Antique and Vintage Mechanical Clocks

I often wonder about the stories behind my clocks.

Antique and vintage clocks evoke a time when life seemed simpler, a stark contrast to today’s frenetic pace. Old clocks serve as living memories, cherished relics of people and places that are long gone but not forgotten.

Ideally, they should be passed down through generations. Yet, when I look at online marketplaces, it’s clear that many clocks no longer stay within their original families. I can’t help but wonder—has sentimentality lost its place in today’s world?

Out of the 35 clocks displayed throughout our home (a small part of my collection), I wish I knew the stories behind every single one of them. If only they could talk! What tales they would share.

Still, two of my clocks come with stories that I hold dear to my heart.

One of my clocks survived the 1917 Halifax Explosion. It is a Junghans Crispi wall clock. I know this because the previous owner had kept it in their family for over 100 years. It wasn’t in the condition you see it in today, though. It came to me as a box of parts, and I imagine they decided it was time to let it go after holding onto it for so long. They hoped that whoever bought it would bring it back to its former glory.

After restoring the clock, I contacted the former owner to show them what I’d done, sending them a photo of the clock in its restored state. I never heard back and I assume they experienced a bit of seller’s remorse.

However, I often look at the clock and try to imagine that fateful day, December 6, 1917, when it fell from the wall in a modest North Halifax home and broke into dozens of pieces.

Another story belongs to my Ingraham Huron shelf clock (circa 1878). It was a rare find considering it was made between 1878 and 1880. Some might call the style a balloon clock. It came from a small village outside Bridgewater, Nova Scotia. My wife and I made a day of the trip, enjoying lunch and some shopping after picking up the clock from an elderly couple who were in the process of separating.

The clock’s story unfolded when we met the couple selling it. The gentleman, in his early seventies, recalled seeing the clock in his grandmother’s home when he was a child. After some conversation, we learned that the couple was separating amicably, with the wife planning to move into an apartment nearby. “We need to get rid of a lot of stuff,” he told us. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing they were parting with something tied to childhood memories. My wife and I left with the clock, reflecting on how our connection to objects, even sentimental ones, can change over time.

It seems sentimentality can have a price. People grow tired of the things they once cherished or feel the need to unburden themselves of objects tied to past relationships and memories. Nostalgia can bring comfort, but for some, it may not be enough to hold onto the past.

I often wonder what will happen to my clocks when I’m gone. My wife knows that I’m not emotionally attached to all of them. Some were simply acquisitions that served to give me projects that helped me grow as a hobbyist. Yet, there are several clocks that I hope my children will keep—the ones I’ve spent countless hours restoring, the ones with stories and history.

Among them are my twelve Arthur Pequegnat Canadian-made clocks, two Vienna regulators, a Seth Thomas Empire-style clock, a Sessions Beveled No. 2, my Ingraham Huron, and my Junghans Crispi wall clock.

These clocks represent a blend of history, personal connection, and the passion I’ve poured into them. I think my kids will appreciate that.