Some time ago, I was up for a real challenge when I bought an old clock that seemed hopelessly irreparable. While picking up another clock, the seller threw this one in for a few dollars more. The clock, an Ansonia Extra Drop, was in pieces and had been stored in a barn—literally—for many years. The case had completely come apart, and half the backboard was missing. Most would have thrown out this jumble of parts, but I saw a diamond in the rough.
The movement was intact, but it was the dirtiest I had ever seen. Okay, it looks bad, but might it be saved?
Front of movement showing plenty of rust
It was so rusty that none of the wheels would move. I was less concerned about the wheels and pivots because I knew that once I took it apart and cleaned it up, there was a good possibility that the wheels would move again. The rusty mainspring concerned me, however. A mainspring’s strength can be seriously compromised by the presence of rust. That said, it seemed to me that a surface coating of rust alone should not be too much of a problem.
Back of movement
After cleaning, polishing, and addressing pivot wear, the movement was reassembled, and a deciding the mainspring could be reused; here is the final result.
How well did it function? So well, in fact, that it is now one of my daily runners.
And the case, you might ask? Well, it is not perfect, but I managed to piece together what I had, add a piece of backboard from an old ogee clock, touch up the dial, add a new set of hands, pallets, and crutch, suspension rod, and construct a lower access door. While it may look good from afar, closer scrutiny reveals its rough edges. Most importantly, it tells a story of resurrection.
In the end, what first appeared to be a hopeless, rust-bound movement destined for the garbage can proved otherwise. Does that mean every movement can be successfully brought back to life? No—though for some irreparable clock movements, some parts can be salvaged. However, with careful work, patience, and a willingness to look beyond first impressions, this clock was made to run again.
It served as a reminder that even the most neglected mechanisms often deserve a second look—and that revival is sometimes less about miracles than about time and persistence.
Related Links
Ansonia Extra Drop wall clock does not run, and a rusty mainspring is the culprit; the clock was in pretty rough shape when I bought it and the only significant part missing is the brass dial bezel and a number of minor items such as the verge, hands, pendulum bob, suspension spring/rod, and the drop access door (which I made later on)
Making a drop door for the Ansonia Extra Drop wall clock; A barn find clock in pieces is a challenge for anyone. It was missing some parts. I discovered that I had enough to make something of it, and whatever was missing could be easily sourced or made.
The challenges of restoring an Ansonia wall clock when parts are scarce; This clock was manufactured by the Ansonia Brass & Copper Co. around 1880. It is 26 inches high, 16 inches wide and 5 inches deep. It has a 16 inch round wood door bezel on a large 2 inch hinge. The drop section has serpentine sides and teardrop finials. The bottom access drop door opens downwards. Other Drop Extra access doors open to the side.
Every old clock has a story to tell — where it came from, who owned it, and the moments in time it quietly witnessed. Unfortunately, as clocks are sold, traded, or passed down, those stories often get lost along the way. The clock may keep ticking, but the people and places behind it fade into mystery. Every so often, though, one comes along with its story still intact, and that’s always special — it connects you not just to the clock, but to the lives that once revolved around it.
The clock I’m about to write about came with a story; in fact, it came in pieces, and that’s where the adventure begins. Piecing it back together wasn’t just a repair job; it was a bit of detective work, trying to uncover what happened to it and how repairs were addressed along the way. Every screw, every bit of wear, had something to say — and that’s what makes this hobby so fascinating.
One of the most remarkable clocks in my collection is a Junghans Crispi wall clock that survived the 1917 Halifax Explosion. I know this because the previous owner told me their family had kept it for more than a century, passing it down from one generation to the next. When it finally came to me, it wasn’t much to look at — just a box of parts and fragments of what once had been. After all those years, I suspect the family decided it was time to let it go, perhaps hoping someone would bring it back to life.
And that’s exactly what I set out to do. Piece by piece, gear by gear, I restored the Crispi to its former dignity. During the restoration process, I discovered that not everything about the clock was original. Most of the case components had survived — including the top crown, crown base, and bottom section, finials, beat plate, many case decorations, the movement, dial and hands, and pendulum — but the frame had been rebuilt. I knew it immediately when I observed Robertson screwson the backboard.
A catalog image from the Junghans website was extremely helpful
The frame was skillfully and carefully crafted from solid oak, suggesting that when the clock fell from the wall during the Halifax Explosion, the original frame must have shattered beyond repair. Despite the excellent woodworking skills, the previous owner knew very little about clock repair, so it was left as an incomplete project and sat in a box for decades, gathering a thick blanket of dust and grime.
A box of parts
Restoration included new glass panels, re-staining the case, sourcing a few case parts, and servicing the movement.
Junghans Crispi dial face and hands
When the case was restored and the movement was finally ticking again, I sent a photo of the finished clock to the family who had sold it. They never replied, and I can only imagine they felt a pang of seller’s remorse seeing it whole and beautiful once more.
Junghans Crispi time and strike wall clock
Even now, every time I walk past it, I can’t help but picture that December morning in 1917 — the moment when the blast shook the city and sent the clock crashing from its wall in a small North Halifax home. It must have lain broken for decades, silent witness to one of the darkest days in Canadian history. Today, it keeps perfect time once again, a survivor with a story that still speaks through its steady, patient tick.
In the heart of North End Halifax, on December 6, 1917, a Junghans Crispi clock fell off a wall in a house on Princess Court. Unbeknownst to it, this simple clock would become a silent witness to one of the worst man-made disasters in Canadian history – the Halifax Explosion.
The cloud produced by the explosion
As the Belgian relief ship Imo collided with the French munitions vessel Mont-Blanc, a catastrophic event unfolded in Halifax’s harbour. The explosion at 9:04:35 a.m. reshaped the landscape, claiming 2,000 lives with 9,000 injured, and left an indelible mark on Halifax’s history.
Since some case parts were missing, a catalog image of the clock served as a helpful referenceHow the clock was received
Fast forward to 2017, a century later, and the remnants of that clock found their way into my hands. The following journey is about a box of clock parts, carefully preserved by a family for generations, passing through to a new owner to be revived and displayed as a connection to history.
The movement was very dirty but intact
The task of reviving the clock, and turning it into a connection to history is a process that took over two months.
The restoration unfolded step by step. The clock parts were carefully cleaned, new parts were fashioned, and the correct materials were found to restore the Junghans Crispi wall clock to renewed glory. The hands, frozen since that fateful day, started moving again – a symbol of human resilience.
The restored Junghans Crispi wall clock was finally unveiled in late 2017 and has been ticking away and gracing the wall of our dining room ever since then. Its polished wooden frame, bold brass accents, and rhythmic ticking resonated with the shared history of a city and a clock that refused to succumb to the ravages of time.
As we mark the 107th anniversary of the Halifax Explosion, my Junghans Crispi wall clock stands as a symbol of resilience, remembrance, and the power of restoration.
In the quiet corners of North End Halifax, it tells a story that transcends time – a tale of survival, renewal, and the enduring spirit of a community that rebuilt itself from that terrible moment.
I have saved a few clocks that were one step closer to a garbage bin by taking an aggressive approach to clock case restoration. Is stripping a clock case a travesty?
Firstly, I am not a huge fan of gingerbread clocks which were very popular in America at the turn of the 20th century. Every major manufacturer made them and they sold like hotcakes. Thousands have survived and a quick perusal of online auction sites any day of the week will reveal dozens if not hundreds of them.
The designs were created by using high-pressure rotary presses on oak wood that had been pre-steamed to soften it.
Auction photo
Gingerbread clocks are quite large for a shelf clock and generally unattractive, in my opinion. The only other gingerbread I have, besides the Sessions clock which is the subject of this article, is an Arthur Pequegnat Canuk 8-day time and strike added to my collection in 2019. The Canuk is nicely balanced, well-proportioned, and mildly attractive for a gingerbread clock.
The Sessions Grand Assortment #1, is the ugly duckling of the clock world.
Arthur Pequegnat Canuk
The design of the top is not consistent with the side rails and the base. The crown looks overbearing. It is not very well-balanced and out of proportion but it was the style of the time and thousands upon thousands were sold.
This clock was acquired as part of an auction lot and was relatively inexpensive. I plan to revitalize the case and service the movement but I am not sure at this point whether or not it is worth keeping.
What to do with the case? Here are two shots of the case, the base, and the crown.
Base section
The mottling is what some call alligorating. Over time heat, moisture (stored in an attic or garage), dust, and dirt cause the shellac to coagulate into lumps or globules similar to the skin of an alligator. It is not fun to remove and drastic measures are required to put right.
Crown section
In the past when met with a similar situation I have tried a number of approaches; lacquer thinner, sanding, alcohol, a mixture of cleaners, and so on but the only way to get rid of it entirely is to strip the case. Does stripping diminish the value of a clock? Perhaps, but if done correctly it might even enhance its desirability.
Grand Assortment
The photo above shows a Grand Assortment I worked on in 2019. Obviously, someone added the colouring to the tablet making it somewhat worse rather than better. I cleaned the case of dirt and grime but left the finish as-is. This one has darkened with age but it looks acceptable.
For my Grand Assortment, the only thing that remains is a very aggressive approach. So, off to the shop it goes.
Hmm, is it a Grand Assortment #1 or #1 in an Assortment of Grand clocks?
A couple of weeks back I featured this Welch marine style wall clock. A marine clock can also refer to a ships’ bell clock. Ship’s bell time originated in sailing ship days, when the crew of a vessel was divided into Port and Starboard Watches, each on duty four hours, then off four hours. One stroke of the ship’s bell indicates the first half hour of the watch. Then an additional bell is struck for each succeeding half hour for a total of 8 bells.
E. N. Welch marine clock
This is not a ship’s bell clock. However, this is a clock that can be used at sea or in a rail car that simply tells the time. Lever and balance wheel escapement clocks are ideal for ship or train applications because pendulum clocks on do not work in those environments.
The movement was made for the E. N. Welch Clock Co. and I would date it around 1860, so, a 162 year old time-only clock with a balance wheel escapement and a seconds bit running off the second wheel.
The clock was bought at auction earlier this year.
The case is dirty but there are no veneer issues
From the photo above the case appears to be very stressed but under that grime and blackish tarnish could be a jewel of a clock.
Tarnished brass
The exterior of the clock has probably not been cleaned in decades or perhaps not at all.
In the old days folks cared for their furniture with weekly or monthly waxing/wiping/dusting or polishing of brass. That was simply the accepted practice. Items were not designed to be thrown-away and it was common to hold onto possessions as long as practicable.
This little clock has certainly been neglected over the years although there is nothing missing, the movement runs just fine and the open spade hands are likely original. Yes, it is dirty! You might call it patina and many collectors would accept the wear and tear over the years as part of the character of the clock. I take the view that it was meant to be shown and a little bit of intervention is perfectly acceptable.
I don’t have time to service the movement and it can wait till later this year but I was able to clean the case and polish the brass.
The brass took a lot of elbow grease and I am sure I went through half a bottle of Brasso but I like the final result. The case required cleaning with Murphy’s soap and one coat of traditionally prepared shellac.
Before
Since it is a 30-hour clock I doubt I will be running it much and servicing the movement can wait.
After
In the meantime I have an Empire gallery clock that I would like to service for summer cottage duty.
There is a thin line between restoring a clock case to its former glory and ruining it forever. While the intent is to make them look like the day they were made, many clocks get stripped and poorly refinished and the results are beyond sad.
Although there is much debate in the world of antique furniture about what is appropriate, in serious antique clock circles, it is never a good practice to remove a finish that has aged well. Original surfaces and their preservation is the concern of every serious clock collector and some clocks must be left untouched.
There are certainly clocks that must be refinished, but that is often a process that is not well understood or practiced.
Clocks that sometimes end up on my workbench suffer from extreme neglect. They are usually found in an attic or barn, covered in filth. My first decision is whether or not they are worth saving and if so, what steps should be taken, what additional parts are required, where can they be sourced and what is the expected outcome.
A $5 barn findwith a finish that is completely gone
Perhaps the best example is a $5 Ansonia Extra Drop wall clock saved from the trash heap.
The same clock, while not perfect, is a survivorand runs daily in my office
Even the movement, complete with rusty mainspring, has found a new lease on life.
A very rusty movement that most would throw out or harvest for parts
The intent was never to save it for re-sale purposes but as a test bed for case refinishing and movement repair.
The same movement,cleaned, wear issues addressed and on the test stand
My approach is to either leave it completely untouched (other than a soap and water cleaning) or go full on, there is no half measure. Some clocks require the full treatment whereas others can be left completely as-is.
This single-weight Vienna Regulator from about 1880 had the movement serviced and the brass polished. Otherwise, the original finish was preserved and that is to be expected of a clock that has been well cared for during its life. There is no requirement to refinish this clock.
Miniature one-weight Vienna wall clock
The value of a clock that has been poorly refinished is severely diminished. When destroyed by well-meaning folks they have little to no value. More is lost in so-called refinishing than many well meaning people realize. However, when the ravages of time, environment, and neglect have taken their toll refinishing is justified.
Another example of a complete restoration.
Literally a box of parts
Junghans Crispi spring driven wall clock circa 1895 .
The same clock, with new parts, refinished, movement serviced
Although some are faded now, many antiques had a near piano finish when new and the finish has simply aged. Like furniture, they are admired for their original finish and polishing brass, like silver, would have been practiced on a regular basis if the clock were still in a home. Antiques must be cleaned regularly and maintained properly so that they may last.
However, correct refinishing of a case is a long and involved process that includes the filling of all the pores in the wood, cleaning sharp edges on corners, the use of traditional glue, fashioning parts from similar wood material used at the time, cleaning the various recesses, staining wood when originally stained, artificially grained when done so originally, painted when originally painted, gessoed gold-leafed details when gold-leafed was present originally, sourcing authentic replacement parts to name a few considerations.
Too many clocks are ruined by well meaning people and that is sad.
Every clock enthusiast has their own way of doing things and each has a different approach to clock restoration. Am I different? Not really, but I have put some thoughts to paper that you might find interesting.
Like everyone I started out knowing virtually nothing about clock restoration but learned as I went. As I gained confidence and improved my skillset I took on greater challenges.
Not long ago I bought a nice 30-hour non-running Chauncey Jerome ogee. I would not consider this clock a huge challenge but it will help explain my approach to clock restoration.
The case is from the 1840s and based on my research, the movement is from the same period. There are a few things wrong with it and that is expected from a 176-year-old clock.
Four Options
The clock case and movement are very dirty and the clock certainly has some issues but I am happy to report that a lot is original. It is on my bench. Now, what do I do with it?
I have four options:
Do nothing. Leave everything as-is, preserve the patina and display the clock without servicing the movement or cleaning the case.
Service the movement so that it is in running order but do nothing to the case, again preserve the patina.
Clean and refresh the case but leave the movement as-is.
Service the movement and clean the case, making small repairs if necessary.
Option 1. There are very few clocks where I would do absolutely nothing. If the movement is beyond my capability or requires a complex repair and the case requires extensive repairs or any intervention on my part will potentially make it worse, I will leave it alone.
Option 2. Not a good option for me. There is no point in servicing a movement if is going back into a dirty case and risk the movement becoming contaminated with dirt and debris.
Option 3 If the movement is beyond my capability or requires a complex repair I will leave it alone and proceed with cleaning the case.
Option 4. This is my preference. My end goal is minimal invasive intervention which means that I will service a movement and address wear issues where necessary. I will refresh the case if it is grimy and requires a good cleaning. I am not a strong believer in patina which one reader opined is just another word for dirt. As much as possible, I use original materials and techniques when working on the case. This includes the use of hot hide glue, traditional shellac (flakes mixed with shellac lacquer), and fasteners like old slot head screws, and square nails.
In rare cases where I am met with a significant challenge, I will perform a complete restoration with the goal of bringing the clock back to its original condition. I call this extreme restoration.
Here are two examples. Both of these clocks are running daily.
I believe that some amount of intervention is not only necessary but desired by collectors and I also believe that there are situations where a wholesale ground-up restoration is the only option.
In the case of this miniature Vienna Regulator cleaning and oiling the movement, and polishing the brass was the only intervention.
Miniature one-weight Vienna wall clock
My position regarding changes to a clock
My end goal is a functional clock that presents well. As far as I’m concerned a non-working clock must become a working clock because that is the nature of its existence.
If a clock has important provenance and extensive repairs to the movement and/or case alter it in a negative way and I will leave it alone.
And what does the ogee clock i mentioned in the beginning of this article look like now?
Restored Jerome ogee
I am sure you will agree that it is not a dramatic change at all but it is now a working clock that presents well.
How far do you go repairing, restoring or conserving a vintage or antique clock without changing it in a significant way?
My daughter. a civil engineer raised the philosophical argument that questions whether an object like a clock that has had all of its components replaced remains fundamentally the same object. This paradoxical thought exercise is called the Ship of Theseus. Plutarch, a Greek philosopher, asked whether a ship that had been restored by replacing every single wooden part remained the same ship.
The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned from Crete had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their places, in so much that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same. Plutarch, Theseus[2]
Think about it! If something is fundamentally changed is it the same object?
One of our proud provincial symbols in Nova Scotia is a sailing ship called the Bluenose II, our provincial ambassador. The original Bluenose was a fishing and racing schooner that ran aground and sank 90 years ago. To honour the original Bluenose, the Bluenose II was built in the 1960s and sailed for over 50 years until it was determined that she was not seaworthy.
Bluenose II, Peggy’s Cove (photo, NS government, used for educational purposes)
In 2018 the hull of the Bluenose II was rebuilt with new materials. Some items such as rigging, masts, sails, ironwork, deck structures, safety equipment, and electronics were reused. Part of the timeline for future repair involves replacing the masts, sails, rigging, and deck structures. Will the ship retain its identity? To purists, no! To Nova Scotians, yes!
Let’s go beyond the nautical example and apply our example to the lantern clock.
The lantern clock is a clock with a lantern-shaped brass case made for about a century after 1630 or so. Most had one hand, all were weight-driven with a bell on top and sat on a wall bracket. They were the first type of clock widely used in English private homes in the 17th century. Eventually, the lantern clock became obsolete when tall case clocks came into fashion.
Converted lantern clock
Lantern clocks are highly collectible today and those that are in “original” condition are the most desirable. But, almost all of them have been altered, even those considered “genuine”. Check out this quote from a sellerof lantern clocks, D. and J. Benson, who are specialists in early English clocks.
We are strong believers that if a clock was converted to a different escapement many years ago, this should be retained, being part of the history of the clock, rather than reconverting clocks back to former guises. Only under compelling circumstances would a clock be returned to a former state. Only absolutely necessary restoration work is carried out in order that the original clock survives for future generations. We conserve rather than replace. D& J Benson
“Compelling circumstances”. Important provenance, perhaps?
Early conversions were from verge to anchor escapement. Later ones had the original movements removed and a fusee movement (single or double) installed. When converted, original movements including alarm mechanisms were taken out, a single-hand was replaced with two hands (or the minute hand added), broken finals and door handles might have replaced, chapter rings re-silvered, doors lost due to their nature of lifting out easily. Therefore, what is the nature of the clock after it has been changed, and how original is it? Does it retain its identity? To purists, no! To the casual collector, yes!
Let’s see how this philosophical argument plays out:
If too much is done to restore a clock is it fundamentally the same and is it considered original even though new parts were made from the same materials using the same methods when the clock was first made?
Do changes or alterations to the clock that bring it back to its original look and function including the making of new parts make it more “original”?
If one replaces one part at a time on a clock so that at some point all parts are replaced, at what point does a clock no longer become the same clock?
If you take all of those parts and make a “new” clock which of the two clocks is original? What is the nature of the clock’s identity since no two objects can occupy the same identity?
This is the dilemma of identity. One more example!
In 2016 I acquired my first weight-driven Vienna Regulator clock. As I worked on the clock I began to realize that many parts were replaced over the years such as the brass bezel, hands, glass panels, weights, and even the movement. Although the changes were part of the history of the clock I began to accept the notion that it is what it is and to a casual observer, it looks authentic.
Gustav Becker Vienna Regulator
Minimal Invasive Intervention
The term minimal invasive intervention means how far do you go to repair, restore or conserve a clock without changing it in a significant way? Some say that any work performed on an antique clock would diminish its value. Going too far to repair a clock and it begins to lose its attraction and value as a collectable object.
Is a “true collector” more interested in a movement that has never been worked on or one that has been repaired or restored? While it is always desirable to have a running clock most concede that to make a movement actually work, intervention must be accepted (bushing and pivot reconstruction, for example). The question remains; if I want the clock to function, what is the least I can do without changing it in a significant way?
Repair, Restoration, Conservation
Repair; to rectify the faults of a clock in a way that might alter it from its original form (gear replacement, pivot work, bushing work, replacement of some parts)
Restoration; the reconstruction of the movement and clock case to original condition.
Conservation; the protection of a clock using any methods that prove effective in keeping that article in as close to its original condition as possible for as long as possible.
Any amount of intervention is frowned upon by some collectors while some amount of intervention is not only necessary but desired by others and while collectors are always searching for a completely untouched clock, an antique clock in pristine condition that has never been meddled with is a rare find.
Questions, questions, questions…
Is undoing the “damage” caused by a previous poor repair an overly invasive procedure?
If the repair was done shortly after the clock was made and it was a proper repair, was clearly documented as markings inside the clock case, should it be left untouched? (example, a wheel that has a rough tooth repair but functions well). Is the poor repair part of the clock’s historical provenance and should it be left as-is?
Would bringing the movement back to its original state be considered a restoration or a repair?
Will a repair enhance or decrease the value of the clock?
Is a repair or restoration a form of conservation?
My position regarding changes to a clock
My goal is a functional clock that presents well. A non-working clock must become a working clock because that is the nature of its existence. If a clock has important provenance and extensive repairs to the movement and/or case alter it in a negative way and I will leave it alone. But I will always clean a clock case (unless otherwise directed) because as one clockmaker I know put it, “isn’t patina just another word for dirt!”.
When working on a customer’s clock I recommend presenting several options regarding the repair of the movement and addressing case issues. This past year I worked on a customer clock and asked what they wanted to be done. It had a beautifully designed case but a non-functioning movement. Make the clock run they said and replace the broken hands but don’t touch the case even though in my view the case could have used a good cleaning and a fresh coat of shellac. I did what was requested. Is the customer right? Yes!
I will leave you with two examples.
Ingraham Grecian
Ingraham Grecian
The bob wire that came with a clock appears to be a section of coat hanger wire. Replace it with a proper adjustable bob wire?
On a movement with pinned plates one of the pins is a finishing nail. Replace it with a brass taper pin?
Hell, yes on both counts!
In some circles, this trivial examples like these will provoke a heated argument. Is there a correct answer? Put twelve clockmakers in a room and you will have a thirteen opinions.
I was on a Facebook clock collector page recently and I was intrigued by the work someone had done on a clock that was surely destined for the garbage bin. The transformation was given an apt phrase, “Trash to Treasure” and so I thought I would write about my own experiences resurrecting old clocks.
Preserving the original patina is always the principle goal and I do as much as I can to keep things as they are. However, when the finish has been adversely affected by environmental damage, heat, cold, humidity over the course of many years, as in a couple of examples below, the only course of action is refinishing.
There are times when the only course of action is complete restoration
This is what happens when you get a clock in a box. Call it a collection of parts, pieces and dust. This is an antique German Junghans time and strike spring driven clock made in the style of a Vienna Regulator. There is no serial number on the movement, dating the clock to 1899 or earlier (in 1900 Junghans began to number their movements). To some a box of clock pieces is discouraging but to me it is a challenge.
Where to start?
It was advertised on a local online for-sale site as a clock that fell off a wall during the Halifax Explosion and I thought, well, that’s an intriguing story! As most Canadians know, the Halifax Explosion was a significant event in Canada 100 years ago.
On the morning of 6 December 1917 the SS Mont Blanc a French cargo ship laden with high explosives and Benzol collided with the Norwegian vessel SS Imo in the Narrows, a strait connecting the upper Halifax harbour to Bedford Basin. A fire on board the French ship ignited her cargo, causing a large explosion that devastated the Richmond District of Halifax. Approximately 2,000 people were killed by blast, debris, fires and collapsed buildings, and an estimated 9,000 others were injured.
The result was the largest human-made explosion prior to the detonation of the first atomic bombs in 1945. Nearly all structures within an 800-metre (2,600 ft) radius, including the entire community of Richmond, were obliterated. This clock is a witness to that day. In 1918, Halifax sent a Christmas tree to the City of Boston in thanks and remembrance for the help that the Boston Red Cross and the Massachusetts Public Safety Committee provided immediately after the disaster. That tradition carries through to this day.
The case is cleaned up and we are visualizing where the parts go
It appears that the parts have literally sat in a box for the past 100 years.
The blast not only shattered the glass panels but heavily damaged the box frame. It appears that most of the parts have literally sat in a box for the past 100 years. I cannot imagine when the movement last worked, probably ticking its last on that fateful morning in December. Since the box frame was damaged beyond repair following the explosion, the seller, an amateur woodworker, built a new frame made of softwood and oak veneers some 30 years ago. You can see the lighter coloured pieces in the photo below that were never stained and finished. He admits that he knows nothing about clocks and eventually lost interest in the project. I am impressed with his skills since the work on the frame looks solid and well constructed.
Top centre final is missing as well as two other finials
The top centre final is missing, two other finials and some small trim pieces
Why was he letting it go? He said there had been a change in his life and it was time to move on. When I asked him about the history of the clock he said that his wife’s grandparents lived on Princess Place in North End Halifax. Princess Place is further south of the main area of devastation so houses in that area would have sustained heavy structural damage. The clock was blown off the wall by the blast wave. The clock remained in the family all these years, the seller having received it from his wife’s aunt.
I took it home stared at the box for a while trying to decided whether or not I made the right decision. I then set to determine what steps I should take to restore this fine clock. I poked through the box to see what was there and began to itemize the parts, arranging them on the case as best I could and proceeded to clean the case and determine the next steps. I was fortunate to have had someone send me the actual catalog image of the clock which you can see below.
The clock is called the Crispi by Yunghans. Yunghans is a reputable German clock-maker and continues in the watch business to this day. This is what the clock should look like and it will be a excellent guide for restoration. There will be obviously be some subtle differences between my clock and the clock in the catalog when the project is completed but to the casual eye it will look exactly the same.
The Crispi model in the 1902 Junghans catalog
Junghans trademark
Time and count-wheel strike movement
I have ordered the following parts from Timesavers; 3 new finials in the style that best fits the clock, 2 door hinges, 2 door latches and some trim pieces. I will have to build the bases for the finials from scratch. The lower section of an oak spindle will do just fine. There are other trim items that are missing but I will strategically arrange the remaining trim pieces as best I can.
Oak stairway spindle
The best news is that the movement is complete and in working order. The movement ran for a day on a test stand before I stopped it. It needs a very thorough cleaning which will be the next step in this project.
In Part II I will describe cleaning the movement and any issues that may arise as a result of disassembly.
In Part III I will explain the procedures involved in the case restoration once the remaining parts arrive.
Antique and Vintage Mechanical Clocks 
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