The Magic of the Zimingzhong Clock

The Science Museum in London England occasionally hosts temporary exhibits within the horology section that delve deeper into specific aspects of timekeeping, such as the influence of time on culture or the future of time measurement.

In the spring of 2024, a special exhibit of Zimingzhong clocks captured my attention. For any clock enthusiast, it is a must-see. My wife and I were fortunate to have been in London at the time and spend a few hours on a spring afternoon exploring the museum and the special exhibit.

From a collector’s perspective, encountering Zimingzhong clocks is both humbling and inspiring. As someone who spends much of his time working with Canadian and European clocks — often appreciating honest craftsmanship, practicality, and mechanical ingenuity — these pieces feel almost otherworldly.

They remind us that clocks were not always designed simply to sit quietly on a mantel or hang on a wall and mark the passing hours. In another time and place, they were meant to astonish and amaze.

What strikes me most is the intention behind them. Every detail, from the elaborate cases to the animated figures and musical elements, was created to evoke wonder. The mechanics were important, certainly, but they were only part of the story. These clocks were meant to be experienced. One can imagine the anticipation in an imperial court as a clock came to life on the hour, movement and music transforming a technical device into a performance.

As collectors, we often speak about originality, condition, or rarity, but Zimingzhong clocks challenge us to think beyond those measures. They blur the line between horology and art. Standing in front of one, I found myself less concerned with escapements or strike trains and more aware of the cultural journey that brought such objects into existence — European mechanics interpreted through Chinese artistry and symbolism.

It is a reminder that our shared fascination with clocks crosses borders and centuries.

Zimingzhong clocks represent far more than devices for telling time. Created for the Chinese imperial court during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries—often by highly skilled European craftsmen—these remarkable timepieces combine precise mechanical timekeeping with intricate automata, musical mechanisms, and lavish decorative artistry.

Today, they stand as extraordinary examples of cultural exchange and technical ingenuity, capturing a moment in history when horology, art, and diplomacy came together in some of the most elaborate clocks ever made.

Related Links

  • Wells Cathedral clock movement at the Science Museum in London; Wells Cathedral, located 31 kilometers south of Bristol in Somerset, England, is a masterpiece of early English Gothic architecture. While most of the Wells Cathedral clock is displayed at the British Science Museum in London England, parts including the hands, dial, and animated figures remain at the Cathedral.
  • Discover the wonders of Horology at the Science Museum in London, England: The Science Museum in London, England, is one of the city’s most iconic and popular museums, dedicated to inspiring a passion for science in visitors of all ages. Located in the South Kensington area, it is part of the Science Museum Group, which also includes other major museums in the UK.

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Exploring a New Look: Moving Beyond the Gateway Theme

For the past four years, my blog has been built around the Gateway theme. It has served me well—clean, reliable, and easy to navigate. It has quietly done its job without drawing attention to itself.

But over time, even the most dependable design can begin to feel a little… familiar.

As my blog has grown, so has the variety of content. From horology tips and advice to personal reflections and reader contributions, there’s now more here than a simple chronological layout might fully showcase. That got me thinking: is it time for a change?

Some regular readers may have already noticed the change. Enter Baskerville Two.

What immediately caught my attention was its front page design. Instead of presenting posts in a straight, top-down list, it offers a grid-style layout that highlights multiple articles at once. This creates a more inviting experience for readers. Rather than arriving and seeing just the latest post, visitors are given a range of topics to explore right away.

And that matters.

A blog isn’t just a stream of entries—it’s a collection of stories, ideas, and conversations. The more easily readers can discover those, the more engaging the experience becomes. Baskerville Two seems to encourage that kind of browsing, almost like walking through a small gallery instead of reading a single page.

Of course, changing themes isn’t something to do lightly. It’s not just about appearance—it’s about how the content feels. I’ll be taking some time to preview how my existing posts look in the new format, making sure that images, excerpts, and overall readability still align with what I want the blog to be.

In many ways, this reminds me of restoring a clock. The movement—the heart of it—remains the same. But sometimes the case can be refreshed to better reflect its character and purpose.

So, I have moved to Baskerville Two. The goal is simple: make the blog more engaging, easier to explore, and more enjoyable for readers.

Over the coming weeks, I’ll be taking a close look at how the theme performs in day-to-day use. Just as importantly, I’ll be listening to your feedback. If something works well—or doesn’t—I’d like to hear about it. Your input will help guide any adjustments or refinements along the way.

After four years, that seems like a change worth exploring.

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Idioms and Expressions with the word “Clock” and/or “Time” in Them | 2026 edition

idioms are fixed phrases or expressions whose meanings can’t be understood just by interpreting the individual words. Their meanings are figurative and widely recognized within a particular culture or language. Every language has its own idioms. In horology, we have quite a few, and it’s fascinating how the word “clock” plays such a prominent role in our everyday language.

This is the most comprehensive list I have made so far, the 2026 edition, and I hope you enjoy some timely clock humor.

  • Around the clock: Describes something that is in effect, continuing, or lasting 24 hours a day: “We worked around the clock to meet the deadline.” Also, Around-the-clock service: Continuous service is provided 24 hours a day, seven days a week: “The hotel offers around-the-clock service for its guests.”
  • Clean someone’s clock: To defeat someone decisively: “In the final match, our team cleaned their clock.”
  • Beat the clock: To finish something before a deadline: “We had to beat the clock to complete the project on time.” Also, Race against the clock
  • Against the clock: Working on a task that has a tight deadline: “The team is racing against the clock to finish the construction before the event.”
  • Watch the clock: To be mindful of the time: “During the meeting, I had to watch the clock to ensure we stayed on schedule.” Also, He’s (she’s) a clock watcher
  • Turn back the clock: To return to a previous time or state: “Sometimes, I wish I could turn back the clock and relive those carefree days.” Also, Wind back the clock
  • Keep an eye on the clock: To regularly check the time: “I need to keep an eye on the clock so we don’t miss our train.”
  • Winding the clock: Engaging in a time-consuming or repetitive task: “His job felt like winding the clock every day, doing the same thing over and over.”
  • Kill time (on the clock): To pass time while waiting for something: “I often read to kill time during my lunch break on the clock.”
  • Works like clockwork: To perform with precision and reliability: “Once the new system was in place, everything worked like a clock.”
  • The clock is ticking: time is running out so act fast. also, The clock is running: Which indicates that time is passing, often with a sense of urgency: “We need to make a decision; the clock is running on this project.”
  • Run out (or down) the clock: deliberately use as much time as possible to preserve one’s advantage: “Facinga tie, he decided to run out the clock in the final moments“
  • On the clock: you’re working or being paid for your time and labour: “Oh, don’t bother him, he’s on the clock”. Also, Clock in/clock out:
  • Your biological clock is ticking: time is running out to have a child so act now: “Lisa felt the pressure of her biological clock ticking as she approached her 30s, prompting her to seriously consider starting a family.”
  • Punch the clock: be employed in a conventional job with set hours: “After a long day at work, I’m always ready to punch the clock and head home for some much-needed relaxation.”
  • Stop the clock!: to remain young indefinitely or “As the final seconds ticked away in the championship game, the quarterback made a game-winning throw that seemed to stop the clock for a moment, sealing their victory.”
  • As regular as clockwork (or, running like clockwork); a machine that runs perfectly and needs no adjustment. “Every morning, without fail, Jim’s neighbour would start his day as regular as clockwork, going for a jog at exactly 6 a.m.”
  • Face that could stop a clock; A face that is strikingly or shockingly unattractive; or “Jane walked into the room with a look on her face that could stop a clock, causing everyone to pause and wonder what had happened.”
  • Five o’clock shadow; a slight growth of beard on a man’s face; “After a busy day at the office, Tom returned home with a noticeable five o’clock shadow, a sign of the long hours he had put into his work.”
  • Running like clockwork: Operating smoothly and efficiently, without any problems: “The event was running like clockwork, thanks to the meticulous planning.”
  • Two o’clock courage: The bravery or confidence that comes late at night, especially after consuming alcohol: “He had a bit of two o’clock courage and finally asked her out.”
  • When the clock strikes (a certain time): Referring to a specific time on the clock. For example, “We’ll meet at the cafe when the clock strikes noon.”
  • Ticking clock: Refers to time running out or a sense of urgency.
    “With the deadline fast approaching, the ticking clock made everyone nervous.”
  • Clock someone: To strike someone, especially with the fist. (informal). “He got angry and nearly clocked the fellow who insulted him.”
  • Beat the clock by seconds: A common variation emphasizing how close the deadline was. “They beat the clock by just a few seconds.”
  • Clock in/Clock out – Refers to recording the time someone starts or finishes work, usually with a timecard. “I forgot to clock out yesterday, so my hours were recorded wrong.”
  • Behind the times: Old-fashioned or out of date. “His views on technology are a bit behind the times.”
  • Turn the clock back: returning to the past. “Tonight we turn the clock back to a happier time”
  • Ahead of its time: Something innovative or modern for its era. “That design was ahead of its time when it was introduced.”
  • Time flies (Tempus Fugit): Time passes quickly. “Time flies when you’re enjoying good company.”
  • Borrowed time. Living or continuing longer than expected. “That old engine has been running on borrowed time for years.”
  • Take time out. To pause work or activity to rest or relax. “After finishing the project, they decided to take some time out.”
  • Third time’s the charm. Success after two previous failures. “After two unsuccessful attempts, the third time’s the charm.”
  • Have the time of your life. To enjoy oneself immensely. “They had the time of their lives at the celebration.”
  • Time waits for no one: Time keeps moving regardless of circumstances. “Better start that project soon—time waits for no one.”

Related Articles

Idioms and expressions with the word clock in them, 2025 edition: Every language has its own idioms. In horology, we have quite a few, and it’s fascinating how the word “clock” plays such a prominent role in our everyday language.

Tempus Fujit Time Company: A little clock humour to brighten your day.

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Restoring the Balance of a Mauthe Horse Crown Vienna Style Wall Clock

Some clocks have a way of drawing you in immediately, and this Vienna-style wall clock made by Friedrich Mauthe was one of those pieces. The moment I saw it, I knew it had presence—it becomes part of the room.

With its rich walnut case, turned columns, and the distinctive horse finial crowning the top pediment, the clock reflects the late nineteenth-century taste for decorative wall regulators. These clocks borrowed heavily from the famous Vienna regulators but were produced by German makers for a wider market.

When I purchased the clock, I inspected it carefully enough, and everything appeared to be intact. It was not until I had it safely home and hanging on the wall that something seemed slightly off.

The clock didn’t quite look balanced.

At first glance, it was difficult to say exactly why, but the longer I looked at it, the more obvious it became. A closer inspection of the lower portion of the case revealed the problem: one of the decorative finials at the base was missing. There was clear evidence that a piece had once been there.

The likely explanation came from the seller when I contacted them later on. At some point in the clock’s journey from Germany to Canada, the lower finial had been snapped off so the case could fit inside a suitcase. Whether the piece was discarded or simply lost along the way remains a mystery.

Mauthe "horse crown" wall clock

Fortunately, aside from this small detail, the clock remained remarkably original.

Still, once you notice something like that, it becomes impossible to ignore.

Finding a Suitable Replacement

My first thought was that replacing the missing trim piece should not be too difficult. There are a number of suppliers that specialize in clock case hardware and decorative parts, and I began browsing through the usual clock parts sites in search of something that would suit the design.

There were several options, but eventually I chose the finial you see here.

It is flat on one side and comes without a peg, making it adaptable for installation on a variety of cases. Most importantly, its shape complements the overall style of the clock without drawing attention to itself.

When restoring an antique clock, the goal is often to restore balance rather than create perfection. The replacement does not have to be an exact replica as long as it harmonizes with the original design.

In this case, I think it strikes the right balance. It may not be precisely what the factory installed over a century ago, but it looks convincing enough that even a careful observer might assume it has always been there.

Matching the Finish

The trim piece arrived unfinished, which meant it needed to be toned to match the rest of the case. Examining the clock more closely, it appeared to retain its original walnut finish.

With that in mind, I applied several coats of stain until the color blended naturally with the surrounding woodwork. Matching old finishes can be tricky, but patience—and a few test coats—usually brings things into alignment.

Once installed, the difference was immediately noticeable, and balance has been restored.

Restoring the Clock’s Symmetry

Seen from a couple of meters away, the clock now looks exactly as it should. The case once again has the visual symmetry that its original designers intended.

Small decorative elements like these finials may seem minor, but they play an important role in the overall composition of a clock case. Remove one piece and the entire design can feel subtly incomplete.

The “Horse Crown” Vienna Case Style

The decorative horse finial that crowns the pediment is what collectors often refer to as a “Horse Crown” Vienna-style case. While traditional Vienna regulators made in Austria tended to be somewhat restrained in their ornamentation, German makers frequently added dramatic sculptural elements to appeal to export markets.

The rearing horse was a popular motif at the turn of the twentieth century and symbolized strength, motion, and vitality—fitting imagery for a mechanical clock. Mounted above the pediment, the figure gives the clock a distinctive silhouette and immediately draws the eye upward.

Combined with the turned columns, carved mask, and stepped base, the horse crown transforms what would otherwise be a fairly conventional wall regulator into a much more decorative statement piece. Often, you will find clocks offered for sale missing this critical decorative piece.

The movement inside the clock was produced by Friedrich Mauthe, one of the largest German clock manufacturers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Founded in 1844 in Schwenningen in the Black Forest region, the company became known for producing reliable, well-engineered movements that were exported throughout Europe and North America.

The Mauthe Movement

Many Vienna-style clocks from German makers used spring-driven two-train movements with time and strike trains mounted between brass plates. These movements typically strike the hour and half-hour on a coiled gong and are known for their durability and relatively straightforward construction.

Clocks like this were produced in large numbers between about 1890 and the early 1920s, when Vienna-style regulators were still very popular in homes and offices.

A Small Piece, A Complete Clock

From a distance of a few meters, the clock now looks exactly as it should have all along. The case once again has the visual balance that its designer intended.

The replacement may not be identical to the original piece that once adorned the base, but it blends naturally with the rest of the case. Unless someone knows exactly where to look, they would likely never suspect that a small piece of trim once disappeared somewhere along the clock’s long journey from Germany to Canada.

And like many antique clocks, it carries with it not only the passage of time—but a bit of history and a story of its own.

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The Rise of the German Box Clock: A U. M. Müller Example

U. M. Müller clocks were once a familiar name in households across Europe, yet today the brand is not as widely recognized among collectors as some of the larger German makers. That is a bit surprising, because the company produced clocks that could easily stand beside the finest German manufacturers of the early twentieth century.

One area where U. M. Müller truly excelled was with their box clocks. At a time when tastes were shifting away from the tall and highly ornate Vienna regulators, these clocks offered something different—cleaner lines, practical design, and a price that appealed to the growing middle class. By the 1930s, the sleek German box clock had largely replaced the Vienna regulator in many homes, quietly marking the end of an era.

Note the count wheel location on the outside of the front plate

This particular U. M. Müller is a striking example of that transition. The oak case has a stately presence, highlighted by delicate carved inlays on the door, brass strip framing, and a fixed wooden crown. A brass bezel frames the metal dial, which carries classic spade and spear hands. The beveled glass, also set in brass, adds a refined touch. On the back, wall stabilizers ensure the clock hangs securely—another reminder that this was a clock designed not only to look good, but to perform reliably day after day.

The case itself has aged beautifully over the decades, with no noticeable scratches or blemishes. The dial, however, tells a different story. Its surface bears the marks of long service, including an abrasion between the numbers 6 and 7 where the paint has worn through to the bare metal. While it is not something that can really be repaired, it does give the clock a bit of honest character—evidence of the many years it faithfully kept time on someone’s wall.

U M Muller clock dial

Inside is a classic count wheel time-and-strike movement that strikes on a coiled gong. The strike is bold and full on the half-hour and the hour, but never harsh or overpowering. Like most spring-driven clocks, one should not expect chronometer precision, but this example runs just as these clocks were meant to—steady, dependable, and capable of keeping “regular” time across its full eight-day cycle.

After a careful cleaning and waxing, the oak case shows what it must have looked like when new, more than ninety years ago.

Collectors sometimes date U. M. Müller clocks using the small lion trademark on the dial. A raised tail generally indicates a clock made before 1930, while a lowered tail—like the one on this example—places it in the mid to late 1930s.

According to Schmid’s Lexikon, the company’s history dates back to 1867 in Mühlheim, Germany. Ownership changed hands several times over the years, including a period under R. Schnekenburger around 1880.  The company operated as R. Schnekenburger GmbH a.d. Donau before facing financial difficulties, and acquired by Gebrüder Müller in 1923. The firm developed a reputation for building solid, handsome clocks that were both reliable and affordable. Müller clocks were competitive with other German makers such as Junghans, Kienzle, and Gustav Becker, though often at a slightly lower price point aimed at the middle-class market.

In the end, this U. M. Müller is a fine reminder of a moment when clock design was changing. As the grand Vienna regulators slowly disappeared from the walls of European homes, clocks like this stepped in to take their place—simpler, practical, and built for everyday life. Nearly a century later, it still does exactly what it was meant to do: quietly mark the passing of time while adding a bit of character to any room.

Related Articles

  • UM Müller box clock | servicing the movement: I bought this clock in 2013, and while it has been very reliable and running daily, like all things mechanical, it requires attention from time to time.
  • UM Muller box clock;  not a household name in its time, yet U. M. Müller produced clocks that could stand proudly beside the finest German makers of the early 20th century.
  • German Box clocks: a journey into clockmaking history: the popularity of Vienna Regulator clocks began to wane towards the early part of the 20th century. The more modern and less ornate design of the box clock appealed to changing tastes and preferences after World War I.

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Re-Bushing, Reassembly & Testing of a Gustav Becker Regulator

Gustav Becker 2 weight clock

This two-weightGustav Becker regulator wall clock, purchased in 2016 as a “project clock,” proved early on to be more challenging than I thought. This is the third and final post in this series. For the story behind this clock and an analysis of the steps taken so far, the first and the second posts can be found here and here.

Gustav Becker two weight regulator

After repeated but unsuccessful attempts to source correct replacement parts, the original movement was ultimately replaced with a complete 1918 P27 movement. That decision proved sound. The replacement movement has run reliably for more than nine years, making the recent strike issues described here less a surprise and more a predictable outcome of a long service interval.

The current issue is intermittent stopping during the warning phase, with the warning lever binding against the stop-wheel pin. In the absence of obvious breakage or damage, and given the movement’s extended service interval, the symptoms suggest accumulated wear rather than sudden mechanical failure.

With that diagnosis in mind, let’s now shift to systematic bushing work, careful reassembly, and methodical testing of the movement.

Polishing Bushings

Polishing the pivots prior to addressing pivot hole wear is a critical step, since even minor surface roughness can accelerate wear in otherwise sound bushings. Ensuring the pivots are smooth and true allows any remaining issues to be correctly attributed to pivot hole wear rather than the pivots themselves.

Taig lathe with 1/4 hp motor
Taig metal lathe

The pivots were inspected and polished using my Taig metal lathe (above). An emery board was used to clean and polish each individual pivot. No pivot wear was expected, and none was found.

Bergeon Bushing Machine

Bushing Work

The next step is addressing wear, particularly on the strike side. Pivots in this movement are significantly smaller than those found in mass-marketed American movements. As a result, some of the pivot holes measure only 0.6 to 0.7 mm, requiring small 2 mm diameter Bergeron bushings.

This demands a high level of precision when drilling the plates, as accurate placement is critical. Off by a fraction of a millimeter, and the wheels will not mesh correctly. Two new back-plate bushings were installed on the second and third wheel pivot holes.

After checking the action of the wheels, I debated whether or not to include the fourth wheel pivot hole, which did not look as worn as the other two. I decided not to at this point. Interestingly, both replaced bushings showed punch marks adjacent to the pivot holes, a previous attempt to reduce pivot hole wear by closing them. Punching pivot holes might have been an acceptable practice years ago, but not today.

Reassembly

Working with small pivots presents its own set of challenges. There is always the risk of a bent pivot. Now, it could have been me, or it might have been there for quite some time, but I noticed a slightly bent pivot on the flywheel. Straightening a bent pivot is not for the weak of heart. A broken pivot can be a catastrophe.

Can it be fixed? Yes — and I have done pivot work in the past — but it’s something best avoided whenever possible. I have a staking tool specifically for correcting bent pivots, and I did my best to straighten it. I also have the original movement, so I could have used the fly from that movement if my minor repair had gone sideways.

Other than the minor hiccup described above, assembly went as planned.

Have I ever left a part out? More than once. I’ve put everything together only to discover the hammer arbor looking up at me as the last part in the bin, practically saying, “You forgot me.” Not this time.

Aside from the winding drums, there are only 6 wheels and the fly. The strike levers are on the outside of the front plate. Below the large hour wheel on the front plate are two smaller gears that must be timed. Curiously, there are timing marks on the bottom of the gears, so, using a black marker, I indicated the timing marks on the top of the wheel. This aligns the movement for striking at the 12 o’clock position.

Otherwise, the stop wheel should be very close to 12 o’clock, and the gathering pallet is positioned to clear the rack. Next come the various levers and the taper pins to keep them in place.

Testing

I have five testing stands, but none that accommodate a Vienna Regulator, so the movement was returned to the case for testing. During the testing period, I did not attach the hands or the dial.

With the striking issues finally sorted out, the clock is now running as it should — steady, reliable, and doing exactly what it was meant to do. As of this writing, it is on its second 8-day cycle and keeping time within a few seconds per hour.

Final thoughts

It now seems likely that wear on the striking side lay at the heart of the problem, and those issues have finally been addressed. As with any clock repair, time itself will be the true judge, but for the moment, all signs are encouraging. With a little luck, it will settle in and run contentedly for many years to come.

This has always been one of my favourite clocks in the collection and one that I keep running daily, so it was genuinely disheartening to see it silent for the past few months. I tried every reasonable adjustment to coax it back to life without dismantling the movement, but in the end, there was no substitute for proper disassembly and servicing. Sometimes a clock simply tells you when it is time to do things the right way.

I will let it run through another full eight-day cycle, make any final adjustments that may be needed, and then refit the dial and hands — hopefully marking the return of a familiar and welcome presence in the room.

Related Links

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Walter Clocks of Toronto: A Nearly Forgotten Chapter in Canadian Clockmaking

Among Canadian clocks, some names are immediately recognizable — Pequegnat, Canada Clock Company, Hamilton Clock Company, Wesclox from Peterbourough or Seth Thomas and New Haven imports sold through Canadian retailers. Others, however, tell a quieter story. Walter Clocks of Toronto belongs firmly in that second group, yet its history represents one of the last meaningful chapters of traditional clock manufacturing in Canada.

About two years ago, I made an effort to connect with surviving members of the Stonkus family and was able to reach one of Walter Stonkus’s granddaughters, as I recall. I proposed a question-and-answer format, with the intention of later shaping the material into a blog article. Unfortunately, despite a follow-up, I did not receive any further correspondence.

Since then, I have pieced together what information I could from a variety of online sources including The Canadian Clock Museum, located in Deep River, Ontario (Canada). While there are still some obvious gaps in the story, my goal here is simply to provide a general sense of Walter Clocks and their contribution to clockmaking in Canada.

So, let’s begin.

The company was founded by Walter Stonkus, who immigrated to Canada from Lithuania in 1927. Trained originally as a watchmaker, Walter brought with him both mechanical knowledge and European craftsmanship at a time when Canada was still developing its own manufacturing identity. By the early 1930s, the Toronto-based firm operated under the name Walter Stonkus and Sons Clocks.

From the beginning, the company followed a model common among Canadian makers: build the cases locally while sourcing precision movements from Europe.

Walter’s real strength appears to have been in design and cabinetmaking. Clock cases were produced in Toronto, often using walnut veneer before the Second World War, and stained birch in later years. The quality of the clock cases seems almost at odds with the small size of the company. Despite being a modest operation, Walter produced cases of remarkably high quality.

These early clocks typically featured spiral gongs and reflected the popular mantel styles of the era — practical, handsome, and intended for everyday homes rather than grand showpieces. It is also possible, though unconfirmed, that Walter clocks supplied finished cases to the Forestville Clock Co., operating in Toronto, Ontario (Canada) at the same time.

Like many small manufacturers, the company’s progress was interrupted by the Second World War. Production was suspended, largely due to the difficulty of obtaining imported movements and the broader shift of industry toward wartime needs.

When production resumed after the war, the business entered a new phase. Walter’s son Bill joined the company, and several recognizable design features emerged. Postwar clock cases were often made from stained birch, and many models incorporated what became something of a Walter trademark — a round removable back door that allowed easy access to the movement. German-made Urgos movements, both two-train and three train, powered many of these clocks, combining reliable European mechanics with distinctly Canadian cabinetry.

In many ways, Walter Clocks filled an important gap in Canadian horology. After the closure of the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company in 1941, very few domestic manufacturers remained. Walter Clocks, along with the Forestville Clock Co. of Toronto, helped carry Canadian clockmaking into the mid-20th century, even as the industry itself was beginning to change.

By the 1950s tastes were shifting. Mantel clocks were no longer the focal point of the living room. Television sets were taking their place, and inexpensive electric clocks were rapidly gaining popularity. Like many traditional makers, Walter Clocks adapted by moving into cuckoo clocks, 400-day clocks, and alarm clocks — products that reflected changing consumer demand. Increasing competition from imported clocks further reduced the viability of local production.

Walter Stonkus’s set of Starrett measuring tools

The company ultimately ceased operations sometime in the late 1950s. The exact year — and the precise reasons for closure — remain uncertain, but Walter Clocks had operated in Toronto for more than thirty years, a respectable lifespan for a small Canadian manufacturer navigating enormous technological and cultural change.

Today, Walter clocks occupy an interesting place for collectors. They are not rare in the sense of limited experimental pieces, nor were they mass-produced in American quantities. They were never a large industrial producer, which explains why surviving examples feel scarce today.

Sadly, relatively few of these clocks survive today, and they seldom appear for sale online. While browsing Facebook Marketplace the other day, I came across one very much like the example pictured below, though fitted with a Westminster chimes movement. It was in poor condition and listed as a non-working, parts clock. Otherwise, it was the first example I have seen come up for sale in quite some time.

From The Canadian Clock Museum

The Walter Clock Co. represents something uniquely Canadian: practical craftsmanship, locally built cases, and dependable European movements assembled for everyday households.

For collectors like myself, these clocks serve as reminders that horological history is not only written through grand innovations or famous names. Sometimes it is found in the steady work of immigrant craftsmen who built honest, functional objects meant to live quietly on mantels across the country — marking time for generations of Canadian families.

Related Link

  • Ten active clock companies in Canada in the 1950s; Canadian clock collectors are most familiar with the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company, which closed its doors in 1941 but 7 years later a number of clock companies were alive and flourishing in Canada, predominantly in areas in and around Toronto.

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A New Resource Page for Clock Enthusiasts: Tools I Use for Clock Repair

Screw drivers, clock tools

Over the years, many readers have asked what tools, oils, and supplies I use when working on antique clocks. While I occasionally mention these items in various posts, I realized it might be helpful to bring everything together in one convenient place.

I’ve now added a new resource page to the blog titled “Tools I Use.” On this page you’ll find a curated list of some of the basic tools and supplies that I rely on when servicing and maintaining antique clocks. These include items such as clock oils, cleaning supplies, magnifiers, and some of the more specialized tools used in horology.

As of this writing, the page is a work in progress, and I have not yet set up links

Whether you are just beginning to explore clock repair or have been working on clocks for years, having the right tools can make the work easier and more enjoyable. My goal with this page is simply to provide a practical starting point for anyone interested in maintaining or restoring mechanical clocks.

You can visit the new page by clicking the subtitle on the main page.

I will continue to update the page from time to time as I discover useful tools or resources worth sharing with fellow clock enthusiasts.

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Daylight Saving Time and Mechanical Clocks — A Love-Hate Relationship

Twice each year, most people casually change the time on a microwave or stove clock and carry on with life. Those of us who collect mechanical clocks, however, prepare for what can only be described as a seasonal endurance event.

Yes — Daylight Saving Time has arrived again.

For the general public, DST is a minor inconvenience. For a clock enthusiast, it is an expedition. Every mantel clock, wall clock, regulator, and stubborn little alarm clock must be persuaded — politely — to agree with the new official time. Some cooperate willingly. Others protest by striking eleven when it is clearly ten, or by refusing to strike at all until properly consulted.

The original idea behind Daylight Saving Time was admirable enough: shift the clocks to make better use of daylight and enjoy longer evenings outdoors. In practice, it often means losing an hour of sleep in March and spending the next week wondering why everything feels slightly out of rhythm.

Interestingly, a Canadian helped set this whole process in motion. Sir Sandford Fleming, engineer and champion of standardized time zones, gave the world a sensible system for telling time. One doubts he imagined future generations standing on step stools twice a year, carefully advancing minute hands while negotiating with century-old movements.

Today, about 70 countries still observe DST, while others — including Japan, India, and China — have wisely decided that time works perfectly well without seasonal tinkering. Here in Canada, in most parts, we continue the tradition, guided by the familiar phrase: “Spring ahead, fall behind.”

For mechanical clocks, the rule is simple: move the minute hand forward one hour and allow the clock to do the rest. Let the chimes play out naturally. Patience is essential. Mechanical clocks have survived world wars, house moves, and generations of owners — they will not be rushed simply because politicians have decided it is suddenly an hour later.

In my home, adjusting the clocks takes long enough that by the time I finish, at least one seems ready to be wound again. And without fail, a week later I will discover a lone clock quietly living in the previous time zone, proving once again that clocks, like people, resist change.

There is growing talk of abandoning Daylight Saving Time altogether. Many argue it is unnecessary in our modern world of automatic devices and artificial lighting. It is about as useful as a chocolate teapot! I suspect few would celebrate its disappearance more enthusiastically than those of us surrounded by ticking reminders of the past.

The push to abolish seasonal clock changes in Canada is slowly gaining momentum. Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick have all considered the issue, although none have yet passed binding legislation.

Recently (March 1, 2026), the province of British Columbia announced that it would change its clocks for the final time on March 8 and remain on daylight saving time year-round.

Ontario has already passed legislation making daylight saving time permanent, but the change will only take effect if neighbouring Quebec adopts the same approach.

At present, Saskatchewan (one of Canada’s western provinces) and Yukon (one of the northern territories) remain on standard time year-round and do not adjust their clocks twice a year.

Until that day arrives in Nova Scotia and those “affected” parts of the world, we will continue the ritual — key in hand, listening to the familiar chorus of strikes and chimes — adjusting not just our clocks, but ourselves, twice a year.

7

A Return to the Bench: Wear-Related Strike Problems in a Gustav Becker P27

I wrote recently about a two-weight Gustav Becker regulator wall clock that my wife bought for me in 2016. It was sold as a “project clock.” While the case presented its own challenges, the real difficulties lay in the movement.

Gustav Becker Vienna Regulator

At the time, I was unfamiliar with Gustav Becker movements and only gradually realized that several key components were missing, likely harvested by a previous owner. One such part was the star wheel—an early lesson in the fact that Gustav Becker made design changes over time, and that parts are not always interchangeable.

After unsuccessfully attempting to source correct replacement parts, I ultimately replaced the original 1902 movement with a complete 1918 P27 movement. That movement has run reliably for more than nine years, making the recent strike failure described here not unexpected.

The clock began stopping intermittently during the warning phase, with the warning lever appearing to bind at the stop-wheel pin. Given the movement’s long service interval and the absence of obvious damage, the symptoms point toward accumulated wear rather than a sudden component failure.

The movement is now fully disassembled and awaiting the next steps. In this blog article, the focus will be on cleaning and initial inspection for wear. In a post to follow, I will document bushing work, reassembly, and testing required to restore reliable strike operation before returning the movement to the case.

When I first received the replacement movement, I inspected it and found everything to be in good order, with no appreciable wear. I cleaned the parts in my ultrasonic cleaner; however, at the time, I did not completely disassemble the winding drums, as I believed there was no need to do so. On this occasion, the winding drums must be disassembled, as the cables are becoming frayed just outside the drum, requiring access to the knotted ends.

Winding drum with gear wheel and spring removed

I inspected the braided cables and, rather than replace them, decided to reuse them. Although cutting off the knot at the barrel end will shorten the cables slightly, re-knotting the hook ends (the bottom of the movement) will restore them to their original length, so the run time should not be affected.

Mixing up winding drum parts might not be an issue, but safer to separate them

In the ultrasonic, I kept the winding drum parts separate. They may be interchangeable, but at this point, I’m not taking any chances. Interestingly, over a dozen parts make up each drum, most of which were taken apart for cleaning. I saw no need to disassemble the click spring, however. Once all the parts are out of the ultrasonic and dried thoroughly, the first step is to reassemble the winding drums and their cables, and set them aside for now.

Now that the movement is clean and the pivot holes have been pegged, it is time to turn our attention to the action of the gears. I first assembled and tested the time side and could find no perceptible wear. It’s a pretty simple setup with only 3 wheels: the second larger wheel, the third wheel, and the escape wheel. There are also 3 wheels on the strike side ending with the fly/governor. On the strike side, I can find some lateral movement of the pivots on the count wheel front and back plate, and the stop wheel, back, and possibly the front plate.

With the inspection complete, attention turned to the strike side, where the expected story revealed itself. Wear at several pivot holes was evident, the kind of wear you expect to find in a P27 movement that has been doing its job for well over a century. So, there is work to be done.

Did I wait too long? Yes, perhaps 9 years is a bit too long an interval between servicing points. None of it was alarming, but it does help explain some of the strike-related issues observed earlier. Addressing these worn areas will be an important next step, not only to improve performance but to give the strike train the freedom and reliability it needs for years to come.

Related Links

1

Can a Seized, Rusty Clock Movement Be Saved? An Ansonia Case Study

Siezed time-only movement

Some time ago, I was up for a real challenge when I bought an old clock that seemed hopelessly irreparable. While picking up another clock, the seller threw this one in for a few dollars more. The clock, an Ansonia Extra Drop, was in pieces and had been stored in a barn—literally—for many years. The case had completely come apart, and half the backboard was missing. Most would have thrown out this jumble of parts, but I saw a diamond in the rough.

The movement was intact, but it was the dirtiest I had ever seen. Okay, it looks bad, but might it be saved?

Front of movement showing plenty of rust

It was so rusty that none of the wheels would move. I was less concerned about the wheels and pivots because I knew that once I took it apart and cleaned it up, there was a good possibility that the wheels would move again. The rusty mainspring concerned me, however. A mainspring’s strength can be seriously compromised by the presence of rust. That said, it seemed to me that a surface coating of rust alone should not be too much of a problem.

Back of movement

After cleaning, polishing, and addressing pivot wear, the movement was reassembled, and a deciding the mainspring could be reused; here is the final result.

How well did it function? So well, in fact, that it is now one of my daily runners.

And the case, you might ask? Well, it is not perfect, but I managed to piece together what I had, add a piece of backboard from an old ogee clock, touch up the dial, add a new set of hands, pallets, and crutch, suspension rod, and construct a lower access door. While it may look good from afar, closer scrutiny reveals its rough edges. Most importantly, it tells a story of resurrection.

In the end, what first appeared to be a hopeless, rust-bound movement destined for the garbage can proved otherwise. Does that mean every movement can be successfully brought back to life? No—though for some irreparable clock movements, some parts can be salvaged. However, with careful work, patience, and a willingness to look beyond first impressions, this clock was made to run again.

It served as a reminder that even the most neglected mechanisms often deserve a second look—and that revival is sometimes less about miracles than about time and persistence.

Related Links

Ansonia Extra Drop wall clock does not run, and a rusty mainspring is the culprit; the clock was in pretty rough shape when I bought it and the only significant part missing is the brass dial bezel and a number of minor items such as the verge, hands, pendulum bob, suspension spring/rod, and the drop access door (which I made later on)

Making a drop door for the Ansonia Extra Drop wall clock; A barn find clock in pieces is a challenge for anyone. It was missing some parts. I discovered that I had enough to make something of it, and whatever was missing could be easily sourced or made. 

The challenges of restoring an Ansonia wall clock when parts are scarce; This clock was manufactured by the Ansonia Brass & Copper Co. around 1880. It is 26 inches high, 16 inches wide and 5 inches deep. It has a 16 inch round wood door bezel on a large 2 inch hinge. The drop section has serpentine sides and teardrop finials. The bottom access drop door opens downwards. Other Drop Extra access doors open to the side.

0

What to expect in 2026 | Will Clock Prices Rise Again?

Visitors to my site often ask what their clock is worth. Occasionally, someone has a very unique clock that is difficult to value, but more often, the clock they believe is valuable turns out to be very common and worth little or nothing, even though it may be 100+ years old. As we often say in the clock world, old is not gold. So, what can we expect in 2026?

Given that antique clock prices have been falling for several years, largely due to the sheer number of clocks now available on online marketplaces, it’s reasonable to ask whether values will ever rise again. For many common antique clocks, prices have softened because supply far exceeds demand.

Mass-produced mantel and wall clocks are easy to compare online, buyers are cautious about restoration costs, and fewer people today collect mechanical clocks purely for decorative reasons. These factors combine to keep prices flat or drifting downward for ordinary examples.

New Haven Mantel clock
Tens of Thousands of New Haven Mantel clocks were produced

That said, a price recovery is not impossible, even outside the realm of extremely rare clocks. There is a growing appreciation for mechanical craftsmanship in an increasingly digital world, and some younger collectors are discovering antique clocks through social media, blogs, and restoration content. There might even be a renewed interest within the senior community, albeit a very small minority. In fact, late last year, I received an email from an 84-year-old gentleman who was beginning his first foray into the antique clock world. He is to be applauded.

At the same time, genuinely well-preserved, original clocks are becoming scarcer as time, poor repairs, and neglect take their toll. As the supply of high-quality, honest examples shrinks, those clocks may begin to command stronger prices, particularly when they combine good condition, appealing design, solid provenance, and a short production run.

This Ingraham Huron had a production run of just two years

Countering this, though, are some practical realities that make big price increases unlikely. Online listings make it easy to compare prices, which keeps values competitive, and the cost of proper restoration often far exceeds what a clock might bring on resale.

Antique clocks are also very much a niche collectible, not a mainstream investment like fine art or classic cars, so demand is limited, and price movements tend to be slow and uneven. That said—and as I’ve mentioned more than once—clock collecting was never really about resale value anyway. For most of us, it’s about the enjoyment of the clocks themselves: the craftsmanship, the history, and the satisfaction of keeping these old machines running.

Unique clocks with special provenance will continue to rise in value

In practical terms, the market now appears stratified. Common clocks are likely to remain stable or continue modest declines, while better-quality, interesting, or especially original clocks have a stronger chance of holding value and possibly appreciating over time. In short, while the era of broad, across-the-board price increases is probably over, there is still room for value growth in terms of quality, condition, and authenticity.

For simplicity, it helps to separate the market into tiers:

Tier 1 — Common Clocks

  • Mass-produced mantle and wall clocks with large production numbers, which are likely to remain stable or slowly decline in value unless broader interest grows.

Tier 2 — Above-Average Quality or Interesting Design

  • Good makers, unusual styles, attractive dials that have a better chance of holding value, and possibly modest increases if collector interest grows.

Tier 3 — Rare or Highly Desirable Clocks

  • These already have their own value dynamics and typically rise.

In summary, while the broad market for antique clocks has softened and is unlikely to see dramatic price increases in 2026 and beyond, there is still potential for well-made, original, and interesting examples to hold their value or appreciate modestly over time.

Oversupply, online price transparency, and high restoration costs continue to limit widespread gains, especially for common clocks. Ultimately, however, clock collecting is driven by an appreciation for craftsmanship, history, and the simple pleasure of preserving and enjoying these remarkable mechanical objects.

For auditory learners, a video version of this blog article is available.

2

Ten Years Later: An Odd Strike Issue in a Gustav Becker P27 Movement

Gustav Becker 2 weight clock

In 2016, my wife gifted me a two-weight Gustav Becker regulator wall clock. It was a much-appreciated gift, and I spent many hours restoring it, as it had been sold as a “project clock.” The case certainly had its issues, but the most challenging problems lay in the movement itself.

At the time, I was not familiar with Gustav Becker movements, and it did not immediately occur to me that several key components were missing—almost as if a previous owner had harvested parts for another clock. One example was the absence of the star wheel. I contacted the seller, who kindly sent several replacement parts, including a star wheel. Unfortunately, it did not fit.

Missing star wheel, which should be just below the minute wheel

It was then that I learned Gustav Becker had made design changes to these movements over time, meaning that not all parts are interchangeable. It appears the star wheel was sourced from a later model.

That led me to source a replacement movement, which I was able to obtain through an eBay seller. The price was more reasonable than I expected, and the movement arrived intact. Initially, I thought I could harvest parts from it for the original movement; however, as I had already learned with the star wheel, some parts did not fit.

Using replacement parts in antique clocks presents a number of challenges beyond simple fit and function. Even when parts appear correct, subtle differences in design, dimensions, or period manufacturing can affect performance and reliability.

From a collector’s perspective, non-original or mismatched components may also impact a clock’s historical authenticity and, in some cases, its market value. For the restorer, this often requires balancing mechanical integrity and long-term usability against the desire to preserve originality as much as possible. Of course, to the casual observer, the clock appears original.

I ultimately decided to abandon the 1902 movement and use the 1918 P27 one instead. The 1918 movement has been running flawlessly for the past 9 plus year and that is why the issue I am describing in this post surprises me. Or, should it!

Most people would be inclined to dismiss the problem by simply restarting the clock, which is what I initially did, but several hours later, the clock stopped again.

The problem is this: the warning lever, which drops into the warning wheel to stop the strike in warning, seems to freeze intermittently. For proper function, the strike release lever is lifted by the minute wheel pin to release the warning lever. I believe the issue occurs at the stop-wheel pin, where it appears to bind or stick. When I manually lift the warning lever to release the stop wheel, the strike train will run for a while, then stick again.

When I disassembled the movement, I checked for broken or bent teeth, bent pins, and the general condition of the pivots. Everything appeared to look good. However, given that the clock has been running for a long period, the issue now seems more consistent with wear than with a sudden component failure.

One issue could be that excess endshake may be allowing the stop wheel to move fore and aft, altering how the stop pin engages the warning lever. Additionally, many weight-driven warning levers rely purely on gravity for return; any increase in friction can cause the lever to hesitate or become caught on the edge of the pin. For these reasons, I believe this is a general wear issue rather than a broken or failed component.

By way of comparison, the average American-made movement produced a century ago could often continue to run reasonably well despite significant wear, whereas German movements—built with tiny pivots and very close tolerances—tend to be far more sensitive to wear, dirt, and minor loss of power. This difference should perhaps not be unexpected.

The movement is currently disassembled and, after many years of service, likely requires bushing work.

In short, the symptoms point to accumulated wear rather than a specific failed part. The movement will therefore receive full bushing work where needed, followed by a thorough cleaning, reassembly, and testing on the stand. Only once the strike operates consistently and reliably under full weight will the movement be returned to the case.

3

Gravity Never Sleeps: A Tall-Case Clock Warning

This is a cautionary tale for anyone who owns a long-case or tall-case clock, especially a weight-driven example. I make that distinction because I do own a tall-case clock that is spring-driven, which I can assure you is quite unusual. Most, however, are weight-driven.

Scottish tall case clock

The other day, I went to investigate an issue with the strike side of an old Scottish clock assembled by a clockmaker named William McLaughlin in Scotland in the late 1840s. I purchased the clock at auction six years ago and spent many hours repairing the movement and restoring the case.

At the time, the clock was running—but just barely. The time side was functioning well, but the strike side needed some work and the addition of new parts to operate correctly. Since then, the clock has been running continuously and reliably for the past six years.

Recently, the strike side began to show a slight problem, which prompted me to remove the hood and carry out a closer inspection. The issue turned out to be that the rack was dropping too far back and was no longer being picked up properly by the gathering pallet. This situation seems to occur when I wind up the strike side weight too quickly, but something else might be amiss.

While investigating that area, I noticed something far more concerning: the strike-side barrel cable was badly frayed. The cable is made up of three groupings of strands, with each grouping consisting of about six wires. In this case, two of those groupings had snapped off completely. That left only one grouping intact—and even that was reduced to perhaps three or four remaining brass wires supporting the cable.

All of this was holding a 13-pound weight. I have enlarged the photo above to better illustrate the problem.

The proper solution is to repair or replace the cable. As a temporary measure, the existing cable may be reused, provided it is still in sound condition. This involves removing the movement from the case, separating the plates, and opening the strike-side drum. The cable can then be fed back into the barrel and secured with a knot on the inside. Although this shortens the cable by an inch or two, it should have no meaningful impact on the clock’s running time.

Since I will have the movement apart, it will be an opportunity to clean the movement, address any wear, and re-oil the mechanism. I checked the time-side drum to determine if there is a similar issue with the cable, and to my surprise, found it to be just fine.

The takeaway here is a simple but important one: weight cables on long-case clocks deserve regular inspection, especially on clocks that run continuously year after year. Fraying often happens slowly and out of sight, and failure can be sudden and dramatic—with potentially serious damage to the movement, the case, or anything beneath the falling weight. In the case of this clock, there is nothing to cushion the blow if the weight were to drop. A loud bang would accompany a dented hardwood floor.

A few moments spent checking cables when servicing or inspecting a clock can prevent a great deal of trouble later on. In this case, I was fortunate to catch the problem before gravity finished the job.

2

A Letter of Praise Nearly Fooled Me | A Cautionary Tale

I receive many honest and sincere letters from readers of my blog, and I truly enjoy responding to the many clock questions and challenges. But one letter I received recently gave me reason to think twice — the first of its kind I have ever received. Here it is:

“Dear Ron,

I wanted to reach out to express my appreciation for your wonderful blog, Antique and Vintage Mechanical Clocks. Your dedication to sharing knowledge about clock collecting and restoration as a true labor of love is both inspiring and valuable.

What stands out most is your approach—you’re not in the business of selling or repairing clocks, but rather you’re driven by genuine passion for learning about them, collecting them, and occasionally restoring them. The wealth of knowledge and experience you’ve gained and generously share with fellow enthusiasts is remarkable.

Your detailed explanations, from assessing clock conditions to preserving their timeless charm, provide invaluable guidance for both new collectors and experienced repairers. The fact that you’ve built a community of 957+ subscribers speaks to how much your expertise is appreciated.

Thank you for dedicating your time and expertise to educating and supporting the clock-collecting community. Your blog is a wonderful resource.

With appreciation,

Claude”

For a fleeting second, I thought it was a bona fide letter of appreciation. After rereading, some of the wording made me pause.

Could this be Claude? He certainly looks sincere

Claude is not a person at all; he—or rather, it—is Claude Sonnet (4.5), an AI language model. I have no idea why it was sent to me specifically. Well, I do have some thoughts. But going forward, I will be suspicious when something like this arrives in my email inbox again. I can only surmise that they (and they are not “people”) probably don’t want anything personal from me, like money or information (beyond what they already know), but maybe it’s some kind of experiment in marketing, data collection, or I might be a test subject to evaluate “Claude’s” writing.

As many of you know, I value real stories, provenance, and authenticity—very much in the spirit of horology—and this letter clearly shows the contrast.

The most amusing thing—none of the content is untrue!

This shows how easily polished words and information collected about each and every one of us can fool us, even without real human thought. In a world where words alone aren’t always honest, this letter is a neat parallel to clock collecting: like a clock that looks original but isn’t, it’s polished and convincing, but the origin isn’t what it seems.

8

How to Start an Antique Clock Collection: Tips for Beginners

Starting an antique clock collection can be both exciting and a little overwhelming. With so many styles, makers, movements, and time periods to choose from, it’s easy to wonder where to begin. The good news is that you don’t need deep pockets or expert knowledge on day one—just curiosity, patience, and a willingness to learn.

I remember my early days of collecting, when I was eager to add just about anything to my budding collection. Today, I am far more discerning, carefully considering each potential acquisition. However, in my 25 years of collecting, I still own the first clock I would consider a true antique.

Seth Thomas Adamantine Mantel Clock, my very first true antique clock

If you’re thinking about starting your own antique clock collection, I offer some practical tips to help you get started on the right foot.

1. Start With What You Like

The best advice for any collector is simple: buy what you enjoy. Don’t worry about trends, investment value, or what others say you should collect. Whether it’s a simple kitchen clock, a shelf clock, a Vienna regulator, or a mantel clock with a rich patina, choose pieces that genuinely appeal to you.

One of my favorite clocks

If a clock makes you look twice when you enter a room, that’s always a good sign.

2. Learn the Basics Before You Buy

You don’t need to become a horological expert overnight, but learning a few fundamentals will save you money and frustration. Take some time to understand:

  • Basic clock types (wall, mantel, shelf, long-case)
  • Common movements (time-only, time and strike, chiming, spring or weight-driven clocks)
  • Key terms like escapement, pendulum, mainspring, and strike train

Books, museum visits, online forums, and blogs (like mine) devoted to antique clocks are excellent learning tools. The more you learn, the more confident you’ll feel when evaluating potential purchases. Knowledge is power!

3. Set a Budget—and Stick to It

Antique clocks can range from modestly priced to very expensive. Decide early on what you’re comfortable spending and remember to factor in possible repair costs. A clock that seems like a bargain may need servicing, which can quickly exceed the purchase price.

If you are bidding on a clock online, don’t get caught up in a bidding war. Set a firm limit and be prepared to walk away—other opportunities will inevitably come along.

Scottish tall case clock
A surprisingly inexpensive find; a Scottish tall case clock from the 1840s

Many fine antique clocks are still affordable, especially if you’re open to cosmetic wear or minor issues. A well-maintained, honest clock is often a better choice than an over-restored one.

4. Condition Matters More Than Perfection

It’s normal for antique clocks to show signs of age—after all, many are well over a century old. Look for clocks that are complete, structurally sound, and largely original. Missing parts, incorrect replacements, or heavily altered cases can be difficult and costly to correct.

When possible, ask:

  • Does the clock run?
  • Has it been serviced recently?
  • Are all the parts present?

Even if a clock isn’t currently running, it can still be a good purchase if you understand what it may need. In time, you will develop the skills and expertise needed to repair a non-running clock.

5. Buy From Reputable Sources

When starting out, it helps to buy from sellers who know clocks and are willing to answer questions. Antique shops, clock shows, auctions, and fellow collectors can all be good sources. Be cautious with vague descriptions or sellers who can’t provide basic information about the clock.

Over time, you’ll develop a sense for what feels right—and who you can trust.

6. Keep Records of Your Collection

As far as record-keeping, I find myself offering advice I don’t always follow. Perhaps that’s the true challenge of collecting.

From the beginning, get into the habit of keeping notes on your clocks. Record where and when you bought them, the maker, any repairs done, and any interesting history attached to the piece. Photographs are invaluable.

This not only adds enjoyment to collecting but also becomes important for insurance, resale, or passing the clocks on to future generations.

7. Be Patient and Enjoy the Journey

A good clock collection isn’t built overnight. It evolves over time as your tastes change and your knowledge grows. Some clocks will stay with you forever; others may move on as your focus becomes more refined. Although I enjoyed collecting common mantel clocks from the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, that is no longer my focus—and that’s perfectly normal. I wrote an article recently about the dynamic aspect of clock collecting that you might find interesting.

Collecting antique clocks is as much about the stories, craftsmanship, and history as it is about the clocks themselves. I marvel at the stories behind some of my clocks.

8. Investment value

From time to time, antique clocks are promoted as “investments,” but this is often a misunderstanding of both the market and the hobby. While a few rare, high-end pieces may appreciate, most antique clocks do not reliably increase in value once repair, maintenance, and storage costs are considered. Tastes change, markets fluctuate, and selling can be slow and unpredictable. Collecting clocks for enjoyment, historical interest, and craftsmanship is far more rewarding than treating them as a financial strategy.

Kienzle clock on display with Ingraham Huron
Ingraham Huron balloon-style shelf clock; Somewhat rare, but collected for appreciation—not investment

Final Thoughts

Starting an antique clock collection is a rewarding pursuit that connects you to history, engineering, and artistry. Take your time, ask questions, learn as you go, and most importantly—enjoy the process. Every clock has a story, and as a collector, you become part of it

0

How Much Can You Change A Clock Before It Loses Its Identity?

George H Clark 30-hour ogee clock

Some time ago, I posted an article on Minimal Invasive Intervention, in which I posed a question that often haunts clock collectors: how far should one go to repair, restore, or conserve a clock without changing it in a significant way?

This question came up in a conversation with my daughter, a civil engineer, who raised a fascinating philosophical point: if every component of a clock is eventually replaced, does it remain fundamentally the same object?

This is essentially the Ship of Theseus paradox. Plutarch, the Greek philosopher, posed the question in terms of a ship that had all of its wooden parts replaced over time:

“The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned from Crete had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their places, in so much that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same.”
— Plutarch, Theseus

The same dilemma exists in clock collecting. Take lantern clocks, for example. These weight-driven wall clocks, shaped like a lantern, were the first type of clock widely used in English homes during the 17th century. When long-case clocks with 8-day movements arrived, lantern clocks became obsolete. Today, they are highly collectible—but almost all have been altered, even those considered “totally genuine.”

Converted lantern clock
Lantern clock

D. & J. Benson, specialists in early English clocks, offer guidance to the collector:

“We are strong believers that if a clock was converted to a different escapement many years ago, this should be retained, being part of the history of the clock, rather than reconverting clocks back to former guises. Only under compelling circumstances would a clock be returned to a former state. Only absolutely necessary restoration work is carried out in order that the original clock survives for future generations. We conserve rather than replace.”

Yet the reality is complicated. Some of the more expensive lantern clocks they offer have early conversions—from verge to anchor escapement—or even entirely new fusee movements installed. During these changes, original mechanisms, including alarm components, may be removed; single hands replaced with two, broken finials or door handles restored, chapter rings re-silvered, and doors often lost. With so many changes, how original is the clock? Does it retain its identity?

But there is a more fundamental reason why clocks were altered or changed. Historically, most alterations were not done to deceive or “improve” originality; they were done to keep clocks working in everyday life. Lantern clocks were converted because anchor escapements were better. 30-hour Ogee movements were swapped simply because a household needed a reliable timekeeper, not an artifact.

Collectors vary in their opinions. One might argue that a clock ceases to be fundamentally the same if too much is replaced, even when new parts are made with the same materials and methods as the originals. Another might argue that a restoration that returns a clock to its original appearance and function actually enhances its “originality,” making it more desirable. If the changes are seamless, unnoticeable to the casual observer, is the clock still original? For the thousands of common mechanical clocks made over the years, does it really matter?

Many collectors have faced this dilemma. When I bought my first Vienna Regulator, I quickly noticed replacement parts scattered throughout its movement and the case. It made me question how original the clock truly was. I realized it’s an unwinnable argument—important to me as a collector, but largely irrelevant to the casual observer.

In time, I learned to appreciate the clock for what it had become—an honest, imperfect assembly of parts shaped by its history.

Gustav Becker Vienna Regulator, a Frankenclock

Ultimately, these questions—of identity, authenticity, and restoration—aren’t just about clocks. They challenge our understanding of objects, history, and the stories that tie us to them. And maybe, just maybe, that’s part of the joy of collecting: embracing the paradox. In the end, the story of the clock may be more valuable than the object itself.

I shared a title photo of a 30-hour ogee clock because many of these clocks have had their movements replaced over time. It’s common to find a movement from a different maker in the case, and hands, weights, coil gongs, suspension springs, or dial faces were often swapped as they wore out. Does that make it original, or does it simply reveal the many hands—and many years—that kept it running?

7

A Clock Collection in Motion | The Dynamic Nature of Clock Collecting

If you’re a collector of any kind, you’ll relate to what I have to say in this blog article. In the early years of collecting anything, many of us follow a very familiar path. We begin with breadth rather than depth, acquiring whatever speaks to us, and for me, it was mantel clocks, shelf clocks, kitchen clocks, the occasional novelty piece, and just about anything that ticked.

One of the enduring truths about horology is that a clock collection, much like anyone who collects, is never static. It ebbs and flows, expands and contracts, and evolves in quiet harmony with the collector’s own journey. Over time, clocks are added, sold off, traded, gifted, or, when age and wear have had their final say, parted out or retired completely. In this way, a clock collection behaves much like the history of clockmaking itself—constantly in motion, shaped by shifting tastes, new discoveries, and changing priorities.

The first antique clock I ever bought, 25 years ago, is still in my collection

But as time passes, so too do our personal preferences. For me, the evolution has been gradual. I now own far fewer mantel and shelf clocks than I once did. Instead, my interests have gravitated toward wall clocks—regulators, Vienna-style pieces, and distinctive works by specific makers, especially those connected to Canada’s own horological heritage. Collectors often narrow their focus as their knowledge grows. It is a natural growth.

Even recently, the changing nature of a collection becomes clear in unexpected ways. Just the other day, a clock enthusiast emailed me asking if I could measure the glass door bezel of a clock for a replacement piece of glass. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help because I had parted with that clock four or five years ago, even though I had written about it several times in blog posts. It was a reminder that clocks, like memories, pass through our lives and collections, leaving traces of their stories even after they’ve moved on.

Smiths Enfield mantel clock
The clock in question

This change is partly driven by experience. After handling clocks from different eras, regions, and makers—from the mass-produced American clocks of the early 1900s to the quieter Canadian ventures of the early 20th century—we start to notice subtleties: the quality of the movement, the style of the escapement, the character of the case. Some clocks speak to us in a lasting way; others pass through our hands like chapters in a book we enjoyed but will never reread.

A favorite clock in my collection

Practical considerations echo historical realities as well. Just as factories once adapted production methods to suit changing markets, collectors adapt to the constraints of space and lifestyle. Mantel and shelf clocks take up real estate. Wall clocks—particularly regulators and finer makers’ pieces—offer presence without clutter. The shift is natural, almost inevitable.

And then there is the human side of collecting. Some clocks are sold to fund the next important acquisition, just as workshops once sold older stock to invest in improved machinery. Some are gifted to friends or family, continuing a tradition of passing clocks from one generation to the next. A few, too worn or incomplete to justify further effort, end their journey—much as many historical clocks did when changing technology made them obsolete.

Clocks like this attractive Mauthe buffet clock were sold off to acquire new pieces

A living collection tells a story. A static one may be beautiful, but a changing collection reflects the realities of horology—shaped by new finds, practical decisions, sentimental choices, and the gradual shift of personal taste. A changing collection also keeps me enthused and energized.

In the end, our collections evolve as we do. They follow the contours of our interests, the limits of our space, and the discoveries that excite us. Change is constant—each adjustment bringing us closer to the clocks that truly matter to us, those that will remain as markers on our own timeline.

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Timeless Beginnings: A Horologist’s New Year Reflection

As the New Year approaches, I often find myself listening to the steady tick of an antique clock. There’s something comforting about it — that quiet rhythm marking the end of one chapter and the start of another.

Picture a cozy room on New Year’s Eve. Maybe there’s a fire crackling, friends chatting, and somewhere in the background, a clock keeps time — steady, reliable, reminding us that each passing second carries us closer to a brand-new beginning.

Old clocks have a way of putting things into perspective. They’ve ticked through countless New Years before ours, and yet they keep going — reminding us that every moment matters.

As midnight approaches, that ticking seems to blend with our thoughts — memories of the past year, both good and bad. The laughs, the lessons, the surprises. And when the hands finally meet at twelve, it feels like the slate is wiped clean, giving us a fresh chance to do better, dream bigger, and keep moving forward.

The author

So, as we step into the new year, let’s hold on to what we’ve learned and look ahead with hope.

From me to you — Happy New Year! May it be filled with joy, peace, and plenty of time spent with the people who mean the most to you.

As the years march on, I’ve realized it’s not the things we hold onto — not even a cherished clock or treasured keepsakes — that truly matter. What matters most are the memories we create, the laughter we share, and the quiet moments with family and loved ones. I can scarcely recall the gifts I’ve received, but I remember the funny stories, the sumptuous meals, and the heartfelt moments we shared. Those are the moments that tick away yet stay with us forever. In the end, it’s not the hands of a clock that measure our lives, but the love, joy, and connection we experience along the way.

And before I wrap up, I want to say a heartfelt thank you for reading and supporting my blog. Your comments, messages, and enthusiasm keep me inspired to keep writing about the clocks we love and the stories they tell. I’m looking forward to sharing even more with you in the year ahead.

Here’s to another year of ticking, tocking, and timeless moments.

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Taking a Moment of Your Time This Christmas

There’s something especially magical about antique clocks during the Christmas season. Each one seems to hold onto time’s most precious moments, quietly ticking through memories of holidays long past.

I often picture a cozy room bathed in soft, twinkling lights, with a tall case clock standing proudly in the corner — a symbol of craftsmanship and care passed down through generations. Its steady rhythm feels almost like a heartbeat for the home, marking not just the hours, but the moments that matter most.

However, this year, I present our humble Christmas Tree absence any clocks in the frame, though three are hidden from view due to the camera’s angle. As you can see, it is awaiting the placement of presents and the smiling faces of friends and family on Christmas Day.

As we move into the Christmas spirit, these old clocks take on a life of their own. They’re more than just decorations; they connect us to the people and stories that came before us. The gentle ticking on Christmas morning carries echoes of laughter, of family gatherings, and of quiet evenings by the fire.

If only these clocks could talk — imagine the stories they’d tell. Over the past year, I’ve uncovered and shared several of those stories, each one a small journey into time itself.

So, as carols play and the fireplace crackles, may the ticking of an old clock remind us what this season is really about: togetherness, love, family, and the passage of time that binds us all.

Wishing you and your loved ones a Merry Christmas filled with the charm of old times and the joy of new memories waiting to be made.

And before I wrap up, I want to say a heartfelt thank-you for supporting my blog through 2025. Your encouragement is the best gift I could receive. It keeps me inspired to share my stories and discoveries, and I’m truly grateful to have you along for the journey.

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Are Grandfather Clocks Making a Comeback?

Clock face showing moon dial

Will grandfather clock prices go up in 2026? That’s the question. And while no one can predict the market with certainty, there are a few subtle signs worth paying attention to.

Just recently, I came across a recent article in House Beautiful titled “This Status Symbol From Your Grandmother’s House Is Suddenly Cool Again.” The headline alone caught my eye, and sure enough, the featured photo was a tall, elegant grandfather clock. According to the article, designers are beginning to reintroduce these traditional pieces as focal points in modern homes. Instead of being seen as outdated or fussy, they’re being appreciated once again for their warmth, craftsmanship, and presence.

Grandfather clocks are statuesque by nature. They bring a certain rhythm to a room—not just visually, but audibly. The ticking, although not for everyone, can lend a feeling of calm and stability. But the article made an important point: a tall clock works best when it complements the interior, not when it demands attention. It should feel like it belongs there. You also need enough physical space to make one feel at home, especially since most stand between six and eight feet tall. Trying to wedge a clock of that size into a tight room is rarely successful.

One designer interviewed noted that grandfather clocks shine in areas where you want a sense of arrival or serenity: an entrance hall, a living room, a dining room—anywhere you can slow down and appreciate it. And that’s key. These clocks aren’t meant to be tucked away. They do best in spaces where their presence adds to the experience of the room.

The Nelson is in the middle

But is all this designer enthusiasm translating into a real comeback? That’s where things get interesting. While some people may be rediscovering grandfather clocks, I still see plenty advertised online for next to nothing. Many of those, unfortunately, are well past their prime—either cheaply made to begin with (I’m looking at you, Daniel Dakota) or neglected to the point that the movement is at the end of its service life. Attractive case or not, if a clock hasn’t been serviced in decades, you’re buying a project.

On the other hand, clocks in genuinely good condition—especially those recently serviced, with high-quality movements—are holding their value better. And if the design world truly is coming back around to tall clocks as decorative pieces, these better examples could see a modest bump in demand.

Scottish tall case clock

So, will prices rise in 2026? We’ll see. The market for antique clocks tends to move slowly, and tastes change gradually. But if designers continue to feature them, and if homeowners begin to see past the “big old thing in the corner” stereotype, we might be witnessing the early stages of renewed appreciation.

For collectors, that means one thing: keep your eyes open. A well-cared-for grandfather clock might not just bring character to a home—it may also turn out to be a smart long-term buy.

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The Clock That Wasn’t Complete: My Waterbury Suffolk Discovery

This clock wasn’t one I set out to find. My wife and I were wandering through a sprawling antique shop in Almonte, Ontario—the kind of place where time itself seems to stand still. She drifted upstairs while I lingered below, each of us lost in our own quiet hunt. A few minutes later, she appeared at the top of the stairs and called down, “Take a look at this!” I climbed up, curious, and there it was—a clock that neither of us had expected to see, yet somehow felt right. We looked it over, exchanged a knowing glance, and decided the price was fair. A few moments later, it was ours.

For a while, I admired the clock just as it was—until a small detail caught my attention and led me down another path of discovery.

I initially thought the clock was complete until I posted a query on an online clock forum site and discovered that it was missing two trim pieces.

First photo of the clock

However, I also learned that the clock was named the Suffolk and was offered for sale by Waterbury from about 1907 to 1915. The clock is shown in Tran Duy Ly’s Waterbury Clocks book on page 270, which includes an image.

It is cased in mahogany, has an eight-day movement, and features a half-hour strike with a coiled gong. The six-inch “ivory” (porcelain?) dial has spade and spear hands and a visible or open escapement. It includes a cast gilt sash and bezel with convex beveled glass. The clock is tall at 15½ inches and 11¾ inches wide, with wooden biscuit feet.

The time and strike movement on a coiled gong

I asked myself what I should do about the missing trim pieces. I also wondered how they had fallen off, but it appears they were glued on at the factory and may have been vulnerable to coming loose if struck. In my experience, once a piece comes off and becomes separated from the clock, it is unfortunately lost forever.

The original pieces were carved mahogany blocks with a center cut-out. Since I don’t have the tools to duplicate that process, and the router bits I have are far too large for this type of work, I decided to come up with what I felt was an acceptable alternative.

I didn’t have any mahogany among my scrap wood selection, but then I remembered some trim pieces I’d received from a friend’s old pump organ about a year ago. At the time, I had no idea how I would use them, and as I suspected, they turned out to be made of mahogany.

Using a table saw, I cut out two test pieces to determine if the repair would work. They looked acceptable, even if not quite sized correctly, and since I had enough mahogany, I set about carefully measuring the final pieces. I decided to stack thinner sections in a relief style—quite the opposite of the original design.

Because the clock’s case parts varied slightly in tone, I knew the new pieces would end up a shade darker.

Test pieces, narrower than the final pieces

I then cut the final pieces, sanded off the finish, glued the sections together, and attached them to the base of the clock using carpenter’s wood glue. The final step was applying two coats of finishing paste wax. The clock now looks more complete, and unless one is familiar with the original design of the missing pieces, they would be hard-pressed to notice the difference.

The final outcome

Making changes to a clock’s case is never easy, for each alteration risks straying from what once was. Yet restoration is, by nature, a communication between the past and the present—to reconcile what time has taken and what care can restore. Though the change departs slightly from the original, it brings balance to the design in my view, and renews the clock’s quiet dignity. In that sense, I am content with the outcome.

Restoring the Suffolk reminded me that even small imperfections can lead to creative solutions. While my replacement trim pieces differ from the factory originals, they complement the clock’s character and preserve its charm—proof that restoration is as much about craftsmanship and ingenuity as it is about authenticity.

For those who appreciate a visual commentary, check out a 3 1/2 minute video I made during the project:

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How to Choose the Perfect Antique Clock | A YouTube Guide

I recently made a video providing some tips on antique clock buying. The video offers general advice on how to buy an antique clock, whether for yourself or someone you know. The video is intended for the novice clock buyer, outlining several basic points to consider when purchasing an antique clock.

While you are there, check out my other videos as well.

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Echoes of an Unknown Maker: A Banjo Clock’s Journey Through Time

The American Banjo clock — often just called a banjo clock — got its name from the shape of its case, which resembles a banjo musical instrument. Although the design was patented in 1802 by Simon Willard, a renowned clockmaker from Roxbury, Massachusetts, Willard referred to his invention as the “Improved Timepiece,” not a banjo clock.

Willard-style banjo clock, c. 1810

There are essentially three types of mechanical banjo clocks. Those with lever escapements are usually in the lower price range, spring-driven examples occupy the middle ground, and weight-driven banjo clocks represent the higher end, typically costing several hundred dollars in fair condition to several thousand for authenticated examples from reputable makers.

My wife spotted the clock on Facebook Marketplace one evening. It was listed for $100, and the photo immediately caught my attention. I had a feeling it might be a diamond in the rough. I suggested she offer the seller $75, and to our surprise, the offer was accepted almost immediately. It seemed they just wanted it gone.

Seller’s photo, looking a little tired

The clock was one of several items the seller had for sale as part of a community-wide garage sale. So, a day later, we made the drive out to the rural part of Nova Scotia where the sale was taking place. When we arrived, we found the house and asked to see the clock. It was sitting there among other odds and ends, looking a little tired but full of promise.

Broken dial glass, original hands

As we examined it, I asked a few questions about its history. The seller explained that it had belonged to an uncle in Wolfville, Nova Scotia—a man who had once owned a large collection of antique clocks and had been in the family for over 60 years. That was all I needed to hear.

Before we left, the seller asked if I might be interested in another clock—a 30-hour mantel clock. “It’s worth a lot more than that one,” they insisted, nodding toward the banjo clock. I smiled and politely declined. Something told me the first clock was the one worth keeping.

Classic time-only movement

And I was right. Once we brought it home, cleaned it up, and did a little research, we discovered that it was indeed something special—a genuine, 1830s timepiece, a true diamond in the rough.

The clock was surprisingly heavy when I first lifted it, which told me right away that the weight was still inside the case. That was a good sign. Had it been missing, finding a proper replacement would have been a challenge—and there’s really nothing quite like having the original weight that once powered the movement so many decades ago.

It turned out to be a Federal-style banjo clock, housed in a rich mahogany case that bore the quiet dignity of age. The movement was intact, a promising start. At the top sat a graceful acorn finial, original to the clock—a small but telling detail. At first glance, I thought the carved reverse-scrolled side arms and lower base section were missing, but later learned that not all examples from this period included those features; In fact, simplicity was a defining feature of early timepieces.

The original steel hands, shaped in that classic banjo style, were still in place, and the dial face, though worn, retained much of its character. The glass bezel was broken but easily replaced. The case itself was dusty and a bit tired, with a few areas needing veneer work, a split wood bezel, but nothing beyond repair. As I examined it more closely, I discovered the winding crank tucked neatly into the bottom of the case—perhaps placed there by its last owner many years ago.

After some careful study and comparison with other examples online, and with help from a few knowledgeable members of a clock forum, I came to believe that the clock was made in the late 1830s in Boston—possibly by John Sawin. Sawin had apprenticed under Simon Willard and later worked as a journeyman for Aaron Willard, two of the most respected clockmakers of their day and inventors of the original patent timepiece. Unfortunately, there are no identifying marks on the case or movement, leaving its true maker a mystery—but a fascinating one all the same.

Fully restored clock on display in my home

With that in mind, I decided to give the old clock the attention it deserved. What followed was a careful cleaning, a bit of veneer work, minor repairs, glass bezel replacement, and the satisfaction of seeing history come back to life.

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Echoes of Time: The Ansonia Wall Clock That Waited Fifty Years to Tick Again

We live in the northern part of Nova Scotia, and a trip to the Annapolis Valley for clock hunting is always a pleasure on an early fall day. It’s one of the province’s most beautiful regions — a mix of rolling hills, orchards, small farms, and picturesque little towns that always seem to welcome you back. Our destination this time was the town of Berwick, nestled right in the heart of the valley. It’s one of those places where time moves just a little more slowly — fitting, perhaps, for the clock that awaited us there.

Ansonia short drop schoolhouse-style clock

We had planned the trip beforehand, arranging to meet the seller at an agreed-upon time. The seller welcomed us warmly into his home and soon began to share the clock’s story. The clock had been in his family for over fifty years. “I never actually saw it running,” he said with a smile, “but my mother really loved that clock.” His mother had recently passed away, and he was in the midst of settling her estate. It was clear that selling the clock was not easy for him — it held sentimental value, as many family clocks do, but he knew it was time to let things go.

He told me that an antique dealer had been through the house earlier and offered one price for each room. “The clock alone was worth more than what he offered for one whole room,” he said, shaking his head. I could tell he wanted it to go to someone who would truly appreciate it. I promised it would be cared for and restored.

He believed the clock had come from an old schoolhouse in Ontario, decommissioned sometime in the 1950s, though its exact location has been lost to time. One can imagine it ticking away the hours for many years in that classroom.

The pine case is in lovely condition with only minor issues. Around the center of the dial, near the winding holes, some paint has been added — likely an attempt to cover small stains from decades of oily fingers winding and adjusting the clock.

Time only movement for a wall clock
Time only movement

The clock is an Ansonia octagonal short drop, often referred to as a schoolhouse clock. I’d place its manufacture around the turn of the 20th century — likely between 1900 and 1912. The number “12” is stamped on the movement, which may represent the year, though it could also just be a batch mark. The faint Ansonia trademark is still visible, and the letters “TT” are stamped nearby. This was my first Ansonia, and it’s always a thrill to study a new movement up close.

Image from the ad

One issue quickly revealed itself: the hour hand bushing was missing. The bushing provides the necessary friction fit with the cannon pinion, and without it, the hand simply spins. I suspect that’s why the clock was deemed “not working.” Someone probably thought the movement was faulty when, in fact, it was just missing this small part. Fortunately, it’s an easy fix that can be done with a replacement or a handmade bushing.

Testing in the case
Dial removed, showing the movement and its curious slope to the left

When I examined the pendulum, I noticed something curious — small pieces of a rotted elastic band on the rod just below the suspension spring. Why it was there, I have no idea. Perhaps someone thought it would steady the pendulum, or maybe it was part of an old improvised repair. These little mysteries often make clock restoration interesting.

After a minor adjustment — a slight bend of the crutch to bring the clock into beat — it began ticking steadily. There’s minimal wear visible, which was confirmed when I removed the movement for a full cleaning and inspection.

Much has been written about the Ansonia Clock Company, once one of the great names in American clockmaking. The company went into receivership just before the 1929 stock market crash — a sign of difficult times ahead. The machinery and dies were later sold to a Russian company, marking the end of an era. It’s always a little sad to think that such a remarkable chapter in horological history closed that way. Clocks bearing the Ansonia name are still sold today, but the name on the dial bears no real connection to the company that once was.

When the new hands arrived in the mail, the final touches were complete. The hour hand came with a proper bushing and fit perfectly on the cannon. The clock, fully serviced now, runs beautifully — a fine old Ansonia, rescued from dormancy and restored to life. It’s now proudly ticking away on my daughter’s office wall in Alberta, keeping time as faithfully as it did more than a century ago.

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Antique and Vintage Mechanical Clocks

Collecting, Repairing and Restoring Antique/Vintage Clocks

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