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

My “new” old clock- circa 1850′s Chauncey Jerome 8 day ogee

Kelly Adams — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 19:22:02 +0000

My most recent clock family member arrived on Thursday. It is one that I plan on keeping: a mid-19th century (sometime before 1853) “ogee” style clock made by the Chauncey Jerome factory in New Haven, Connecticut:

An “ogee” clock doesn’t describe a brand or mechanism: instead, ogee describes the shape of the curves in the moulding. Because the name has been attached to a general style and vintage of clock, sometimes you’ll see an “ogee” without the correct type of case design. Mine is finished with “American rosewood” veneer which is almost perfectly intact.

My clock was made sometime before the reforming of the Chauncey Jerome business into the New Haven clock company in 1853. That makes the clock itself older than Canada and the American Civil War, which is a bit sobering. The case and mechanism are original: the tablet (the back painted glass at the bottom of the clock) is possibly original, but could be a contemporary (circa 1850) replacement. The face is a replacement from a different clock (a 30 hour mechanism) of about the same age. The weights for the 8 day weight driven mechanism are quite massive- on the order of ten pounds each.

These were “common” clocks at the time, although the eight day mechanisms like mine were more expensive and are accordingly quite a bit rarer. Clocks of this kind were the ones that the American settlers moving west would put in the back of their wagons. Most of them are in rather rough shape today as they weren’t considered art or fancy furniture- they were practical necessities which, although often made to look fairly attractive, were not babied.

It is pretty astounding to me to have something of this age in such workable condition in my house. It is fully functional: this isn’t a “fixer” clock for me, but a “collectable”, and will be staying with me. It cost less than a Playstation 3: not cheap, but not exorbitant for something with this much history.

Clock rebuild #2 complete and delivered, #3 started

Kelly Adams — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 22:52:51 +0000

The second “learner” clock I worked on was completed early in December and has been delivered to its new home. I am pretty happy with the results:

Case after restoration:

Case before restoration:

The “after” picture is before I re-installed the mechanism in the case (thus the hands aren’t visible)- since the case is what most people see/understand, that’s the picture most people will grasp. The mechanism is working well and is strong- my repairs mainly consisted of replacing a few bushings and cleaning thoroughly. It was “stopped” when I got it, gummed up by a gross buildup of oil and dried up WD40. For the “gear heads” out there, here’s what the mechanism looked like when complete:

The clock became a Christmas gift for my brother in law Bryan after he indicated an interest in mantle clocks. Word to the wise- if you are a relative or friend, and say “I’ve always wanted an antique mantle clock” or anything similar within my hearing, you might just get one some year. You’ve been warned

Now I’m starting on my third clock. This one is an Ingraham “gingerbread” mantle clock circa the late 19th century- probably around 1890 or thereabouts, but I’ll have to get that confirmed with some help from the folks on the NAWCC forums. Gingerbread in this context mainly describes the process for the case manufacturing: the patterns are embossed rather than carved, a sign of the “mass production” that became more common in the latter part of the 19th century. Once I have my skills built up, I really want to work on late 18th century and early 19th century clocks: but because those are rarer, I want to make sure I can do them proper justice before I lay my hands on one.

It is another time/strike mechanism, very similar in many respects to the Ansonia as are my next two planned “fixers”. This one is actually running at the moment, and shows clear signs of having been repaired/restored a decade or two ago:

The paper face was replaced when it was repaired which, to some extent, is a bit sad: the shiny white face looks out of place on a 100 year old clock. The bushings are all in good shape from what I can tell- I suspect a complete cleaning plus some restorative work on the case (there is one break at the top, and the nails holding the base on are pulling out) is about all it will need.

The excess of standard “American time and strike” clocks in my first batch of learner clocks represents what is commonly available- but the lack of variety isn’t good for my intent to learn as much as I can from each clock. I’m on the look out for a weight driven Ogee style clock to add to my knowledge, but I haven’t found one yet since I’m fussy (I want an 8 day mechanism) and since they are comparatively rarer versus the spring driven mechanisms.

Side note #1: Fixer #1 (a spelter Gilbert gilt No. 115) is still dead. I tore it down again and replaced two bushings as well as correcting some bends in the hairspring, put it back together and wound it up… which broke the repair I did to the mainspring barrel. The metal is very low quality, and the repair approach I used (cutting a new tang/hook) was questionable. So I’ve set it aside again, until I feel like trying the “craft a rivet” approach that is more recommended.

Side note #2: a picture of the most expensive clock repairing tool I own, an Elma / KWM bushing tool with a complete set of over 1,000 brass bushings.

This is a lovely hand-driven tool, one of (if not the) best of its kind. Yes, I tried hand-cutting a couple of bushing holes before I got this- it sucked. And yes, I’m totally spoiled

Hide glue… is surprisingly hard to find

Kelly Adams — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 17:59:50 +0000

I’m getting another round of bits and pieces together in order to work on the next clock repair challenge in front of me: a circa-1915 mahogany-veneered Ansonia time/strike mantle clock.

Working on this clock is like two separate projects in one: a wood restoration project for the case, and a mechanical rebuild for the clock mechanism itself. And this duality will be true of the majority of the clocks I work on going forward: I like wood mantle clocks more than I like the “figural” or the “stone” cased clocks. So that means I need to learn some things that would be familiar to an antique furniture restorer.

One of the things I need to learn is how to deal with putting a broken case back together, and how to restore the finish. Since these clocks were made something on the order of a century ago, that means dealing with materials and methods that are different from how things are done today. Two big differences: glues and coatings.

Modern glues involve all sorts of plastics and fancy chemicals. They can bond two pieces of wood together so that the bond is stronger than the wood itself- this is great for something that is intended to last at most one generation. Older glues were mostly organic: gelatin, or hide glue, is the most common- it creates a fairly strong bond, but no where near as strong as a modern glue.

Unfortunately, any wood that lasts more than a couple of decades will shift, shrink, dry excessively, and expand with time: in old clocks, this puts stress on those weak glue joints, and that’s what breaks down. In newer clocks, the wood itself usually breaks: the idea is, at that point you throw the item away and buy a new one. With the old pieces of furniture, including old clock cases, the idea is that you re-glue, and use the piece for another generation or two. The old hide glues facilitate this: with heat and moisture, you can return the glue to its original “soft” state, allowing you to remove it/reseat it. Further, unlike modern glues, hide glue can adhere to hide glue so your cleanup doesn’t have to be perfect. Modern glues, on the other hand, require harsh chemicals to “unbond” or remove, causing damage to surrounding finishes and even the wood itself… and if you fail to thoroughly clean the old glue away, the new adhesive won’t bond very well.

All of this suggests that using traditional hide glue is a wise idea, at least on an antique. The biggest benefit, to my thinking at least, is that future restorers can easily remove any mistakes I create: hide glue is forgiving in that way. Note that the most common modern use of hide glue is in musical instruments, where re-furbishing is much more common than in modern furniture.

I have discovered, however, that hide glue isn’t available at “mass market” stores. I can sort of understand this: “liquid” hide glue only has about a one year shelf life, and the really traditional glue flakes require skills and tools most modern woodworkers lack. In other words, Home Depot and Rona don’t stock the stuff, which leaves me with the question: where do I buy it? The general recommendation is to find a small “neighbourhood” hardware store, which just might have more traditional supplies. Unfortunately, I can’t find such a store anywhere locally: it might exist, but the very nature of these old-fashioned stores means they aren’t visible to me. They don’t exist on the Internet, and I’m not fond of the idea of randomly going through the phone book explaining over and over again what “hide glue” is. The blank looks from the people at Home Depot and Rona (all of whom were older than me and, assuming their professed knowledge of wood working, should have known better).

I can find hide glue on the Internet easily enough. Titebond manufactures a liquid hide glue, and is apparently available through several large chains in the U.S.. For reasons unknown, the Canadian arms of these chains have no clue about the stuff. I’ve asked Titebond themselves if they have any Canadian retailers: after a week of waiting, I’ve had no response.

That leaves me with one rather unsatisfying choice: order the glue from an American distributor, and hope that it can make it to Canada. The cost of shipping is greater than the cost of the product, but the real problem is whether it can make it over the border at all. My observation is that anything involving chemicals has a hard time making it through customs, but I’m going to take that chance.

I’m ordering through Woodcraft.com, which claims to ship to Canada and also had slightly less expensive shipping ($12 versus $20) than a couple of other places I tried. They have both liquid hide glue (which I’m ordering), and the ground dry stuff in case I want to use that in the future.

After all this hassle to get glue, I’m really wondering how much fun I’m going to have the first time I try to get traditional shellac flakes…

Clock repair activities stalled

Kelly Adams — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 19:27:10 +0000

I’ve put my clock repair self-education “on hold” the last month or so. A few things led to this:

need for parts and tools: my first and second clock both need bushings installed, so I had to order those- now I’ve decided I need a bushing tool rather than trying to hand-bush perfectly perpendicular 0.1 to 0.3 mm holes in 2-3 mm brass. My second clock is also filthy (as are clocks 3/4/5… much dirtier than clock #1), and I bought an ultrasonic cleaner to help with that. As it turns out, I can’t get cleaning solutions shipped from the U.S., so I’ve had to find a Canadian supplier
vacation: I couldn’t order parts and tools by mail for the three or four weeks leading up to our vacation for fear that they would arrive while we were away. Some carriers have five or seven day “return to sender” policies and, given that 30% of the cost (or more) for parts is shipping, I didn’t want to risk that
failure of collectable clock: my Napoleon III era French clock stopped running a couple of weeks before we left on vacation. This is a clock I had no intention of servicing until I had completed all of my “learning” rebuilds as it is a more expensive and “special” mechanism. I spent a week getting advice and examining the movement, got it running without disassembly, then decided to stop it and “preserve” it until I could do a proper cleaning/repair of it later

I’m starting to get parts and tools in order now that my vacation is finished. I’ve found what I hope to be a Canadian supplier of the “correct” cleaning solutions I want, and will hopefully have that in hand in three or four weeks. I’ll probably order my bushing machine in the next week, and the bushings themselves arrived via mail while we were away. Putting this all together means I’ll probably not have much progress on fixer clock #2 until the beginning of November.

I could get all excited and start stripping down more clocks in the mean time, but I’ve decided to try something new: patience. I might take a look at the cases of a couple of my clocks (ignoring the mechanisms) while I wait, but my plan of the moment is to keep reading the clock repair and collector’s forums and practice calm breathing…

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…

Balance

Kelly Adams — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 06:51:18 +0000

My “new” antique clock stopped running today. This doesn’t surprise me a lot- it has travelled half way around the world, and it is pretty old, so it being a bit out of sorts is somewhat expected. But I had some learning to do in order to figure out what was going on, and to see if it could be “fixed” without major challenges. I’ve collected some of what I found here for future reference.

There are two basic types of regulating mechanisms in mechanical clocks: a pendulum or a balance wheel. Both serve the same purpose: controlling the output of mechanical energy from a spring or weight drive using simple physics (i.e.: gravity). Without this regulation, the spring would spin down and the clock wouldn’t measure time accurately.

Balance wheels are more “modern”, and so of course my older clock has a pendulum. Pendulums are neat in that, as a result of the mechanisms they inhabit within a clock, produce the wonderful tic-tock (or tic-tic) sound we think of as measuring time. Interestingly, that sound should be precisely even, and if it isn’t, the clock is said to be “out of beat”. Being out of beat is basically a matter of balance: the pendulum is swinging more to one side then the other, or worse yet isn’t swinging straight side to side, but also front to back. It loses energy on each swing, and in most cases will stop swinging entirely in a short while- which of course stops the whole clock. The spring is still wound, so there is energy there waiting to be used, but it is the pendulum that puts that energy to work telling time.

Some pendulum regulated clocks have “auto-adjusting” mechanisms to rebalance themselves, but once again this is generally a feature of newer clocks. But as soon as you realize that being out of beat is mostly a matter of balance, you can start making careful experiments to correct the level of your clock. Without making any changes the mechanism, this can be done simply by lifting one corner or side of the clock a fraction of an inch while the pendulum is swinging. That beat of that wonderful “tic-tock” sound will change and either become more “balanced”, or more erratic. I can attest to the fact that this takes some practice, and the smart thing would be to have a nice collection of finely sized wooden shims to prop the clock corners up as you experiment.

On my clock a shift of about 1 mm on one side was enough to improve the balance: it isn’t perfect, but if the clock runs for more than eight hours I’ll know it is a step in the right direction. If you have to shim up a side so much that the clock looks out of kilter, then the adjustment needs to be made mechanically: that is, the internal balance point needs to be corrected. It is important to note that simply using a spirit level won’t help you here unless the clock is brand new and is already perfectly adjusted: the out of beat condition usually occurs in older clocks or clocks that have been moved recently, and generally “level” isn’t what they need to get back in trim.

I referred to several different sources to get the basic information I’m relaying here. Some of these sources refer to specific ways to correct the beat that may only apply to certain types of clocks (e.g.: those with “auto correcting” balance), but be careful: these may involve moving the pendulum / pendulum crutch to the extremes of their motion and, if the clock doesn’t have auto adjustment features, you can cause damage. Generally, though, if you are gentle you won’t likely be inflicting permanent harm.

I’ve put some bits of cardboard under two of the legs of my clock for now, and keep listening to its tic-tic sounds: if it is still running a day or two from now, I’ll look into a more permanent solution.

My antique clock arrives

Kelly Adams — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 03:32:30 +0000

The first thing I bought on eBay is the last to arrive: an antique mantle clock, circa 1870 France, shipped from Germany. It took a long time to get here, and apparently spent a while in Canada Customs. Both the main outer box and one of the internal boxes was opened by our friendly border monitors who were, no doubt, worried that I was receiving… actually, I have no idea what they would have thought I was receiving from Germany. But the clock is here, so now it is time to dig into the details.

General description

The clock itself is fairly typical for the French Empire period pieces that I’ve seen on eBay and in various auction catalogs- that is, it is rather ornate. The main body or case is black marble with pink/grey/red variegated marble trim. The feet and decorative “handles” are gilt bronze: supposedly the gilt is all original, but I find that somewhat hard to credit. However, I’m pretty green regarding these things, and I’ll just say it looks pretty fine.

The clock mechanism itself is in good working order, or at least it has been running and keeping time since I assembled it (more on that below). It is marked “P.D. Paris” with a serial number “1719″ on both the mechanism and pendulum. The mechanism appears to be in excellent condition: as with the gilding, it is hard to imagine this is nearly 140 years old. However, I can confirm that the age is reasonably accurate based on other clocks with the same maker’s mark and similar (or higher) serial numbers- they are all made in the mid 1800′s. The face is enamel, and is marked with the words “La Motte Beuvron” (which I believe is a small town in France) and another word that looks like “Charpiery”, but I’m sure I have that wrong as looking it up on Google finds nothing.

The clock seems to be having some difficulty ringing its bell: it sounds rather pathetic, and the “hour” rings don’t seem to be counting correctly (it rang 13 times for 2:00 PM). But I’m going to give it a day or so to settle before I worry too much.

How it came

I was really curious when I ordered the clock: how exactly do you ship something made variously of stone, thin/fine metal, glass, and delicate mechanical parts thousands of miles? The answer is: very carefully, and in parts.

I fully expected the pendulum to be removed- that is a delicate piece, after all. But the clock was actually nearly completely disassembled. All the “bright work” pieces were removed. The legs, top decorations, and pendulum were packed individually in ziplock bags within a peanut-filled box. That box sat beside another box, wherein the clock mechanism was ensconced in bubblewrap and more peanuts. A third box, similarly carefully packed, contained the marble case. All three boxes were packed within a fourth box, with about four inches of peanuts on all sides. This was wrapped with a cord, the ends tied off and sealed with an old-fashioned wax seal. Customs did a surprisingly gentle job of unpacking this and repacking it- they didn’t disturb much, and seemed most interested in the internal marble clock case (the didn’t open the boxes with the individual parts). The whole thing was shipped via DHL: the shipping itself was about $100, and then Customs tacked another $60 onto that.

The dealer also included a little treat: sealed in its own ziplock bag with the clock parts was a chocolate bar. Irene has already claimed that for herself. But I was left with the challenge of putting the pieces back together without instructions. Fortunately, nothing was very complex- really, it was only eight pieces or so, and where each went was pretty obvious especially in light of the original photos on the auction site. Note that I expect the photos and listing to disappear soon, so I’ve archived the page and its contents locally.

The top decoration consists of a metal rod onto which slide a number of “bits” in a particular sequence: all I needed to do remove the bits (which the seller had thoughtfully replaced on the rod in the correct order), put the rod through the top of the case, and replace the bits one at a time in the same order. At this point I began to believe that the clock truly was over a century old: the rod and the nut that holds it in place, even the washer appears hand-crafted. The signs of wear are apparent but minimal.

The feet had little screws fitted into brass sockets in the stone: the screws had been re-inserted in their sockets, and it was obvious they were intended to hold the feet. This was simple enough, and again as I handled the screws they showed definite signs of their age. If this clock isn’t legitimately 140 years old, someone went to a great deal of effort to properly simulate the impact of a century of wear and exposure on metal.

Inserting the clock mechanism was also pretty straight-forward: it is quite obviously intended to be removed for servicing. The only time I hesitated was when it came time to hang the pendulum and attach the small bell. The pendulum hangs from a fine wire “swing”, and so I was worried about damaging it. And once I had it in place, I immediately tried to center the clock mechanism with the 12 precisely centered at the top… which unbalanced the pendulum. That is, it didn’t swing… it took me a moment to realize I needed to rotate the mechanism slightly off of what I thought was “true center”: once I did this, the pendulum swung freely, and I realized that two things. First, the fast/slow adjuster is the true center for the clock, and it definitely sits slightly off of the 12. Second, I realized that that looking at the original sales pictures again would have made the need for the 12 to be slightly off center immediately obvious: that’s the way it is in the picture:

If you look at the face in the picture, you can see what I mean: that small black dot that is perfectly centered slightly above and to the left of the 12 is the fast/slow adjuster. The pendulum is precisely centered behind that dot: rotating the mechanism to put the 12 dead center makes the fast/slow off center, and unbalances the pendulum. Strange, but true.

I faced a similar uncertainty with the bell. The striker needed to be gently moved, the bell attached to a screw-pin on the back of the mechanism, but at first it wasn’t immediately obvious how it was to be attached. Then I realized that there was a knurled nut attached further along the screw pin which, once removed, would allow the bell to be more properly seated and, once replaced after positioning the bell, would serve to hold the bell in place. As I mentioned previously, the sound of the bell is rather anemic: the striker rests on the bell between each strike, which “deadens” the sound. I’m not sure if this is intentional or if there is a further adjustment necessary. Also, I noticed that the clock struck an odd number of times on the hour. The one time I’ve caught it striking the hour so far, it rang (by my count) 13 times for 2:00 PM. If it had rang 14 times, I could have pretended that was military time, but no such luck

I have it set up and running now. Rotating it around to open the back and “experiment” with the bell mechanism is not very feasible: I’ve found that the pendulum stops every time I rotate the clock, making me think it is best just to leave it be for a while and let it “acclimatize” to its new home.