I wrote recently about a two-weight Gustav Becker regulator wall clock that my wife bought for me in 2016. It was sold as a “project clock.” While the case presented its own challenges, the real difficulties lay in the movement.
Gustav Becker Vienna Regulator
At the time, I was unfamiliar with Gustav Becker movements and only gradually realized that several key components were missing, likely harvested by a previous owner. One such part was the star wheel—an early lesson in the fact that Gustav Becker made design changes over time, and that parts are not always interchangeable.
After unsuccessfully attempting to source correct replacement parts, I ultimately replaced the original 1902 movement with a complete 1918 P27 movement. That movement has run reliably for more than nine years, making the recent strike failure described here not unexpected.
The clock began stopping intermittently during the warning phase, with the warning lever appearing to bind at the stop-wheel pin. Given the movement’s long service interval and the absence of obvious damage, the symptoms point toward accumulated wear rather than a sudden component failure.
The movement is now fully disassembled and awaiting the next steps. In this blog article, the focus will be on cleaning and initial inspection for wear. In a post to follow, I will document bushing work, reassembly, and testing required to restore reliable strike operation before returning the movement to the case.
When I first received the replacement movement, I inspected it and found everything to be in good order, with no appreciable wear. I cleaned the parts in my ultrasonic cleaner; however, at the time, I did not completely disassemble the winding drums, as I believed there was no need to do so. On this occasion, the winding drums must be disassembled, as the cables are becoming frayed just outside the drum, requiring access to the knotted ends.
Winding drum with gear wheel and spring removed
I inspected the braided cables and, rather than replace them, decided to reuse them. Although cutting off the knot at the barrel end will shorten the cables slightly, re-knotting the hook ends (the bottom of the movement) will restore them to their original length, so the run time should not be affected.
Mixing up winding drum parts might not be an issue, but safer to separate them
In the ultrasonic, I kept the winding drum parts separate. They may be interchangeable, but at this point, I’m not taking any chances. Interestingly, over a dozen parts make up each drum, most of which were taken apart for cleaning. I saw no need to disassemble the click spring, however. Once all the parts are out of the ultrasonic and dried thoroughly, the first step is to reassemble the winding drums and their cables, and set them aside for now.
Now that the movement is clean and the pivot holes have been pegged, it is time to turn our attention to the action of the gears. I first assembled and tested the time side and could find no perceptible wear. It’s a pretty simple setup with only 3 wheels: the second larger wheel, the third wheel, and the escape wheel. There are also 3 wheels on the strike side ending with the fly/governor. On the strike side, I can find some lateral movement of the pivots on the count wheel front and back plate, and the stop wheel, back, and possibly the front plate.
With the inspection complete, attention turned to the strike side, where the expected story revealed itself. Wear at several pivot holes was evident, the kind of wear you expect to find in a P27 movement that has been doing its job for well over a century. So, there is work to be done.
Did I wait too long? Yes, perhaps 9 years is a bit too long an interval between servicing points. None of it was alarming, but it does help explain some of the strike-related issues observed earlier. Addressing these worn areas will be an important next step, not only to improve performance but to give the strike train the freedom and reliability it needs for years to come.
Visitors to my site often ask what their clock is worth. Occasionally, someone has a very unique clock that is difficult to value, but more often, the clock they believe is valuable turns out to be very common and worth little or nothing, even though it may be 100+ years old. As we often say in the clock world, old is not gold. So, what can we expect in 2026?
Given that antique clock prices have been falling for several years, largely due to the sheer number of clocks now available on online marketplaces, it’s reasonable to ask whether values will ever rise again. For many common antique clocks, prices have softened because supply far exceeds demand.
Mass-produced mantel and wall clocks are easy to compare online, buyers are cautious about restoration costs, and fewer people today collect mechanical clocks purely for decorative reasons. These factors combine to keep prices flat or drifting downward for ordinary examples.
Tens of Thousands of New Haven Mantel clocks were produced
That said, a price recovery is not impossible, even outside the realm of extremely rare clocks. There is a growing appreciation for mechanical craftsmanship in an increasingly digital world, and some younger collectors are discovering antique clocks through social media, blogs, and restoration content. There might even be a renewed interest within the senior community, albeit a very small minority. In fact, late last year, I received an email from an 84-year-old gentleman who was beginning his first foray into the antique clock world. He is to be applauded.
At the same time, genuinely well-preserved, original clocks are becoming scarcer as time, poor repairs, and neglect take their toll. As the supply of high-quality, honest examples shrinks, those clocks may begin to command stronger prices, particularly when they combine good condition, appealing design, solid provenance, and a short production run.
This Ingraham Huron had a production run of just two years
Countering this, though, are some practical realities that make big price increases unlikely. Online listings make it easy to compare prices, which keeps values competitive, and the cost of proper restoration often far exceeds what a clock might bring on resale.
Antique clocks are also very much a niche collectible, not a mainstream investment like fine art or classic cars, so demand is limited, and price movements tend to be slow and uneven. That said—and as I’ve mentioned more than once—clock collecting was never really about resale value anyway. For most of us, it’s about the enjoyment of the clocks themselves: the craftsmanship, the history, and the satisfaction of keeping these old machines running.
Unique clocks with special provenance will continue to rise in value
In practical terms, the market now appears stratified. Common clocks are likely to remain stable or continue modest declines, while better-quality, interesting, or especially original clocks have a stronger chance of holding value and possibly appreciating over time. In short, while the era of broad, across-the-board price increases is probably over, there is still room for value growth in terms of quality, condition, and authenticity.
For simplicity, it helps to separate the market into tiers:
Tier 1 — Common Clocks
Mass-produced mantle and wall clocks with large production numbers, which are likely to remain stable or slowly decline in value unless broader interest grows.
Tier 2 — Above-Average Quality or Interesting Design
Good makers, unusual styles, attractive dials that have a better chance of holding value, and possibly modest increases if collector interest grows.
Tier 3 — Rare or Highly Desirable Clocks
These already have their own value dynamics and typically rise.
In summary, while the broad market for antique clocks has softened and is unlikely to see dramatic price increases in 2026 and beyond, there is still potential for well-made, original, and interesting examples to hold their value or appreciate modestly over time.
Oversupply, online price transparency, and high restoration costs continue to limit widespread gains, especially for common clocks. Ultimately, however, clock collecting is driven by an appreciation for craftsmanship, history, and the simple pleasure of preserving and enjoying these remarkable mechanical objects.
For auditory learners, a video version of this blog article is available.
If you’re a collector of any kind, you’ll relate to what I have to say in this blog article. In the early years of collecting anything, many of us follow a very familiar path. We begin with breadth rather than depth, acquiring whatever speaks to us, and for me, it was mantel clocks, shelf clocks, kitchen clocks, the occasional novelty piece, and just about anything that ticked.
One of the enduring truths about horology is that a clock collection, much like anyone who collects, is never static. It ebbs and flows, expands and contracts, and evolves in quiet harmony with the collector’s own journey. Over time, clocks are added, sold off, traded, gifted, or, when age and wear have had their final say, parted out or retired completely. In this way, a clock collection behaves much like the history of clockmaking itself—constantly in motion, shaped by shifting tastes, new discoveries, and changing priorities.
The first antique clock I ever bought, 25 years ago, is still in my collection
But as time passes, so too do our personal preferences. For me, the evolution has been gradual. I now own far fewer mantel and shelf clocks than I once did. Instead, my interests have gravitated toward wall clocks—regulators, Vienna-style pieces, and distinctive works by specific makers, especially those connected to Canada’s own horological heritage. Collectors often narrow their focus as their knowledge grows. It is a natural growth.
Even recently, the changing nature of a collection becomes clear in unexpected ways. Just the other day, a clock enthusiast emailed me asking if I could measure the glass door bezel of a clock for a replacement piece of glass. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help because I had parted with that clock four or five years ago, even though I had written about it several times in blog posts. It was a reminder that clocks, like memories, pass through our lives and collections, leaving traces of their stories even after they’ve moved on.
The clock in question
This change is partly driven by experience. After handling clocks from different eras, regions, and makers—from the mass-produced American clocks of the early 1900s to the quieter Canadian ventures of the early 20th century—we start to notice subtleties: the quality of the movement, the style of the escapement, the character of the case. Some clocks speak to us in a lasting way; others pass through our hands like chapters in a book we enjoyed but will never reread.
A favorite clock in my collection
Practical considerations echo historical realities as well. Just as factories once adapted production methods to suit changing markets, collectors adapt to the constraints of space and lifestyle. Mantel and shelf clocks take up real estate. Wall clocks—particularly regulators and finer makers’ pieces—offer presence without clutter. The shift is natural, almost inevitable.
And then there is the human side of collecting. Some clocks are sold to fund the next important acquisition, just as workshops once sold older stock to invest in improved machinery. Some are gifted to friends or family, continuing a tradition of passing clocks from one generation to the next. A few, too worn or incomplete to justify further effort, end their journey—much as many historical clocks did when changing technology made them obsolete.
Clocks like this attractive Mauthe buffet clock were sold off to acquire new pieces
A living collection tells a story. A static one may be beautiful, but a changing collection reflects the realities of horology—shaped by new finds, practical decisions, sentimental choices, and the gradual shift of personal taste. A changing collection also keeps me enthused and energized.
In the end, our collections evolve as we do. They follow the contours of our interests, the limits of our space, and the discoveries that excite us. Change is constant—each adjustment bringing us closer to the clocks that truly matter to us, those that will remain as markers on our own timeline.
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.
There’s something especially magical about antique clocks during the Christmas season. Each one seems to hold onto time’s most precious moments, quietly ticking through memories of holidays long past.
I often picture a cozy room bathed in soft, twinkling lights, with a tall case clock standing proudly in the corner — a symbol of craftsmanship and care passed down through generations. Its steady rhythm feels almost like a heartbeat for the home, marking not just the hours, but the moments that matter most.
However, this year, I present our humble Christmas Tree absence any clocks in the frame, though three are hidden from view due to the camera’s angle. As you can see, it is awaiting the placement of presents and the smiling faces of friends and family on Christmas Day.
As we move into the Christmas spirit, these old clocks take on a life of their own. They’re more than just decorations; they connect us to the people and stories that came before us. The gentle ticking on Christmas morning carries echoes of laughter, of family gatherings, and of quiet evenings by the fire.
If only these clocks could talk — imagine the stories they’d tell. Over the past year, I’ve uncovered and shared several of those stories, each one a small journey into time itself.
So, as carols play and the fireplace crackles, may the ticking of an old clock remind us what this season is really about: togetherness, love, family, and the passage of time that binds us all.
Wishing you and your loved ones a Merry Christmas filled with the charm of old times and the joy of new memories waiting to be made.
And before I wrap up, I want to say a heartfelt thank-you for supporting my blog through 2025. Your encouragement is the best gift I could receive. It keeps me inspired to share my stories and discoveries, and I’m truly grateful to have you along for the journey.
TheAmerican Banjo clock — often just called a banjo clock — got its name from the shape of its case, which resembles a banjo musical instrument. Although the design was patented in 1802 by Simon Willard, a renowned clockmaker from Roxbury, Massachusetts, Willard referred to his invention as the “Improved Timepiece,” not a banjo clock.
Willard-style banjo clock, c. 1810
There are essentially three types of mechanical banjo clocks. Those with lever escapements are usually in the lower price range, spring-driven examples occupy the middle ground, and weight-driven banjo clocks represent the higher end, typically costing several hundred dollars in fair condition to several thousand for authenticated examples from reputable makers.
My wife spotted the clock on Facebook Marketplace one evening. It was listed for $100, and the photo immediately caught my attention. I had a feeling it might be a diamond in the rough. I suggested she offer the seller $75, and to our surprise, the offer was accepted almost immediately. It seemed they just wanted it gone.
Seller’s photo, looking a little tired
The clock was one of several items the seller had for sale as part of a community-wide garage sale. So, a day later, we made the drive out to the rural part of Nova Scotia where the sale was taking place. When we arrived, we found the house and asked to see the clock. It was sitting there among other odds and ends, looking a little tired but full of promise.
Broken dial glass, original hands
As we examined it, I asked a few questions about its history. The seller explained that it had belonged to an uncle in Wolfville, Nova Scotia—a man who had once owned a large collection of antique clocks and had been in the family for over 60 years. That was all I needed to hear.
Before we left, the seller asked if I might be interested in another clock—a 30-hour mantel clock. “It’s worth a lot more than that one,” they insisted, nodding toward the banjo clock. I smiled and politely declined. Something told me the first clock was the one worth keeping.
Classic time-only movement
And I was right. Once we brought it home, cleaned it up, and did a little research, we discovered that it was indeed something special—a genuine, 1830s timepiece, a true diamond in the rough.
The clock was surprisingly heavy when I first lifted it, which told me right away that the weight was still inside the case. That was a good sign. Had it been missing, finding a proper replacement would have been a challenge—and there’s really nothing quite like having the original weight that once powered the movement so many decades ago.
It turned out to be a Federal-style banjo clock, housed in a rich mahogany case that bore the quiet dignity of age. The movement was intact, a promising start. At the top sat a graceful acorn finial, original to the clock—a small but telling detail. At first glance, I thought the carved reverse-scrolled side arms and lower base section were missing, but later learned that not all examples from this period included those features; In fact, simplicity was a defining feature of early timepieces.
The original steel hands, shaped in that classic banjo style, were still in place, and the dial face, though worn, retained much of its character. The glass bezel was broken but easily replaced. The case itself was dusty and a bit tired, with a few areas needing veneer work, a split wood bezel, but nothing beyond repair. As I examined it more closely, I discovered the winding crank tucked neatly into the bottom of the case—perhaps placed there by its last owner many years ago.
After some careful study and comparison with other examples online, and with help from a few knowledgeable members of a clock forum, I came to believe that the clock was made in the late 1830s in Boston—possibly by John Sawin. Sawin had apprenticed under Simon Willard and later worked as a journeyman for Aaron Willard, two of the most respected clockmakers of their day and inventors of the original patent timepiece. Unfortunately, there are no identifying marks on the case or movement, leaving its true maker a mystery—but a fascinating one all the same.
Fully restored clock on display in my home
With that in mind, I decided to give the old clock the attention it deserved. What followed was a careful cleaning, a bit of veneer work, minor repairs, glass bezel replacement, and the satisfaction of seeing history come back to life.
Some time ago, I was browsing a local online for-sale site looking for antique and vintage clocks when I spotted a Mauthe Westminster chime mantel clock for sale. From the photo, it looked familiar—too familiar.
Why? Because the seller was using my photo.
Mauthe image used without permission
The seller had the very same clock model for sale, but instead of taking his own picture, he had “borrowed” mine straight from my blog. In doing so, he committed two fundamental errors. First, he used a protected image without my permission. Second, he misrepresented his own listing by passing off my photo as a picture of the clock he was selling.
I reached out to the seller and explained that my images are copyright-protected. He argued that unless it explicitly states “copyrighted,” he was free to use any image he found online. That is a common misconception—and completely wrong. After I made it clear I would report him to the site administrators, he removed the photo.
Here’s the important part: a photo or image is automatically protected by copyright from the moment it is created. You don’t need to stamp it, watermark it, or register it. Using someone else’s image without permission—whether in full or in part—can be copyright infringement. Just because something is on the internet doesn’t mean it’s free to use. If an image is truly free to use, it will say so clearly, usually with wording like “public domain” or through a Creative Commons license that specifies the conditions of use.
This issue isn’t just about sellers on classified sites—it’s a reminder for all bloggers. Copyright applies not only to photographs but also to:
Text – Blog posts, articles, essays, and even short reviews are protected. Copy-pasting without attribution is plagiarism and copyright infringement. If you use another person’s work, put it in quotation marks and clearly credit the original author.
Graphics and artwork – Logos, infographics, and digital art are covered by copyright unless explicitly released by the creator.
Videos and audio clips – Embedding from an official source (like YouTube) is fine, but downloading and re-uploading someone else’s work is not.
Music – Using copyrighted songs in videos or podcasts without a license can quickly get you into legal trouble. On YouTube, for instance, this can lead to content being removed or, for serious infringements, legal action.
Scans from books or magazines – Even partial scans may be protected, especially if they represent a substantial part of the work.
I found images of this Seth Thomas column and cornice clock in a clock repair manual
But here’s the frustrating truth: even when someone uses your work without permission, the effort to enforce your rights often outweighs the outcome. You can send “takedown” notices (sometimes the threat is sufficient), file complaints with hosting platforms, or even hire a lawyer, but in many cases, the person who copied your work faces no real consequences. Unless the infringement is on a large scale or tied to significant financial gain, most offenders get nothing more than a warning—or at worst, their post removed. For individual creators and bloggers, that makes pursuing action costly, time-consuming, and frankly discouraging.
The simple rule of thumb: if you don’t know whether you’re allowed to use it, don’t use it. When in doubt, ask permission, look for royalty-free sources, or create your own content.
For me, it’s simple—almost all the images on this blog are mine, taken by me, and used for good reason. They’re part of my work, my stories, and my collection. Any other photos appear with permission, and I always credit the creator in the caption. On occasion, I’ve used AI-generated images, but I’ve since realized they don’t contribute meaningfully to my work. Respecting copyright is not just about following the law; it’s about respecting the effort and creativity of others.
Almonte, Ontario, (Canada) is a town that practically invites you to slow down and explore, and that’s exactly what my wife and I did one afternoon in September. In fact, it is called “The Friendly Town”. We drifted from one antique shop to another, discovering all sorts of curiosities. But in one store, I found something that stopped me in my tracks—a stately Waterbury time and strike mantel clock. It felt like uncovering a hidden story, and I couldn’t resist bringing it home.
There are many antique stores in Almonte, but this is where the clock was purchased
I was drawn to the open escapement and porcelain dial—features that are relatively rare in a common American clock.
Untouched and before a cleaning
At first glance, it looked intact, but after posting the clockon a popular clock collectors’ website, I was informed that the case appeared to be missing the lower parts of the columns. I asked the poster to supply a photo for comparison. In the meantime, I carefully examined the case myself and did not find any anchor points or residual glue traces that would suggest something had originally been attached there.
However, further research revealed that there were indeed trim pieces under the columns. This photo, taken from the 1909–10 Waterbury Clock catalog, shows the complete clock. You will note that in 1909–10, the clock was listed at $23.00, slightly more than a typical middle-class worker’s weekly wages in 1910.
The clock is called the “Suffolk”, as shown in Tran Duy Ly’s Waterbury bookon page 270 (and the catalog photo above). It is cased in Mahogany, has an 8-day movement, and has a half-hour strike with a coiled gong. It has a six-inch “ivory” (porcelain?) dial with spade and spear hands, and a visible or open escapement. It features a cast gilt sash and bezel with convex beveled glass. The clock is tall at 15 1/2 inches and is 11 3/4 inches wide with wooden biscuit feet.
As an aside, Waterbury also produced a Suffolk model in 1891, which is entirely different from this clock.
The poster said that it is also shown in the 1915 catalog. The patent date on the movement plate is September 1898, so it is quite possible that Waterbury offered the movement for this and other models for a number of years.
When I first looked over the movement, I could see it had been well cared for, still showing a bright, clean finish. But then I noticed something odd: the pendulum was hooked directly onto the crutch. That explained everything—of course, the clock wouldn’t run! It was likely this simple issue that led the seller to list it ‘as is,’ and therefore at a better price.
While trying to think of a way to make a new suspension spring and rod, I thought, why not check the bottom of the case? Sure enough, the original suspension spring and rod had been tucked into a crevice at the inside bottom of the case.
With the suspension rod attachedand the gong in place
After installing the suspension spring and rod, I wound the movement, gave the pendulum a gentle push, and to my relief, the clock sprang to life. I’m holding off on letting it run too long until I oil the pivots. Once that’s done, I’ll let it run for a while to see if it can make a full 8-day cycle. After that, it will be set aside for proper servicing.
Despite the missing lower trim pieces and the slight chipping around the number 12 on the porcelain dial, it remains a very nice clock and is reasonably well-preserved.
From the tucked-away suspension spring & rod to the moment the pendulum first swung, it reminded me how even the simplest details can make all the difference in getting a clock to run. While it will eventually need a full servicing, seeing it come to life again was a rewarding reminder of why I love collecting and caring for these fascinating pieces of history.
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.
Antique clocks are more than just timekeepers—they’re pieces of history that deserve thoughtful care and placement in your home. While it’s tempting to display them wherever they look best, some locations can cause serious harm to their delicate movements and finishes.
Knowing where not to place your antique clock is just as important as choosing the right spot. To help preserve their beauty and function for generations to come.
Here are some key areas around your home to avoid.
Around Or Above Door Frames
Avoid placing clocks above or near door frames, especially exterior doors, where vibrations from frequent opening and closing can loosen mounting hardware or cause gradual misalignment. These spots (especially over a door) are also awkward for winding and increase the risk of the clock falling, potentially damaging the clock and causing personal injury
Humid Areas Such As The Kitchen, Especially Above a Sink
Kitchens can be surprisingly harsh environments for antique clocks. Steam, grease, and fluctuating humidity—especially near the sink area can lead to corrosion, warped wood, and sticky build-up in the movements.
As much as an antique clock might look quaint in a bathroom, humidity is not kind to an old wood-cased clock.
On Top Of Appliances Or Anything That Vibrates
Appliances like refrigerators, microwaves, or stereos generate heat and vibrations, both of which can degrade a clock’s mechanical integrity over time by gradually knocking a pendulum out of beat or rhythm, affecting timekeeping accuracy. Vibrations can loosen screws, nuts, or mounts inside the clock mechanism.
These surfaces also tend to collect dust and grease, which can infiltrate the clock case.
High Traffic Areas, Such As Narrow Hallways, Especially For Hanging Clocks
In busy or narrow spaces, hanging clocks are at greater risk of being bumped or brushed against, which can knock them out of beat or even send them crashing to the floor.
Direct Sunlight
Constant sun exposure can fade dials, dry out lubricants, crack finishes, and cause uneven fading or bleaching of wood cases and veneer separation.
Near Heating Vents Or Above Heating Registers
Heat from vents and registers rises and can dry out wood, warp components, and accelerate the breakdown of clock oils, causing veneer separation, shortening the interval between servicing.
Clocks placed above fireplaces or wood stoves are especially vulnerable to heat-related damage. Heat rises directly from these sources, creating a concentrated stream of hot air that can dry out wooden cases, leading to cracking, splitting, or loosening of glued joints and veneer. Placement in these locations can accelerate oil breakdown, leading to increased friction and wear in the movement, shortening the interval between servicing.
Children’s Play Areas
When placing antique clocks in a home, avoid areas where children play. Children’s play areas are prone to bumps, flying toys, and general high-energy activity, all of which pose a risk to delicate and valuable clocks. Even wall-mounted clocks can be accidentally knocked loose if mounted too low or within reach. For safety and preservation, it’s best to keep antique clocks out of rooms dedicated to play or where young children frequently gather.
Final Thoughts
Choosing the right location for your antique clock is about more than just aesthetics—it’s about protecting a valuable clock from the damaging effects of heat, moisture, vibration, and physical impact.
By avoiding areas like above door frames, near heating vents, in kitchens, on top of appliances, and in sunny or high-traffic zones, you help ensure your clock runs smoothly and looks beautiful for years to come. With proper placement, your clock will not only keep time but also continue to tell its own story as a cherished possession.
Ten years ago, I attended a staff development conference workshop on WordPress. The instructor promised that by the end of the three-hour session, we would each have a live blog up and running. Wow, now that’s impressive, I thought! I was intrigued and started thinking about a theme. Since I was already repairing and restoring antique and vintage clocks at the time, a blog focused on clocks seemed like the perfect way to document my experiences.
After ten years and many blog posts, it has been quite an achievement.
My very first antique clock, a Seth Thomas, which I still have today
Early Days: Learning and Growing
Looking back, my first posts profiled the clocks I had recently acquired. My writing skills weren’t the strongest back then, and looking back, I’m a little embarrassed that I published some of those early articles. I had low expectations then and was content to allow the blog to be a platform where I could improve my writing skills. But things gradually changed.
My first post featured work I had done on a German-made Dugena clock movement.
One of the challenges early on was figuring out whether I had the desire to keep writing and whether I could maintain a regular publishing schedule. Initially, I was bubbling with enthusiasm and felt I could publish every two or three days, but that pace was too much for me, and I quickly ran out of ideas. In those early years, I observed numerous blogs gradually fade away as their authors lost the motivation to continue. I often wondered: What is the secret to maintaining a consistent writing rhythm?
Since I was not an expert, I decided to focus on beginners like myself and began documenting the challenges I faced while repairing old clocks. I hoped that by sharing my learning experiences, I would inspire others who were just starting out.
Once I identified my audience, I began sharing my experiences with buying and selling clocks, repairing movements, restoring cases, and exploring their history. Along the way, I developed a deep appreciation for the clockmakers and the companies behind these old clocks.
How My Writing Style Evolved
In the early days, I wrote more like I was jotting down notes for myself. My tone was too casual, sometimes rambling, and I often skipped over important context, assuming readers knew what I meant. Over time, I became more intentional, structuring my posts clearly, guiding the reader, and choosing words more carefully.
I learned how to strike a balance between technical detail and storytelling, especially when describing a clock repair or sharing a bit of horological history. I was always mindful of not getting too technical, worried it might alienate some readers. Striking the right balance became really important. Now, my writing feels more like a conversation with fellow enthusiasts rather than just a personal journal.
Surprising Discoveries About My Audience
Over the years, I’ve learned just how important it is to know your audience, and I’ve often been surprised by who finds my blog. While I originally wrote for beginner clock enthusiasts like myself, I soon discovered that experienced collectors, casual readers, and even people simply curious about a family heirloom were stopping by. That realization encouraged me to keep things accessible and welcoming.
Embracing Imperfection and Meaningful Engagement
I also learned not to chase perfection. Some of the posts I was most hesitant to publish — the ones with rough edges or unresolved repairs — ended up resonating the most. They reminded readers (and me) that learning is a process and that nothing is easy.
As the blog grew, I began to care less about traffic stats and more about the comments, emails, and conversations sparked by a single post. That engagement, more than pageviews, has been the most rewarding part. And while I started with a narrow focus on clock repair, I found room to explore company histories, flea market finds, museum visits, and even the personal stories behind specific clocks. It turns out that having a niche doesn’t mean being limited — it just means you’ve got a solid foundation to build on.
Unexpected Skills I Learned Along the Way
One of the unexpected parts of blogging was the variety of technical and behind-the-scenes skills I had to pick up along the way. It was not easy. At first, I thought writing would be the main challenge, but I quickly realized that running a blog involves much more. I had to learn the basics of WordPress — formatting posts, block formatting, managing plugins, updating themes, and troubleshooting when something broke.
This clock from the 1920s, a Sessions, was my first repair success
I became familiar with SEO (even if reluctantly), learning how to write headlines and meta descriptions that search engines — and humans — would notice. I also improved my photography skills, especially when trying to capture the fine details of clock cases or movements. Editing images, managing file sizes, and even creating graphics for posts became part of the routine. I even tried using AI-generated images but learned quickly that not everyone appreciates seeing them on a blog, so I’ll use them more sparingly in the future.
And of course, there’s the subtle art of proofreading, learning to catch my own typos after staring at the same paragraph for too long. Some of those errors managed to slip through despite my best efforts.
None of these were part of the plan at the start, but over time, they became tools in the toolkit of a self-taught blogger.
My second post featured a schoolhouse clock made by Arthur Pequegnat, an early Canadian Clock Company.
If there’s one piece of encouragement I’d offer to anyone starting out, it’s this: your voice matters, even if your audience is small. In the beginning, it’s easy to feel like you’re writing into the void — a few pageviews here, maybe one comment there. But over a period of time, I came to realize that even a single post can make a difference to someone. Whether it’s helping a beginner get their first clock running or sparking a memory in someone who inherited their grandfather’s old clock, your words can reach further than you think.
The value of blogging isn’t just in how many people read it, but in the connections it creates. A niche blog may not have thousands of followers, but it can still be a trusted voice, a resource, or a source of encouragement for others.
Don’t wait until you have a big audience to write like you matter — because you already do.
Advice to New Bloggers: Keep Going
Starting a blog can feel exciting but also extremely frustrating, especially when the pageviews are low and the feedback is sparse. My advice to new bloggers is simple but powerful: don’t give up, and stay the course. Growth rarely happens overnight. It takes time to build an audience, find your voice, and develop content that truly resonates. There will be moments when you wonder if anyone is reading at all — and that’s completely normal.
Instead of focusing solely on numbers, try to enjoy the process of writing, learning, and connecting with even just a few readers. Every post is a step forward, a chance to improve, and a way to build your unique corner of the internet. Publish regularly, stay curious, and remember why you started. Persistence often pays off in ways you don’t immediately see, and the small, steady efforts add up to something meaningful over time.
My third post described the progress I was making on a newly acquired clock.
What does the future hold? I hope my blog will evolve into a go-to online resource for collectors, historians, and restoration hobbyists interested in American and Canadian horology. Over time, I may see more interaction, not just passive readers, but active contributors. People might begin submitting their own clock stories, restoration challenges, or photos for feedback. With that, the blog could grow into more of a community hub.
I already have the makings of a self-published book — a “Best of Tick Talk Tuesday,” a guide to identifying Canadian clocks, or a memoir-style chronicle of my collecting journey. It wouldn’t be difficult to compile some of my best posts and insights into something tangible and lasting.
Lastly, I would like to develop the backbone of my blog—the wheels and gears that make it work—by increasing visibility through plugins and SEO, optimizing site performance, and ensuring a seamless user experience for my readers. Although there’s a confusing array of information on YouTube and websites dedicated to optimization, I know the journey won’t be easy.
Thank You to My Readers
Finally, I want to extend a sincere thank you to everyone who has followed my blog over the years—especially those who have been with me from the very beginning—and to the 750 email subscribers who receive notifications whenever a new article is published. Your support, comments, and encouragement have made this journey so rewarding.
A recent acquisition, an Arthur Pequegant parlour clock
Whether you’re a longtime reader or someone who just discovered the blog, I’m grateful that you’ve taken the time to share in my passion for clocks and storytelling. This blog wouldn’t be what it is without you, and I look forward to continuing to explore, learn, and share together for many years to come.
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!
In the spring of 2022, I brought home a handsome gallery clock from an auction—an English-made piece with a 10-inch dial. What caught my attention initially was its clean, industrial look, but once I opened it up, I found it had just as much character on the inside.
I was hoping for afuseeclock, as many English gallery clocks are fusees, but when I saw this one offered at auction, I knew from the price that it probably wasn’t what I had hoped for—but I bought it anyway.
Empire 150 gallery clock
The Company
According to one source, Astral and Empire were originally trademarks of a company called Williamson, known for its high-quality movement, also named Astral. Through a series of mergers and acquisitions, the trademarks eventually came under the ownership of English Clock and Watch Manufacturers Ltd., which was purchased by Smiths in 1932. As a result, Smiths acquired the Astral and Empire trade names.
However, further research led me in a slightly different direction regarding the manufacturer. It appears that the company was not named Empire, but rather Grimshaw, Baxter, and J. J. Elliott.
Empire was actually a model name used by this firm.
So, the clock is from the Empire 150 series.
Grimshaw, Baxter, and J. J. Elliott was an English clockmaking company formed in 1909 when Grimshaw and Elliott merged. The firm produced a variety of clocks and watches until its dissolution in 1921. The name continued to be used until 1958, although I do not know how it was used during that period.
Interestingly, the company made fusee wall clocks as well.
Features of this Clock
The clock features a classic time-only movement—simple in design, with relatively few wheels to manage during servicing. As with many time-only setups, the minute and hour wheels are located outside the front plate. What sets this one apart is its size: it’s surprisingly large for a time-only movement and impressively robust, likely intended for use in a commercial setting.
The movement is mounted to a heavy steel plate that screws onto its front, and the whole unit fits just beneath the dial. Though the clock is unmistakably English, the layout and engineering give it a distinctly German feel—a nod, perhaps, to cross-European influences in clockmaking during that era.
Accessing the movement is refreshingly straightforward. After removing the hands and three small screws, the dial lifts away easily. Four slotted screws secure the movement to the steel mounting plate.
One particularly interesting feature is the pendulum. It’s a cylindrical style with a large, rotating adjustment screw at the bottom—a practical touch for fine-tuning. Even better, it clips into a clever two-piece caddy system (see below) that makes transporting the clock safe and simple. Push the cylindrical pendulum bob into the caddy and Voilà, it is secured in place! A nice surprise for a piece from the early 1920s.
Grimshaw, Baxter, and J. J. Elliottgallery clock called the Empire
I was also intrigued to find taper pins used to secure the plates—a feature more common in older or higher-quality movements. The mainspring barrel is modest, about the size you’d expect in a typical time-and-strike clock from England or Germany.
A well-made movement designed to last, pendulum is secured in place
The movement had clearly been over-oiled at some point, so before any cleaning could begin, I had to wipe everything down thoroughly. Then it was into the ultrasonic cleaner. While I didn’t expect the plates and wheels to come out gleaming, they cleaned up beautifully. After polishing the pivots and pegging out the pivot holes, it was time to reassemble.
Compared to the American movements I’ve been working on recently, this one has notably finer pivots. This isn’t a movement where you can force the pivots into their respective holes—each pivot needs to be carefully guided into its hole with a steady hand and a bit of patience.
All in all, this Empire gallery clock turned out to be more than just a pretty face. It’s a well-made, thoughtfully designed piece with a few charming quirks. A great example of early 20th-century English clockmaking—and a pleasure to work on.
If you spend any amount of time browsing online marketplaces for antique or vintage clocks, you’ll quickly become familiar with a common phrase: “Fully serviced and tested to ensure reliable running.”
It sounds reassuring. But what does fully serviced really mean? As it turns out, the answer can vary greatly depending on who’s doing the servicing, and just how seriously they take that term.
The Wide Spectrum of “Servicing”
To some sellers, servicing a clock means removing the movement from the case, giving it a quick inspection, oiling a few pivots, and popping it back in. This might help the clock run for a short while, but it’s a far cry from what most professionals or serious hobbyists would consider a proper service.
Cleaned and ready for the top plate
To others, a full service is a detailed, time-intensive process, one that includes disassembly, deep cleaning, inspection for wear, and repairing or replacing worn components before careful reassembly and thorough testing.
As someone who has serviced clocks for years, I fall squarely in the latter camp. And I know many experienced clockmakers who would agree with this standard.
What a Full Clock Service Should Include
Here’s what I consider a full service for a mechanical clock movement:
Complete disassembly of the movement.
Ultrasonic cleaning of all parts to remove old oil and grime. There are always exceptions. Some movements should not be cleaned in this way
Inspection and polishing of all pivots.
Replacement or installation of bushings where necessary.
Cleaning of mainsprings (or replacement, if broken or weak).
Repair or remediation of any issues found during inspection—worn teeth, bent levers, etc.
Reassembly and correct oiling using proper clock lubricants.
Bench testing of the movement outside of the case.
Reinstallation into the case, followed by additional testing and regulation.
Running the clock through a full wind cycle to ensure consistent performance.
When I describe a clock I’m selling as “fully serviced,” that’s the process I’m referring to. Just to be clear, I’m not a clock seller, but I do sell the occasional one to manage my collection.
Enclosed mainsprings after a cleaning
The Problem with Vague Listings
Unfortunately, many sellers—especially on general online marketplaces—use the term “fully serviced” very loosely. Often, no further detail is provided. Did a trained professional work on it? Was the movement actually disassembled? Were any worn components addressed? You won’t know unless the seller tells you.
Sometimes, the work might have been done by an “amateur tinkerer” with limited tools and questionable cleaning techniques. Was this one of those “Duncan Swish” specials? (Clock repairers will know what I mean.) Other times, the clock may have simply been made to run, but not properly cleaned or tested, meaning any apparent reliability may be short-lived.
A fully serviced time-only movement
Red Flags to Watch For
No servicing details provided. A vague “fully serviced” label with no breakdown of what was done should be treated with caution.
Low price with big promises. If the clock is underpriced but claimed to be fully restored, ask yourself how many hours of professional work could reasonably be covered.
Fresh oil but dirty movement. Visible oil combined with dirty plates is a telltale sign that no real cleaning has occurred.
Photos showing missing or incorrect parts: missing finials, a mismatched pendulum, missing decorative case parts, etc..
Lack of timekeeping data. A reputable seller will often state something like “keeping time to within ±2 minutes per week.”
“I’m not a clock person, so may just need adjusting the pendulum“: a vague statement that may mean the clock is not functioning for a variety of reasons.
“May need adjustment after shipping”: another watchful sign that something is amiss
“Sold as a decorative or restoration piece”: serious mechanical issues, critical parts missing, mismatched parts, possibly quartz movement replaces mechanical movement.
Has been meticulously maintained to preserve its original beauty and functionality: without an explanation
The clock has been professionally serviced and is in good working order; without an explanation
What a Good Listing Should Say
A reputable seller, or a professional restorer, will usually provide a description similar to this:
“The clock has been fully serviced, which included complete disassembly of the movement, ultrasonic cleaning of all parts, polishing of pivots, bushing replacement where needed, mainspring inspection and cleaning, and reassembly with proper oiling. It has been tested over a full wind cycle and is keeping time within ±2 minutes per 7 days.”
Even better if the seller adds specifics, such as which bushings were replaced, whether the mainspring was replaced and why, or if a particular part was repaired or fabricated.
Advice for Buyers
Ask for specifics. If a listing says the clock is fully serviced, don’t hesitate to message the seller and ask for details about what that means.
Request more photos. A clean movement is often a good sign. If photos enable you to see inside the case, look for signs of dust, excess oil, or grime.
Get a feel for the seller. Are they a clock enthusiast? A professional repairer? Or simply a reseller with little horological knowledge?
Consider professional inspection. If you’re buying a high-value clock, consider budgeting for a post-purchase inspection by a reputable local repairer.
In Summary
“Fully serviced” can mean very different things depending on who’s doing the talking. For casual sellers, it might be little more than an oil-and-go job. For professionals and serious hobbyists, it’s a meticulous process grounded in best practices and respect for the movement’s longevity.
If you’re shopping for a vintage or antique clock, don’t be shy about asking what work has actually been done. Clocks are mechanical devices that do wear over time, and like any machine, they need proper care to keep ticking for years to come.
The difference between a clock that runs reliably and one that stops after two weeks may be just a matter of how honest the seller was about what “fully serviced” really meant.
Perhaps you already have a good sense of what you consider “antique” versus “vintage.” But after years of poking around the internet looking for interesting old clocks, I keep seeing confusion over these terms. So, maybe it’s not as clear-cut as we think.
Let’s start with the word “antique.” According to the United States Government (and no, I’m not sure why they felt the need to define it either), an antique is anything over 100 years old. Webster’s Dictionary backs this up, defining an antique as a work of art, piece of furniture, or decorative object from an earlier period, usually over a century old. Even Wikipedia throws its weight behind that definition. So, we can put a pin in that one: antique = 100+ years old.
Mauthe time and strike wall clock circa 1895
Now, “vintage” — that’s where things get messy. According to eBay (and you’d think they’d know), vintage refers to items made between 1930 and 1969. But let’s be realistic: on eBay, “vintage” often means anything older than yesterday, dirty, worn, or vaguely old-looking — especially if the seller isn’t quite sure what it is. The word has been stretched and bent so far out of shape, it’s basically the new “rare.”
And then there’s “collectible,” a word the marketing world loves a little too much. Slap it on a box of cereal or a mass-produced novelty clock and suddenly it’s collectible! Or so they hope. Like “vintage,” the term is often used to create urgency, even when the item in question is neither rare nor particularly special.
In the world of clocks, though, collectors tend to agree on one rule of thumb: if it’s over 50 but under 100 years old, we say it is vintage. That said, there’s no universal consensus. In some circles — jewelry, for example — anything older than 20 years is called vintage. Some even split hairs further with terms like “near vintage” and “true vintage.” What does that mean? If a clock is 48 years old, is it near vintage? And at 50, does it cross the magical threshold into “true vintage”? Apparently, some people think anything made before they were born is vintage.
Personally, I find the 50-to-100-year range for “vintage” a reasonable definition.
But, as with all things, there are exceptions.
Take the 1970 Junghans Astor-Quartz wristwatch. Junghans (still in business today), a company with over 150 years of history, introduced this quartz marvel in 1970. Today, collectors drool over it. Is it vintage? Technically yes — even if it’s quartz. So while many collectors would scoff at calling anything battery-powered “vintage,” the Junghans is a reminder that there are always exceptions worth making.
For me, the mark of a true antique or vintage clock lies not just in its age, but in its craftsmanship. Examine the detail, the precision, the pride of work that went into clocks made decades or even centuries ago. I am thinking of the ornate clocks of the Black Forest Region in the 19th century, and French-made ornamental clocks of the 18th century. That kind of workmanship is rare today. Mass production, like common clocks of the 1930s and 1940s, can’t quite capture the same spirit.
Canadian time clock, antique or vintage?
For example, I have an Arthur Pequegnat Canadian Time clock. It’s certainly old — but how old? The company produced this model from 1916 to 1941 without changing the design or movement, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint its exact production year. Is it antique? Vintage? Somewhere in between?
Old Is Not Gold
In the clock business, “old is not gold” is a cautionary phrase used by experienced collectors and repairers to remind others that age alone doesn’t make a clock valuable, desirable, or worth restoring.
Why? Many old clocks were mass-produced, especially in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Companies like Ingraham, Sessions, and Ansonia manufactured millions of clocks to meet demand. Just because a clock is over 100 years old doesn’t mean it’s rare or of high quality. Many people are surprised to learn that a clock passed down through their family may be worth very little.
An old clock in poor condition — worn-out movement, missing parts, heavily modified, or water-damaged case — may have little to no value, even if it’s technically an antique. Restoring it would cost more than it’s worth.
Collectors are selective. Certain styles, makers, or features (e.g., unusual complications, artistic dials, elaborate carvings) increase demand and value. A plain, utilitarian 100-year-old wall clock? Not so much.
Some clocks were made using leftover parts, kits, or have been assembled or altered over time. Others are reproductions made to look old. Being fooled by age can lead to disappointment, especially when paying more than it’s worth. For example, when North Americans had an insatiable appetite for antiques, many Vienna Regulators that were sent after the Second War were parted out and reassembled into “Frankenclocks”, a movement from one clock, a case from another, a pendulum from a third.
Frankenstein, Gustav Becker, Vienna Regulator
Final Thoughts
Better still, enjoying your clock is what really counts.
You don’t have to spend a fortune to own a meaningful piece of horological history. Ogee (OG) clocks, for instance, are true antiques — many 150+ years old — and still reasonably priced because of their large production numbers.
Antique banjo clocks are also within reach for many collectors, unless you’re chasing a rare Simon Willard original, in which case your wallet may start to sweat. And even if you snag a “Simon Willard original”, how can you guarantee that it is, indeed, original?
Weight-driven banjo clock from the Boston area, circa 1840
The takeaway? Whether antique, vintage, or collectible, it pays to do your homework. Researching a clock’s origin, model, and movement details can save you from disappointment — and occasionally lead to a delightful surprise.
At the end of the day, labels matter less than love. If you enjoy the look, sound, and story of your clock — whether it’s vintage, antique, or collectible — then it’s exactly the right clock for you.
As a clock enthusiast, collector, or someone simply looking to purchase a dependable antique or vintage clock, it’s natural to consider all your options. Chinese-made mechanical clocks are often attractively priced and readily available through online marketplaces like Facebook Marketplace and eBay, but before clicking “Buy Now,” it’s worth understanding why many horologists and repair professionals caution against these clocks—and why you may want to steer clear of them.
Inferior Craftsmanship and Materials
The most common criticism of Chinese-made mechanical clocks lies in their construction. Many are made using low-grade materials—cheap metals for gears, soft brass for plates, and low-tolerance machining. This results in movements that may run erratically, wear quickly, or fail outright after only a short period.
Chinese companies were producing them by the thousands.
Some of the most frequent problems reported include:
Misaligned pivots and poorly cut gears
Escapements are prone to failure
Strong mainsprings (31-day clocks) that are dangerous to work on
Inaccurate timekeeping, even after careful regulation
Unreliable striking or chiming mechanisms
These issues aren’t just frustrating—they often make the clock uneconomical to repair, since the labor involved exceeds the clock’s value.
A typical Chinese-made movement
Lack of Longevity and Serviceability
High-quality mechanical clocks from North America, Europe, or Japan can run for decades with proper care. By contrast, many Chinese-made mechanical clocks barely survive beyond a few years. The movements are often designed without repair in mind. In some cases, they’re riveted instead of screwed together, making disassembly and servicing impossible or impractical.
If you’re knowledgeable about clock repair, these clocks can be serviced; however, if the parts are excessively worn, replacement parts are virtually impossible to find.
You won’t find service manuals or replacement parts for most Chinese-made movements, and the quality is often so inconsistent that even parts from the same model can’t be interchanged reliably.
Few professional clock repairers will touch these clocks. Those who do will often try to convince you to replace the movement with a quartz one, and to be honest, that’s not a bad option, particularly if the case is in good condition.
Daniel Dakota wall clock
Knock-Off Designs and Deceptive Marketing
Many Chinese mechanical clocks mimic the outward appearance of high-end brands or antique designs. You’ll find skeleton clocks that resemble Hermle or Kieninger movements, regulator wall clocks styled like Vienna regulators, or “box” clocks with none of the refinement of the originals.
Some listings may even use phrases like “German-style movement” or “vintage design” to evoke a sense of quality or authenticity. Don’t be fooled—these are marketing tactics that mask low-grade manufacturing.
They Undermine the Clockmaking Tradition
Purchasing cheaply made mechanical clocks can inadvertently support an industry that values mass production over tradition, quality, and craftsmanship. When you buy from reputable makers or antique sources, you’re helping preserve centuries of horological heritage.
Brands and Labels to Approach with Caution
Western-sounding brand names were created specifically for export to make the products more appealing to North American consumers. While not every clock with a Chinese movement is inherently bad, the following brands and sellers are widely reported in horological forums and repair circles as problematic:
Citizen
Any clock that has “31 day” inscribed on the clock face
Any clock with directional winding arrows
Bulova
Daniel Dakota, the most well-known export brand, sold at big-box stores
Style House
Emperor Clock Company
Kingston
Andover
Tempus Fugit, not an actual brand, but commonly printed on dials of Chinese clocks
Regulator, like “Tempus Fugit,” many wall clocks were simply labeled “Regulator” with no brand
Alaron
Mirado
Elgin, pendulum wall clocks with faux weights or decorative fronts
Westclox / Ingraham (rebranded)
There are many other brands, of course. Many of these are rebranded or unbranded mechanical clocks that look appealing in photos but have disappointing performance.
What to Buy Instead
If you’re seeking a mechanical clock that’s beautiful, functional, and serviceable, consider these alternatives:
Antique or vintage clocks: Seth Thomas, Ansonia, Sessions, Gilbert, Waterbury, Arthur Pequegnat, Gustav Becker, HAC, Mauthe, Junghans, or Kienzle
Modern German makers: Hermle, Kieninger (now part of Howard Miller), Schneider
Japanese movements: Seiko, Rhythm (mostly quartz, but quality nonetheless)
North American producers: Howard Miller (uses German Kieninger movements), older Ridgeway clocks used Hermle and Urgos), Chelsea Clock (USA)
These makers have established reputations, better quality control, and are backed by communities of repair professionals and collectors.
Final Thoughts
The allure of a budget-friendly mechanical clock is understandable. But as with many things, you get what you pay for. A $40 box clock with a Chinese movement may seem like a deal, but when it fails in six months and can’t be fixed, the true cost becomes clear.
I must admit that in my early days of clock collecting and repair, when I was still on the learning curve, I dabbled in these inexpensive clocks, knowing that if the movement wasn’t repairable, I could simply throw it away without feeling guilty, given how little I had paid for it. I had two, one I gave away, and the other was converted to a quartz movement.
If you’re new to collecting or looking for your first mechanical clock, invest in something that has stood the test of time or comes from a manufacturer with a reputation for quality.
Back in 2017, I took on the restoration of a Junghans Crispi wall clock—a project that began with enthusiasm but has since tested my patience more than once. While the case restoration went smoothly, the movement has been another story. Despite professional servicing, bushing work, and later my own repair attempts, the strike side has never been entirely reliable.
Junghans Crispi wall clock, circa 1899
Over the years, the clock ran well for a while, then faltered, especially in the strike train. A broken lever spring, a bent arbor, erratic striking, and a few close calls with delicate repairs have all played a part. In late 2024, the clock began stalling just before the warning phase, prompting me to extract the movement from its case to determine the cause of the stoppage.
Now, in Spring 2025, I’ve returned to the movement with a fresh perspective. The time side still runs fine, but the strike side remains unreliable. Based on my experience with similar movements, I suspect a combination of issues: a weak strike mainspring, one or more bent pivots, and poor alignment between the paddle and star wheel.
Junghans movement with the rear plate removed
In this post, I’ll walk through the next phase of troubleshooting—cleaning the movement, inspecting the spring, inspecting pivots, and adjusting the star wheel—to see if this clock, stubborn as it is, can finally be brought into reliable service.
Junghans movement showing hammer and suspension components
The first part of this two-part series can be found here.
Minor issues, But Nothing Too Troubling
After having disassembled the movement, cleaning it thoroughly, and inspecting for pivot and bushing wear as well as the possibility of a broken lever spring and a bent pivot, I am now satisfied that there is nothing mechanically wrong with the movement.
I assembled it and ran the time side for several days. The time train ran smoothly. I then wound the strike side and discovered two issues. One, the stop wheel was not in the correct position. For warning to take place, it should rotate about half a turn, which will set up the strike. The locking pin should be in the 10 to 12 o’clock position. The photo below shows it in the 2 o’clock position.
The locking pin is at the 2 o’clock position when it should be between the 10 and 12 o’clock positions
To make this adjustment, there is no need to take the movement apart; simply loosen the movement nut nearest the fan as well as slightly loosen the nut on the time side. Of course, if in the process of testing the strike side, it is important to double-check that both mainsprings are let down before opening up the plate. Once the fly and the locking wheel are free, they can be positioned correctly. The locking point is also determined by the cam, and the lever must be in its slot while the adjustments are taking place.
The Strike Hammer Tail
The other issue is the strike hammer tail.
Once reassembled, I also discovered that the hammer tail was resting on one of the star points. At rest, the strike paddle must sit between two star points. When the hammer tail rests on a star point, it impedes the action of the strike train. The hammer tail must be clear of the lifting star at the end of each strike sequence.
Hammer tail is resting on one of the stars of the star wheel, the lever spring on the hammer arbour is shown
I believe I have found the problem with the strike side. However, there are two more adjustments that are needed before I put the movement on a test stand. One, the hammer lever spring is not providing any tension. I know that if I risk bending it, it will snap, but I will take that chance. I have repaired lever springs in the past, and it should be an easy fix if I break it. The other issue is a loose click on the strike side, which will require completely disassembling the movement to access the rivet from the inside. Once these two items are attended to, I can test the movement.
It’s still a work in progress, but I feel I’m very close to achieving a successful resolution to issues regarding the movement.
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.
Hi there, and welcome to my little corner of the internet! My name is Ron Joiner, and for the past twenty years, I’ve been an avid hobbyist and collector in the world of antique and vintage clocks. What started as a curiosity has grown into a deep passion for the intricate movements and rich history of these remarkable clocks.
Every so often, I like to promote my blog and help newcomers understand what it’s all about and what they can expect when they visit.
As some of you who visit regularly know, I’m not in the business of selling or repairing clocks—I’m simply someone who loves learning about them, collecting them, and occasionally restoring them as a labor of love. Along the way, I’ve gained a wealth of knowledge and experience that I’m excited to share with fellow enthusiasts like you. This blog is my way of sharing what I’ve learned.
On this site, you’ll find:
Tips and tricks for identifying and caring for antique clocks.
Stories and insights about the history and craftsmanship behind these old antique or vintage clocks.
My personal experiences and lessons learned from collecting and restoring clocks over the years.
A space to connect with others who share our passion for horology.
Whether you’re a seasoned collector or just starting to explore the world of antique clocks, I hope this site inspires you, teaches you something new, and helps you appreciate these incredible pieces of history as much as I do.
Feel free to explore, leave comments, or reach out with questions. I’m always happy to chat about clocks and learn from others in the community. I’d love to hear your stories, help with any clock-related challenges, or even feature one of your clocks in a future post. Don’t hesitate to leave a comment or get in touch!
How to Navigate My Blog
Be sure to use the “Search For Past Articles” feature to uncover a wealth of insights on mechanical clocks of all types. If English is not your first language, use the Translate widget on the right side of the front page.
I publish two blog articles each week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, and send them out at 6:00 am AST.
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Thanks for stopping by—I’m thrilled to have you here and hope you’ll visit often.
I receive a number of letters each day from clock enthusiasts, first-time buyers, and people who have inherited family clocks, among others. Typically, I share these letters—while keeping the writer’s identity and location confidential. However, in this case, I’ve chosen not to publish the letter, as doing so would reveal both the sender’s identity and the name of a specific clock repair shop.
I received a letter from DV from Australia who wanted to know more about a recent clock purchase.
DV Writes
We recently picked up a Mauthe Wall clock from an auction and were hoping you could help date and value it. I have attached some photos, but because of the signature, I was thinking around 1946 in accordance with the different trademarks.
Regards,
Mauthe wall clock
My Reply
What a wonderful clock, DV. I really like the lower glass treatment. The crown is stately, if overdone; such was the style at the time. The hunting motif is interesting, though usually it is carried over to the pendulum as well. The trademark name on the movement is Mauthe, a prolific and respected clockmaker in the early 20th century. Mauthe had many trademark styles, but the one on your clock was used after 1911, so, between 1911 and 1914, I would say.
An ornate pendulum but possibly a mismatch
Clocks of this type are often missing pieces such as the finials, hands, and other case parts, though yours appears to be intact. It is a half-hour strike clock. Everything appears “nearly” correct, including the winding key. Usually, clocks like this will sell in the $300 to $500 range, but because it is original and unique, I would value it between $500 and $1000.
Clock face depicting a hunting motif
The numbers on the left of the movement are pendulum length in cms and beats per minute. On the right is an inventory number.
Two small negatives are the beat scale, which should be attached below the pendulum, at or near the bottom, and a possible mismatch of the pendulum to the clock dial. If the pendulum is a mismatch, that would certainly affect the value.
Of course, the clock movement is very dirty and needs an overhaul to run reliably in the future.
DV Writes Back
Thank you so much for the information. We just love it and it has found a wall in our house.
I definitely see that the pendulum is a mismatch, now that you point it out, as it doesn’t make any sense to have a hunting theme mixed with signs of love.
The beat scale looks to be in its original location, as I can not find a hole at the bottom of the case. I guess it could be a reused case; this is a different movement, as the movement is very hard to move on the bracket.
Regardless, we love it and are grateful for the information you have been able to provide.
Have a good day/night, as it is only 0640 am here in Western Australia.
Regards,
Author’s Note
The beat scale appears to be a later addition, likely installed by someone unfamiliar with its proper placement within the case. While it is quite possible that the clock is a marriage, beauty remains in the eye of the beholder. Despite its imperfections, it is sure to be valued by its owner.
It’s time to relax and slow down. For my wife and me, that means a welcome change of scenery as we travel to our cottage in central Canada to spend the summer season with friends and family. Our summer getaway includes relaxing with a few good books, fishing, swimming, hiking, and sharing stories with friends and neighbours over a glass (or more) of wine.
Our summer retreat
As most of you know, this blog profiles my clock collection, the challenges of maintaining and repairing clocks, the joys of finding new and interesting vintage and antique pieces, and many articles of horological interest.
Since many of my posts are written well in advance, there will be no interruption in blog posts throughout the summer months. I’ll continue to maintain a steady output of articles each month. You can keep reading new posts every Tuesday and Friday at 6:00 a.m. AST.
Enjoying lake activities
As 1960s TV variety host, lounge singer, and actor Dean Martin used to say, “Keep those cards and letters coming.” However, there may be a slight delay in returning your email inquiries or responding to blog post comments, but rest assured, your questions about clocks and comments on any of my posts are important to me and will be answered.
As my wife and I explore central Canada, we’ll no doubt stumble across interesting clocks while scouring antique stores, flea markets, Facebook Marketplace, and junk shops. New clock stories, fresh repair challenges, and perhaps the next major restoration project will be part of my journey this summer.
Walking through the woods
One of our stops will be The Canadian Clock Museumin Deep River, Ontario, where I look forward to discovering newly added clocks in their collection and catching up with curator Allan Symons.
The Canadian Clock Museum
In the meantime, feel free to use the search box to browse through past articles, and click “Follow” to have new clock articles delivered to your inbox every three to four days. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy researching and writing each and every one.
Normally, my blog articles are a quick 3 to 5-minute read and include visuals to engage the reader. Within the next two weeks or so, I will be publishing a more in-depth article on Craftline Industries, a Canadian furniture and grandfather clock maker that was very active from the 1960s through the early 1990s.
If you live in Canada and have older furniture pieces in your home, there’s a very good chance they were made by Craftline Industries. You may even have one of their grandmother or grandfather clocks.
There is scant information about the company on the internet, which isn’t too surprising. It often feels as though, for those of us who rely on online sources, the world didn’t exist prior to 1990. The upcoming story is of a Canadian visionary who not only survived the Holocaust but was a major player in Canadian furniture production 35 years ago.
The article is mostly drafted, but there is no publication date yet, as I am waiting for further information from my sources. Publication is not far off.
The article will be longer than a typical article, and there is a reason for that. I considered breaking it up into parts, but since it will be the definitive online source for information about Craftline Industries, I decided to present it in its entirety.
Finding information about Craftline Industries has been a long process that began two and a half years ago.
One year ago (in March 2024), I published a plea, asking why we know so little about a company that once sold fine grandfather and grandmother clocks which adorned living rooms across Canada. At the time, I wrote: ‘Join me in a challenge to uncover information about this company. With enough bits of information, we can piece together a profile of this fine Canadian company.’
As the upcoming article will reveal, I got what I needed—and more.”
June 2025update
The definitive source on Craftline Industries is an article I authored earlier this year.
If you’re new to clock repair or restoration, one of the first hands-on steps you’ll encounter is removing the movement from its case. This process needs to be done with care to avoid damaging delicate components.
Sessions Beveled #2mantel clock
Start by taking several clear photos of the clock from all angles—front, back, sides, and inside. These images will be your reference when it’s time to reassemble everything. Next, gently remove the pendulum by unhooking it from the suspension spring or leader. Set it aside somewhere safe.
Removing a movement through the rear access door
I highly recommend using small containers to store any clock parts, screws, or retainers removed during disassembly—there’s no greater frustration in clock repair than losing a tiny screw.
Next, remove the hands. Unscrew the hands nut or remove the brass or steel taper pin holding the minute hand in place. There may also be a brass compression spacer attached to the minute hand. Lift and remove it and the minute hand. The hour hand is friction-fit on the hour pipe; simply pull it off.
The movement is removed from the front after taking off the dial and hands
In some designs, such as those requiring the removal of the movement through a rear access door, lay the clock flat to get better access. As a precautionary measure, it is advisable to remove the glass dial in advance, since placing the clock face down while working on the movement may result in the glass cracking (yes, that has happened to me). If the dial is removed, watch for tiny screws, clips, or pins—and keep track of how it was attached.
If the springs are open and relaxed inside the case, it may be difficult to remove the movement. Wind both mainsprings tightly.
Now locate the movement’s mounting hardware. Most movements are secured with case screws—usually at least four, one at each corner. On some clocks, you must remove the strike block before the movement can be taken out. This block is typically held in place by a large screw on the bottom of the case. In German wall and floor clocks, the movement is often mounted to a seat board and secured with two thumb screws. Simply unscrew the thumb screws and slide the movement forward to remove it.
At this point, you should be able to gently slide or lift the movement out of the case. There are times when the access door is so small that the movement must be carefully maneuvered to remove it.
Once everything is removed and stored properly, you’re ready to inspect the movement for cleaning, bushings, or further repair.
If the clock is spring-driven and still wound, always let the power down using a let-down tool set. However, before doing so, wind the springs, insert a clamp, or wrap a wire around the mainspring to secure it. If the spring is housed in a barrel, letting it down allows the mainspring to relax safely within the barrel. This ensures safety during the removal process and prevents damage from a sudden release of tension.
The movement is removed from the case and is ready for inspection
And now you are ready for the next steps.
Taking it slow and staying organized will save you time (and frustration) later on.
It is uncommon for a mechanical clock to run 25, 30 years or more with nothing more done to it other than the occasional oiling. I recently received a letter from someone who had taken his clock to a repair shop, where he was quoted a high price (in my view) for the repair and told that the clock would be guaranteed for 30 years. I wonder if the repair shop would be prepared to honour that guarantee after all those years, assuming they were still in business. In any event, most reputable repair shops would not offer more than a year’s warranty.
The movement was serviced and the case refreshed for this Mauthe box clock
In this post, I will discuss what it means to service a mechanical clock and explore some of the factors that influence how long a clock’s movement will last and how to prolong its life. Those factors will help you decide the best service interval for your antique or vintage clock.
Key Things I Look For
Normally, the clocks in my collection are inspected on a 3-4 year cycle. I remove the movement from its case, check its condition, and if dry, re-oil it. If I notice a particular clock stops occasionally and I find the need to investigate, I will service it simply as a prudent measure. Clocks that stop occasionally are sending a clear message that they require your attention.
This movement had just come out of a clock case and to be serviced
While the movement is out of the case, I inspect it closely, paying particular attention to the condition of the oil around the pivot holes. If there is no oil in a pivot hole, I may simply re-oil the movement. However, if I observe green or black residue around the pivots, it indicates a more serious problem. At that point, dirt and other contaminants have mixed with the clock oil to form an abrasive paste. This paste acts like a fine grinding compound, gradually wearing away the brass in the pivot holes and scoring the steel pivots themselves. In the early stages of residue buildup, there may be little wear, and the movement, once disassembled, may not require re-bushing.
Left unchecked, friction can lead to oval-shaped holes and eventually, a clock that stops running altogether.
A Clock’s Environment
I have addressed this subject in a previous article, which you can findhere.
Common Reasons Why Clocks Stop—and How to Diagnose Them
Spring-driven time and strike clocks typically exhibit more wear on the strike side pivots due to the stop-and-start action of the hourly striking action.
Occasionally, I come across a movement where one side is much more worn than the other. I recently worked on a movement that required six bushings on the time side but none on the strike side. A previous owner was evidently bothered by the striking sound, leaving the strike side unwound. The sound of a striking clock is bothersome to some, especially in the early hours of the morning during a restless night. Getting used to a clock chiming or striking through the night can take time.
Inspecting a mainspring
Here, we’ll distinguish between striking and chiming clocks. A striking clock simply strikes—always on the hour to indicate the time, and often once on the half hour. A chiming clock, on the other hand, plays a musical sequence on each quarter hour and strikes the time on the hour. Quite often, people describe a clock as chiming when, in fact, it only strikes.
With chiming clocks, the chime train is first to respond to additional friction caused by dried oils and dirt. The additional complexity of the chime side means that more parts are subject to wear. The chime will eventually slow down and then stop altogether.
If I notice that I am not getting full power during the clock’s designed running cycle, I will investigate. For example, if a clock consistently stops at day 4 or 5 of its eight-day cycle, this tells me that the movement is either very dirty or there are very worn parts causing the clock to stop prematurely. Beyond that, another culprit is a weak mainspring. I do not routinely replace mainsprings, but it is a common practice among professional clock repair persons.
If your weight-driven clock stops before its designed cycle, check for twisted cables around the winding drum. Another issue is sympathetic vibration when the clock stops as the weights descend. As the weights descended to the level of the pendulum, a harmonic phenomenon occurred that is defined as “a formerly passive string or vibratory body responding to external vibrations to which it has a harmonic likeness”. Simply put; the power that drives the pendulum is now also being used to swing the weights; the pendulum doesn’t receive its full share of energy and eventually stops.
Sympathetic vibration has been an issue with this Scottish tall case clock
Otherwise, a weight-driven clock does not tolerate pivot wear well and will need to be taken apart to investigate for that and other possible issues.
Is the clock in beat? An out-of-beat clock will struggle to run or not run at all. Check that you can hear a steady tick-tock when winding your clock, and level the case as necessary.
I have found that different clocks have different levels of wear tolerance. It doesn’t take much wear to stop a German movement, whereas American time-and-strike clocks will tolerate pivot wear and still run reasonably well, even when very worn.
A kinked suspension spring, or one that is too stiff or the wrong size, can affect the oscillation of the pendulum.
A clock that will not run when the mainsprings are fully wound is often thought to be ‘overwound.’ The term ‘overwound’ is a myth, although it’s true that a tightly coiled spring, fused by old oil and dirt, might give the appearance of being overwound. Again, the clock must be taken apart, and while the mainsprings are being thoroughly cleaned, the entire movement must be seen to as well.
Quite often, I encounter clocks whose movements have been removed so many times that the mounting screws have become loose. This can be addressed by using slightly larger screws or by filling the screw holes before reusing the original screws. If left unaddressed, however, the movement can become unstable. A movement that is not properly secured in the case may shift, become misaligned, and put the movement out of beat.
Sometimes, an unusual problem may occur when the clock stops at the exact time every 12 hours. Check that the minute and hour hands are not interfering with each other.
Servicing a Movement – What Does It Mean?
How often should a mechanical clock be serviced? It is not as simple an answer as it seems.
If your clock does not work, cleaning it is the first step in determining the problem. Cleaning is just another word for servicing, and the term “servicing” in the realm of professional clock repair implies a complete tear-down of the movement.
Though it was a common practice in the past, dunking a movement in solvent and hoping for the best is not a substitute for proper servicing, nor is spraying the clock all over with lubricant. WD-40 is a favorite among novices, but it is not a true lubricant—it’s a water-dispersing agent.
Servicing a clock involves the following 13 steps:
There is no substitute for a complete tear-down of the movement.
Caring for a mechanical clock means more than just winding it and hoping it keeps time. Regular inspection, proper servicing, and attention to signs of wear can go a long way in keeping your clock running well for years to come. Understanding what your clock needs—and when—will help you preserve both its function and its value.
Sometimes, demonstrating a task is easier than explaining it. This 14-minute beginner’s guide covers the basics of winding a mechanical clock, which is perfect for those who have just purchased their first one and need guidance.
The video explains how to wind different types of antique and vintage clocks, including shelf clocks, tall case clocks, wall clocks, and mantel clocks.
How to wind a mechanical clock – a beginner’s guide
It also covers the types of winding keys used and the importance of winding all necessary points. The guide begins with a brief introduction before demonstrating the winding process on various clock styles.
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Antique and Vintage Mechanical Clocks 
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