In the spring of 2022, I brought home a handsome gallery clock from an auction—an English-made piece with a 10-inch dial. What caught my attention initially was its clean, industrial look, but once I opened it up, I found it had just as much character on the inside.

I was hoping for a fusee clock, as many English gallery clocks are fusees, but when I saw this one offered at auction, I knew from the price that it probably wasn’t what I had hoped for—but I bought it anyway.

The Company

According to one source, Astral and Empire were originally trademarks of a company called Williamson, known for its high-quality movement, also named Astral. Through a series of mergers and acquisitions, the trademarks eventually came under the ownership of English Clock and Watch Manufacturers Ltd., which was purchased by Smiths in 1932. As a result, Smiths acquired the Astral and Empire trade names.

However, further research led me in a slightly different direction regarding the manufacturer. It appears that the company was not named Empire, but rather Grimshaw, Baxter, and J. J. Elliott.

Empire was actually a model name used by this firm.

So, the clock is from the Empire 150 series.

Grimshaw, Baxter, and J. J. Elliott was an English clockmaking company formed in 1909 when Grimshaw and Elliott merged. The firm produced a variety of clocks and watches until its dissolution in 1921. The name continued to be used until 1958, although I do not know how it was used during that period.

Interestingly, the company made fusee wall clocks as well.

Features of this Clock

The clock features a classic time-only movement—simple in design, with relatively few wheels to manage during servicing. As with many time-only setups, the minute and hour wheels are located outside the front plate. What sets this one apart is its size: it’s surprisingly large for a time-only movement and impressively robust, likely intended for use in a commercial setting.

The movement is mounted to a heavy steel plate that screws onto its front, and the whole unit fits just beneath the dial. Though the clock is unmistakably English, the layout and engineering give it a distinctly German feel—a nod, perhaps, to cross-European influences in clockmaking during that era.

Accessing the movement is refreshingly straightforward. After removing the hands and three small screws, the dial lifts away easily. Four slotted screws secure the movement to the steel mounting plate.

One particularly interesting feature is the pendulum. It’s a cylindrical style with a large, rotating adjustment screw at the bottom—a practical touch for fine-tuning. Even better, it clips into a clever two-piece caddy system (see below) that makes transporting the clock safe and simple. Push the cylindrical pendulum bob into the caddy and Voilà, it is secured in place! A nice surprise for a piece from the early 1920s.

I was also intrigued to find taper pins used to secure the plates—a feature more common in older or higher-quality movements. The mainspring barrel is modest, about the size you’d expect in a typical time-and-strike clock from England or Germany.

The movement had clearly been over-oiled at some point, so before any cleaning could begin, I had to wipe everything down thoroughly. Then it was into the ultrasonic cleaner. While I didn’t expect the plates and wheels to come out gleaming, they cleaned up beautifully. After polishing the pivots and pegging out the pivot holes, it was time to reassemble.

Compared to the American movements I’ve been working on recently, this one has notably finer pivots. This isn’t a movement where you can force the pivots into their respective holes—each pivot needs to be carefully guided into its hole with a steady hand and a bit of patience.

All in all, this Empire gallery clock turned out to be more than just a pretty face. It’s a well-made, thoughtfully designed piece with a few charming quirks. A great example of early 20th-century English clockmaking—and a pleasure to work on.