Finetuning the appearance of the date in the dial's date aperture - another lesson learned

My client hadn't had his longcase clock serviced for a long while. "It begins to make funny sounds and the striking is not consistent", he told me. My client lives in a house full of golden retrievers. Alas, the case is not placed on a separate stand to avoid the dogs' claws or the hoover kicking it. The clock had a calendar function (a calendar disc), but it did not work. My fingers were itching. I quoted my going rate for two weeks work.

the calendar disc after resilvering

Looking at the break-arch shape of the hood and engraved silver dial, the name and place of the maker, I estimated the clock to be from about 1795. Every client I meet for the first time gets my sermon about trying to conserve the clock for future generations. "You may be the legal owner of this object but historically you will be judged as its guardian. Why do you service your car every ten thousand miles while it ends on the scrapheap during your life time, but you do not service your clock? A dog may be for life, but a clock is for generations." Ultimately, if the guardian is doing his job, the clock should end up in a museum.

When I examined the clock back at my workbench I noticed that the intermediate calendar wheel—and thus also its flag—and the stud that the intermediate calendar wheel is sitting on were all missing. Why were they taken out? Clear hints indicated they had been there before: the calendar wheel on the hour wheel between hour wheel and snail, a hole in the front plate for the stud and the calendar disc was still present, although turning black in several places!

So, I got the intermediate calendar wheel from my usual supplier. I made the stud and the flag. When I began testing the calendar disc, I noticed that the numbers 1 through 19 appeared beautifully centred in the dial’s calendar aperture. However, the numbers 20 through 31 appeared too much to the right. I could therefore not blame the flag for this error. I only saw one solution which I did not like much from a conservation point of view: filing away little bits of the relevant calendar disc’s teeth so that the numbers 20 through 31 would appear centred in the aperture.

I enthusiastically started filing away in a trial and error process. File a bit away. Check if the numbers appear more centred. On some numbers this worked well. On others it did not. Without thinking, I started filing away some more so that the numbers that did not respond to the initial filing would now start responding. File and test, file and test. After about three such rounds of filing and testing, some numbers still did not respond as expected. Without stopping to think first, I resorted to a somewhat rougher file in order to save time. File and test, file and test.

Then (thank God) I decided that just for 100% certainty, I should test the position of all numbers (1 through 31) again. It was only then that I noticed that the numbers 1 and 2 were now no longer appearing in the centre of the aperture but were hanging to the left, all other numbers were nicely in the centre while the numbers 20, 21 were still too far to the right. This finally got me to realise I had done something stupid. I had been assuming all along that the flag was pushing the calendar disc forward always at the tooth that is one day before the proper date that appears in the aperture. Further examination showed that the flag pushes the tooth that is three days before the proper date. Hence I had been filing away the wrong teeth and thus committed a major conservation sin! The preacher caught out in an act of desecration! 

I then soldered on tiny bits of metal onto the two abused teeth so that 1 and 2 appear in the middle again and I filed down the correct teeth so that 20 and 21 now show nicely in the middle as well.

“Think before you act” came to mind.

Struggling with the mainspring of a fusee dial clock

I just completed my first clock with a fusee. It was a rather dilapidated English dial timepiece. Once I cleaned and repaired it, it came into its own beauty, though, even after agreeing with the client to leave the dial in the worn state it was in. So a real conservation project.

English dial timepiece with fusee inside

It was clear to me that the mainspring had seen better days and remembering my West Dean tutor's helpful rule:

when a mainspring's diameter is equal to or less than twice the diameter of its barrel, then replace the mainspring,

made me decide to replace the mainspring. I ended up with a stainless steel mainspring supplied by Cousins. It was the first time that I had to apply my tutor's rule, so my expectations were high of the performance of this new spring after I had put it into its barrel and put a new steel wire onto the barrel and fusee.

I should have been for warned, though. Putting this stainless steel spring into its barrel was a tour de force! After several tries with the first aid box placed close to me, I managed to get the mainspring into the barrel. Once the barrel was in the clock, I tried winding it. It proved impossible to wind the clock more than two half turns. I just did not have the power in my hands to do more. A blessing in itself, because otherwise I might have broken the key, the steel wire or both (at least it felt like that).

Luckily, in the same week, the Annual General Meeting of the Antiquarian Horological Society was about to take place with this year's focus on Dutch clocks from the 17th and 18th century. In other words, I had to be there. Two of my West Dean classmates were quick to solve my mainspring problem at this meeting by recommending I try a carbon steel spring from Clockspares. Carbon steel springs having much less power than the stainless steel variety. This solved my problem well. It even allowed me to put gut line on the barrel rather than steel wire.

This whole saga taught me to include mainspring data in my written client reports. And with further help from this informative website http://www.abbeyclock.com/usmsp.html I now have a much better handle on mainsprings.

Westminster chime

I struggled with the repair of this clock for too long. Every time I thought, this is it. I can't do anything more, this clock will run, strike and chime perfectly, only to be disappointed. The chime remained sluggish.

the Westminster chime table clock

It had been running well, the client said, but the chime was irregular and unreliable. I examined the clock at the client's home and immediately gave him my expert opinion. A previous clockmaker had done a botched job on this clock by taking the pendulum out for some reason and putting a platform escapement in. Rather clumsily by the look of it.

the platform escapement placed vertically on the back plate

Well... the clock ran and struck fine after my repair which included getting the platform escapement serviced as one of the balance pivots had been broken off. Amazingly, the clock ran happily even before my repair despite the balance swinging on only one pivot! The Westminster chime, though, was the real problem. It just would not run fast enough. Indeed, the whole point of my repair was to fix the chime.

Yet, I was making no progress whatsoever. Whatever, I tried.  On top of that, the sound of the gong was pretty horrid. Then I noticed a sticker in the back door of a previous clockmaker (about 18 years before) who happened to be one of my tutors at West Dean College! When I got in touch with him about the clock, I asked him why he had replaced the pendulum with a platform escapement? To my surprise, he said, "look carefully at the plates, there are no holes for a scape arbor. So a pendulum was never meant for this clock." And he was right. This obvious was a model where perhaps the client could choose between a pendulum and a platform escapement clock.

Fixing the chime

I increased the end shake in the chiming train (which was tight). It did not help. I replaced the chiming main spring which was definitely needed. No improvement. Where then was the friction that caused the chiming train to be so slow? Should I use an even stronger spring? Where was the power lost? I could not find it, until I decided to take the clock out of its case for the fourth time.

I decided I just could not return a clock to the client in this half-baked state. Moreover, the costs had run up substantially already. It would be completely unethical to return a clock where the original problem of a lousy chime had not been properly addressed.

Then by sheer coincidence, I noticed two faint dents on the inside of the dial in the case next to the centre arbor hole. 

two faint dents visible on inside of dial just top left from the centre arbor hole

These dents came from the rack stud and (eureka!) from the quarter chime arbor pushing into the inside of the case. A further inspection showed that the frame brackets that connect the frame to the inside of the case were held between the front plate and two nuts sitting on top of each other. Would it be better, perhaps, to put the frame brackets between these two nuts, so that the frame would sit a bit further away from the inside of the dial? This turned out to be the answer. The quarter chime arbor now no longer rubs against the inside of the case. The chiming train flows so happy and elegantly. It is delight to listen to this Westminster chime now (for some at least).

So, I bring the clock proudly back to the client. He is so happy and all seems well. Then I find him the next morning on my answer phone at 8:14 am. The Westminster is out of order. I explain that Westminster chimes are self-regulating and that after a few quarters the chime will come back to how he expected it to be. I can hear in his voice that he is not buying my bluff. So I promise him to examine that what I said is true and to call him back if I am wrong. Two minutes later, I call him to say that he was right and I was wrong. As the music phrases taken from Wikipedia below show, the Westminster chime always sounds the same phrases at the same quarter. I drove up to his house, undid the chiming pinion to put it in tune with the correct quarters, and now—after a long saga—everything is hunky dory.

First quarter:	(1)
Half-hour:	(2) (3)
Third quarter:	(4) (5) (1)
Full hour:	(2) (3) (4) (5)
Big Ben

A clock with one winding hole that strikes the hour?

I comfortably walked into his living room and told the client "your clock is non-striking, so how can you complain that the striking isn't working? Here look, there is only one winding hole". The client then pointed to the bell, hidden at the back. I was in shock.

My reputation was no longer at risk, it had disappeared as fast as I had entered the room. The client then proceeded to explain that this Swiss Neuchâteloise clock only has one winding hole to achieve two things: it winds the clock and it winds the bell! But how? With only one winding hole?

Neuchâteloise clock

Only when I opened the clock, did I discover the sophistication and reliability of this Swiss design. A little toggle containing two wheels  will switch which train you are winding depending on whether you turn the winding key to the right or the left. See picture below. The toggle with the two wheels sits just below where the word Zenith appears. How ingenious!

the one winding hole toggle allowing you to wind two trains

The beat regulator on a French clock

Although they are delicate to repair, I always tell my friends and anyone who wants to listen that French clocks are all the same. They seem to have been made by one and the same cookie cutter, or rather French clock cutter.

However, working on my 90-year old aunt's clock revealed two novelties for me. First the crutch has a rather clever horizontal lever sticking out to the left (see picture below) with which one can regulate the beat of the clock.

Getting a clock into beat by bending the crutch I still find a difficult operation until this day, as I my intuition never seems to guess the direction right into which to bend the crutch. I know this is not a job necessarily suited for the intuition, but having asked my brain for the answer several times now, it always gives me the wrong answer. So, my aunt's clock has this clever horizontal "beat regulator" attached to the bottom of the crutch. You simply twist the knob at the end of the device left or right and hear what it does to the beat until you get it precisely to your liking.

The second oddity I found with this clock, which is not as helpful a device as the beat regulator, is a pillar pin that does not fall over the back plate of the movement but into it. They must have decided that the pillar could not protrude through the movement far enough to fit a pin through that would rest on the back plate. That then left as only option to push the pin through the end of the pillar and into the plate. Neat and never seen before.

The mystery of left and right winding holes

Her arthritis is too serious to wind her Victorian black slate clock herself. She asks the cleaning lady to do so. The beautifully crafted Winterhalder and Hofmeier chiming and striking clock in the corridor leaves her cold. I must have been called back at least three times after I repaired her Victorian black slate clock  (see picture below) because it had stopped. How is that possible? I gave it my everything. I cleaned it according to the high West Dean College conservation standards. Only white spirit as cleaning fluid, pegged out all the pivot holes, checked all the wheels and pinions meticulously, checked the endshake, the depthing of each of the three trains, wheel pair by wheel pair, rebushed where needed and paid great attention to detail, repairing and improving a few minor things along the way. After the repair, I had it on test for two weeks in my workshop. And it all ran fine.

black slate clock

Yet, the call of an 80-year old for help with clearly something that is so dear to her that she does not want to know about the beauty of her Winterhalder and Hofmeier, moves me enough to get up from my bench onto my bike, down the hill to her care home. Am I doing this, because my parents are equally old and dependent on others, while I am too far away to do this for them? Is this a guilt trip?

I know she has someone to wind her clock now. Luckily, she lives around the corner, so travelling to her place is easily combined with running an errand in the village. I have been there several times now to discover that only the striking train had been wound!

Learning point: Clearly, I have not paid enough attention to explaining the very basics of setting time, winding a clock, the difference between the left and right (and sometimes middle) winding holes, how to start a pendulum swinging again. In my written reports, I explain some of these things, but who reads them? A one-to-one client clock debriefing really needs to become part of my routine. Sitting down with the client when I bring the clock back after a repair to talk them leisurely through all the things that are important to keep the clock running. Besides, these short meetings, sometimes hit on the very things life is all about. In talking my 90-year retired actor clients through my conservation report of their grandfather clock (which he, by accident, had knocked over when rushing to the phone—during an acting lull—in the hope there was another gig on offer) we ended up singing "My Grandfather Clock" together around the coffee table:

My grandfather's clock

Was too large for the shelf,

So it stood ninety years on the floor;

It was taller by half

Than the old man himself,

Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.

It was bought on the morn

Of the day that he was born,

And was always his treasure and pride;

But it stopped short

Never to go again,

When the old man died.

I am blessed to be a clockmaker.

Carriage clock with alarm quirks

I am working on a beautiful carriage clock or should I say timepiece because it does not strike. But it has an alarm. The alarm mechanism is extremely sensitive to the correct springiness in a thin rod-spring (see picture below) that releases the alarm.

It took me quite a while to figure out how to get the alarm right and where to focus and intervene to get it to work reliably. I must make a point to explain to the client that alarms are finicky and have a character of their own. The slightest change in the springiness of that rod-spring can silence the alarm forever or, worse, keep it running until the alarm spring is fully unwound; after which winding it may no longer be possible because the rod-spring will not lock the alarm arm any longer. I wonder if this rod-spring is so sensitive that a change in temperature or humidity might already cause it to malfunction? Or, could it be hysteresis? In other words the sheer fact of the spring being pushed repeatedly could make it less springy over time.

I was so pleased that I got the alarm to go off reliably after quite a few trial and error iterations. So, I put the carriage clock together again with a feeling of great satisfaction that another clock can go to the test bench for about ten days before being returned to the client. And, once that happens, getting paid!

So my frustration was hard to control when I had the clock all finished and in its case again to only notice then that if I set the minute hand to time the alarm hand would move along. Why on earth was this happening? It couldn't possibly be a feature of the carriage clock? So what caused this?

I took the whole clock apart again and started burnishing the stud on the alarm setting wheel that rubs against the alarm setting disc (see picture below: the alarm setting wheel is second from top left, the disc is just below it). I assumed there was too much friction between the disc and the stud.

After a while I noticed that the alarm setting arbor has a four armed friction washer (see picture below: the four armed friction washer is just below the number 390) pressing against the inside of the back plate.

This washer must be there to introduce sufficient friction for the alarm hand not to turn along with the minute hand when you are setting the minute hand to time. While, when you set the alarm, this washer must not have enough friction to prevent you from turning the alarm setting arbor. So again we seem to be working here with a part that is ever so finely balanced. I can already see more trial and error iterations coming!

I then noticed that this friction washer which looks like a starfish was doing a miserable job. It just hung there on the arbor flat as a pancake, while it should be pushing the alarm setting arbor away from the back plate. When it does that properly it will create minimal friction when the alarm setting wheel stud travels over the surface of the alarm setting disc.

So now, my next move will be to either bring life back into this washer by hammering it convex again, or make a new one and then see if the alarm hand will stay put when I turn the minute hand.

To be continued.

Drilling small holes with a tungsten carbide drill

I have been drilling a hole of 0.35 mm diameter to re-pivot one of the pivots of the contrate wheel arbor of a miniature carriage clock. The diameter of the arbor is 1 millimetre. It ended up in total failure. It was the first time I was drilling with a tungsten carbide drill. Or rather, tungsten carbide drills in plural. I went through about ten of the box of 50 before I gave up. They all broke in the arbor and I could not get them out anymore, let alone crush them to smithereens in the small hole. The hole was simply too small to do any crushing. Lesson learned: be ultra careful and ditto patient when drilling with tungsten carbide drills if they are that small.

I had to start again with a new arbor and pinion. I was determined to turn the pivots of 0.35 mm and 0.39 mm diameter myself. Again, I failed. I am sure it must be my limited skill in sharpening the tool I use on my watchmaker's lathe. I therefore turned it into an exercise of re-pivoting by drilling 0.45 mm (slightly larger this time) holes at either end of the arbor. I decided to make the pivot holes about 150% longer than what the length of the pivot should be. I made this 150% up as a good gut-feel number. I hope someone will come around and tell me whether this happens to be one of the golden rules of clock making, or, a violation of it. [Addendum: 30 May 2012: Today, an experienced clockmaker kindly explained to me that the generally accepted depth for a hole to repivot is two and a half times the pivot diameter, but that some clockmakers even go for three times.]

Just have the drill touch the arbor and just apply enough pressure to stay connected with it but do not push! Wait for some swarf to become visible then pull the drill slowly back out of what begins to be the pivot hole. Rub away the swarf, wipe your finger gently over the drill to wipe away any swarf sticking to the drill and start again. This way you advance about one tenth of a millimetre every 2 minutes. It does work. You get there in the end. I noticed that I needed complete silence around me because you want to hear the tip of the tungsten carbide drill make contact with the inside of the arbor. Once you hear that slight hissing sound you know that you can apply the minimum amount of pressure you can possibly put on. I was afraid to be disturbed by any unexpected sound around me. The carpenters at the neighbours seemed to have their day off, the children were still in bed, the wife had gone to work. Only the washing machine was spinning in the background which meant I could drill in between its centrifugal spurts.

I noticed that the deeper the hole the longer you will have to wait for swarf to come out. Do not become impatient if you do not see any swarf yet. It is easy, but fatal, to think that you are not applying enough pressure for the drill to do its work. "There is not any swarf, so I must press a bit harder!" Don't! Just sit patiently and wait. Swarf will come. And as soon as you see it, keep that same pressure going for a few more seconds and then pull the drill out again to clean away the swarf from pivot hole and drill and start again.

My turning speed was slow, the same speed at which I would turn steel. Perhaps the whole process can be sped up by increasing the lathe's speed. I did not dare to do this out of fear for breaking the drill which would undoubtedly (Sod's law) park itself in the arbor for good.

The arrogance and the double count wheel

The client of the American clock I repaired a few months ago called to say that his clock still did not strike the hours consistently and correctly. I had poo-pooed his feedback the first time (in private to my wife) saying that this client just did not understand how to adjust the clock to winter time and that therefore he must have put the hands backwards when winter time was introduced in October and now the hour hand was out of sync with the countwheel.

To prove my point I took the clock back (it was still under warranty), hung it in my workshop and noticed how it struck the hours beautifully and consistently but always one strike more than the hour. Hence, I told myself, this was a simple case of lifting the locking detent 11 times so the clock could strike the hours 11 times quickly to end up in the correct position so it would strike the next hour correctly.

I did exactly as planned, noticed that the striking was again in sync and returned the clock to the client triumphantly with a little note how to adjust the hands at the time of a summer time-winter time switch-over and vice versa. All for free, of course, under the warranty.

Was it irritation or surprise that I felt most when a week later I ran into the client who said the striking was still off. I asked whether the clock was hanging skewed on the wall for want of a better question. The client, though, suggested I had another good look at his clock. I was indeed keen to examine the clock because I began to realise that more was at work here than a client who did not know what to do when winter time came along.

So, I opened the case and took a proper look at the countwheel and noticed that the countwheel had two sets of 1 to 12 divisions rather than one! Examining both sets closely, I noticed that the second set showed the number 2 strike area slightly bent toward the number 3 area which meant that the locking detent did not fall into the number 2 hole. That resulted in five strokes at 2 o'clock! So, I bent the number 2 area straight. Now the clock strikes the hours perfectly on both sets of 1 to 12 on the count wheel.

I am hanging on to the clock a little longer in my test room just to check the correct number of hours is being struck. I do not want to hear the client tell me for the third time the clock does not strike properly! My arrogance had clearly blinded me to examine my own work a bit more closely before drawing conclusions. At least, I now am on alert when a two set countwheel lands on my work bench!

Comtoise clock - My family member

It is only when my favourite client called that I realised how closely connected we remain to what we have repaired. It feels as if all the clocks that have passed through my hands are part of my family. This client is a favourite of mine for a variety of reasons. He is erudite and speaks such beautiful English. That certainly endears him to me, or is it me to him?

His clock was the first mechanical clock I repaired for a client in my career which must create a special bond. The client proved elated with the report I produced when I brought the clock back. He showed it to his wife and friends. I know this, because I was there hanging the clock back in its case when this all happened. It made me feel particularly important when he introduced me to his friend as "my friend the professional clockmaker".

The clock in question happened to be a Comtoise. The client told me how he had purchased the clock in an antique shop in France and how the owner of the shop had told him the story of how Comtoise clocks were produced and sold by itinerant salesmen who carried a frame on their back into which several Comtoise clocks would fit. They would walk to the next village and start selling them. The pendulums would be folded on their back. Hence we still see Comtoise clocks with pendulums that fold into several pieces of about 20cm each. Once a clock would be sold, the wandering salesman would walk with the client to the nearest blacksmith to get the weights made then and there. It being impossible, of course, to take the weights for nine clocks or so along on your back.

Comtoise (or also called Morbier) clock

I had never touched a Comtoise clock but had heard my co-students on the clock course at West Dean College talk with respect about these French clocks. I was amazed how different they were from the inside from the clocks I had been working on until then. I began to love the Comtoise design and its well established "tick" and loud bell. We became good friends: the clock, the client and I.

I give a 6 months guarantee on my work and it was therefore with mixed feelings that I heard my Comtoise client ring on Saturday morning clearly with pain in his voice. Would his wife have died? Not so. His clock has stopped and could I come please to have a look? The warranty period had elapsed but still it hurts your pride to have a client tell you that a clock you worked on has come to a halt. I spent the rest of the weekend thinking about the clock. What can it be that stopped it? I had thoroughly checked everything and then tested it for two weeks before handing it back?

He called me again this morning saying he noticed how the minute hand had become entangled with the calendar hand and how he had managed to disentangle them. The clock was working fine again and I did not need to come.

End good, all good. It would have been nice, though, to see the clock again.

Striking tips

I learned two things today.

I must show my clients in my written reports, which they get when I give them their repaired clocks back, how to set the time. Time setting on clocks can differ greatly between clocks. On some clocks you can happily (though gently please) push the minute hand past the half hour or hour—whichever comes first—without bending or breaking anything in the clock. On other clocks you can't. You will have to wait until the clock completes any striking before pushing the minute hand further.

On top of that, it turns out that some clients get into trouble during the switchover to winter time. For instance, on count wheel striking clocks, they push the hands backwards an hour and then discover that the hands are no longer in sync with the striking.

From now on, therefore, I would do well to add an Appendix to my reports explaining to the client how to set the time on their particular clock. This should help prevent getting clocks returned to me that are perfectly fine but for the striking being an hour ahead.

The second thing I learned today is that when you have put a complicated clock together and you notice that the bell hammer—in rest position—is not sitting perfectly between two pins on the pinwheel, then there may be a more efficient way of resolving this than taking the clock plates apart to adjust the pin wheel. I noticed that I could take the gathering pallet off the gathering pallet arbor, and

• then put the pinwheel in the right position vis-à-vis the bell hammer, so that the bell hammer is exactly in the middle between two pins when the striking train is at rest position, while also ensuring that the warning pin on the warning wheel is in its stop position, and
• then put the gathering pallet back on its arbor also in rest or stop position.

That solved the problem nicely and efficiently in about one minute and with a lot less risk to any damage to the clock compared with taking plates apart and moving the pinwheel a few teeth.

The difficulty of saying goodbye to a good friend

Having had a longcase clock in for about 6 months right next to my work bench and hearing its tick-tock and its bell, seeing the shining beauty of its dial, hearing the rack fall... I notice how it has become a good friend. Oh, how difficult it is to say goodbye to it and bring it back to the customer. After I had managed to iron out all faults that the clock had when it was brought into my workshop and after I had made a new gathering pallet, strengthened the beautiful---but wobbly---rack arm, made a calendar wheel and calendar disk with flag, silvered the disk and then tested the clock for a month, it is a bit like saying goodbye to a child you have just delivered for the first time to a tiny cubbyhole of a room at university. It is one of those moments when the world feels like a tough place to live in.

Yet pride seems to overcome any feeling of sorrow. Pride, often amplified by the emotions shown by the customer when they welcome their clock back and see it running and striking again. In these moments, clients sometimes tell me the most amazing stories of how they grew up with this clock. Smells and sounds seem to come back to their memory which trigger further stories, often full of emotions and the odd tear. I feel privileged to have these moments with my clients and feel humbled to become part of the story of their clock as their "clockmaker". It feels I have done only very little, but it certainly is the beginning of a good day for me.

I wave goodbye to my friend the provincial longcase clock and close the client's front door behind me.

I hope I can remember these client stories to tell them one day to my grandchildren so these stories live on and so will illustrate the importance of people telling each other stories. I can now see how important it is to conserve heirlooms in order to be able to tell these stories and I can see how important it is that we keep the profession of clockmaker a healthy one, despite all the economic difficulties.

My phone rings. A distressed elderly woman tells me that her clock has now completely stopped working after she tried to shake it back into action. A new story is beginning to unfold.

The clock is ticking

The clock is ticking and the bell is ringing the hours every hour. What great feeling to have come this far. The Michael Hall School turret clock from 1736 runs again. Its bell can be heard on the school grounds and hopefully will not interfere with life at school and the sleep of the staff living nearby, almost directly under the clock. The clock has become a dear friend who needs to be looked after. Although it has not run in 30 years, it seems to enjoy running again. There are areas of concern, though. Wear and tear on some parts needs close monitoring. I also need to train staff to wind it.

Six lessons learned while working on my first American clock

Why is working on new things usually ending in drama? My first American clock is no exception. It started with a client pressing me to deliver the repair before a certain date. While this is entirely reasonable in most business dealings, pressing a clockmaker to repair a clock before a certain date is a recipe for disaster for all parties involved. I politely informed the client of this clockmaker law but the damage had already been done. I had never worked with barrel-less, loop-end springs before and so a strenuous fight ensued whereby I tried to get the unwound springs into the clock frame without pushing away all other wheels. I did not know you need a special clamp on loop-end springs before you can reassemble the clock.

loop-end springs in American clock

I arrived at this conclusion, proudly though, after many hours of eliminating other options. I felt chuffed to receive confirmation of my conclusion from experts responding to my cry for help via the British Horological Institute's members' database. My former West Dean College tutor also made clear in an email that I needed a clamp and would do well to make one myself from an 1/8" thick brass plate shaped liked an oversized divot fork. This was my first lesson learned from the American clock. A bit of "how to deal with loop-end springs" research got me really user friendly clamps from R&N Horological. They are cheap, simple to put on and, importantly, simple to take off the spring once the great wheel arbor is safely installed in a fully assembled clock.

The second lesson was that rebushing (and yes there seemed a great need for it judging by the enormous movement most of the arbors on both trains were allowed to make) is discouraged. I approached my West Dean tutor who kindly suggested that the frame of these American clocks is so wobbly that creating a well fitting bush will lock up the arbor and possibly even bend a pivot because the frame is bending under the force of the springs and so prevents a well fitting bush from offering sufficient room for a pivot to turn. The best advice is to accept the enormous room to manoeuvre in the existing bushes and drown it in oil.

Then I discovered that these clock movements can be bought new for about £60. So you wonder why am I repairing a clock while I can put a new one in for £60? The argument that there is emotional value in the clock always holds, but if a client sees a repair bill for many times the cost of a new movement you wonder if how long that argument will hold. Let's call this the third lesson learned.

While fiddling with the going spring to get it back in its place, I heard a loud crack and noticed (after a while) that the hole at the end of the spring that grips the great wheel arbor stud had split and now looked like the end of snake's tong. There was no way that the arbor stud was going to grab that spring end ever again. I cut off the end of the spring and created a new triangularly shaped hole for the stud to grip and had to do this twice, unfortunately, to get the right shaped hole. In the process, so much of the spring end was lost that what remained could not be convinced to engage with the great wheel arbor stud. So I decided to force it to engage which led to a further tear in the spring end. I admit that I annealed the spring end in order to create the triangular shaped hole. All according to the instructions of my West Dean notebook. But because the end of a spring after annealing is softer, it tears more easily, I suppose. Well, that is what happened and at this stage the spring was a write-off. There was no inner core left to grip. Cousins came to the rescue and will send me the new American spring American Ansonia 19 x .45 x 2500 x Ø47 (ANS19)  x  1 @ £10.25 each. I feel this is not something I can charge the client for, despite the fact that I feel the spring was at its life end.

I learned my fourth lesson during reassembly of the movement. I struggled with the question "do you get the three wiry springs of the bell hammer, lifting piece and locking detent all in their place before or after putting the front plate on?" I found out (lesson four) that you must put the bell hammer spring in position before, and the other two springs after, you put the front plate on the pillars.

As my fifth lesson, I learned that the movement has a passing strike on the half hours. A cam on the centre arbor directly launches the bell hammer at 30 minutes past the hour. It also triggers the lifting piece on the whole hours. Interesting, I have not seen many of these passing strikes mechanisms yet.

My sixth lesson was that I observed that the countwheel, which sits on the striking train's great wheel, has two series of slots from 1 to 12. One series, of course, would be enough. I gather the reason for the two series of 1 to12 slots is to allow the great wheel to turn round in 24 rather than 12 hours. This allows to run the clock longer, as the great wheel can now turn half as fast compared to if there was only one series of 1 to 12 slots.

Countwheel with two times 12 hours cut out

In the meantime, I am studying how to put the new going mainspring into the clock once it arrives! By logically deducing everything that is related to the main spring I can only conclude that we will have to wind the going train of the clock counter clockwise while the striking train will be wound clock wise. I have never seen such a thing and cannot believe my conclusion! A quick search on Google, though, on the words winding of American clocks opposite direction confirms my conclusion as correct. Why hasn't any clockmaker told me this? Somebody could have rung me and kindly explained that this is quite typical with American clocks.

I am now anxiously waiting for the postman who always so kindly says "sorry to disturb you" when I open the door in my TerKuileClocks apron, with my loop clipped to my clock glasses and my hands protruding in surgical gloves ready to receive the mail.

The reinstatement of the Michael Hall turret clock

When I was about 5 or 6 years old, I would spend every Sunday in the garden of my grand parents in Holland. I would find a quiet spot where I could not be seen and start imagining things. What would I do for a living when I grew up? Where would I live? Would I have a wife and children? What would I look like as a grownup? Invariably, during these moments of bliss, the village church bell would ring. Today, hearing the bell of any church clock harks me back to this world of wonder.

A failed attempt to get permission to try my hand at repairing the Forest Row village church clock convinced me to approach the Resources Manager at Michael Hall for permission to try and get the clock house clock going again. A nod and a wink later, I was up there in the bell tower trying to understand what is what. My one year training at West Dean College in Chichester had prepared me to repair antique clocks. I had practiced on quite a number of them, but a real tower clock (or “turret” clock as we say in the trade) was not on the menu in Chichester. Of course, we had learned about, seen and touched the oldest still running clock in the world (from 1386) in Salisbury Cathedral made by three Dutchmen at the request of Bishop Erghum. That clock does not have a dial. It only rings a bell. More than sufficient when most people worked on the land. The bell told them the essentials.

When William Nevill (aka Lord Abergavenny) bought Kidbrooke Park in 1734 turret clocks had dials by then. It must have been William who put this clock in our clock house. A plaque on the clock says it was made in 1736 by Joseph Pattison (“Jos Pattison Fecit 1736”). Joseph (according to my clockmaker’s bible) lived in Chester in 1767 and only worked on watches. So who should I believe? If only the clock could speak.

As the picture shows, despite its almost 300 years, it is still a fine specimen. But when it comes to antique clocks, never believe what you see on the name plate. I am always tempted to misread inscriptions like the above as “Jos Pattison faked it in 1736”. Many clocks we hold for antiques have been mixed and matched with other clocks, to such an extent that we can never be sure we look the original in the eye.

The bell in the clock house is from later (1802). Thomas Mears made it in London. There must have been an earlier bell that burst in two. By the time Lord Abergavenny decided to sell Kidbrooke in 1803, the buyer must have insisted on this new bell. The buyer wasn’t exactly a nobody either: Charles Abbot, Speaker of the House of Commons.

Our clock just has an hour hand. Minutes did exist, but did not have the same sense of urgency as today. Indeed, clocks were set on sundial time. So, different places in England had their own time. Clocks were only synchronised throughout the country when trains started running.
Teachers, parents, maintenance staff and turret clock experts helped me restore the clock. It is now ready to begin a new life on midsummer’s day when the bell will strike the hours from midday onwards. I will sit somewhere in a quiet corner in Kidbrooke Park to review my life while the bell will ring in the future. All is well.




Marc ter Kuile, parent and clockmaker