. It was more than the loss of objects; it was the destruction of a dream.

The dream was to create a walk-through journey through time, where each era would come alive, television sets playing shows of their day, stereos filling the rooms with the music of the age and displays capturing the living spirit of the American home. Each exhibit would have been a tribute to the ingenuity and artistry of the past.

But today we live in a generation that longs for libraries without books and walls without artwork, a culture that values empty minimalism over the richness of history. To them, the great achievements of twentieth-century electronics hold no meaning. Centuries of carefully built libraries are discarded without a second thought, hauled off to the landfill. In their place, they cry for coffee shops, bagels, and wide-open study spaces—never realizing the immeasurable loss of what was destroyed.

The time and effort I devoted to saving these majestic televisions, stereo consoles, radios, and countless other creations, 8-track players, recorders, and more—is beyond measure. I fought desperately to preserve the most priceless pieces of the collection, but in the end, I was alone. Time was running out, and the “For Sale” sign was already on the property. The painful lesson in all of this is clear: never place your property in relatives’ names while you are still alive. Doing so can unravel a lifetime of collecting, preserving, and dreaming, leaving behind nothing but loss.

The moral is harsh but undeniable: the wealthy and entitled are free to dream and collect whatever they wish. No one dares call them hoarders, no one labels their passion an illness. Their collections are celebrated. But for those with less, what I call ordinary, working people, the story is different. We are not “allowed” to have a hobby, at least not without judgment. If someone works three jobs just to feed their family, they’re told they don’t deserve the joy of owning a vintage stereo rescued from a thrift store. They’re shamed for saving a beautiful television from the trash compactor, for taking pride in finally having something they could never have afforded when it was new. The double standard is crushing dreams are a privilege for the rich, while for the rest, even a simple collection becomes a crime.