Olhausen Huntingdon Pool Table: What It Really Costs to Own (Weight, Installation, and Hidden Line Items)

If you've been pricing the Olhausen Huntingdon pool table for a commercial venue—bar, family entertainment center, hotel lounge—here's the answer up front: it's a solid buy, if you plan for the weight before you accept the quote. Budget $5,200 to $7,800 delivered and installed, depending on size, cloth, and market (as of January 2025). And whatever the number says, ask what "delivery" actually includes. That's where budgets go to die.

The name's worth clarifying: the model is Huntingdon, spelled H-U-N-T-I-N-G-D-O-N. If you've been searching "olhausen huntington pool table" and landing on the same pages, you're not wrong—it's the same table. Two questions come up in every buying cycle: "Is Olhausen worth the premium?" and "What does olhausen pool table weight mean for my building?" I'll answer both, then show you the line items most people miss until it's too late.

The Bottom Line

The Huntingdon is a genuinely good commercial table. The Accu-Fast precision surface plays true, the cabinet is built to survive drunk weekends—believe me, that matters in a public venue—and the resale value holds better than almost anything else in this category. After six years of buying game-room equipment, I've found the Olhausen is one of the few "premium" purchases that actually costs less over its lifetime than the budget alternative. That's the counterintuitive part.

But the weight is a commitment. An 8-foot Huntingdon runs somewhere around 700 pounds with the slate; the 9-foot version pushes toward 850. You are not moving that table again without planning, and your floor needs to tolerate it. Settle that question first. If the building can't hold the table, every other feature is wasted.

Why I Track This Stuff

Quick credibility note: I'm a procurement manager for a hospitality group in the Pacific Northwest. I've managed a $90,000 annual budget for game-room equipment and maintenance for six years, negotiated with 30+ vendors, and logged every invoice in a cost-tracking system I built after getting burned on hidden fees twice. When I audited our 2023 spending, 11% of our "unexpected" overruns came from delivery, setup, and access issues—not from the equipment itself.

When I first started buying pool tables, I assumed the lowest quote was the smartest choice. Three budget overruns later, I learned about total cost of ownership. Here's the thing: every quote hides something. The trick is knowing where to look.

I compared eight vendors over three months before we bought our first Huntingdon. Vendor A quoted $3,200 for a comparable table. Vendor B quoted $2,750 for a "commercial equivalent." Olhausen's local dealer quoted $4,400 for the Huntingdon. Looks obvious who wins on paper, right? Then I added delivery, setup, leveling, and the cost of re-clothing within the first year. The cheap table cost more over 36 months. A lesson learned the hard way.

The "Olhausen Pool Table Weight" Question

Search "olhausen pool table weight," and you'll get ranges from 650 to 900 pounds. That range is real: the number depends on size, slate thickness, cabinet wood, and options. For a Huntingdon, plan for roughly 700 pounds (8-foot) to 850 pounds (9-foot). Slate is the main driver—Olhausen uses thick 1-inch slate on most commercial models, and three slabs of that plus a hardwood cabinet add up fast.

If I remember correctly, our 8-foot model came in around 710 pounds with the ball return system. I might be misremembering the exact figure—we didn't put it on a scale, and the vendor's paperwork said "approx." But "approx" is enough when your question is whether a second-floor subfloor can handle it.

From the outside, all slate pool tables look like the same rectangle of green cloth. The reality is what's under the cloth—slate thickness, frame construction, cushion response—and that's what decides whether you pay once or pay every year.

Why does weight matter beyond the obvious? Three reasons, in order of how much they've cost me:

1. Floor loading. That kind of load on a second floor or over wooden joists means a structural assessment. That's $300–$800 nobody puts in the quote. We paid $450 for an engineer's sign-off in 2023, and it saved us from a much bigger problem when he flagged a deflection issue. Actually—the engineer found it before we installed the table. That's the point.
2. Access. Freight elevators, stair carries, tight corners. If the delivery crew has to do anything more than roll the crate across a flat floor, expect an access fee. We paid $320 once because our loading dock was six inches too short for the lift gate.
3. Movement after install. You won't move the table. Not for cleaning, not for floor repairs, not for a redesign. You build the room around it.

On the physics side, heavy objects on soft surfaces settle. I first understood this viscerally at Bowling Ball Beach in Mendocino—the one with round boulders scattered across the sand. Those spheres sit half-embedded because the beach gives under their weight. I remember standing there in 2023 thinking, "that's exactly what happens to an 850-pound table if the floor deflects." Same physics, different scale.

The weight also makes installation a physical event. Moving the Huntingdon through a narrow corridor takes a four-person crew and a stair-climbing dolly. Our facilities manager—who does dumbbell leg workouts on his lunch break, no joke—spent the next morning icing his quads. Moving slate is a different kind of leg day. Not ideal, but workable. Just make sure the quote accounts for the labor.

Hidden Costs That Show Up on the Final Invoice

Here are the line items that land after the purchase order: delivery, gratuity, setup, leveling, and—on the launch side—everything you buy to outfit and promote the room. That last one surprised me. People assume the table is the only cost. It isn't.

When we opened our game room, I ordered 1,000 flyers to push the launch: $110 through an online printer, standard 5-7 day turnaround. (Should mention: that's on 100lb gloss text, single-sided, and it doesn't include the $35 shipping.) I also asked the designer to match our brand colors to Pantone guidelines before sending the file—Delta E under 2, the standard for brand-critical color. Overkill for a flyer? Maybe. But when your logo has a specific blue, you don't want it coming back purple.

Then the room itself: chairs, cue racks, a coin-operated system, signage. All of it added another $1,800. The coin-op system alone was $900. Add it all up, and the cost of a Huntingdon isn't just the table.

The Value Argument: Why "Cheap" Costs More

My strong stance: value beats price, and the Huntingdon is the value option wearing a premium price tag. Yes, the sticker price is higher than an import table. But the cheap table costs you later, and those costs compound. We tested a $2,800 import in a high-traffic location. The cloth dimpled within four months. The frame loosened. The play surface developed a warp no amount of leveling could fix. The repair estimate? $1,200. That table was effectively a rental.

The Huntingdon didn't need that kind of attention. The Accu-Fast surface stayed consistent through three years of league play. That's the difference between buying equipment and buying a relationship with a maintenance budget.

One more example from this year. A floor manager asked me whether bone conduction headphones are safe for our staff—people who need to hear the DJ and guest questions at the same time, without standard earbuds blocking everything. The research says yes, generally: bone conduction doesn't occlude the ear canal, so situational awareness stays intact. Cost-wise, the cheap route was tempting. We tried five pairs of $15 earbuds first. Three broke within a month. The bone-conduction pair cost four times more and is still going. Same lesson, different shelf.

Where the Huntingdon Doesn't Fit

Now the honest counterweight.

If your venue is upstairs with no freight elevator, the Huntingdon's weight may be a real dealbreaker—not just for install, but for eventual removal. Moving an 850-pound table down a stairwell is a two-team job. We've seen venues pay $400–$700 for removal alone when they closed or remodeled.

The Huntingdon also doesn't fit venues that reconfigure often. Pop-up bars, seasonal spaces, multi-use rooms—this is a permanent fixture, not furniture. Respect that.

And if you're equipping a home game room? The commercial-grade Huntingdon is probably overkill. It's built to absorb years of public abuse. A residential table will serve you fine and cost less. The value logic still applies—buy quality, but match it to the environment.

"Trust us, we've done this before."

—lead installer, minutes before the doorframe incident

Those words preceded the most expensive two hours of our last install. The crew was fine. The doorframe wasn't. The vendor's insurance covered it, but we lost two days of opening time. Ask better questions about access before you sign.

Plan for the weight, budget the hidden costs, and the Huntingdon will be the best equipment purchase in your capital budget. Ignore the weight, and it'll be the most expensive mistake you'll make this year. Worth it—but only on your terms.