Kelly's World- A View into the mind of Uber Geek, Kelly Adams » clocks

Fixer clock #1 tear down and reassembly

Kelly Adams — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 20:03:41 +0000

I picked what I thought would be the least complicated clock to work on first. This circa 1913 Gilbert “gilt No. 115″ clock has a simple time-only mechanism. Unfortunately for me, it is a small and “cheap” (mass produced) clock, meaning the thick brass and large pivots found in some of the other “fancier” clocks are replaced with pot metal and tiny parts that aren’t really made for easy repair.

What follows is sort of a journal of my experiences thus far in working on this clock. For anyone who doesn’t have at least a passing interest in clocks, it is probably advisable to skip reading the rest of this post. The short story: I successfully disassembled, cleaned, repaired the main problem, and re-assembled the clock. It still doesn’t work properly, and I’ve found at least one additional problem that I will have to fix later.

The folks on the NAWCC message boards helped me identify the clock, which gave me a bit of an idea what I was looking at. A mass produced novelty clock made by Gilbert Clocks out of cast spelter , which is sort of like a poor man’s bronze. Originally this was coated with gold or “gilt”, but any evidence of the gold is long gone. The internal mechanism is a balance wheel with what I was told is a club tooth escapement: again, the NAWCC folks were instrumental in figuring this out.

It was also at this point that a small niggling doubt began to grow regarding making this my first clock to repair. One of the posters in the NAWCC forum opined that this type of clock is not necessarily a good first clock to repair. I decided to carry on and see how far I could get, although I’ve been looking for a “deal” on a weight driven clock to add to my collection ever since.

In examining the clock, I found my first problem. The mainspring sits in a “half barrel” permanently affixed (riveted) to the back plate. This means normal ways of removing and re-installing the spring by removing the barrel and using a spring winder are impossible. Further, the pin or “joggle” in this barrel (basically, a cut out bent into a hook) that the spring originally hooked on had broken off. This meant the spring couldn’t be tensioned, explaining why the clock wasn’t running

The broken joggle further complicated spring removal. Tensioning the spring and using a C-clip or similar to hold it for removal would be the normal alternative to a mainspring winder… in my case, I was going to have to remove the spring by hand- since it is still under some tension, this can be a bit dangerous. But its a small clock, with a small spring, so I bought some gloves and eye protection and proceeded.

I stripped the clock down, removing the external minute gear and faceplate, then the gears this step released, and finally the mainspring. Everything went without any difficulties and no injuries were sustained- yay! During this process, however, I really began to appreciate how small the pivots on the gears are. I don’t have a micrometer or caliper yet, but I’d estimate they are on the order of 0.07 to 0.1 mm. To put that in perspective, in the larger clocks I probably should be working on, pivots (the little axles that pass through the front and back plate and upon which the gears spin) are 0.5 to 1.5 mm in diameter: nearly ten times the size of what I’m working with in this clock.

One unanticipated issue: the balance wheel is attached to a little “hairspring”: absolutely miniscule in the case of this clock. The balance wheel basically fell out when I removed the faceplate of the clock just like the the other gears… except it was suspended by its attached hairspring, which was attached to the backplate. Given that springs of this size are nearly irreplaceable, and are generally considered very fragile, this was a bit panic-inducing. I managed to figure out in record time how to detach the tiny hairspring, and it seemed largely undamaged.

During this panic I missed taking pictures of the disassembly process: not, as it turned out, a critical problem as I had enough pictures of the still-assembled mechanism to figure things out later. But I can’t emphasize enough: you need either a near-flawless memory, an excellent understanding of how different clock mechanisms go together and a really good memory, or plenty of pictures of your mechanism. It may look simple, and there may only be seven or eight gears, but they can go together in a vast array of puzzling and ultimately wrong configurations.

Now I had a clock in pieces, all of which I carefully put in little box. I then pondered how best to clean the pieces. The main purpose with cleaning is to get all traces of the original lubricant removed, particularly on the bearing holes and pivots. This old lubricant is usually a cross between glue, molasses, and sandpaper: coagulated oil mixed with extremely fine bits of metallic grit. Modern clock repair generally involves use of an ultrasonic cleaner and special chemicals. Professionals without an ultrasonic cleaner or who prefer the manual approach will usually use similar chemicals and soaking/rinsing processes, plus lot of careful spot cleaning with brushes. Guys like me with neither ultrasonic cleaners or fancy chemicals will use a simple bath of water and dish soap, and a toothbrush.

I know this sounds like an ineffective method, but even some pros go this route. And I figured I’d give it a try. The process took me about an hour, and I doubt I did a truly adequate job. But the gross cleaning isn’t where you stop. Regardless which method and tools you use, the next step involves fine cleaning of the bearing/bushing and pivot surfaces. I used round toothpicks to clear out each bearing (i.e.: hole in the face and back plate). I then used a special polishing/burnishing file (which is one of the most expensive tools I’ve bought to date) to work on the pivots. This took another couple of hours of work. Note that the pros will usually have a powered lathe for this process, or at least a special “hand lathe”- I had nothing, and so I’m sure my polishing of the pivots was very poorly done.

During this stage I asked for and received more advice from the NAWCC forum denizens (includes pictures of the mechanism). After removing the mainspring, they helped me confirm that it was “tired” (worn out) and needed replacing, so I ordered a replacement part. That took a while to arrive, and while I waited I ordered another clock and started the process of ordering an ultrasonic cleaner as well as one of those manual hand lathes I mentioned above. As I noted, I didn’t have either of these tools while working on this first clock, but I established that I want them. I also ordered various lubricants, tweezers, a jeweler’s saw and ultra-fine blades for cutting a new joggle in the mainspring barrel… it is never ending.

I began reassembly once the mainspring and jeweler’s saw arrived. The new mainspring arrived tightly tensioned and held with a wire, which gave me a method to reinstall it. After cutting the new joggle, I placed the mainspring in the half-barrel, donned my gloves and eye-protection, and carefully removed the wire. The new spring… sprung into place perfectly, with only one little problem- it did so with enough force to flatten the carefully crafted joggle I had made. With some patient manipulation of the spring and some fine pliers, I was able to get the spring hooked on the joggle successfully.

The rest of the reassembly was surprisingly easy. Note that I don’t have the hands or minute gear installed, but those sit outside the faceplate and my first objective was to check the running of the mechanism. Unfortunately, it didn’t run initially: however, with some careful adjustments to the balance wheel to get it “in beat”, I was able to get it running for nearly five hours. With the mechanism cleaned, I can see some excess “slop” in one of the bearing holes: that will require re-bushing to correct, yet another thing I don’t have tools for. I also think there may be some irregularities in the escapement wheel, but I need a lot more magnification than I currently have to see that: each tooth is about a tenth of a mm.

So, I turned a non-running clock into… a half running clock. Not a terribly obvious improvement, I’ll admit, but I’ve gained a great deal of knowledge. I’ll be setting Fixer #1 aside for the time being until I have bushing tools and better magnification, and will start on my second clock over the weekend.

I’m becoming committed…

Kelly Adams — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 23:01:11 +0000

A month or two ago, I was involved with clocks. Now I think it is safe to say I am becoming committed. What has changed? It is a matter of degree…

Early in the year I bought a couple of clocks and started playing around with them. They fascinated me, and so I decided I wanted to learn more. As I said in my previous post, I’ve started collecting non-functional or damaged clocks with the intent of using them to learn basic repair and maintenance skills. But that is just the start… in no particular order, here is the rest:

I joined the National Association of Watch and Clock Collectors (NAWCC). I could have accessed their forums and such without paying for membership, but it seemed fair to contribute. This gives me access to a community of amateur and professional horologists who can help me identify clocks, guide me in methods for restoring them, and provide a bit of camaraderie
I read several discussions on the topic and placed my order for my “beginner” set of repair tools. That’s $500 worth of files, clips, magnifiers, and winders
I ordered a workbench for clock assembly
I found and ordered several books on clock repair to complement my DVD set
I started looking at precision lathes and CNC mills for clocks and related work; I watched a series of half a dozen youtube videos on gear milling…
I researched ultrasonic cleaners and digital microscopes… and realized I was in danger of becoming a tool collector, so I didn’t buy anything
… but I did order a second more general-purpose workbench, knowing that one day I’ll want those lathes and such
I started planning out the work for each clock in my “learning” collection, considering the order and steps for each clock
I read twenty or thirty threads on the NAWCC forums on such topics as tool selection, rare banjo clocks, the mysteries of reverse painted glass repair, and lengthy arguments about tung oil versus linseed or Joe Collins versus Ollie Baker winders

When I look back on the last couple of weeks I might ask myself: what’s with all the enthusiasm? Part of is undoubtedly the novelty: clock repair/restoration is new to me. I’m vastly ignorant, and I can double what I know in a matter of days. I haven’t become “smarter” at this rate in quite a long time. A few days ago, I couldn’t have told you how a gear is milled out of a chunk of brass or other metal: now I am aware of several ways it can be done. I had no clue what was meant by “curly” or “quilted” wood, but now I have a basic idea, and I can also grasp a bit about antique finishes like traditional shellac.

Another aspect of it is the largely physical nature of the work- there is math, and logic, but the result comes down to chunks of brass, steel, and wood working together in some fashion. You can’t wave off or ignore the basic fact that all the book knowledge in the world won’t make a clock suddenly start working. And as a hobby, it gives me a solid foundation of physics and mechanics along with a touch of art. I have really only completed one tiny “repair” in the past week, more of a jury rig in order to test out one my learner clocks, but it gave me a happy little thrill when the clock started ticking out the time. That is a nice feeling of joy and pride that I sometimes miss.

I still love computers and software, but clockworks are sufficiently different and yet similar that the concepts have fired off all sorts of normally dormant neural pathways. Who knows how long this will last, but I consider the money and time well spent. And as they say, it is the journey not the destination that matters.

Why am I buying non-functional clocks?

Kelly Adams — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 00:41:40 +0000

Folks following my twitters, which appear conveniently on the left side of my web page, will possibly have noted that I mentioned buying some “broken” clocks.

I’ve won two of the “broken clock” ebay auctions I’ve bid on: I may live to regret this…1:23 AM Jul 5th from TweetGenius

I’ve actually won five out of five auctions, achieving my objective of establishing a collection of various abused antique timepieces. Why would any sane person want broken clocks? Your first mistake is use of the word “sane” in reference to me. But I’ll try my best to explain what is going on here, since there is some logic to what I’m doing.

As I said some time ago in my post about the Atmos clock I had acquired, I like old-style mechanical clocks and watches. I’m not fascinated by their value, or their age, or even the materials they are made out of, although all of these things are factors in my interest. No, what really gets me going are the mechanisms themselves. How do they work? What makes them go, and what keeps them going? How can something made without benefit of computers and advanced engineering keep accurate time over days or weeks? And when they stop working, what is happening inside to cause the malfunction?

In a lot of ways, my interest in clocks is very similar to my interest in computers. I like the detail and precision, the raw logic of the mechanism, coupled with the craft involved in the process. Yes, there is craft involved in computer support: my hackles rise whenever some ivory tower pundit claims computing science is pure “math”. I may not understand it now, but I know it *can* be understood, and to varying degrees mastered. With a clock mechanism, unlike with computers, there is something much more physical and real. What really matters is more clear: does the clock work? Will it continue to work, and work well, for an extended time? I think it is that physicality which appeals to me now in my middle age, as my work with computers becomes more about politics and perception than about reality.

I had a lot of fun figuring out how to get my antique clock running after shipment. That wasn’t “repair”, but it did introduce me to some of the concepts involved in pendulum clocks, and I found I wanted to know more. And I really feel a sense of satisfaction every time the clock (correctly!) rings the hour, knowing that it does so because of work I performed. So I did some research, learned a bit about formal training, and decided I’d like to start with some self-directed education. I then found a reasonable (I think) “how to repair” course on DVD- but it seemed to me I should probably have a few clocks to work on while I complete that course.

That all leads to my current situation, wherein I have successfully bid on five old/antique clocks in various states of disrepair on eBay. If I wanted to be truly “economical”, I would be shopping at estate sales and auctions: I suspect I’m paying a 50-100% premium through eBay. However, my average expenditure per dysfunctional time piece comes in at about $150, which is within the budgetary realm I set. The advantage to eBay is that I can (and did) get five clocks picked out in one day: I’d spend weeks at auctions trying to accomplish the same thing.

Why five clocks and not three, or twelve? Well, it seemed like a reasonable number: I’m expecting each clock will occupy me for one to two months as I figure it out. Five is enough that I might reasonably expect the better part of a year worth of “fun” out of the investment, and is also enough that if one or two turn out to be beyond my capability, I still have a couple of others to work on. They are all mantle clocks, and four of the five are pendulum clocks from the 1870-1930 era. The collection includes two Ingraham, one Junghans, and one Ansonia: all of these are makers I’ve heard of and which should be reasonably easy for me to source parts for if required. The fifth clock is a cast iron oddity that I *think* is of a more recent vintage, but I’ll find out once I get a better look at it. I don’t expect to actually start receiving shipments until the end of the month.

My intent is to learn now to disassemble, clean, and re-assemble each clock. At least one of the clocks has some case (wood) finish related problems I want to overcome- specifically, removing gold spray paint slathered on a 100 year old walnut-cased Ingraham. That same clock also has a broken pendulum suspension, which I’m looking forward to figuring out. None of the clocks are so far gone as to be “impossible” (I hope): at least one of the clocks supposedly still runs. But all of them are bad enough off and common enough (i.e.: not some extremely rare museum piece) that I don’t feel like I’m certain to be making them worse.

Once I’m done and they are working, my intent is to re-auction them with the objective of selling them for the same price as I bought them for. I’m not going to lie about how they were restored, nor am I trying to make a “profit” (although of course that would be nice). This is an educational exercise, partly to see if my interest in clock repair holds out through several cycles- I expect the process to cost some money. If my interest holds out over time I’ll repeat the exercise, hopefully having learned enough to make more intelligent choices in the future.

And if I *really* like clock repair, I might one day take some formal training- maybe when I retire, since it takes a year (two if you want training on watches as well), requires travel to the U.S., and costs several tens of thousands of dollars. In the mean time, I’m really not spending much more than someone might on a hobby like rug hooking or photography.

I want a workbench…

Kelly Adams — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 00:27:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I decided to start setting up a little place in the house where I can work on fiddling with clock mechanisms. I have discovered that there is some sort of strange and mysterious aura surrounding what I had originally thought was a humble and simple to acquire item: a suitable workbench.

I’ve bought a couple of tools, most notably a special stand for working with the mechanism when it is removed from its case: believe me, this would have been worth its weight in gold a few weeks ago. And so I have decided it is important to get an appropriate workspace to house my gear. A workbench will help me define my clock twiddling environment. Sure, I could work on the kitchen counter, but as Irene will tell you this sometimes leads to… conflicts.

I considered repurposing an old desk, but I gave some thought to that. Most clock and jewelry repair workbenches are higher than a normal desk: the work surface is 8 to 10 inches above something you would want to write on, closer to 40 inches off the ground versus 30 or thereabouts. Clock and jewelry repair benches also generally come with appropriate storage drawers and the like, which seems like a good idea. If I had a shop, circular saw, and other appropriate tools, I could probably build something for $200 or so… but I have none of those things, and getting them would initiate an entirely separate set of projects. So off I went to find something reasonable on eBay.

I found several very similar alternatives right away, and the prices seemed in the right ballpark: around or below $300 U.S., which is fair for something made out of solid wood. But I noticed something odd: they had strange notices regarding shipping:

The workbench

The strange shipping quotes

It seemed odd that an item selling for less than $300 should have $600 or $700 worth of shipping tacked on. I even contacted the sellers, and got such illuminating responses as “Yes, that’s the shipping cost”. I’ve only listed two examples, but there were at least two more, all with the same strange shipping versus item cost disparity.

I began to wonder at what might be causing this high shipping cost. Are the desks made of some strange wood that weighs several pounds per cubic inch resulting in an item weighing seven or eight hundred pounds? Could it be that the bench must be wrapped in live chinchillas and packed in a special foamed steel chassis? Does some guy with a black suit, extra dark raybans, and an earpiece wire dangling from his ear have to handcuff himself to the item and carry it on board the plane personally, especially when shipped to New York, Maryland, or Canada?

These and other questions must remain unanswered as I finally found the same desk from another vendor that only wants to charge $125 for shipping to Canada. Sure, it isn’t cheap, but it is more in line with what I expected to spend. Of course, now I’m having problems getting the actual order to complete (a problem with eBay’s ordering interface), but the vendor is being helpful- with any luck, I’ll have a bench in a month or so…