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.
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.
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.
Every so often, a clock turns up that makes you stop and think, “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.” That was certainly the case when WT of Peterborough, Ontario, sent me pictures of an interesting find—a Hamilton Clock Co., rather ordinary-looking short-drop schoolhouse-style wall clock with an unusual twist.
At first glance, the case is exactly what you’d expect: a classic Canadian-made schoolhouse clock, sturdy and handsome, dating to the late 1870s. But it’s the movement inside that tells the real story. Instead of a standard 8-day time and strike mechanism, this one is—quite literally—cut in half. The strike side has been sawed off, leaving only the time side to keep things running.
Other manufacturers at the time would have designed a proper time-only movement, but Hamilton seemed to have taken the practical (and perhaps cost-saving) approach of simply chopping an existing one down. Efficient, if a bit unorthodox!
I asked WT how he came across it, and his story adds another layer of charm.
“I was at a garage sale hosted by a fellow horologist about a year ago (summer of 2024) and bought up a mess of stuff. This clock was in rough shape. I told him when I discovered it that it was a Hamilton. ‘I’ve always wanted a Hamilton.’, I said. He said, ‘No, you take it.’”
And just like that, WT became the caretaker of a rare and quirky piece of Canadian clockmaking history.
A Little About the Hamilton Clock Company
For those less familiar with Canadian clockmaking, the Hamilton Clock Company has an interesting—if brief—story. Founded in 1876 in Hamilton, Ontario, the company was part of Canada’s early attempts to establish a domestic clock industry that could compete with American imports.
In those days, American clockmakers like Seth Thomas and Ansonia dominated the market. Canadian firms had to be creative, and sometimes that meant cutting corners (in this case, quite literally!).
By taking an existing 8-day strike movement and sawing off the strike train, Hamilton avoided the cost of designing and tooling a new movement just for time-only models. The clock movement was evidently tailor-made for customers who just wanted a time-only movement in their clock. It was a practical solution, but one that makes today’s collectors raise their eyebrows when they see it.
WT says that one can literally see the saw blade marks on the movement where it was cut.
Unfortunately, the Hamilton Clock Company was short-lived. By the early 1880s, it had folded, and its assets were eventually acquired by the Canada Clock Company. Later (1904), the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company of Berlin (renamed Kitchener in June 1916), Ontario, was formed to become Canada’s best-known domestic clockmaker.
That makes these surviving Hamilton clocks something special. They’re scarce, they often have quirks, and they represent the scrappy beginnings of Canadian horology.
A Clock with Character
WT’s schoolhouse clock is more than just a timekeeper. It’s a piece of Hamilton, Ontario’s industrial past, a testament to Canadian ingenuity, and a reminder that sometimes the most unusual solutions are the most memorable.
The time-only movement is derived from an8-day time and strike movement; photo from Vakaris and Connell’s book, The Canada and Hamilton Clock Companies
From its industrial beginnings in the late 1870s, through more than a century of ticking, to a garage sale in Peterborough where it found WT, who truly appreciates it—this clock has lived a life. It may not strike the hours, but it certainly strikes a chord with anyone who loves Canadian horology.
One clock that’s high on my wish list is the Arthur Pequegnat Regulator No. 1. It’s a single-weight, 8-day, time-only wall clock, and it’s a rare one. Every so often I’ll see one for sale, but the price tags are usually well out of my reach—for now, anyway.
Pequegnat as a clock company was Canada’s answer to the big American clockmakers, especially Seth Thomas. Their wall clocks often borrowed design cues from their U.S. counterparts, but Pequegnat also came up with some distinctive styles of their own. One thing they were known for was their use of quarter-sawn white oak. If you’ve ever seen the way the ray flecks shimmer in that wood, you’ll know why collectors admire it so much.
The Regulator No. 1 is often compared to the Seth Thomas Regulator No. 2. While Seth Thomas sold thousands of #2s into schools, offices, and railway stations across America, Pequegnat’s No. 1 didn’t reach the same production numbers. But here in Canada, it served the same purpose—and today it’s one of the most sought-after Pequegnat models. In fact, a well-preserved example will usually bring twice the price of a similar American regulator.
The photo below of the Regulator No. 1 was taken at The Canadian Clock Museum in Deep River, Ontario, back in 2013.
Arthur Pequegnat Regulator #1
The Pequegnat Story
Arthur Pequegnat was born in Switzerland in 1851 and came to Berlin, Ontario (now Kitchener) in 1874 along with his wife, parents, brothers, and sisters—a total of 18 family members. By the late 1870s, he was running a jewelry and watch repair shop, and before long, he and his brother Paul were in business together in Berlin. After about a decade, they each went their separate ways, both staying in the jewelry trade.
In 1897, Arthur took a bit of a detour and started making bicycles. That worked well for a few years, but as the market declined, he pivoted once again. By 1904, he was using his bicycle factory to make clock movements, marking the start of Canada’s best-known clockmaking venture. At first, local furniture makers supplied the cases, but Arthur eventually brought case production in-house.
One detail that helps date Pequegnat clocks is the town name. Berlin, Ontario, was renamed Kitchener in 1916 because of anti-German sentiment during the First World War. So, if a dial or movement is stamped Berlin, you know it’s pre-1916. If it’s marked Kitchener, it’s from 1916 or later. Of course, since many models were made for years, you’ll only get an approximate date—but it’s still a handy clue.
Arthur passed away in 1927, but his family continued to run the company until 1941. When brass became scarce during the war, production stopped and never started up again. The factory was demolished in 1964, and today all that’s left is a commemorative plaque in Kitchener—fitting recognition of Canada’s most famous clockmaker.
Where to See Pequegnats Today
If you want to see Pequegnats in person, TheCanadian Clock Museum in Deep River is the place to go. They have the largest collection in the country, and it’s well worth the trip.
The Canadian Clock Museum, Deep River, Ontario
On the East Coast, the Macdonald Museum in Middleton, Nova Scotia, has a smaller but very nice display too.
Macdonald Museum in Middleton Nova Scotia
My Own Collecting Dream
For me, the Regulator No. 1 is about as good as it gets in Canadian wall clocks. Is it the best Canadian clock ever made? No, it has its faults, but it’s got the look, the history, and the craftsmanship that make it stand out. I can’t quite justify the price of one right now (my wallet insists on reminding me of that), but that’s part of the fun of collecting—dreaming about the ones that might join the collection someday.
Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll stumble across a Regulator No. 1 tucked away in an antique shop or sitting quietly at an auction, waiting for the right bidder. Until then, it stays on my wish list—one of those “holy grail” clocks that keeps the hunt exciting.
Mention of the Blackforest Clock Company immediately brings to mind the Black Forest region in Germany. However, Blackforest was actually a Canadian clock company founded in 1928 in Toronto, Ontario, by Austrian immigrants Leopold and Sara Stossel.
The company initially imported both clock movements and complete clocks from Germany, marketing them through department stores and jewelry retailers across Canada.
Some clocks were assembled locally at the company’s facility on Wellington Street East in Toronto. Early on, movements—primarily German—were installed in clock cases crafted in house.
However, it is quite possible that Walter Clock Company of Kitchener, Ontario made some of the early clock cases for the Blackforest Clock Company. While definitive documentation is scarce, several Canadian clock historians and collectors have suggested that Walter Clock Co.—a known case manufacturer at the time—supplied wood cases to various Canadian clock assemblers, including Blackforest.These locally made cases were often well-built, showcasing traditional styles like tambour, and buffet clock designs, tailored to Canadian tastes.
As the business evolved, complete mantel clocks were increasingly imported fully assembled from Germany. However, this arrangement was disrupted by the outbreak of the Second World War. In 1941, amid growing anti-German sentiment, the company rebranded itself as the Forestville Clock Company. During wartime, with access to German supply chains cut off, the company sourced its movements from England, the United States, and even France.
By the mid-1950s, Forestville resumed imports from Germany, with Friedrich Mauthe emerging as one of their most significant movement suppliers. These postwar clocks are known for their quality and reliability. Despite their efforts to modernize and diversify, Forestville did not survive much beyond the late 1970s, as inexpensive quartz movements and changing consumer preferences reshaped the clock industry.
With a discussion of the brief history of the company behind us, we now come to my latest acquisition. In all honesty, I couldn’t resist. As I’m currently traveling, a friend kindly picked up the clock for me in Nova Scotia. The price? Just $15. Normally, I would not be interested, but it is an old Canadian clock company, and I have a preference for collecting Canadian-made clocks and those with a strong Canadian connection, and the price was right.
Though the label says it is a ‘chime’ clock, it is actually a time-and-strike (rack and snail) mantel clock, likely made in the mid-1930s, I would say.
Is it perfect? Absolutely not. The case needs a caring touch, and the glass dial bezel is missing. It’s not currently running, but everything is intact, and it should function after a thorough cleaning.
This post has nothing to do with clock collecting or repair, but why not take a moment to celebrate Canada’s 158th birthday?
On June 20, 1868, a proclamation signed by the Governor General, Lord Monck, called upon all Her Majesty’s loving subjects throughout Canada to join in celebrating the anniversary of the formation of the union of the British North American provinces into a federation under the name of Canada. This union was established on July 1, 1867, with the passing of the British North America Act. At the time, four colonies united.
The July 1st holiday was officially established by statute in 1879 under the name “Dominion Day.”
It wasn’t until 1917 that larger-scale and more extravagant celebrations began. This was during the First World War, when Canada needed an uplifting event to help ease the strain of overseas conflict.
Since 1958, the federal government has organized an annual observance of Canada’s national day. The original format included a Trooping the Colours ceremony by the Ceremonial Guard on Parliament Hill in the afternoon, a sunset ceremony in the evening, followed by a mass band concert and fireworks display.
The author (6th from the left) was a member of the Ceremonial Guard in 1969, taking part in the Changing of the Guard on Parliament Hill, Ottawa
In 1968, the format was expanded to include multicultural performances and professional concerts.
In 1981, fireworks displays were added in 15 major cities across the country.
On October 27, 1982—the year Canada’s Constitution was repatriated from Britain—”Dominion Day” was officially renamed “Canada Day.”
Other than a brief interruption during the pandemic, the ceremony on Parliament Hill has taken place every year since 1958.
In recent years, Canada—like much of the world—has faced its share of political and economic uncertainty. From global market instability to domestic debates over identity, governance, and the environment, we’ve been challenged to re-examine who we are and what we stand for.
Yet through it all, Canada has shown resilience. The ability to question, protest, and engage in open dialogue—hallmarks of a free society—has only strengthened our democratic foundations. Economic pressures have sparked innovation, encouraged local enterprise, and reminded us of the value of community and cooperation.
In navigating uncertainty, we’ve not only reaffirmed our freedoms—we’ve deepened our understanding of what it means to be Canadian. That, in itself, is worth celebrating.
We are the True North, Strong and Free.
Happy Canada Day, everyone—and best wishes to those of you who celebrate your own country’s independence day!
There are four general categories of clocks: quartz, electro-mechanical, electric, and mechanical. Mechanical clocks—whether antique or vintage—are the focus of this discussion on why a clock might run slowly.
We’ve become accustomed to the accuracy of quartz clocks, which lose or gain only milliseconds per week. Contrast that with an era when people were content to accept that their mechanical clock might be a minute fast or slow over the course of a week. It was common practice to make small adjustments throughout the run cycle of a clock.
In fact, a typical American spring-driven clock in properly serviced condition may gain or lose a couple of minutes per week as a norm. Weight-driven mechanical clocks that gain or lose only a few seconds per week are considered to be much more accurate.
That said, how many mechanical devices do you know that still run (relatively speaking) perfectly after 120 years?
A clock can run slowly for a variety of reasons.
Environmental
Pendulum too low or too high
Pendulum of incorrect weight
Suspension spring length is incorrect
Suspension spring is not attached correctly
Lack of lubrication
Gummed-up lubrication (over-oiled)
Balance wheel needs adjustment
Weak mainspring
Changes or alterations during servicing
Clock cycle time variance
Slipping or binding
Bent gear teeth or arbors
Let’s explore each one of these factors:
Clock parts
Environmental Factors
Mechanical clocks are subject to environmental conditions that may cause them to gain or lose time over the year. These include heat, cold, and humidity. Warmer temperatures can slow down a clock due to the expansion and lengthening of the pendulum, unless it has a compensating pendulum with mercury or dissimilar metal rods. Denser air can also cause the pendulum to swing more slowly.
Even a change in elevation, such as moving a clock from sea level to a higher altitude, can affect the speed of the clock.
Pendulum Too Low or Too High
The lower the pendulum, the slower the clock will run. Many pendulum clocks have an adjustment screw at the bottom or on the bob itself. If not, there is often a regulator on the clock face. You can use the small end of a double-sided key to insert into the dial and adjust the speed.
Shortening the pendulum speeds up the clock. Anything that increases the pendulum’s effective length will slow it down.
Incorrect Pendulum Weight
A pendulum that is too heavy lowers the center of gravity, which causes the clock to run slowly. Using the correct weight for your clock ensures proper and reliable operation.
Incorrect Suspension Spring Length
When someone unfamiliar with the mechanics of a clock replaces a suspension spring with one of the wrong length or thickness, the result is a clock that may run too fast or too slow. Always ensure the spring matches your clock’s specifications.
Suspension Spring Not Attached Correctlyor Kinked
The suspension spring connects the top post to the pendulum leader and allows the pendulum to swing. If it’s not installed securely, the pendulum may not swing properly or may wobble, reducing efficiency and affecting the clock’s accuracy.
A kinked or damaged suspension spring will impede the smooth action of the pendulum rod.
Lack of Lubrication
Dry pivot holes mean there is no lubricating barrier between the pivots and the bearing holes—even if the movement appears clean. Apply a small drop of clock oil to each dry pivot hole to ensure smooth running. Without oil, steel pivots will wear the brass holes, eventually causing gear misalignment and stopping the clock.
Note: Only a small drop of oil per bushing hole is needed—no more.
Gummed-Up Lubrication
When a clock runs slowly, the instinct may be to add more oil. But if there’s already old, dirty oil—often blackened or greenish—it will mix with new oil, forming an abrasive paste. Though this may offer a temporary improvement, the clock will soon begin running slowly again.
The only solution is proper servicing: disassembly, thorough cleaning, addressing wear, reassembly, and testing.
Balance Wheel Needs Adjustment
For those clocks that have a balance wheel instead of a conventional escapement arrangement.
The escapement is regulated by sliding the two small weights on the balance wheel. Slide them inward to speed up the clock, outward to slow it down. Use the adjustment “finger”—moving it to the right increases speed, to the left decreases it. One dot of adjustment usually changes the time by about 10 seconds per day.
Look for markings near the balance wheel: “S” for slow, and “F” for fast.
Weak Mainspring
Many antique clocks still have their original mainsprings. These springs were often made from high-quality steel, though they weaken over time—a condition known as becoming “set.” A set mainspring won’t run a full cycle (8 days for eight-day clocks or 30 hours for one-day clocks).
While repair shops often replace mainsprings as standard practice, most properly serviced original mainsprings still perform reliably. If replacement is necessary, use a correct-size, high-quality American or German mainspring for dependable performance. Avoid springs made in India at all costs!
Changes or Alterations During Servicing
Altering a mechanism—such as replacing a gear with one that has the wrong tooth count—can affect timekeeping. Even if parts look identical, manufacturers often made slight variations over the years. Using incorrect parts may lead to a slow or fast clock.
Clock Cycle Time Variance
American spring-driven eight-day clocks typically run a little faster at the beginning of their cycle (when the mainspring is fully wound) and slower as the power diminishes. This is considered normal and usually does not require adjustment.
Weight-driven clocks provide constant power, so any time variance from the beginning to the end of a cycle is more likely due to wear or other issues.
Slipping or Binding
If your clock is losing hours per day, something is slipping or binding inside the movement. If it’s losing minutes per day after all adjustments have been made, worn bushings or components may be the cause.
Clockmakers check for end shake—the slight lateral movement of gears between the movement plates. Without sufficient end shake, gears may bind, slowing the clock. Ensuring proper end shake is a standard part of any professional servicing.
Bent Gear Teeth or Arbours
Bent or slightly out-of-true arbors or gear teeth can cause intermittent resistance, slowing or halting the clock temporarily.
Final Thoughts
Your situation may be unique, and if your clock issue isn’t covered in this article, I recommend consulting a professional clock repairer. If you have limited experience, attempting your own repairs may lead to irreversible damage.
Working with mechanical clocks also involves risk. Mainsprings store a significant amount of energy and can cause serious injury if mishandled.
Understanding why your clock runs slowly is the first step. Addressing the problem is the next. Beyond that, periodic maintenance and the use of quality parts are key to a long and reliable life for your clock.
In an era when Canadian furniture manufacturers were struggling to compete with international imports, one company stood out not just for its elegant craftsmanship but for the remarkable story behind its founder.
Craftline Industries, established in Toronto during the mid-20th century, was the brainchild of Manny Drukier, a Holocaust survivor whose vision, ingenuity, and resilience transformed a fledgling furniture operation into one of Canada’s premier producers of home furnishings and decorative clocks. With little formal education but a boundless entrepreneurial spirit, Drukier built more than a business—he created a legacy that continues to tick away in homes across North America.
Manny Drukier, as a young man, after WWII
In preparation for an article on Craftline Industries and its founder, Manny Drukier, I contacted the Drukier family with a series of questions. My main point of contact for this article was Cindy Drukier, Manny’s daughter. The Drukier family responded with remarkable generosity, providing a wealth of information, far exceeding what I had initially sought. I have included the entire text of their reply to me and have their permission to make minor edits for flow and clarity.
A snapshot of production, entitled Production Operations 1974, offers readers a clear sense of the scale and ambition behind Manny Drukier’s vision.
Manny Drukier’s Story as Told by His Family
From his daughter, Cindy Drukier, “The answers to the questions you asked may be more than you bargained for. Apologies for the excessive detail in some places, but the family decided that since such scant online evidence of Craftline exists, this was an opportunity to enter it into the digital record. These days, if it doesn’t exist online, it’s almost as if it never happened. So we’re grateful for the opportunity!”
The answers were written by Manny’s daughter Cindy, with input from her mom, Freda Drukier, and three siblings, Gordon, Laurie, and Wendy. Cindy also consulted the 1974 Canadian Jeweller article (which I have summarized in a separate section) and Manny’s unpublished writings. Manny has a published memoir, “Carved in Stone: Holocaust Years – A Boy’s Tale,” but it stops when he arrives in Canada. He wrote a Part 2, but it wasn’t published before he passed. Manny died in January 2022 of Alzheimer’s at 93.
The Vision
In 1948, Manny arrived in Toronto, a 19-year-old Holocaust survivor from Poland. He’d already spent a year in New York, but his mother and sister had made it to Toronto post-war, so he moved to Canada to join them.
Suddenly, Manny had to find a way to support the family. While buying furniture for their tiny flat with savings from New York, it dawned on him that the city was full of fresh immigrants needing to do the same—furniture would be a booming business, he figured. He had zero experience but managed to finagle (i.e., lie that he had experience) a sales position in a furniture store and quickly excelled at it, earning $30 for a six-day week, plus 2 percent commission.
He lasted less than a year working for someone else. By then he decided he had learned all he could and would go into business for himself.
He rented his first small store with his brother-in-law, David Rosenfeld, on Bloor St. West near Dufferin in downtown Toronto and called it North American Furniture. It went well, and soon they opened a second location on The Danforth on the east side of downtown Toronto. In 1961, they closed both to open a much larger and more upscale store in a former supermarket at Bathurst and Eglinton.
By 1964, he noticed he was importing more and more goods from the United States because Canadian furniture, although well-made, wasn’t elegant enough for modern consumer demand. He saw an opening in the market. He also disliked being the middleman—selling the wares of others—so he decided to go into manufacturing.
He didn’t have a clue how to do it, but he thrived on challenge and had infinite faith in his ability to figure things out. He sold North American Furniture to his brother-in-law and cobbled together a couple of partners for his new venture. Leonard Caplan was manufacturing case goods in Georgia, and Henry Gancman was a Canadian maker of chrome kitchen sets, which Manny sold in his store.
Manny, circled in red
They opened a small factory in the north end of Toronto, on Lepage Ct., employing about 15 people. One was my mother, Freda, who set up the bookkeeping and ran the one-woman office.
A couple of years later they moved to a bigger location, that included a showroom, on Milvan Dr. A few years after that they bought some land (including some from the power company, Ontario Hydro), to eventually build a 215,000 sq foot factory, showroom, and offices on 13 acres located at 15 Fenmar Drive in Weston, and industrial area at the northwest end of Toronto.
Craftline catalog
Craftline manufactured all-wood occasional furniture such as coffee tables, end tables, curios, and consoles, and, later on, wall units and grandfather and grandmother clocks. It eventually became Canada’s top manufacturer of elegant furniture, employing about 250 people.
Craftline catalogue
Cindy added, “Manny was the main designer for all the furniture, including the clocks. He had no experience in this, of course, and couldn’t really draw on any either, but he always had lots of ideas!”
ProductionOperations 1974
The information in this section is sourced from the March 1974 issue of Canadian Jeweller magazine.
Demand for Craftline grandfather clocks was high in 1974—so high, in fact, that the company couldn’t keep up with orders. In 1973, Craftline produced 2,500 grandfather clocks and expected to double production by the end of the year, 1974. At the time, owner Manny Drukier estimated the U.S. retail market for clocks, priced between $200 and $4,000, to be worth $200 million.
Manny is in the special clock boutique area of the factory
Craftline began making grandfather clocks in 1968, and by 1974, 20% of the company’s total output was devoted to them. The tall clock cases were made from solid lumber and veneered with fruitwood, elm, and ash, in styles such as Spanish, Mediterranean, Colonial, and Country French.
They produced both eight-day mechanical clocks and transistorized, battery-operated, pulsation-type clocks. The higher-priced models used mechanical movements, while the less expensive versions, made by subsidiary Craftique, used battery-powered movements. Craftique, by 1974, had manufactured 14,000 units.
The production floor
In 1974, clock faces, hands, and weights were imported, although Craftline was exploring Canadian sources. The mechanical movements were imported from two suppliers in Schwenningen, Germany. One supplier would have impacted production, while relying on two suppliers was a safer approach.
While the suppliers were not named in the article, at least six companies were manufacturing movements in Schwenningen at the time: Kienzle, Mauthe, Hermle, Schatz, Urgos, and Haller. (Author’s note: Urgos and Hermle would have been the suppliers)
Eaton department stores began selling Craftline clocks in 1972, but could not get enough stock to meet demand. However, most clocks were sold through furniture stores, where salespeople were well-equipped to market them. Jewellery stores typically bought in smaller volumes, as limited floor space made it harder to display the larger clocks.
Checking on Canadian sources for parts
The Craftline plant could finish 700 clock cases in two days, but the four-person team responsible for installing movements could only assemble 36 completed clocks per day. Much of the training for clock assembly was done in-house, with employees learning from one another.
Back to the story.
Launching the Clock Line
Manny constantly had an antenna up, looking for profitable ways to expand Craftline’s offerings, and, in 1968, he got the idea for grandfather clocks. We’re not sure where the idea came from.
Craftline catalog
Manufacturing the wood cabinets was easy, but not so the clockworks. He had two suppliers in the German Black Forest, but we don’t know more than that. I do know that, being a Holocaust survivor, he initially had misgivings about buying the works from Germany, but they were excellent and reliable, so he went with it. He said he also considered sourcing them from Asia, but decided it was too risky. He had expressed hope of buying them from a Canadian source in the future, but that never happened.
The clock cases were made of hardwood like elm, ash, and fruitwood. There were many designs, including traditional, Spanish, Mediterranean, colonial, and country French. They either had an eight-day wind-up chain mechanism or battery-operated pulsation movements. The highest-end grandfather clock was an oriental design with black lacquer and gold. The wholesale price for that clock was about $1,000 (CAD) in the early 1970s. It was the only model with an imported case—from Portugal, as it turns out.
He also started a spinoff company called Craftique Originals that produced ornamental objects from molded urethane. Craftique’s products included elaborate mirror frames, framed art reproductions, wall-mounted weather stations, and a line of wall clocks that looked like miniature grandfather clocks—except their brass weights were purely decorative and they didn’t chime.
Clock Sales and Ice Cream
Craftline had a team of salesmen who covered Canada coast to coast, and a bit of the eastern United States. All clocks were branded as either Craftline or Craftique, and they were sold to department stores and independent retailers, not to individual customers. He did, however, offer a premium service: customers could order a personalized engraved brass plate for their clock. Cindy Drukier spent one summer filing invoices and using an engraving machine to etch out those plates.
And there was one time when Manny traded a grandfather clock for its value in ice cream from the first Canadian importer of Häagen-Dazs. “Best business deal ever for a household with four kids!”
The Difficult Process of Ending Operations
Craftline lasted until 1991, when two hammers fell at once: The Canada-US Free Trade deal (precursor to NAFTA), and the introduction of the GST (Goods and Services Tax). Both hit manufacturers hard. Everyone knew Canada’s furniture industry wouldn’t make it, and despite a valiant effort to keep things afloat, the bank stepped in and forced Craftline into bankruptcy.
Craftline catalogue
By then, Manny was the sole owner. He and Henry had bought out Leonard in about 1975, and Henry got out in the final few years.
It was very upsetting, says my mom, after putting so much of your life, money, time, energy, and creativity into something, and then to have the rug pulled out from under you through no fault of your own.
She worked by his side the entire time. Manny was more philosophical and practical about it. He really didn’t dwell on things. It happened, so it happened. Meanwhile, he had other business ventures and interests. He also took the opportunity to go to Poland, with Freda, for the first time since the war and write his memoir (Carved in Stone: Holocaust Years – A Boy’s Tale).
Grandfather clockowned by the author’s daughter
Personal Challenges
We had one very fine oriental-style grandfather clock for about 40 years until it was consumed by flames in a house fire in 2011. So we all grew up with that wonderful ambient chime every 15 minutes. We’re elated to hear that many Craftline clocks are still working well!
What he enjoyed most about business was always the challenge. Clocks were just the next challenge, having mastered furniture. Lack of experience was never a barrier. He was not motivated by money—he was motivated by trying to make a longshot succeed. Nothing daunted him. Certainly, that attitude came from surviving the Holocaust. Money was fleeting—in a single day, it could be made worthless. And since he’d already been through the worst, no setback was terribly troubling. He also got bored quickly with the routine.
TheLegacy of Manny Drukier
It’s extremely heartwarming to hear that you (author) care to research and record the history of Craftline. He’d be gratified to know it! Occasionally, we hear about this or that Craftline clock still standing in someone’s home, and it’s always satisfying to know its chimes are resonating in someone’s life.
Grandmother clock owned by the author’s sister
Manny had many business ventures over the years, not just Craftline, although Craftline was the constant, and the one that made money. But he also dabbled in real estate, although he found it generally uninteresting (unless he had colourful tenants).
He published two short-lived magazines—a cooking magazine, “à la carte [sic]”, and a literary magazine, “The Idler”. He opened a pub we lived above, also calledThe Idler, and ran that for 15 years. He became an author and the star of a documentary my husband and I made about his war years called Finding Manny.
Manny was an innovator—if he had a vision, he went for it, and nothing would stop him. Because of the war, his formal education stopped at grade 4, but he was a voracious reader and a lifelong learner. He was a generous mentor and an incurable optimist. He also had a great sense of humor and left us with many useful words of wisdom.
“I’ll leave you with a few gems that seem most apt:
LIfe isn’t a cafeteria, you can’t always choose what you want.
Sometimes a kick in the pants is also a step forward.
Don’t be the schmuck who ends up walking backwards when you’re moving furniture.
I think I’ve contributed something by my staying alive. (in Finding Manny):
We agree.
The Drukier Family”
That’s the story—more than I ever expected. I encourage you to watch Finding Manny, which explores Manny’s early life, the profound loss of family members during the Second World War, and the horrors of the death camps.
Given the lack of other dedicated online sources, this stands as the most reliable and comprehensive resource currently available on Craftline Industries.
The local environment is arguably the most influential factor in determining how long a mechanical clock will run smoothly between services. While mechanical wear and oil breakdown are inevitable over time, environmental conditions can either hasten or significantly slow down the aging process of a clock movement.
Modern Homes: Controlled Yet Not Perfect
In today’s homes, humidity and temperaturecan be controlled more effectively than in the past. Central heating, air conditioning, and dehumidifiers all contribute to creating a more stable environment, and that’s good news for your mechanical clocks.
However, even in the most controlled home, there are still times of year, especially during spring and autumn, when windows are thrown open to enjoy the fresh air. During these times, indoor humidity can rise sharply, especially on damp days. This added moisture in the air may not feel significant to us, but it can affect the fine tolerances within a clock movement.
Changes in humidity cause wood and metal components to expand and contract, which can affect timekeeping accuracy. In extreme cases, wood swelling can even bind a movement slightly, throwing it out of beat.
Two clocks in a living area
That’s why a constant, moderate temperature and relative humidity — similar to conditions in a museum — are ideal for preserving both the function and appearance of your clock. Many homes today have modern central heat pumps, and maintaining these stable conditions becomes much easier. A heat pump not only helps regulate temperature but can also moderate humidity levels, especially when it provides air conditioning during warmer months.
Older Homes: More Variables at Play
In older homes, especially those with poor insulation or drafty windows, temperature and humidity control become more challenging. Kitchens, in particular, are problematic environments. Cooking generates moisture, airborne grease, and smoke particulates — all of which can settle on clock cases and creep into the movement over time. A proper exhaust system for the kitchen is a must.
Wood stoves, while charming and efficient, can be problematic, too. Even modern stoves that are tightly sealed create small air currents that draw fine dust into the air. Clocks located nearby can accumulate this dust more rapidly, and in turn, this dust finds its way into the pivot holes and between the gear teeth of a clock movement. The result? Increased friction and premature wear.
A hall clock
Worse are older homes with leaky wood stoves — cracks or gaps in the stove body, old, dried-out or damaged door seals, and chimney or venting system leaks all make the environment inhospitable for both you and your clocks.
Pets and Particulates: Hidden Hazards
One commonly overlooked environmental factor is thepresence of pets. Cat and dog hair doesn’t just settle on surfaces — it floats in the air, especially in homes with forced air heating or regular foot traffic. Over time, this suspended hair can wrap around pivots, combine with oil residue, and form a matted buildup that impairs the smooth operation of the movement.
This kind of buildup may go unnoticed at first but is a frequent cause of sluggishness or unexplained stoppages, particularly in clocks that haven’t been cleaned in several years.
The Role of the Clock Case
Fortunately, a well-sealed clock case acts as the first line of defense. How much dirt, dust, and animal hair enter a clock movement depends greatly on the design and integrity of the case. Clocks with tight-fitting doors and well-designed enclosures will resist contaminants far more effectively than those with open backs or missing access panels. Having said that, few clocks are perfectly sealed.
Our kitchen clock
For example, mantel clocks should always have a back door — not only to protect the movement but also to control airflow. If your clock’s access door is missing or ill-fitting, it’s worth replacing or repairing. Not only will this improve the clock’s longevity, but it also helps maintain more consistent timekeeping.
Clocks built into fine furniture-quality cases — especially those with beveled glass, thick wood construction, and tight joints — will typically require less maintenance over the years simply because their movements are better shielded from environmental fluctuations and pollutants.
Long-Term Implications
Environmental exposure isn’t just a short-term concern. Clocks that live in dusty, humid, or pet-filled environments will almost always need to be serviced more frequently. Pivots will wear faster, oil will degrade sooner, and bushing holes may elongate or oval out quicker than expected. On the other hand, clocks housed in clean, climate-controlled spaces with limited air pollutants can easily run 5 years or longer between major services, especially with occasional oiling and routine checks.
So, if you’re serious about preserving your clock, consider its environment carefully. Where it’s placed, what it’s exposed to daily, and how well it’s protected will determine how often it needs attention — and how long it will continue to tick reliably for generations to come.
For clock collectors, presentation is just as important as the clocks themselves. A well-arranged collection not only enhances a space but also invites conversation and appreciation. While some collectors prefer to distribute their clocks throughout their home, others opt to showcase them all in one dedicated space. Regardless of your approach, thoughtful arrangement can make a significant difference.
Seth Thomas in an entrance hallway
One general guideline is to avoid clustering too many clocks in one area, allowing each piece to stand out. However, if you prefer to group multiple clocks together, consider organizing them by maker, style, type, era, or country of origin. A collection arranged with a clear theme creates a cohesive and visually appealing display, whereas a more haphazard approach can feel cluttered and overwhelming.
Deciding How Many Clocks to Display
Many collectors set limits on how many clocks are displayed at one time—and how many are actually running. While I keep most of my displayed clocks running, I occasionally let some take a “break.” Changing a clock’s location from time to time can refresh a room’s look, though it’s important to remember that some clocks are sensitive to movement.
Ingraham Huron shelf clock on a Westinghouse floor model radio
For example, in one of my larger rooms, I have four clocks, but they are spaced out so as not to compete for attention. The most striking piece is a 2-weight Gustav Becker Vienna regulator from 1902—at 51 inches tall, it naturally commands the space. On another wall is a Arthur Pequegnat wall clock, an Ingraham shelf clock that sits on an old Westinghouse radio, and a 1996 Ridgeway tall case to complete the arrangement. The layout ensures that each clock is showcased without overwhelming the room.
Gustav Becker and Ridgeway (foreground)
Placement Considerations
Some collectors prefer to dedicate a single room to their clocks, creating a focused display, while others, like myself, enjoy integrating clocks throughout the home. Of course, what works best also depends on what your partner is willing to tolerate!
In my entrance hallway, for example, my Seth Thomas Regulator #2 greets the visitor to my home. Also in the hallway is an Arthur Pequegnat Canadian Time wall clock.
On the second floor, a Pequegnat Brandon schoolhouse clock is positioned where it can be admired, but in keeping with a simple household rule—no striking clocks upstairs to ensure a peaceful night’s sleep.
In the dining room, a Gilbert shelf clock sits atop a 1947 Stromberg Carlson console radio, blending vintage charm with functionality.
The Art of Thoughtful Display
Arranging a clock collection takes more than just placing timepieces on a shelf—it requires an eye for balance, harmony, and practicality. A well-considered display not only highlights the beauty of each clock but also enhances the overall aesthetic of your home. Whether you prefer a carefully curated showcase or a more casual arrangement, the key is to strike a balance between functionality and visual appeal.
Our Kitchen clock
How do you display your collection? Do you prefer grouping clocks together, or spreading them throughout your home? Let me know your thoughts!
While working on my Pequegnat Bedford mantel clock recently, I made an unexpected discovery about the dial and bezel. I had always assumed the six-inch dial was original to the clock, believing it to be an anomaly or a one-off, as every other Bedford I’ve seen features a five-inch dial.
Arthur Pequegnat Bedford mantel clock
Adding to the intrigue, I noticed for the first time that the dial lacks the Arthur Pequegnat inscription on the bottom part of the dial—a detail I had previously overlooked. Every Pequegnat clock I have ever seen has the manufacturer’s inscription on the dial.
No Arthur Pequegnat inscription on the dial
When I acquired the clock some years ago, the bezel door was broken, and as a result, the glass dial bezel was push-fitted into the brass bezel base. The hinge had broken off at some point in its history.
I always intended to fix it, but it just never made it to the top of my to-do list. Recently, I decided to wind the clock and check if it was still running properly. I grabbed the catch to open it, and—whoops!—the dial fell right off. Apparently, I had forgotten it was broken. Well, perhaps this was the day to fix it.
I’d always wondered why the hinge wasn’t working, and sure enough when I inspected the dial and bezel, applied a little heat to the soldered hinge, and pried it loose, I found that only half of the hinge was actually there. Classic!
What is equally amusing is that I completely restored the case four or five years ago and did not notice the replacement dial at the time.
I removed the dial bezel to repair the broken hinge, and I discovered there were no screw holes for the hinge on the clock case itself. Instead, I found three smaller diameter holes, which would have been used to mount a 5-inch dial. This confirmed that the current dial is a replacement. The original design featured an integrated assembly of the dial, bezel, hinge, and glass. This version, however, uses a two-piece dial and bezel, with a hinge that was supposed to be attached to the case.
When Parts Are Not Original
Finding non-original parts on an antique clock is not uncommon, as many clocks have undergone repairs or alterations over the years. These changes may include replacement dials, bezels, hands, or other components that were damaged or lost. While such modifications can affect the clock’s originality and value, they are often part of its history and serve as evidence of its use and care over time.
Whether or not to replace non-original parts depends on your goals as a collector. If preserving originality is a priority, you might seek authentic replacement parts from the same era. However, if functionality and appearance are your main concerns, modern replacements or custom solutions can be a practical choice.
There are times, like this one, when the discovery comes long after you’ve acquired the clock.
In any event, it is essential to document any changes for future reference, especially if the clock is sold, to ensure its history is transparent.
The Hinge Repair
Arthur Pequegnat Bedford mantel clock
I plan to reuse the bezel but will attach a new hinge. I went through my collection of hinges to find the one that would be the best fit and while not exact I found one that was close.
The first step is to remove the hinge from the glass/brass bezel. It came off easily with a solder gun. I am the first to admit that my soldering skills are not top notch but I am eager to do my best.
The next step is to attach the new hinge to the dial/brass bezel. Once attached, it is test-fitted with the glass/bezel to ensure there is sufficient clearance for the door to close. In this case, there is not enough clearance, so I will need to grind down a section of the dial bezel. What initially seemed like a simple job has now become more complicated.
I have a collection of 11 Arthur Pequegnat clocks, including three beautiful wall clocks which you can view on this 5-minute YouTube video.
I have written extensively about the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company, but to summarize: the company was founded in Berlin, Ontario (renamed Kitchener in 1917) in 1904 and produced its final clock in 1941.
As regular readers know, I have been a passionate collector for 15 years, I take great joy in repairing and restoring old clocks. My collection has grown to 85 unique timepieces, each with its own story.
Background music and titles are provided only. If you have any questions about my Pequegnat collection or a specific clock, feel free to leave a comment.
For more about my journey and insights into clock collecting, explore my other blog articles.
After working on the dial of a Pequegnat Jewel mantel clock, I was very pleased with the results of the repaint. While the detailing may not withstand close scrutiny, the clock looks excellent from a comfortable distance.
When I brought the clock home, it appeared that a previous owner, frustrated by the loss of some or most of the paint on the dial, chose not to source a replacement but instead stripped the paint entirely, leaving only the numerals.
Photo taken on the day the clock was purchased
Someone had gone to great lengths to meticulously scrape away all the paint, but the result is far from appealing.
Something Still Troubled Me
I decided to address the missing paint on the dial by repainting it and touching up the numerals, and the results met my expectations.
After repainting the dial and retouching the numerals
It continued to bother me that the glass surround had a brassy gold appearance, while the dial bezel exhibited a bronze-like tone.
Although brass is an alloy of copper and zinc, with variations in composition potentially explaining this difference, I suspect that’s not the case here.
Instead, I believe the glass surround was originally painted gold, as small flakes of paint came off while I was cleaning it with a toothpick and cloth. Should I leave it as-is or match the outer bezel to the inner one? I’d have to think about it—a two-toned dial looked odd.
A Decision Was Made
Since the dial and surround had already been altered, I decided to take it a step further and repaint the inner bezel as well. With the right shade of acrylic paint on hand, I went ahead and tackled the task.
Some might argue that I went too far with the repainted dial and bezel, believing that any changes made to the clock over time are part of its history. However, I don’t share that perspective. To me, a poor repair from the past justifies taking steps to set things right. Leaving a damaged dial on a clock case that is otherwise in near-perfect condition would be a shame.
From a different angle
I have no regrets about my decision—if anything, I’ve now contributed to its history.
By correcting such mistakes, I believe I honour the intent and skill of the original maker. Restoring a clock to a condition closer to its authentic appearance helps preserve its aesthetic value for future generations.
As we enter a new year it is time to look back on the adventures and milestones I’ve experienced in the world of antique and vintage clock collecting and repair in the past year. 2024 has been one of discovery, growth, and deepening appreciation for the art of horology.
Over the past year, I have been shifting the focus of my collection. While I have acquired clocks from various countries, my interest has increasingly centered on Canadian clocks and those with a Canadian connection. This focus is evident in my acquisitions of the following clocks this year.
Adding to the Collection
My collection of Arthur Pequegnat clocks grew significantly this year with the addition of some standout pieces.
Arthur Pequegnat Hamilton Tall
The Dandyand Hamilton Tallmodels were particular highlights, each offering unique insights into the craftsmanship and history of the Pequegnat Clock Company.
Arthur Pequegnat Dandy
I also came across a rare find — a 30-hour Ogee clock by the Canada Clock Co., a true testament to Canadian clockmaking heritage. An interesting feature of this clock is the faux grain finish on the wood case, which was evidently a cost-saving measure by the company to make their prices competitive with American manufacturers at the time.
Canada Clock Co. Ogee
One of my most memorable acquisitions was an Arthur Pequegnat Simcoeclock (not pictured), purchased in 2018 from a shop in Victoria, British Columbia, for close to $200. This year, I added the Jewelmodel to my collection after spotting it on a high shelf at a local antique shop. Its price was surprisingly modest, coming in at less than a quarter the cost of the Simcoe making the find all the more satisfying. The addition of legs and side handles distinguishes it from the Simcoe.
Arthur Pequegnat Jewel
My most interesting acquisition was not a Canadian clock but a German-made Kienzle wall clock, which was given to me by a gentleman in Ontario (Canada).
Kienzle time and strike wall clock
The clock had been passed down from his grandfather, and the seller hoped to find someone who would truly appreciate it. He contacted me for advice and asked about its value. I offered some insights and mentioned that if he was unable to sell it, I would be happy to take it off his hands. Honestly, I never expected to hear back from him after that.
Several months later, he reached out to tell me that he would be gifting it to me. We arranged a hand-off in a small village in Quebec, and it has since become part of my collection. It is a handsome clock with a resonant two-tone strike that is one of the most “complete” clocks in my collection (for more on this clock go here).
Repairing and Restoring
In 2024, I spent less time repairing and servicing clock movements, instead focusing on my blog, researching clocks and clock companies and their histories, and maintaining my collection.
On the repair front, I tackled several challenging yet rewarding projects, including a Seth Thomas Type 89 time and strike and a HAC/HAU time and strike movement. These were standard servicing tasks that presented minimal issues.
Generally, my servicing philosophy is to avoid replacing original components as much as possible but I always test and ensure they meet the clock’s functional requirements. This year reinforced my belief that preserving original parts is vital to maintaining a clock’s authenticity.
HAC (Hamburg American Clock Co.) movement with plate removed
Among the repairs waiting their turn is the Danby model by Arthur Pequegnat which has been placed on the back burner due to other priorities. With three other movements to finish first, the servicing of those clocks plus the Danby will be projects for later in 2025.
Mauthe wall clock
Another project I’ll be tackling in 2025 is a family clock. This past year, I received my father-in-law’s clock for repair. It was passed down to my wife’s brother and has been out of service for over 25 years. I plan to return it fully serviced, and I hope that this stately Mauthe wall clock will take a prominent place in my brother-in-law’s home as a sentimental reminder of my wife’s father.
Sharing the Passion
This year celebrates seven years of blogging about clock collecting, repairs, and restoration. My blog has become a platform to share knowledge and stories, blending my love of writing, photography, and horology. Though I took a break for the holiday season, I look forward to returning this year with fresh content and inspiration.
One of the goals of this blog is to introduce antique and vintage clocks to younger generations and inspire an appreciation for these remarkable mechanical devices from the past. In today’s modern age of a throw-away culture, how many items can you think of that still function flawlessly after more than a century? It is a short list indeed!
A Special Milestone
In 2025, I will celebrate the remarkable milestone of reaching 1 million views, and I’ll be publishing a special article to mark the occasion. This achievement highlights the significant impact and reach of my content, demonstrating that my blog has resonated with a broad audience and built a dedicated following over time. Reaching this level of engagement is a testament to the value and quality of the information I share, making it an incredibly rewarding accomplishment as a creator.
A Broader Perspective
My collecting journey has always been intertwined with a sense of history and nostalgia. Yet, I’ve also faced the reality that interest in antique clocks is waning among younger generations. While my children may not share my passion, I find joy in preserving my clocks for future collectors or enthusiasts who might rediscover their charm. I hope that a younger generation will emerge and find value in collecting these old treasures.
My tastes and collecting habits are evolving, and I am increasingly focusing on Canadian-made clocks or those with a significant Canadian connection. This year, I may sell some of my more common clocks, which will reduce my collection to a more manageable size while still preserving my collection of 15 Canadian-made clocks.
Looking Ahead
As the New Year is upon us, I’m excited about the possibilities. My trip to the UK in 2024 provided opportunities to explore horological treasures, visit museums, and reconnect with my British heritage. Whether acquiring new clocks or deepening my understanding of their history, I’m eager to see where future journeys take me.
To all fellow enthusiasts and readers of my blog: thank you for your support and shared passion for these timeless pieces of history. Here’s to another year of celebrating the art and craft of clocks!
In Part I of this series, I shared my approach to restoring a clock dial through a process called inpainting. Inpainting is but one solution to the problem of a ruined dial. To restore a clock dial by bringing it back to its original state involves carefully mixing paint to match the original tones, gradually building up layers to cover exposed metal, and remedying prior modifications that detracted from the dial’s appearance. I also highlighted the challenges of repainting, emphasizing the precision and patience required. Part I concluded with the groundwork laid for further work on the dial.
The clock is an Arthur Pequegnat Jewel, manufactured before 1917. The exact year of manufacture is uncertain, as Pequegnat did not date stamp their clocks. The approximate period of manufacture is confirmed by the maker’s stamp, which includes “Berlin,” the original name of what is now Kitchener. The city’s name was changed in 1917 due to sentiments arising from the Great War. So, the clock was made somewhere between 1904, the first year of production for Pequegnat clocks, and 1916.
Arthur Pequegnat Simcoe
This model shares the exact case dimensions as the Simcoe but lacks certain decorative elements, making it one of the more affordable mantel clocks in their range.
The clock case features a piecrust dial bezel like the Simcoe, which was later replaced by a plain bezel in later years.
Pequegnat Jewel as found
In terms of the dial restoration, Part II will build on the inpainting progress by applying additional coats, enhancing details like the numerals and chapter ring, and bringing the dial closer to its original elegance.
More Work Required on the Dial
After the second coat, the bare metal is still visible, indicating that at least one or two more coats will be necessary.
I decided to continue a shade darker for the next layer by adding a touch more brown, and after more thought, darker still for the next coat or two. Even at this stage, I’m beginning to notice a pleasant transformation in the dial, shifting from its stark metallic appearance to a more pleasing shade of cream.
For the third coat, I aimed to soften the yellow and achieve a more aged look. It’s rough at the moment, but I’m confident it will come together once I start applying black paint to the numerals. The good news is that the bare metal is no longer visible.
The dial is done, now for the numerals
When placed against the case, the repainted dial is an improvement, but it’s clear that I’ll never fully replicate the original dial, even with my try at aging it.
The fourth coat has fully concealed the tin beneath, so, I’ll stop here. Next, I will focus on the numerals, using an artist’s detail brush and a Sharpie Ultra fine-point pen to carefully restore them.
Bezeltest fit
Since the stripping process compromised the original numbers, I’ll use my Simcoe as a reference to reshape and refine their appearance. I’ll allow the paint to cure fully before moving on to the next step.
After cleaning the bezel, I noticed a distinct difference between the glass surround and the dial bezel. The glass surround has a brassy gold appearance, while the dial bezel exhibits a bronze-like tone. Although brass is an alloy of copper and zinc, with variations in composition potentially explaining this difference, I suspect that’s not the case here. Instead, I believe the glass surround was painted gold, as small flakes of paint came off while I was cleaning it with a toothpick. The bottom line? Best to leave it as is. Or match the outer bezel to the inner one? I’d have to think about that.
Here is the final result after a few touch-ups with black paint and some light polishing of the glass and both bezels.
Is it an improvement?
While it does not hold up to close scrutiny, there’s no denying it looks much better when viewed from a comfortable distance.
With the dial restored and the case cleaned, the final step will be servicing the time and strike movement to bring the clock to its full potential. While the improvement comes with its compromises, it’s satisfying to see the progress so far, and I’m eager to have this clock run smoothly after servicing.
As I continue to build my Pequegnat clock collection, I always seize a good deal when I find one, and the Jewel was too good to pass up. You might be wondering, what exactly is a Pequegnat clock and where does the Jewel fit into their model lineup?
A Pequegnat clock refers to clocks produced by the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company, a renowned Canadian manufacturer active from 1904 to 1941 in Kitchener, Ontario, Canada. These clocks are celebrated for their quality craftsmanship and distinct place in Canadian horological history. Pequegnat clocks were a common feature in many Canadian homes.
I now have twelve Pequegnat clocks in my collection, consisting of several mantel clocks and three wall clocks.
Arthur Pequegnat Simcoe
In 2018, I purchased a Pequegnat Simcoe clock from a shop in Victoria, British Columbia, for nearly $200—a price I found fair at the time. More recently, I came across the Jewel model in an antique shop just 20 minutes from home. Though it was perched on a high shelf, I recognized it instantly. Given its significantly lower price, I couldn’t resist adding it to my collection.
An excellent price for a Pequegnat mantel clock
The case dimensions of both are exactly the same and each has the earlier Berlin-style piecrust dial.
Pequegnat Jewel
Three features differentiate the Jewel from the Simcoe. First, the Jewel was a less expensive clock. It is likely one of the least expensive mantel clocks in the Pequegnat mantel clock lineup, offering a more affordable option for many Canadian families.
Secondly, the Jewel lacks the lion’s head side handles and decorative feet found on the Simcoe.
Third, although the movement is identical to the Simcoe, the Jewel has a smaller gong block. A smaller gong block would still produce sound, but with a less resonant tone, which was considered an acceptable tradeoff for keeping production costs lower.
Condition of the dial
Unfortunately, the dial on the Jewel has been completely stripped of its paint. I’m willing to accept a dial with some imperfections—after all, the paint on the Simcoe’s dial is flaking, but that’s part of its aging process and what gives it its antique character.
A ruined dial
However, a dial completely stripped of its paint, aside from the chapter ring and numerals, is unsightly and distracting. I completely understand why this was done. More expensive Pequegnat clocks featured enamel dials, while the more common models had painted dials, which are prone to flaking after many years and this clock must have had extensive paint loss.
While some might have left the dial as it was, viewing it as part of the clock’s history, the extent of the modification made it impossible for me to leave it as is. The fact that the clock only cost me $45 also made me more willing to take the risk to remediate the dial.
Repainting a dial is usually a last resort for me, and I wouldn’t recommend it unless you have steady hands, plenty of patience, the necessary materials, or the option to outsource the work to an artist friend or an expert. Outsourcing might be a good choice, particularly for dials with sentimental value, as it ensures the work is handled with precision and care by an expert. Preserving the integrity and charm of a cherished clock often warrants entrusting the work to skilled hands such as The Dial House.
Some time ago, I restored the dial on a Seth Thomas clock using a technique called inpainting, and I was very pleased with the results. I also touched up the dial to a Pequegnat Canuck shelf clock with very satisfactory results.
A decision was made
As I considered my options, I decided that if the inpainting did not turn out as planned, I could always order a paper dial from an eBay supplier and place it over the original.
The paint was painstakingly scraped away, but the result was far from pleasing
However, the cost of the dial alone would exceed what I paid for the clock. Besides, I’m not particularly fond of paper dials.
I know that once I’m done with the dial, my artistic “talent” will be apparent upon close inspection. However, I’m confident it will be an improvement over its current state.
To carry out this procedure, the hands, dial/bezel must be removed. There are just two screws at 3 and 9 o’clock that hold the dial assembly in place. Once the assembly is removed, the glass and its bezel can be separated from the dial and set aside.
Once the dial was removed, I cleaned the stripped surface with isopropyl alcohol. It evaporates quickly and leaves no residue, and since the dial had no remaining paint aside from the chapter ring and numerals, I wasn’t concerned about damaging the finish and simply worked around the painted areas.
A small dab of yellow is enough
The dial was likely originally white but had aged to a darker cream color over time. To recreate this, I mixed a touch of canary yellow with cotton ball white to achieve the perfect shade. I used both a broad artist’s brush and a fine-point detail brush to apply the first coat. Multiple coats are necessary, but the first coat needs to be cured before adding another.
I’m using water-based acrylic paint, which is self-sealing and becomes permanent when baked at low heat however, this dial will not be spending time in an oven. Once another coat or two is applied I can use a pointed tip detail brush to reshape the numerals using black paint.
The first coat is acceptable, though a bit blotchy due to the uneven spread of paint across the dial. The tin was very visible, so I knew that more than one coat would be necessary.
I mixed the yellow and white paint the same way for the second coat, this time adding a touch of chocolate brown.
However, the bare metal is still visible, indicating that at least one or possibly two more coats will be needed. I’m considering going a shade darker for the next layer by adding a touch more brown, but I’ll take some time to think it over before deciding. I’m starting to notice a lovely transformation in the dial, shifting from its stark tin appearance to a more pleasing shade of cream.
That wraps up Part I of this two-part series. In Part II, coming in the new year, I’ll continue the restoration process by applying additional coats to the dials and refining the numerals and chapter ring. Stay tuned!
My sister, who’s just a couple of years younger and was once an avid collector of antiques, recently shared something that’s been weighing on my mind. She told me that she’s stopped collecting, something I never thought I’d hear from her. “There’s no one to leave them to, no one who will appreciate them,” she said. “I have this beautiful sterling silver collection, and my son will probably just melt it down and sell it for cash when I’m gone.” Her words stung. I tried to tell her that was harsh, but she insisted that’s how it would end.
If I were younger!
I have started to feel the same. It seems the current generation is far less interested in preserving the past, in keeping these old treasures with all their stories. My own children, although they have each chosen a few cherished clocks from my collection, the rest will go up for auction someday, sold for whatever they can get. It’s a sobering thought, one I try not to dwell on too often.
Adjusting a tall-case clock
In a world where minimalism and rapid change have become ideals, I worry that the beauty and history in antiques are slipping away, lost in the rush to move forward. Each clock I have collected has a story—a legacy of skill and craftsmanship, resilience, and time. I hope that someday, someone will see beyond the dust and patina and recognize the true value these pieces hold. Yet I wonder: how do we make these treasures matter in a world that so easily leaves the past behind?
Maybe it starts with us, sharing stories and teaching others to see these old clocks not as relics but as links to history and memory. Each clock was built with care, by hands that once held a passion for the craft. Each tick and strike is a heartbeat, connecting us to moments long gone.
Maybe, if we bring people close enough to touch and hear these old clocks, we can pass on a little of that wonder. Letting someone hear the rich strike of an old clock, or watching gears move gracefully in time—these small moments can stir something deep, something lasting.
My daughter has her name on this clock
Documenting their stories, through photos and words as I attempt to do with my blog, is my r way of carrying these legacies forward, preserving the memory in a form that lasts longer than I will.
And for those who may stumble upon these stories years from now, I hope they’ll feel that spark of connection. Reaching out to online communities, historical societies, or even local museums could help, too. By blending history with storytelling and technology, maybe we can find a way to preserve this beauty and bring it to life for future generations.
Some time ago, I discussed clock repair in the old days with a horologist acquaintance who completed work on my 138-year-old E. Ingraham Huron mantel clock in my collection. He had just spoken with an 82-year-old friend who spent most of his life in clock repair, reminiscing about how different things were “back in the day.”
I wondered what he meant by “different.” Were things genuinely better in clock repair back then? Let’s take a step back in time.
E Ingraham Huron
Imagine a typical Canadian home in the 1920s or 1930s. In those days, a clock was more than just a decorative piece; it was a vital appliance—just like a refrigerator or washing machine.
For most households, clocks were bought for one simple purpose: to tell time. Often, it was the only timekeeping device in the home, especially for working-class families. And although mechanical clocks were not the most accurate, people did not expect them to be precise to the second. As long as the clock was within a minute or two each week, it was more than up to the task.
These clocks were inexpensive, functional, and built to withstand some wear and tear. My own Arthur Pequegnat “Fan Top” kitchen clock, for instance, was sold for $5 when new in 1912—a significant investment when the average worker earned around $12.75 weekly.
Arthur Pequegnat Maple Leaf “Fan Top” kitchen clock
Despite the cost, having a clock in the home was essential for various reasons. When a clock inevitably stopped, it needed a quick and affordable repair, often done by a local tinkerer rather than a professional. This could be a tradesperson like a mechanic or handyman. In rural areas like Nova Scotia, Canada, trained horologists were rare, and even when available, their services could be prohibitively expensive.
The local “tinkerers” kept neighbors’ clocks running, relying on basic tools found around the house: a hammer, pliers, a punch, a file, and a screwdriver. In those days specialized tools for clock repair were expensive and hard to come by and only a jeweler could afford such luxury. Tinkerers often used improvised methods; for instance, they might close a worn pivot hole with a punch or, by the 1940s, use a soldering gun to attach a brass piece, creating a new pivot hole when needed.
Solder repair and re-located pivot hole on an American movement
Cleaning solutions were equally unrefined—soaking movements overnight in gasoline, then oiling them with household oils like motor oil. Reflecting on the cleaning methods of those early tinkerers, the use of gasoline and other flammable solvents to clean clock movements stands out not only for its crudeness but for the inherent danger it posed.
Gasoline was relatively inexpensive and readily available, which made it an attractive option for a low-cost, no-frills clock cleaner. However, using such a volatile substance to clean intricate brass and steel components was not without significant risk.
The workspace for these repairs was often an unheated shed, garage, or basement without proper ventilation, increasing the risk. In these confined spaces, the fumes would linger, building up to dangerous levels. One careless move, and the result could be disastrous, not only for the tinkerer but for anyone in proximity.
The Quick Fix
“Quick fixes” were typically short-term and would eventually lead to further repairs. Still, the customer was satisfied if their clock came back ticking, and they paid only a nominal fee for the service.
These short-term fixes often involved unconventional methods. For instance, rather than replacing worn bushings—small bearings that support moving parts—a tinkerer might use a punch to “close” a pivot hole by pushing the metal back into place. This would hold the pivot for a while, but it also introduced more wear, which would lead to increasingly frequent repairs as the pivot wore down the surrounding material. Other techniques included using adhesives, shims, or rudimentary re-soldering to hold parts together temporarily.
For lubrication, household oils like 3-in-1 were a staple, though they were not formulated for delicate clock movements. These oils would initially help gears move smoothly, but over time, they could become sticky, causing grime to build up and eventually slowing the movement once again. Each time a clock came back for a fix, the tinkerer would apply another short-term solution, usually at little or no cost to the customer, who was primarily concerned with keeping the clock functional.
The cumulative effect of these fixes meant that many clocks would eventually suffer irreversible wear. The gears and pivots would lose their integrity, requiring a complete overhaul if they were to be restored to original condition.
However, it’s worth mentioning that these clocks were not seen as heirlooms or prized possessions; they were utilitarian items. For customers, the reliability and exact timekeeping ability of the clock was not as important as affordability and functionality—if it ticked, it was good enough.
The Emergence of the Electric Clock
In the 1930s, synchronous electric clocks began to replace mechanical ones in homes with electricity. However, in many rural areas, families continued relying on their mechanical clocks, repairing them as needed until electric clocks eventually phased them out.
While many of those old clocks were abandoned, some became cherished family keepsakes passed down through generations.
Today, antique clocks hold a different status; we value their craftsmanship and history. When they need repairs, we use all manner of specialized modern tools—bushing machines, broaches, spring winders, and lathes—to restore them with precision. The result is a repair that lasts, leaving our clocks “better than ever.”
Remembering past tinkers
Yet, it’s important to remember the tinkerers of the past. In their time, they provided an essential service, keeping communities running on time. While we might wince at some of their makeshift repairs and call them “butchers,” those tinkerers were problem-solvers.
Speaking with my friend the horologist helped me better appreciate the humble, practical repairs of the past and the indispensable role these community tinkerers played.
When I encounter a clock with a “homemade” repair, I assess the quality of the work. If the repair, however crude, has stood the test of time, I often choose to leave it as is, recognizing it as part of the clock’s unique history.
Modern Repairs
Clock repair today is a world apart from the makeshift methods used by tinkerers of the past. Modern horologists have access to advanced, highly specialized tools—bushing machines, ultrasonic cleaners, spring winders, precision lathes—that allow them to restore and even improve upon the original functionality of antique clocks. This level of precision would have been unimaginable to the early tinkerers who often relied on a handful of common household tools, improvising as they went along.
Olie Baker spring winder
For them, a hammer, screwdriver, file, and eventually a soldering iron were the core of their toolkit. These tools were not intended for delicate clockwork but were adapted out of necessity, resulting in quick fixes rather than long-lasting repairs.
Enlarging a hole with Bergeon bushing machine
The philosophy behind clock repair has also evolved dramatically. Modern repairs focus on preserving the integrity of the clock, respecting the craftsmanship of its original makers. Each repair is a detailed process, and the goal is longevity. Modern techniques consider the clock’s historical value, aiming to keep its character intact while ensuring that it runs smoothly for years. This contrasts with the approach of early tinkerers, who were less concerned with historical value and more focused on getting the clock running again as quickly and affordably as possible.
Materials and cleaning methods today are specifically formulated for delicate clockwork. High-quality brass bushings, synthetic clock oils, and non-flammable cleaning agents protect the movement and prevent unnecessary wear. In the past, tinkerers often resorted to materials that were easily accessible but not ideal for clock repair. These methods may have restored basic function, but they often led to increased wear over time, necessitating further repairs and eventually compromising the clock’s condition.
In the early 20th century clock repairs were practical, unrefined, and performed with whatever was on hand. On the other hand, modern horologists have become part conservators, honoring the original makers by using high-quality techniques that preserve each clock as a historical artifact.
Modern horologists can train extensively, gaining a nuanced understanding of clock mechanics and restoration practices. Tinkerers, on the other hand, were often self-taught, relying on trial and error, observation, or advice from others. Many of them fixed clocks in their spare time, making do with limited resources and no formal training. Their skills were functional, focusing on keeping clocks ticking within the practical constraints of everyday life.
Today, when a clock is restored, we think of it as honoring history, a far cry from the “just make it tick” mindset of the past. Both approaches, however, share a common thread: a dedication to keeping time alive.
I recently had the opportunity to expand my collection with more Canadian-made clocks, including a 30-hour Ogee clock produced by the Canada Clock Co. at their Hamilton plant between 1880 and 1884.
Canadian clock companies have historically struggled to survive due to fierce competition from American manufacturers. Companies like Westclox in Peterborough survived largely due to their connections with U.S. parent companies, while smaller firms like Pequegnat persevered independently for as long as possible until the market and materials eventually declined.
Clockmaking in Whitby & Hamilton, Ontario
From 1872 to 1884, a group of Canadian clockmakers sought to compete with American companies by producing locally-made clocks designed for the Canadian market.
The Canada Clock Co. (Whitby, Ontario), the Hamilton Clock Co. (Hamilton, Ontario), and the Canada Clock Company (Hamilton, Ontario) faced significant challenges in the 19th century during a 12-year span as they sought to establish Canada’s presence in the clock-making industry.
The Canada Clock Co. was founded in Whitby, Ontario, in 1872, but its operations ceased after just four years, largely due to a catastrophic factory fire.
In 1876, key figures from the failed company, including manager John Collins, relocated to Hamilton to form the Hamilton Clock Co. Despite this renewed effort, the company folded after four years, halting production in 1880.
Later that year, another attempt was made to revive the industry with the creation of a new Canada Clock Co., reusing the old name and operating out of the former Hamilton Clock Co. factory. Unfortunately, success remained elusive, and the company declared bankruptcy in 1884, marking the end of a dozen turbulent years of clock production in the Canadian market.
Movements were made in Canada though they were essentially copies of American movements, most notably those manufactured by the Waterbury Clock Company. Case styles were also “borrowed” from Waterbury, Ansonia, and New Haven. Made in Canada, yes, original designs, no!
30-hour Ogee Clocks
Fortunately, many clocks from the three companies have survived to this day and occasionally they show up on online auction sites and other for-sale sites.
I have one other Ogee clock from this group of companies, one from the Hamilton Clock Company. It is exactly the same dimensions as a typical American Ogee of that time and mirrors the clock’s dimensions described in this article.
The brass movement of the Hamilton clock is a 30-hour time and strike and weight driven. Of particular interest is the use of an etched tablet that resembles a silk screen technique.
I have four other 30-hour Ogee clocks, two from Chauncey Jerome, a George H. Clark, and a Waterbury. All share the same dimensions as my two Canadian-made clocks.
Why were they so popular?
They were popular in the 19th century for a number of reasons. Most households did not need clocks with extended run times, and daily winding became a routine part of life, so the 30-hour duration was not seen as a disadvantage.
They were more affordable to produce and purchase, making them accessible to a broader audience. The weight-driven mechanism was simple, reliable, and required little maintenance. Unlike steel springs, which were expensive to manufacture in the early days, the weights were cheap to produce, further reducing costs.
Finally, the Ogee clock’s distinctive double-curved molding often made with exotic veneers was visually appealing and complemented the furniture styles of the period.
Canada Clock Company Ogee
My latest Ogee was made between 1880 and 1884 at the Canada Clock Co. factory in Hamilton, Ontario.
Auction photo
This clock has several intriguing features. First, it is the only one in my Ogee collection that includes an alarm function. Before the widespread availability of affordable alarm clocks or reliable pocket watches, many people relied on their household clock to wake them up in the morning. This was especially helpful in agrarian societies, where waking up early was essential for tending to livestock or starting farm work.
The brass dial sets the alarm
Second, the glass tablet showcases a unique cherub figure that differs from any designs I have encountered on similar clocks from the three companies. Unfortunately, the cherub has partially faded over time.
The grain is worn on the left side
Third, the clock features an imitation wood-grained finish that I have not encountered on other Ogee clocks. Genuine exotic or high-quality wood, such as mahogany or rosewood, was expensive. By using cheaper, locally available wood like pine or basswood and applying a faux wood grain finish, clockmakers could mimic the look of luxurious woods at a fraction of the cost.
Overall the imitation grain looks good
While most of the “grain” is still intact, some of it has worn away in the Ogee section on the right side. Although it requires cleaning, I must be careful to preserve the “grain.”
Fourth and final, it is one of the few Ogee clocks I have encountered that still has the dust blocks for the pulleys intact. There are two, one on each side located on the top of the case. These are frequently lost at some point in the clock’s life.
The label is mostly intact missing the bottom left-hand corner section. A clock’s label includes the name of the manufacturer. This helps identify where the clock was made and by whom, which is essential for authentication. This is particularly important when there is no maker’s stamp on the movement.
Servicing and Cleaning
This might turn into a winter project since I have several clocks waiting for servicing. However, I’d like to focus on the case first to preserve the faux grain. The plan is to give it a light cleaning and apply a coat or two of traditional shellac to help protect the finish.
I noticed that the hammer lever (strike-side) got stuck when I briefly ran the clock. It’s probably just a small adjustment, but I’ll need to disassemble the movement regardless. While I’m at it, I will also take care of any wear issues.
I recently added two more Pequegnat clocks to my collection: the Hamilton Tall which you can read abouthereand the Danby model, which I will be profiling in this article. This brings my total to 12 Arthur Pequegnat clocks.
Let’s start with some background on the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Co. and its significance in Canadian clockmaking.
Advertising sign
The Pequegnat Clock Company, founded by Swiss immigrant Arthur Pequegnat in 1904 in Kitchener, Ontario (then Berlin), operated until 1941. Initially a jewelry shop, Pequegnat expanded into bicycle manufacturing in 1897. However, as demand for bicycles declined, he shifted to clockmaking, utilizing his existing plant for producing clock movements. The company’s motto, “Buy Canadian – Pequegnat clocks are better than foreign-made ones,” appealed to Canadian consumers.
Pequegnat initially sourced wooden clock cases from local furniture makers before producing its own, earning a reputation for high-quality, reliable clocks in various designs, including wall, mantel, and hall clocks. Unfortunately, the brass shortage during the Second World War signaled the end of the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Co.
The Danby
While the Hamilton Tall is considered a prestigious parlour clock, the Danby occupies the opposite end of the spectrum. This is reflected in its auction price, making it one of the least expensive Pequegnat clocks I have purchased.
The Danby
According to the general definition of a mantel clock, the Danby can be classified as a shelf clock. It measures 4.5″ x 21″ x 9.5″, with its movement housed in a walnut veneered case.
The Danby was directly competing with an influx of mantel clocks from American companies, and to remain competitive, they must have sold it with minimal profit margins and this is reflected in its build quality.
The Dial
While some of the last Danbys showcased an Art Deco dial, this particular model features the simpler tin painted dial. Notably, the name “Pequegnat” is positioned one-third of the way up from the center arbor on the dial face. At that time, thanks to its brand recognition, it wasn’t necessary to display the entire company name on the dial.
Additionally, the movement lacks a regulating feature, so to adjust the clock’s speed, you must change the length of the pendulum bob. In short it is as simple as it gets for a Pequegnat 8-day time and strike clock. Notably, it has a tuned rod gong which would have been considered an upgrade.
A common feature of Pequegnat movements is their nickel-plated front and back plates, which provided a polished, attractive finish that appealed to customers.
Initially, the Pequegnat Clock Company used steel plates for their clock movements but transitioned to brass plates. Steel plates were more prone to rust and corrosion, while brass offered better resistance and was easier to machine, making it a more suitable choice for clockmaking. Pequegnat continued to nickel-plate the movements to enhance the clock’s perceived quality.
Numerous Pequegnat models were produced over the extended period from 1904 to 1941, making it difficult to determine the exact manufacturing dates for specific clocks. However, I feel confident in stating that this clock was made in the months leading up to the closing of the factory in 1941.
Overall Condition of the Case
The case is dark walnut veneered, which was a common practice for “everyday” clocks during the pre-war period. This construction method helped reduce production costs. It’s also possible that by this time, Pequegnat had resumed the practice of outsourcing their cases as there were several companies in Toronto, notably Walter Clocks and the Blackforest Clock Co. that produced cases for clock movements imported from England, Germany and France.
The case has been refreshed, and aside from requiring a cleaning, it looks presentable. However, the dial is in rough condition, with both the numerals and the surface having faded from wear and tear. I may touch up the numerals with black paint but there is not much I can do about the face itself.
I’m uncertain about the dial bezel; it should be brass but has a more copper-like colour. The bezel did not age well given the amount of tarnishing.
There is a good label, but it isn’t attached to the case. I may tape it to the inside of the door, as gluing a label with impregnated oil on wood is challenging.
The Plan
I have several other movements to work on before I can get to the Danby, which may remain on the back burner for a few months.
In the meantime, I noticed an issue right away: the center arbour cam hangs on the “J” hook, forcing it against the time side mainspring, which stops the clock. It won’t release unless I advance the minute hand. The movement will need to be completely disassembled to reposition the hook, but that will have to wait for another day.
I recently added two more Pequegnat clocks to my collection: the Dandy model and the Hamilton Tall, the latter of which I will be profiling in this article. I now have a total of 12 Arthur Pequegnat clocks in my possession.
The Hamilton Tall
For those unfamiliar with the Pequegnat name, the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company is arguably the most iconic antique clockmaker in Canada. No Canadian antique clock collection would be complete without a Pequegnat piece.
The Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company
The Pequegnat Clock Company was a Canadian clock manufacturer that operated from 1904 to 1941. It was founded by Arthur Pequegnat, a Swiss immigrant who brought his family to Canada in search of a new beginning.
Pequegnat, a skilled clockmaker and entrepreneur, saw an opportunity to establish his own clock company in Kitchener, Ontario (then known as Berlin). However, the story of the Pequegnat clocks begins even before 1904.
In 1897, Arthur expanded his Berlin jewelry shop to include bicycle manufacturing. By 1904, with declining demand for bicycles, he shifted focus to clockmaking, using his Berlin Bicycle Manufacturing plant to produce clock movements. The company’s motto, “Buy Canadian – Pequegnat clocks are better than foreign-made ones,” resonated with Canadian consumers.
Initially, Pequegnat sourced wooden clock cases from local furniture makers, but eventually, the company began producing its own cases. The Pequegnat Clock Company became known for high-quality, reliable clocks, offering a wide range of designs, including wall clocks, mantel clocks, and hall clocks.
The Hamilton Tall
Cashing in on Canada’s identity as a nation, Pequegnat saw the value in naming clocks after Canadian cities, cities such as Stratford, London, Toronto, Moncton, Montreal, and, of course, Hamilton. This marketing strategy undoubtedly struck a tone with buyers.
Interestingly, there are two models named Hamilton, which collectors differentiate as the “Tall” model and the “Wide” model (or shorter and taller by some). Among the two, the Tall model is considered more desirable by collectors.
Another model, which could have been a variant of the Hamilton but instead named St. Thomas, shares an identical case. However, it has a mission-style dial, which, in my opinion, complements the case more effectively. In the photo below, the St. Thomas is shown in the bottom left corner.
Berlin, Ontario, was renamed Kitchener in 1916, due to anti-German sentiment during World War I. This change provides a useful reference when dating Pequegnat clocks, as labels, movements, or dials marked “Berlin” indicate the clock was made in 1916 or earlier, while those marked “Kitchener” were produced after 1916. However, many Pequegnat models were produced over an extended period, making it challenging to pinpoint exact manufacturing dates for specific clocks.
Time and strike movement with a two-toned strike
A common characteristic of Pequegnat movements is the nickel-plated front and back plates. Nickel-plated movements had a more polished, attractive finish, further appealing to customers.
The Pequegnat Clock Company initially used steel plates for their clock movements but later transitioned to brass plates, with the shift occurring around 1907-1908 (though this date is unconfirmed). Steel plates were more susceptible to rust and corrosion, whereas brass offered greater resistance to corrosion and was easier to machine, making it a more suitable material for clockmaking. Despite this transition, Pequegnat continued to nickel-plate the movements to further protect against wear and enhance the perceived quality of the clocks.
The heavy brass-sheathed pendulum bob is visible through a glass panel on the front of the case.
Two Issues
Two factors keep this clock from being in perfect condition. First, a keen eye will notice that it has two strike hammers but only one rod gong. At some point, the second rod broke off. Tuned rods, considered an upgrade in a Pequegnat clock, contribute to a rich and vibrant sound. I have not investigated the movement closely but it appears that the half-hour strike is meant to strike the rod that is missing.
I spoke with the previous owner, who had the clock for several years, and he mentioned that it was already in that condition when he acquired it. He had been in the process of sourcing a new gong block and rod, but due to personal issues, he was forced to sell off his collection before completing the repair.
Rod block on the upper right of the photo
The second is the lack of a label. Labels often contain artwork, company logos, or slogans, adding to the clock’s aesthetic and historical charm. A clock with an intact, legible label is often considered more desirable and can command a higher price than one without.
That said, the case is in very good condition, and despite minor imperfections—such as one or two nicks and a slightly dented lower left front corner—it has held up remarkably well for a 110-year-old clock.
Case Construction and Condition
The case is made of quarter-sawn oak and stained dark oak. Quarter-sawn oak is not a type of oak but is created by cutting the wood logs at a specific angle—perpendicular to the growth rings. Quarter-sawn oak is more stable and less prone to warping, splitting, or twisting over time compared to flat-sawn wood. This makes it an ideal material for long-lasting clock cases.
A simple yet effective crown
The enemy of a clock case—moisture—is effectively mitigated by using quarter-sawn oak.
Most importantly, quarter-sawn oak enhances the grain in any clock case. The dark stain has a rich, elegant appearance, but it requires cleaning and polishing to restore it to its original condition.
A portion of the interior is unstained
For reasons unknown to this writer the company chose not to stain the entire interior of the case. It is not just this clock but other Hamiltons I have seen online.
The Pequegnat name with Berlin as the place of manufacture is on the bottom part of the dial
The clock was available with two types of dials: a plain spun-brass dial and a piecrust dial. This particular clock features a simpler, more understated dial. The dial itself appears to be enamel-coated, distinguishing it from the painted dials typically found on their less expensive models. All Hamiltons had spade hands.
Carved capitals
A notable feature is the two flanking quarter columns adorned with wood-carved capitals.
A Prestigious Clock for the Times
Arthur Pequegnat manufactured a range of clocks for the general public, but for those who could afford it, more ornate and visually appealing options were available. These luxurious designs conveyed a sense of status and sophistication, making them highly attractive parlour clocks.
Two challenges
In the coming weeks, I will be exploring options for the missing rod gong. Should I look for a replacement gong block and rods, or should I consider finding a second rod?
The second challenge is the case. The case appears to be in good condition and is definitely not a candidate for refinishing; however, a light sanding and waxing might be all it needs to give it a refreshed look.
The previous owner did not service the movement, so it will require cleaning. In the meantime, it runs well, keeps accurate time, and strikes—though only on one gong—on the hour.
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.
Junghans Crispi time and strike wall clock
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.
Ingraham Huron shelf clock
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.
About a year ago, I shifted my focus to collecting clocks made in Canada or those with a Canadian connection. Of course, there are exceptions if a particularly interesting clock comes along. In keeping with my goal, I won three Canadian clocks this week at auction: an Arthur Pequegnat Hamilton “Tall”, an Arthur Pequegant Dandy, and an ogee crafted by the Canada Clock Company of Ontario. All are shelf or mantel clocks. Two are spring-driven while the third is powered by weights.
Since the bidding was online, I don’t have the clocks yet, but I expect them to arrive within the next week or so.
Arthur Pequegnat Hamilton “Tall“
I’m not sure what inspired me to take a photo of the Hamilton during my visit to The Canadian Clock Museum in Deep River, Ontario this past summer—but I did! Maybe it was a secret wish to own one someday.
Pequegnat Hamilton shelf clock
The clock I photographed features a piecrust dial, while the one I won at auction has a plain dial. Both styles were available in the early 1900s.
The Arthur Pequegnat Hamilton “tall” shelf clock is a classic piece from one of Canada’s most renowned clockmakers. Named after the city of Hamilton, Ontario, this model is part of Pequegnat’s line of shelf and mantel clocks and showcases the craftsmanship that made the company famous.
The Hamilton “Tall” features a distinctive upright design, making it stand out among other Pequegnat clocks. It had either a piecrust or plain dial (as I mentioned), adding to its collectible nature. The clock is typically housed in a sturdy wooden case often made with quarter-sawn oak, with half columns and capitals, an attractive crown, making it a simple yet elegant style.
The Hamilton “Tall” features an 8-day time and strike movement with distinctive nickel-plated movement plates, powered by a spring-driven movement. It strikes on both the hour and half-hour.
The Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company, founded in 1903, was one of the few successful clock manufacturers in Canada, with the Hamilton model being one of its many iconic designs. As Pequegnat clocks were made exclusively in Canada (Berlin, later Kitchener, Ontario), they hold significant value for Canadian clock collectors, and owning a Hamilton “tall” shelf clock is like holding a piece of Canadian horological history.
It’s often challenging to determine a clock’s condition from auction photos, but this one seems to be in good shape. Unfortunately, it lacks a label, which is a minor disappointment.
Arthur Pequegnat Dandy
The Dandy is a compact and attractive mantel clock, featuring a solid wooden case, often crafted from oak. The case design is simple yet elegant, with clean lines and minimal ornamentation, giving it a classic, timeless appeal. The dial is plain with black Arabic numerals, making it easy to read.
The Dandy is also powered by an 8-day time and strike spring-driven movement. It strikes the hour and the half-hour. The movement is well-known for its durability and precision, hallmarks of Pequegnat craftsmanship.
Although not as grand as some of the larger models like the “Hamilton,” it has its own charm, particularly for collectors who appreciate smaller, more understated clocks.
From the auction photos, I can tell the clock is in average condition, which is reflected in the relatively low price I paid for it.
Canada Clock Company 30-hour ogee with Alarm
The Canada Clock Company’s 30-hour ogee clock is a significant piece in the history of Canadian clockmaking. The ogee clock design itself was popular in North America during the 19th century, and the Canada Clock Company produced their own version during their brief existence.
The ogee clock is named for its case design, which features the distinctive “S” or double curve molding along the front, giving it an elegant and classic appearance.
The Canada Clock Company’s ogee clocks were typically made with wooden cases, often finished in mahogany or rosewood veneer. The clock has a large rectangular face, featuring Roman numerals, and a clear glass lower panel that reveals the pendulum.
This model is equipped with a 30-hour movement, which means it needs to be wound daily. The movement is powered by weights, which descend slowly as the clock runs. The clock only strikes the hour. The use of a 30-hour movement made this a more affordable option for consumers at the time compared to clocks with 8-day movements. This clock also has an alarm feature.
The auctioneer advised that there is an issue with the coil or rod gong, something I will look into once I receive the clock. The case, I am told, has been refinished.
The Canada Clock Company operated in Ontario during the 1870s and early 1880s. It was one of Canada’s first significant clock manufacturers, aiming to compete with the American clock industry. Although the company’s existence was short-lived, their clocks are highly valued by collectors today for their historical importance and their role in establishing Canadian clockmaking. The 30-hour ogee clock is a prime example of a typical mid-19th-century clock that found its way into many Canadian homes.
It was a very successful auction day. For each clock, my wife and I adhered to our strategy of setting a maximum bid well beforehand, which helped us secure all three pieces effectively.
In sum, the Hamilton is a classic shelf clock with a distinctive upright design, a quarter-sawn oak case. Though lacking a label and with condition difficult to assess from photos, it appears to be in good shape.
The Dandy is a compact mantel clock with a simple, elegant oak case and plain dial. Its condition is average, reflecting the modest auction price.
The 30-hour Ogee is a classic 19th-century ogee clock with “S” curve molding and a 30-hour movement. It features an alarm and has a refinished case, with a noted issue with the gong.
Each clock adds a unique piece of Canadian horological history to my collection.
Martin Cheney is not typically the first name that comes to mind when considering the impact of clockmakers on Canadian horology.
Martin Cheney, born in 1778, was part of a prominent American clock-making family. He was one of four sons of Benjamin Cheney (1725-1815) and Elizabeth Long Cheney, who hailed from East Hartford, Connecticut. Benjamin likely trained all his sons in clock-making. The oldest, Asahel, born in 1759, later moved to Vermont. Elisha, born in 1770 and passing in 1847, settled in Berlin, Connecticut.
Dial face, M. Cheney, Montreal
The youngest, Russell, eventually relocated to Putney, Vermont. Martin’s uncle, Timothy Cheney (1731-1795), was also a notable clock-maker in East Hartford, working closely with Benjamin.
By 1803, Martin had moved up the Connecticut River to Windsor, Vermont, where he advertised fine English watches, watch keys, chains, and seals for sale. The majority of the tall case clocks I’ve found online come from his shop in Windsor, Vermont. Based on my research, most of his clocks show a Boston influence.
In the early 1800s, political events in the United States prompted several families to migrate to the British colony of Lower Canada, now known as Canada. In 1809, Martin relocated to Montreal, where he lived for about twenty years. In 1817, he partnered with J. A. Dwight, and together they operated under the name Cheney & Dwight at 104 St. Paul Street, Montreal. The business produced movements, cases, wall and tall case clocks, and banjo clocks. Their partnership lasted until 1830.
In 1827, Martin advertised in a Burlington, Vermont newspaper seeking a journeyman clock-maker to join him in Montreal. Although Cheney continued to craft clocks into the 1830s, little is known about his life beyond that decade. He spent his remaining years in Montreal till his death in 1855 (unconfirmed).
Martin Cheney wall clock
Cheney clocks are highly sought after and command high prices at auction. Their exceptional craftsmanship and meticulous attention to detail are evident in every piece.
Adjustable pendulum bob
Until August 2024, I had never seen a Cheney clock in person but, during a recent visit to TheCanadian Clock Museum, curator Allan Symons proudly introduced me to one of his most prized acquisitions: a Martin Cheney time-only weight-driven wall clock, crafted in Montreal, Canada in the 1820s.
I didn’t get a chance to examine the movement, but I’m assuming it’s a banjo-style similar to the one in the photo below.
Banjo style movement
Encountering a Martin Cheney clock in person was an experience that deepened my appreciation for the craftsmanship and historical significance of his work particularly during the time he spent in Canada.
The rarity and value of Cheney clocks, combined with their intricate details and the story they tell of early North American clock-making, make them treasures for any horology enthusiast.
While owning such a piece may be well out of reach, the opportunity to see one firsthand was an unforgettable reminder of the skill and character of early Canadian clockmaking.
It’s time to inspect the movement on this mid-thirties German box clock. Purchased at an antique mall in Peterborough, Ontario, in May of 2017, it was serviced in 2020.
Mauthe time and strike box clock
This clock is part of a small collection at our family cottage and runs for about three months each year. However, the cottage environment can be harsh. Before we converted the screened-in porch to an enclosed sunroom, the clock was exposed to the elements for three years, so I expect some dust, dirt, and debris.
Mauthe movement back-plate
One hint tells me this clock is made by Mauthe of Germany, even though there is no trademark stamp on the movement plates. The gong block is made by Divina, a subsidiary parts maker for Mauthe.
In the 1930s and 1940s, the clock was sold in Canada under the Forestville or Solar name in department stores from coast to coast. An appliqué of a maple leaf on the crown of the case suggests it was made for the Canadian market.
Divina gong block
Removing the movement
Removing the movement from its case is a relatively simple procedure. Open the front door and release the two thumbscrews under the movement seatboard, then slide the movement forward from its side channels.
Both plates are a robust 1.8 mm brass. The backplate is solid while the front plate is open. It is a robust movement that was evidently designed to last.
Removing the movement from the case is the best way to check the condition of the movement. Once out all you see is the back plate with the dial concealing the front of the movement. To inspect the front of the movement, the dial and hands must be removed. The hands come off easily by pulling the center cannon pin that attaches the minute hand. The hour hand is a friction fit and can be pulled out with minimal effort. Remove four brass pins on pillars to detach the face from the movement.
Once the dial face is detached both the front and back of the movement can be inspected.
Movement with attached seatboard
There is also no need to remove the seatboard to inspect the movement.
Of course, the only true measure of the condition of any movement is to take it apart, but in this case, I saw no need.
The clock has been working well, keeping good time and striking as it should.
What to look for
I always look for dirty oil around the pivots, which indicates possible wear. As oil ages, it gradually interacts with worn brass, creating a black abrasive paste. Here the pivots looked good but I did notice that some bearings had dried up. While at it I inspected the barrels for bulges and cracks, finding none. The lantern pinions, gear teeth, and levers looked clean. The suspension spring also looked good. In fact, I saw nothing that would cause me to take the next step: disassembly.
The movement is in excellent condition and will need no attention since its last servicing in 2020.
Oiling
All that is required is an oiling before it is returned to the case. Periodic inspections ensure that the oil is clean and appropriately applied, preventing friction and wear. In this case, the oil was clean but some pivots required additional oil.
Oil and applicatorwhich has a spooned end
I keep it simple as far as my oiler and dipper container are concerned.
Periodic inspections
Periodically inspecting a mechanical clock movement is important. Regular inspections can identify potential issues before they become serious problems, helping to prevent major repairs or damage.
Over time, the movement parts can wear down, and identifying and addressing wear ensures the clock runs smoothly.
Dust, dirt, and other debris can accumulate in the movement, affecting performance. Regular inspections {and disassembly and cleaning if needed} can keep the clock running accurately.
Clocks exposed to varying environmental conditions, such as humidity or temperature changes at our cottage, may require more frequent inspections to prevent damage. My fears that this movement was dirty because it was in a harsh environment proved unfounded.
Mauthe movement front plate
If the clock starts losing or gaining time, an inspection can identify the cause and allow for adjustments. Inspecting the movement helps to ensure that all components, such as springs and gears, are in good condition and properly aligned.
Finally, by addressing these aspects through regular inspections, you can extend the life of your mechanical clock and ensure it continues to function properly.
Antique and Vintage Mechanical Clocks 
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