Restoring the Balance of a Mauthe Horse Crown Vienna Style Wall Clock

Some clocks have a way of drawing you in immediately, and this Vienna-style wall clock made by Friedrich Mauthe was one of those pieces. The moment I saw it, I knew it had presence—it becomes part of the room.

With its rich walnut case, turned columns, and the distinctive horse finial crowning the top pediment, the clock reflects the late nineteenth-century taste for decorative wall regulators. These clocks borrowed heavily from the famous Vienna regulators but were produced by German makers for a wider market.

When I purchased the clock, I inspected it carefully enough, and everything appeared to be intact. It was not until I had it safely home and hanging on the wall that something seemed slightly off.

The clock didn’t quite look balanced.

At first glance, it was difficult to say exactly why, but the longer I looked at it, the more obvious it became. A closer inspection of the lower portion of the case revealed the problem: one of the decorative finials at the base was missing. There was clear evidence that a piece had once been there.

The likely explanation came from the seller when I contacted them later on. At some point in the clock’s journey from Germany to Canada, the lower finial had been snapped off so the case could fit inside a suitcase. Whether the piece was discarded or simply lost along the way remains a mystery.

Fortunately, aside from this small detail, the clock remained remarkably original.

Still, once you notice something like that, it becomes impossible to ignore.

Finding a Suitable Replacement

My first thought was that replacing the missing trim piece should not be too difficult. There are a number of suppliers that specialize in clock case hardware and decorative parts, and I began browsing through the usual clock parts sites in search of something that would suit the design.

There were several options, but eventually I chose the finial you see here.

It is flat on one side and comes without a peg, making it adaptable for installation on a variety of cases. Most importantly, its shape complements the overall style of the clock without drawing attention to itself.

When restoring an antique clock, the goal is often to restore balance rather than create perfection. The replacement does not have to be an exact replica as long as it harmonizes with the original design.

In this case, I think it strikes the right balance. It may not be precisely what the factory installed over a century ago, but it looks convincing enough that even a careful observer might assume it has always been there.

Matching the Finish

The trim piece arrived unfinished, which meant it needed to be toned to match the rest of the case. Examining the clock more closely, it appeared to retain its original walnut finish.

With that in mind, I applied several coats of stain until the color blended naturally with the surrounding woodwork. Matching old finishes can be tricky, but patience—and a few test coats—usually brings things into alignment.

Once installed, the difference was immediately noticeable, and balance has been restored.

Restoring the Clock’s Symmetry

Seen from a couple of meters away, the clock now looks exactly as it should. The case once again has the visual symmetry that its original designers intended.

Small decorative elements like these finials may seem minor, but they play an important role in the overall composition of a clock case. Remove one piece and the entire design can feel subtly incomplete.

The “Horse Crown” Vienna Case Style

The decorative horse finial that crowns the pediment is what collectors often refer to as a “Horse Crown” Vienna-style case. While traditional Vienna regulators made in Austria tended to be somewhat restrained in their ornamentation, German makers frequently added dramatic sculptural elements to appeal to export markets.

The rearing horse was a popular motif at the turn of the twentieth century and symbolized strength, motion, and vitality—fitting imagery for a mechanical clock. Mounted above the pediment, the figure gives the clock a distinctive silhouette and immediately draws the eye upward.

Combined with the turned columns, carved mask, and stepped base, the horse crown transforms what would otherwise be a fairly conventional wall regulator into a much more decorative statement piece. Often, you will find clocks offered for sale missing this critical decorative piece.

The movement inside the clock was produced by Friedrich Mauthe, one of the largest German clock manufacturers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Founded in 1844 in Schwenningen in the Black Forest region, the company became known for producing reliable, well-engineered movements that were exported throughout Europe and North America.

The Mauthe Movement

Many Vienna-style clocks from German makers used spring-driven two-train movements with time and strike trains mounted between brass plates. These movements typically strike the hour and half-hour on a coiled gong and are known for their durability and relatively straightforward construction.

Clocks like this were produced in large numbers between about 1890 and the early 1920s, when Vienna-style regulators were still very popular in homes and offices.

A Small Piece, A Complete Clock

From a distance of a few meters, the clock now looks exactly as it should have all along. The case once again has the visual balance that its designer intended.

The replacement may not be identical to the original piece that once adorned the base, but it blends naturally with the rest of the case. Unless someone knows exactly where to look, they would likely never suspect that a small piece of trim once disappeared somewhere along the clock’s long journey from Germany to Canada.

And like many antique clocks, it carries with it not only the passage of time—but a bit of history and a story of its own.

FMS Mauthe horse crown; servicing the movement; I have been putting off servicing this movement for a while, and a long time has passed since it was properly serviced. So, let’s get started.
Mauthe century old wall clock; The clock was advertised locally in the Truro, Nova Scotia area. The seller knew little about it beyond its provenance, but what he did share was an interesting, albeit brief, story.
Seven clocks in my collection that have family connections; not necessarily with my own family, but clocks that I am able to trace back through families, mostly in Nova Scotia (Canada). The stories are sad in some cases, but interesting nonetheless.

April 13, 2026 1

The Rise of the German Box Clock: A U. M. Müller Example

U. M. Müller clocks were once a familiar name in households across Europe, yet today the brand is not as widely recognized among collectors as some of the larger German makers. That is a bit surprising, because the company produced clocks that could easily stand beside the finest German manufacturers of the early twentieth century.

One area where U. M. Müller truly excelled was with their box clocks. At a time when tastes were shifting away from the tall and highly ornate Vienna regulators, these clocks offered something different—cleaner lines, practical design, and a price that appealed to the growing middle class. By the 1930s, the sleek German box clock had largely replaced the Vienna regulator in many homes, quietly marking the end of an era.

_{Note the count wheel location on the outside of the front plate}

This particular U. M. Müller is a striking example of that transition. The oak case has a stately presence, highlighted by delicate carved inlays on the door, brass strip framing, and a fixed wooden crown. A brass bezel frames the metal dial, which carries classic spade and spear hands. The beveled glass, also set in brass, adds a refined touch. On the back, wall stabilizers ensure the clock hangs securely—another reminder that this was a clock designed not only to look good, but to perform reliably day after day.

The case itself has aged beautifully over the decades, with no noticeable scratches or blemishes. The dial, however, tells a different story. Its surface bears the marks of long service, including an abrasion between the numbers 6 and 7 where the paint has worn through to the bare metal. While it is not something that can really be repaired, it does give the clock a bit of honest character—evidence of the many years it faithfully kept time on someone’s wall.

Inside is a classic count wheel time-and-strike movement that strikes on a coiled gong. The strike is bold and full on the half-hour and the hour, but never harsh or overpowering. Like most spring-driven clocks, one should not expect chronometer precision, but this example runs just as these clocks were meant to—steady, dependable, and capable of keeping “regular” time across its full eight-day cycle.

After a careful cleaning and waxing, the oak case shows what it must have looked like when new, more than ninety years ago.

Collectors sometimes date U. M. Müller clocks using the small lion trademark on the dial. A raised tail generally indicates a clock made before 1930, while a lowered tail—like the one on this example—places it in the mid to late 1930s.

According to Schmid’s Lexikon, the company’s history dates back to 1867 in Mühlheim, Germany. Ownership changed hands several times over the years, including a period under R. Schnekenburger around 1880. The company operated as R. Schnekenburger GmbH a.d. Donau before facing financial difficulties, and acquired by Gebrüder Müller in 1923. The firm developed a reputation for building solid, handsome clocks that were both reliable and affordable. Müller clocks were competitive with other German makers such as Junghans, Kienzle, and Gustav Becker, though often at a slightly lower price point aimed at the middle-class market.

In the end, this U. M. Müller is a fine reminder of a moment when clock design was changing. As the grand Vienna regulators slowly disappeared from the walls of European homes, clocks like this stepped in to take their place—simpler, practical, and built for everyday life. Nearly a century later, it still does exactly what it was meant to do: quietly mark the passing of time while adding a bit of character to any room.

UM Müller box clock | servicing the movement: I bought this clock in 2013, and while it has been very reliable and running daily, like all things mechanical, it requires attention from time to time.
UM Muller box clock; not a household name in its time, yet U. M. Müller produced clocks that could stand proudly beside the finest German makers of the early 20th century.
German Box clocks: a journey into clockmaking history: the popularity of Vienna Regulator clocks began to wane towards the early part of the 20th century. The more modern and less ornate design of the box clock appealed to changing tastes and preferences after World War I.

April 6, 2026 1

Re-Bushing, Reassembly & Testing of a Gustav Becker Regulator

This two-weightGustav Becker regulator wall clock, purchased in 2016 as a “project clock,” proved early on to be more challenging than I thought. This is the third and final post in this series. For the story behind this clock and an analysis of the steps taken so far, the first and the second posts can be found here and here.

After repeated but unsuccessful attempts to source correct replacement parts, the original movement was ultimately replaced with a complete 1918 P27 movement. That decision proved sound. The replacement movement has run reliably for more than nine years, making the recent strike issues described here less a surprise and more a predictable outcome of a long service interval.

The current issue is intermittent stopping during the warning phase, with the warning lever binding against the stop-wheel pin. In the absence of obvious breakage or damage, and given the movement’s extended service interval, the symptoms suggest accumulated wear rather than sudden mechanical failure.

With that diagnosis in mind, let’s now shift to systematic bushing work, careful reassembly, and methodical testing of the movement.

Polishing Bushings

Polishing the pivots prior to addressing pivot hole wear is a critical step, since even minor surface roughness can accelerate wear in otherwise sound bushings. Ensuring the pivots are smooth and true allows any remaining issues to be correctly attributed to pivot hole wear rather than the pivots themselves.

Taig lathe with 1/4 hp motor — _{Taig metal lathe}

The pivots were inspected and polished using my Taig metal lathe (above). An emery board was used to clean and polish each individual pivot. No pivot wear was expected, and none was found.

Bushing Work

The next step is addressing wear, particularly on the strike side. Pivots in this movement are significantly smaller than those found in mass-marketed American movements. As a result, some of the pivot holes measure only 0.6 to 0.7 mm, requiring small 2 mm diameter Bergeron bushings.

This demands a high level of precision when drilling the plates, as accurate placement is critical. Off by a fraction of a millimeter, and the wheels will not mesh correctly. Two new back-plate bushings were installed on the second and third wheel pivot holes.

After checking the action of the wheels, I debated whether or not to include the fourth wheel pivot hole, which did not look as worn as the other two. I decided not to at this point. Interestingly, both replaced bushings showed punch marks adjacent to the pivot holes, a previous attempt to reduce pivot hole wear by closing them. Punching pivot holes might have been an acceptable practice years ago, but not today.

Reassembly

Working with small pivots presents its own set of challenges. There is always the risk of a bent pivot. Now, it could have been me, or it might have been there for quite some time, but I noticed a slightly bent pivot on the flywheel. Straightening a bent pivot is not for the weak of heart. A broken pivot can be a catastrophe.

Can it be fixed? Yes — and I have done pivot work in the past — but it’s something best avoided whenever possible. I have a staking tool specifically for correcting bent pivots, and I did my best to straighten it. I also have the original movement, so I could have used the fly from that movement if my minor repair had gone sideways.

Other than the minor hiccup described above, assembly went as planned.

Have I ever left a part out? More than once. I’ve put everything together only to discover the hammer arbor looking up at me as the last part in the bin, practically saying, “You forgot me.” Not this time.

Aside from the winding drums, there are only 6 wheels and the fly. The strike levers are on the outside of the front plate. Below the large hour wheel on the front plate are two smaller gears that must be timed. Curiously, there are timing marks on the bottom of the gears, so, using a black marker, I indicated the timing marks on the top of the wheel. This aligns the movement for striking at the 12 o’clock position.

Otherwise, the stop wheel should be very close to 12 o’clock, and the gathering pallet is positioned to clear the rack. Next come the various levers and the taper pins to keep them in place.

Testing

I have five testing stands, but none that accommodate a Vienna Regulator, so the movement was returned to the case for testing. During the testing period, I did not attach the hands or the dial.

With the striking issues finally sorted out, the clock is now running as it should — steady, reliable, and doing exactly what it was meant to do. As of this writing, it is on its second 8-day cycle and keeping time within a few seconds per hour.

Final thoughts

It now seems likely that wear on the striking side lay at the heart of the problem, and those issues have finally been addressed. As with any clock repair, time itself will be the true judge, but for the moment, all signs are encouraging. With a little luck, it will settle in and run contentedly for many years to come.

This has always been one of my favourite clocks in the collection and one that I keep running daily, so it was genuinely disheartening to see it silent for the past few months. I tried every reasonable adjustment to coax it back to life without dismantling the movement, but in the end, there was no substitute for proper disassembly and servicing. Sometimes a clock simply tells you when it is time to do things the right way.

I will let it run through another full eight-day cycle, make any final adjustments that may be needed, and then refit the dial and hands — hopefully marking the return of a familiar and welcome presence in the room.

Walter Clocks of Toronto: A Nearly Forgotten Chapter in Canadian Clockmaking

_Among Canadian clocks, some names are immediately recognizable — Pequegnat, Canada Clock Company, Hamilton Clock Company, Wesclox from Peterbourough or Seth Thomas and New Haven imports sold through Canadian retailers. Others, however, tell a quieter story. Walter Clocks of Toronto belongs firmly in that second group, yet its history represents one of the last meaningful chapters of traditional clock manufacturing in Canada.

About two years ago, I made an effort to connect with surviving members of the Stonkus family and was able to reach one of Walter Stonkus’s granddaughters, as I recall. I proposed a question-and-answer format, with the intention of later shaping the material into a blog article. Unfortunately, despite a follow-up, I did not receive any further correspondence.

Since then, I have pieced together what information I could from a variety of online sources including The Canadian Clock Museum, located in Deep River, Ontario (Canada). While there are still some obvious gaps in the story, my goal here is simply to provide a general sense of Walter Clocks and their contribution to clockmaking in Canada.

So, let’s begin.

The company was founded by Walter Stonkus, who immigrated to Canada from Lithuania in 1927. Trained originally as a watchmaker, Walter brought with him both mechanical knowledge and European craftsmanship at a time when Canada was still developing its own manufacturing identity. By the early 1930s, the Toronto-based firm operated under the name Walter Stonkus and Sons Clocks.

From the beginning, the company followed a model common among Canadian makers: build the cases locally while sourcing precision movements from Europe.

Walter’s real strength appears to have been in design and cabinetmaking. Clock cases were produced in Toronto, often using walnut veneer before the Second World War, and stained birch in later years. The quality of the clock cases seems almost at odds with the small size of the company. Despite being a modest operation, Walter produced cases of remarkably high quality.

These early clocks typically featured spiral gongs and reflected the popular mantel styles of the era — practical, handsome, and intended for everyday homes rather than grand showpieces. It is also possible, though unconfirmed, that Walter clocks supplied finished cases to the Forestville Clock Co., operating in Toronto, Ontario (Canada) at the same time.

Like many small manufacturers, the company’s progress was interrupted by the Second World War. Production was suspended, largely due to the difficulty of obtaining imported movements and the broader shift of industry toward wartime needs.

When production resumed after the war, the business entered a new phase. Walter’s son Bill joined the company, and several recognizable design features emerged. Postwar clock cases were often made from stained birch, and many models incorporated what became something of a Walter trademark — a round removable back door that allowed easy access to the movement. German-made Urgos movements, both two-train and three train, powered many of these clocks, combining reliable European mechanics with distinctly Canadian cabinetry.

In many ways, Walter Clocks filled an important gap in Canadian horology. After the closure of the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company in 1941, very few domestic manufacturers remained. Walter Clocks, along with the Forestville Clock Co. of Toronto, helped carry Canadian clockmaking into the mid-20th century, even as the industry itself was beginning to change.

By the 1950s tastes were shifting. Mantel clocks were no longer the focal point of the living room. Television sets were taking their place, and inexpensive electric clocks were rapidly gaining popularity. Like many traditional makers, Walter Clocks adapted by moving into cuckoo clocks, 400-day clocks, and alarm clocks — products that reflected changing consumer demand. Increasing competition from imported clocks further reduced the viability of local production.

_{Walter Stonkus’s set of Starrett measuring tools}

The company ultimately ceased operations sometime in the late 1950s. The exact year — and the precise reasons for closure — remain uncertain, but Walter Clocks had operated in Toronto for more than thirty years, a respectable lifespan for a small Canadian manufacturer navigating enormous technological and cultural change.

Today, Walter clocks occupy an interesting place for collectors. They are not rare in the sense of limited experimental pieces, nor were they mass-produced in American quantities. They were never a large industrial producer, which explains why surviving examples feel scarce today.

Sadly, relatively few of these clocks survive today, and they seldom appear for sale online. While browsing Facebook Marketplace the other day, I came across one very much like the example pictured below, though fitted with a Westminster chimes movement. It was in poor condition and listed as a non-working, parts clock. Otherwise, it was the first example I have seen come up for sale in quite some time.

The Walter Clock Co. represents something uniquely Canadian: practical craftsmanship, locally built cases, and dependable European movements assembled for everyday households.

For collectors like myself, these clocks serve as reminders that horological history is not only written through grand innovations or famous names. Sometimes it is found in the steady work of immigrant craftsmen who built honest, functional objects meant to live quietly on mantels across the country — marking time for generations of Canadian families.

A Return to the Bench: Wear-Related Strike Problems in a Gustav Becker P27

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.

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.

Ten Years Later: An Odd Strike Issue in a Gustav Becker P27 Movement

In 2016, my wife gifted me a two-weight Gustav Becker regulator wall clock. It was a much-appreciated gift, and I spent many hours restoring it, as it had been sold as a “project clock.” The case certainly had its issues, but the most challenging problems lay in the movement itself.

At the time, I was not familiar with Gustav Becker movements, and it did not immediately occur to me that several key components were missing—almost as if a previous owner had harvested parts for another clock. One example was the absence of the star wheel. I contacted the seller, who kindly sent several replacement parts, including a star wheel. Unfortunately, it did not fit.

_{Missing star wheel, which should be just below the minute wheel}

It was then that I learned Gustav Becker had made design changes to these movements over time, meaning that not all parts are interchangeable. It appears the star wheel was sourced from a later model.

That led me to source a replacement movement, which I was able to obtain through an eBay seller. The price was more reasonable than I expected, and the movement arrived intact. Initially, I thought I could harvest parts from it for the original movement; however, as I had already learned with the star wheel, some parts did not fit.

Using replacement parts in antique clocks presents a number of challenges beyond simple fit and function. Even when parts appear correct, subtle differences in design, dimensions, or period manufacturing can affect performance and reliability.

From a collector’s perspective, non-original or mismatched components may also impact a clock’s historical authenticity and, in some cases, its market value. For the restorer, this often requires balancing mechanical integrity and long-term usability against the desire to preserve originality as much as possible. Of course, to the casual observer, the clock appears original.

I ultimately decided to abandon the 1902 movement and use the 1918 P27 one instead. The 1918 movement has been running flawlessly for the past 9 plus year and that is why the issue I am describing in this post surprises me. Or, should it!

Most people would be inclined to dismiss the problem by simply restarting the clock, which is what I initially did, but several hours later, the clock stopped again.

The problem is this: the warning lever, which drops into the warning wheel to stop the strike in warning, seems to freeze intermittently. For proper function, the strike release lever is lifted by the minute wheel pin to release the warning lever. I believe the issue occurs at the stop-wheel pin, where it appears to bind or stick. When I manually lift the warning lever to release the stop wheel, the strike train will run for a while, then stick again.

When I disassembled the movement, I checked for broken or bent teeth, bent pins, and the general condition of the pivots. Everything appeared to look good. However, given that the clock has been running for a long period, the issue now seems more consistent with wear than with a sudden component failure.

One issue could be that excess endshake may be allowing the stop wheel to move fore and aft, altering how the stop pin engages the warning lever. Additionally, many weight-driven warning levers rely purely on gravity for return; any increase in friction can cause the lever to hesitate or become caught on the edge of the pin. For these reasons, I believe this is a general wear issue rather than a broken or failed component.

By way of comparison, the average American-made movement produced a century ago could often continue to run reasonably well despite significant wear, whereas German movements—built with tiny pivots and very close tolerances—tend to be far more sensitive to wear, dirt, and minor loss of power. This difference should perhaps not be unexpected.

The movement is currently disassembled and, after many years of service, likely requires bushing work.

In short, the symptoms point to accumulated wear rather than a specific failed part. The movement will therefore receive full bushing work where needed, followed by a thorough cleaning, reassembly, and testing on the stand. Only once the strike operates consistently and reliably under full weight will the movement be returned to the case.

February 9, 2026 3

Gravity Never Sleeps: A Tall-Case Clock Warning

This is a cautionary tale for anyone who owns a long-case or tall-case clock, especially a weight-driven example. I make that distinction because I do own a tall-case clock that is spring-driven, which I can assure you is quite unusual. Most, however, are weight-driven.

The other day, I went to investigate an issue with the strike side of an old Scottish clock assembled by a clockmaker named William McLaughlin in Scotland in the late 1840s. I purchased the clock at auction six years ago and spent many hours repairing the movement and restoring the case.

At the time, the clock was running—but just barely. The time side was functioning well, but the strike side needed some work and the addition of new parts to operate correctly. Since then, the clock has been running continuously and reliably for the past six years.

Recently, the strike side began to show a slight problem, which prompted me to remove the hood and carry out a closer inspection. The issue turned out to be that the rack was dropping too far back and was no longer being picked up properly by the gathering pallet. This situation seems to occur when I wind up the strike side weight too quickly, but something else might be amiss.

While investigating that area, I noticed something far more concerning: the strike-side barrel cable was badly frayed. The cable is made up of three groupings of strands, with each grouping consisting of about six wires. In this case, two of those groupings had snapped off completely. That left only one grouping intact—and even that was reduced to perhaps three or four remaining brass wires supporting the cable.

All of this was holding a 13-pound weight. I have enlarged the photo above to better illustrate the problem.

The proper solution is to repair or replace the cable. As a temporary measure, the existing cable may be reused, provided it is still in sound condition. This involves removing the movement from the case, separating the plates, and opening the strike-side drum. The cable can then be fed back into the barrel and secured with a knot on the inside. Although this shortens the cable by an inch or two, it should have no meaningful impact on the clock’s running time.

Since I will have the movement apart, it will be an opportunity to clean the movement, address any wear, and re-oil the mechanism. I checked the time-side drum to determine if there is a similar issue with the cable, and to my surprise, found it to be just fine.

The takeaway here is a simple but important one: weight cables on long-case clocks deserve regular inspection, especially on clocks that run continuously year after year. Fraying often happens slowly and out of sight, and failure can be sudden and dramatic—with potentially serious damage to the movement, the case, or anything beneath the falling weight. In the case of this clock, there is nothing to cushion the blow if the weight were to drop. A loud bang would accompany a dented hardwood floor.

A few moments spent checking cables when servicing or inspecting a clock can prevent a great deal of trouble later on. In this case, I was fortunate to catch the problem before gravity finished the job.

February 2, 2026 2

A Clock Collection in Motion | The Dynamic Nature of Clock Collecting

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.

Smiths Enfield mantel clock — _{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.

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.

January 5, 2026 1

The Clock That Wasn’t Complete: My Waterbury Suffolk Discovery

This clock wasn’t one I set out to find. My wife and I were wandering through a sprawling antique shop in Almonte, Ontario—the kind of place where time itself seems to stand still. She drifted upstairs while I lingered below, each of us lost in our own quiet hunt. A few minutes later, she appeared at the top of the stairs and called down, “Take a look at this!” I climbed up, curious, and there it was—a clock that neither of us had expected to see, yet somehow felt right. We looked it over, exchanged a knowing glance, and decided the price was fair. A few moments later, it was ours.

For a while, I admired the clock just as it was—until a small detail caught my attention and led me down another path of discovery.

I initially thought the clock was complete until I posted a query on an online clock forum site and discovered that it was missing two trim pieces.

However, I also learned that the clock was named the Suffolk and was offered for sale by Waterbury from about 1907 to 1915. The clock is shown in Tran Duy Ly’s Waterbury Clocks book on page 270, which includes an image.

It is cased in mahogany, has an eight-day movement, and features a half-hour strike with a coiled gong. The six-inch “ivory” (porcelain?) dial has spade and spear hands and a visible or open escapement. It includes a cast gilt sash and bezel with convex beveled glass. The clock is tall at 15½ inches and 11¾ inches wide, with wooden biscuit feet.

_{The time and strike movement on a coiled gong}

I asked myself what I should do about the missing trim pieces. I also wondered how they had fallen off, but it appears they were glued on at the factory and may have been vulnerable to coming loose if struck. In my experience, once a piece comes off and becomes separated from the clock, it is unfortunately lost forever.

The original pieces were carved mahogany blocks with a center cut-out. Since I don’t have the tools to duplicate that process, and the router bits I have are far too large for this type of work, I decided to come up with what I felt was an acceptable alternative.

I didn’t have any mahogany among my scrap wood selection, but then I remembered some trim pieces I’d received from a friend’s old pump organ about a year ago. At the time, I had no idea how I would use them, and as I suspected, they turned out to be made of mahogany.

Using a table saw, I cut out two test pieces to determine if the repair would work. They looked acceptable, even if not quite sized correctly, and since I had enough mahogany, I set about carefully measuring the final pieces. I decided to stack thinner sections in a relief style—quite the opposite of the original design.

Because the clock’s case parts varied slightly in tone, I knew the new pieces would end up a shade darker.

_{Test pieces, narrower than the final pieces}

I then cut the final pieces, sanded off the finish, glued the sections together, and attached them to the base of the clock using carpenter’s wood glue. The final step was applying two coats of finishing paste wax. The clock now looks more complete, and unless one is familiar with the original design of the missing pieces, they would be hard-pressed to notice the difference.

Making changes to a clock’s case is never easy, for each alteration risks straying from what once was. Yet restoration is, by nature, a communication between the past and the present—to reconcile what time has taken and what care can restore. Though the change departs slightly from the original, it brings balance to the design in my view, and renews the clock’s quiet dignity. In that sense, I am content with the outcome.

Restoring the Suffolk reminded me that even small imperfections can lead to creative solutions. While my replacement trim pieces differ from the factory originals, they complement the clock’s character and preserve its charm—proof that restoration is as much about craftsmanship and ingenuity as it is about authenticity.

For those who appreciate a visual commentary, check out a 3 1/2 minute video I made during the project:

December 8, 2025 6

The Lank House Clock: Tracing a Mauthe Wall Clock Through Parrsboro’s Past

Not long ago, my wife and I were attending a medical appointment in Springhill, Nova Scotia. While we were in the area, we decided that a side trip to Parrsboro fit the bill, as the town was less than a half-hour drive away. It was a leisurely, sunny fall day as we drove through the hills and lakes of northern Nova Scotia, and we were eager to see the sights of Parrsboro, situated on the Minas Basin, which is connected to the world-famous Bay of Fundy. Parrsboro is one of the oldest settled areas of Canada. It is known for its maritime heritage and its wondrous geological formations.

Once in town, we stopped for a coffee, did a bit of shopping, and thought, since we were here, why not check out The Parrsboro Mansion Inn?

_{The Parrsboro Mansion Inn – photo taken with the owner’s permission}

There was a very specific reason for our visit to the inn— in 2018, I had purchased a clock that originally came from this house. Today, it’s a family-run business, but many years ago, it was a private home. We stopped and talked to the present owner, who kindly provided us with a history of the house and some photos.

I tried to imagine where in the house the clock would be hung—perhaps in the living room or the parlour. “You wouldn’t consider gifting us the clock,” the owner said. “Let me think about it,” I replied.

Now, let’s go back in time.

_{The house in the 1930’s when owned by the Lank family}

In 1873, Henry Davison operated a blacksmith shop on this land near the roadside, not too far from the town centre. In 1898, Joseph Jeffers purchased the eight-acre property and built a spacious home for his family.

The Jeffers family retained ownership until 1930, when it was sold to Hilbert Lank. Hilbert died in 1972, but the family stayed on for a number of years. To everyone in the Parrsboro community, it is still known as the Lank House, even though the Lank family sold it to its present owners some years ago.

Back in 2018, when I bought the clock, the seller explained that the clock was brought over from Europe when her husband’s family moved to Canada in the 1890s and had been in the family ever since. I assume that when I bought the clock, the house had already been sold and the family was in the process of liquidating its contents.

_{The house (arrow) is set back quite far from the road.}

The clock is a stylish German-made Friedrich Mauthe time-and-strike wall clock that reflects the period. Judging from the design of the trademark, I determined that it was made in the late 1890s—consistent with the information provided by the seller.

The clock case was not without its issues — it was missing two finials and some case pieces, but the biggest challenge was the finish, which was heavily “alligorated”. This is a term that describes a finish that has tiny, irregularly shaped cracks and ridges that appear on the surfaces. Extensive exposure to heat and sunlight causes the finish to soften, attract dirt and dust, dry out, and contract, leaving behind a rough, textured finish.

The clock had clearly been stored for a long time, and it had suffered as a result. I was loath to strip down the case, but it was necessary.

_{A section of the crown that represents the entire case}

In keeping with its history, we now call it the Lank Clock.

_{Frederick Mauthe wall clock circa 1895}

From a chance online listing to a deep dive into Parrsboro’s history, this clock has connected me to a story spanning more than a century. Restoring it is not just about repairing a case and servicing a movement—it’s about preserving a piece of time, heritage, and memory. Every tick now carries the echoes of Lank House, and it will continue to tell its story for generations to come.

November 3, 2025 5

The Day I Found an Ingraham Huron Balloon Clock—and the Story That Came With It

Some time ago, I came across an ad on Facebook Marketplace for a clock owned by an older couple who lived about forty-five minutes from our home on the East Coast. When I first saw the photo, something about the clock caught my eye—it had character, a quiet dignity, and I had a feeling it might be special. I reached out to the seller through Facebook, and after a brief phone conversation, we agreed on a price that he felt was fair.

Rare Ingraham Huron found on a local online for-sale site — _{E Ingraham Huron Circa 1878}

Finding their home wasn’t straightforward. We took a few wrong turns, but eventually found our way to a modest single-wide house nestled in the woods about twenty minutes from a larger coastal town. It was the kind of home that had clearly been lived in for decades.

A man in his early seventies greeted us at the door with a polite smile tinged with sadness. As we stepped inside, he excused himself and disappeared for a moment, returning with the clock in his hands. I asked him why he had decided to sell it, especially since he mentioned it had belonged to his grandmother and had been in his family for as long as he could remember.

He paused before answering, his eyes drifting toward the window. “My wife and I have decided to go our separate ways,” he said softly. “She wants to live in town, but I can’t bring myself to leave this place. Everything I care about is here—my shop (which was larger than his house!), my tools, my memories, but we have to get rid of some stuff”.

As he spoke, it became clear that the clock was more than just an heirloom—it was a piece of his past, a witness to the life he had built in that home. Letting it go wasn’t just about making space; it was about closing a chapter.

I examined the clock carefully, noting that it was complete and in good condition. “I’ll take it,” I said with a smile. Just inside the case, I noticed a penciled marking that read “Hebb and 1944.” The seller recalled a Hebb family who once lived in the Bridgewater area of Nova Scotia, near where I purchased the clock — perhaps a clock tinkerer.

“Okay,” he replied, then hesitated for a moment before adding, “Would you happen to be interested in Elvis Presley memorabilia?”

I glanced over at my wife, who was already trying not to laugh. The question caught us both off guard—we couldn’t have been less interested in that sort of thing, but his earnestness made the moment oddly endearing.

Huron shelf clock by E. Ingraham & Co.

It is a rosewood-veneered Huron shelf clock by E. Ingraham & Co., Bristol, Connecticut. It features a paper-on-zinc dial with a round glazed door and a lower glass access panel. The Huron is one of the less commonly found Ingraham models of the period, having been manufactured briefly between 1878 and 1880. The maker’s label remains intact on the inside of the backboard. The clock has a brass, eight-day, spring-powered movement and stands 16 inches tall.

The veneers are in excellent condition, with no splitting or cracking. The clock face shows a build-up of grime, which I chose to leave as is. The base corner pieces show slight wear, but both door catches are sound. The glass is perfect, the door hinges are in excellent condition, and both the upper and lower doors still fit with precision. The pendulum retains its original lacquer and presents well. Before examining the movement, a gentle push of the pendulum suggested that something was amiss.

Once I extracted the movement from its case, it was certainly not without its issues. There was plenty of solder applied here and there—evidently, a past repairer believed that the more solder, the better. During restoration, all traces of it were carefully removed, and the movement was thoroughly cleaned and brought back to full working order.

_{The movement was not without its issues}

I’ve often said that if the day ever comes when I’m compelled to downsize my collection, this would be one I’d keep. Not for its rarity or provenance, but because it embodies everything I admire in a clock—the craftsmanship, the quiet dignity, and the enduring beauty of something well made and lovingly preserved, and the story that became part of it.

Kienzle clock on display with Ingraham Huron — _{Ingraham Huron shelf clock}

In the end, it’s pieces like this that remind me why I collect—not to own more clocks, but to honour the skill and spirit of those who built them, one tick at a time.

October 20, 2025 2

A Box of Parts, and a Special Clock That Journeyed Through Time

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 screws on 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.

Junghans clock in pieces — _{A box of parts}

Restoration included new glass panels, re-staining the case, sourcing a few case parts, and servicing the movement.

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.

October 13, 2025 3

Discovering a Rare Waterbury Clock in Almonte, Ontario

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.

At first glance, it looked intact, but after posting the clock on 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 book on 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 attached} _{and 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.

September 22, 2025 4

An Odd But Very Rare Hamilton Clock Co. Wall Clock

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 an} _{8-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.

September 8, 2025 0

New Acquisition | A Box Clock By Friedrich Mauthe GmbH & Co.

After working on my brother-in-law’s clock earlier this year, I was so taken with it that I decided I wanted the same—or at least a similar—clock in my collection. I nearly succeeded when I found a comparable clock in Ottawa, Ontario, this summer.

I had been monitoring the sale of the clock for about two weeks. I assumed the seller was eager to sell, as the price dropped in $10 increments several times. When it hit my sweet spot, I contacted the seller.

But first, let’s talk about the style of this clock—the box clock. By the early 1900s, Vienna Regulators were starting to fall out of fashion. Even before World War I, people began favouring the cleaner, less ornate look of the box clock. Its modern style fit the mood of the time, and before long, these practical yet stylish clocks had taken the place of the traditional Vienna Regulators.

The box clock design stood the test of time, enduring for over 40 years. Key features and characteristics of German box clocks are their appearance, since the box clock represents a departure from the designs of the Vienna Regulator clocks. Instead, box clocks embraced a more minimalist and utilitarian design.

They typically feature a simple rectangular or square wooden case with clean lines, a modest crown, and glazed elements, often without the intricate carvings and embellishments seen in earlier clock styles. The access door is large and swings open to the right. In the upper section of the door is a glazed panel protecting the dial, while the lower section usually contains five clear beveled glass panels. Sometimes the design is understated, as in the photo below, while other examples show a more ornate treatment.

The absence of markings other than pendulum length (45 cms) and the beat (100 bpm) stamp on the movement might suggest uncertainty, but the Divina gong confirms that the maker was Mauthe (pronounced maw-tay).

Divina was a trade name and subsidiary brand of Mauthe, used particularly for their gongs and striking mechanisms. When you see a gong stamped Divina, it’s essentially a Mauthe product, and it helps confirm the maker when the movement itself is unmarked.

My new clock has the same dimensions, dial face, spade and spear hands, and crown applique as my brother-in-law’s example, but there are two key differences and some minor ones. My clock strikes on three rods, while the other strikes on four. Is there a difference in sound between three and four rods? The answer is yes—the four-rod strike produces a noticeably richer and more sonorous tone.

Secondly, the glazed panel treatment on my clock is, in my opinion, more attractive, featuring a Napoleon-hat-style curve in the center glass panel.

Next, mine is missing the rod lock, removed for some unknown reason. The rod lock is important when transporting the clock, as it prevents the rods from banging together and potentially snapping off. Otherwise, I had to stuff napkins between the rods when transporting the clock.

The other clock has no standoffs, while mine does. Standoffs help keep the clock vertically aligned on the wall and prevent it from shifting from side to side and putting it out of beat. In my experience, some came with standoffs while others did not.

Both clocks have a 45 cm pendulum and run at 100 beats per minute. My clock lacks a maker’s trademark, whereas the other one displays it on the movement. Regarding pendulum length and beats per minute, I’ve seen other similar Mauthe box clocks with 42 cm pendulums running at 105 beats per minute. Why the difference, I don’t know?

It’s difficult to pin down a manufacturing date, but judging from others I have seen, I would estimate that it was made in the early 1930s.

Unfortunately, little is known about this handsome, well-preserved German wall clock, other than that it was purchased at an antique shop in Cornwall, Ontario, (Canada) about four years ago by a lovely elderly couple. After the husband passed away, his wife began downsizing and was evidently not concerned with getting top dollar for the clock.

_{Mauthe movement back plate, three strike hammers shown}

The clock runs and strikes, though two minor adjustment issues became apparent. First, when the first hammer struck the rod, it produced more of a thud than a clear tone. Bending the hammer back about a centimeter or so resolved the problem. Second, the pendulum bob wobbled slightly, which was corrected by gently squeezing the suspension post closed with pliers. A clean, even swing transfers energy efficiently. A wobble wastes some of that energy, which can potentially cause the clock to stop.

The plan is to display the clock, run it for a short period, then remove the movement to inspect it for signs of wear. If the pivots are dry, I’ll apply oil, run it a bit longer, and ultimately proceed with a full servicing of the movement.

September 1, 2025 2

Top 9 Antique Clock Myths Debunked for Collectors

If you’ve been around antique or vintage clocks for any length of time, as I have, you’ve probably heard a few “truths” that get passed along like family recipes. Some have a sprinkle of fact in them, others are pure folklore, and a few can actually cause more harm than good. So, let’s sit down, pour a cup of coffee on this fine Monday morning, and bust a few of the most common myths I hear all the time.

Myth #1 – Overwinding A Clock

Let’s start with the big one: the infamous “over-winding” myth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “It was running fine until I over-wound it!” Here’s the reality — you can’t hurt a healthy clock just by winding it all the way. If it stops when fully wound, the culprit is likely dried oil, dirt, or worn parts. Old, dried-up oil can turn into a sticky glue that causes the mainspring coils to cling to each other, thereby stopping a clock.

When I bring home an old spring-wound clock, the very first thing I do is let the springs down completely, give them just a small wind, and then see if the movement runs. If it does, that’s my cue that the springs need a proper cleaning and lubrication, right along with the rest of the movement.

Myth #2 – More Oil Is Better

Then there’s the advice some give to oil a clock every single year. I get it — we want our clocks to run smoothly. But adding fresh oil without cleaning first is like pouring new motor oil into an engine without changing the filter. You’re just mixing clean oil with grime and making an abrasive paste that speeds up wear. Most clocks are perfectly happy with a proper cleaning and oiling every four to five years. The only exception is that, after an inspection at the two-year mark, if it’s clear the pivots are dry and there is no residue around the pivot holes, a light oiling is a prudent step, provided only a small amount of clock oil is applied.

Myth #3 – A pendulum Clock “Adjusted for level” Will Work On Any Surface

Placement is another overlooked detail. I’ve seen pendulum clocks happily ticking away on a sturdy wall, and I’ve seen others struggle just because they’re sitting on a wobbly shelf. Uneven or unstable surfaces throw the clock out of beat and mess with its timing.

When someone says a pendulum clock was “adjusted for level,” it means that during servicing, the clock was placed on a level surface and its beat was adjusted accordingly. If the clock is later moved to an uneven or non-level surface, the beat will need to be readjusted to match the new position.

Get a clock with a floating balance escapement; it will work nicely on just about any uneven surface.

_{It is easy to place a mantel clock with a} _{floating balance}

Myth # 4 – A loud Ticking Clock Is An Unhealthy Clock

And while we’re on the topic of how a clock sounds — louder doesn’t always mean healthier. A good clock doesn’t need to shout; an even, crisp tick is a much better sign than a booming one.

However, keep in mind that some clocks are loud because of case acoustics, or they are located in areas where the sound is amplified, a hallway or a small room with hard surfaces, perhaps. Some surfaces can even act like acoustic amplifiers.

Arthur Pequegant Brandon II — _{Arthur Pequegant Brandon wall clock, a loud ticker}

I also believe that the type of escapement is a factor. Due to their mechanics, recoil escapements are always louder than all others. I have an Arthur Pequegnat Brandon wall clock with a recoil escapement in a room with six other clocks — and which one is the loudest? The Brandon, of course! It’s almost as if it’s saying, “Look at me, I’m the loudest in this room.”

Myth # 5 – WD-40 Works Well As A lubricant

One myth that makes clock repairers wince? WD-40. Yes, it might make a sticky clock run for a little while. But it also strips away proper lubrication and leaves a sticky film that attracts dust like a magnet. It’s the short-term fix that leads to long-term headaches.

What does the WD in WD-40 stand for? WD in WD-40 stands for “Water Displacement.” The product was originally designed to repel water and prevent rust, and the “40” refers to it being the 40th formula the chemists tried before they found one that worked effectively. Who knew?

Now, please don’t tell me it worked for you!

Myth # 6 – The Older the Clock, The More Valuable It Is

And while we’re setting the record straight, let’s talk value. Not every old clock is a gold mine. Age is only part of the story — rarity, maker, originality, and condition matter much more. Old is not gold, as they say. An 1850 Ogee clock might have stood the test of time, but it was made in the thousands, so it’s actually not all that rare.

_{George H Clark 30-hour Ogee shelf clock, circa 1850, for a ridiculously low price at auction}

Of course, there are always exceptions. Well-preserved French clocks, such as a Louis XIV cartel clock of the 17th century, prized for their exquisite craftsmanship, ornate gilt bronze (ormolu) cases, and fine enamel dials, can be quite valuable.

However, many are often surprised to find out that their 100-plus-year-old clock is worth next to nothing.

Myth # 7 – Don’t Assume Black Forest Means “Made in Germany“

Also, don’t assume the words “Black Forest” mean German-made. Some Canadian and American makers used the name simply because it sounded exotic and marketable. For example, the Blackforest Clock Company of Toronto (which became the Forestville Clock Company in 1941) produced reliable clocks for the home. While the cases were made in Canada, the movements were sourced from England, France, and, more typically, Germany.

Myth # 8 – It’s Running Fine, So It Doesn’t Need A Service

Another one I hear often: “It’s running fine, so it doesn’t need service.” The truth? Even a clock that’s keeping time can be quietly wearing itself out if it’s running on dry bushings or worn pivots. A thorough inspection should reveal any issues with the clock’s movement.

Myth # 9 – An Antique Clock Should Always Look “Like New”

And please, don’t feel you have to polish away every bit of patina. That gentle wear tells the story of your clock’s journey through the decades.

When we think of antiques, there’s often a temptation to restore them until they look spotless and brand new. But with antique clocks, that shiny, polished look isn’t always the goal, and here’s why.

Patina is the natural aging and mellowing of a clock’s surfaces over time. It’s the soft glow on wood, the subtle tarnish on brass, and the gentle wear marks that tell a story. This “aged finish” is like a fingerprint of the clock’s life, showing decades, sometimes centuries, of use, handling, and care.

Stripping away that patina by over-polishing or refinishing can actually damage the clock’s historical value. Collectors and experts often prize original finishes because they preserve the clock’s authenticity and character. A well-preserved patina connects us directly to the past, making the clock not just a timekeeper but a piece of living history.

Having said all that, I’ll admit I’m certainly guilty of refinishing the odd old clock now and then. After all, I keep many of them for my personal collection, and refinishing is a great way to learn new restoration techniques.

It also allows me to bring out the original beauty that may have been hidden under years of dirt and wear, which I believe is a good thing in certain situations. Plus, sometimes a carefully done refinishing can help stabilize fragile wood or finishes, ensuring the clock can be enjoyed for many more years.

And I will throw in two bonus myths.

Bonus Myth #1 – Serial Numbers Always Tell A Clock’s Date of Manufacture

Lastly, serial numbers. While they can sometimes pinpoint a clock’s date of manufacture, this only works for certain makers with complete records. Unless you can match the serial number to a verified database or understand the dating system the maker used during production, it’s merely an educated guess as to when the clock was made.

Clock company catalogs are an excellent resource for dating an antique clock—if you can find them! For example, if you have a clock made by Junghans of Germany, they offer an excellent catalog archive on their website.

Many of the serial number charts floating around online are best taken as educated guesses, not hard facts.

That said, many movements have no numerical markings beyond the trademark.

Bonus Myth #2 – A Quick Bath Is All A Movement Needs To Run Properly

One common myth I come across is that you can clean a clock simply by dunking the whole movement into a cleaning solution without taking it apart first. It sounds like a quick fix, but in reality, this can cause more harm than good. Clock movements are made up of delicate parts that need to be carefully disassembled, cleaned individually, and then properly lubricated.

Dunking the entire mechanism risks damaging pivots, bushings, and other components, not to mention leaving grime trapped in places you can’t see or reach. Proper cleaning takes time and patience, but it’s the only way to ensure your clock runs smoothly.

Duncan Swish was NOT a famous clockmaker!

At the end of the day, part of the joy of collecting clocks is hearing the stories — and sometimes, debunking them. Myths may be fun to repeat, but knowing the truth will help you keep your clocks in good health and their history intact. After all, a well-cared-for clock doesn’t just tell the time… it tells its own story.

If you know of any other clock myths or stories that deserve a closer look, I’d love to hear them—drop a comment below and let’s keep the conversation ticking!

August 18, 2025 9

A Simple Mantel Clock Made by the Blackforest Clock Company

Mention of the Blackforest Clock Company immediately brings to mind the Black Forest region in Germany. However, Blackforest was actually a Canadian clock company founded in 1928 in Toronto, Ontario, by Austrian immigrants Leopold and Sara Stossel.

The company initially imported both clock movements and complete clocks from Germany, marketing them through department stores and jewelry retailers across Canada.

Some clocks were assembled locally at the company’s facility on Wellington Street East in Toronto. Early on, movements—primarily German—were installed in clock cases crafted in house.

However, it is quite possible that Walter Clock Company of Kitchener, Ontario made some of the early clock cases for the Blackforest Clock Company. While definitive documentation is scarce, several Canadian clock historians and collectors have suggested that Walter Clock Co.—a known case manufacturer at the time—supplied wood cases to various Canadian clock assemblers, including Blackforest.These locally made cases were often well-built, showcasing traditional styles like tambour, and buffet clock designs, tailored to Canadian tastes.

As the business evolved, complete mantel clocks were increasingly imported fully assembled from Germany. However, this arrangement was disrupted by the outbreak of the Second World War. In 1941, amid growing anti-German sentiment, the company rebranded itself as the Forestville Clock Company. During wartime, with access to German supply chains cut off, the company sourced its movements from England, the United States, and even France.

By the mid-1950s, Forestville resumed imports from Germany, with Friedrich Mauthe emerging as one of their most significant movement suppliers. These postwar clocks are known for their quality and reliability. Despite their efforts to modernize and diversify, Forestville did not survive much beyond the late 1970s, as inexpensive quartz movements and changing consumer preferences reshaped the clock industry.

With a discussion of the brief history of the company behind us, we now come to my latest acquisition. In all honesty, I couldn’t resist. As I’m currently traveling, a friend kindly picked up the clock for me in Nova Scotia. The price? Just $15. Normally, I would not be interested, but it is an old Canadian clock company, and I have a preference for collecting Canadian-made clocks and those with a strong Canadian connection, and the price was right.

Though the label says it is a ‘chime’ clock, it is actually a time-and-strike (rack and snail) mantel clock, likely made in the mid-1930s, I would say.

Is it perfect? Absolutely not. The case needs a caring touch, and the glass dial bezel is missing. It’s not currently running, but everything is intact, and it should function after a thorough cleaning.

August 5, 2025 0

Top 6 Locations to Avoid for Antique Clock Placement

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.

August 1, 2025 11

Tick Talk Tuesday #59 | Identifying a Tallcase Clock

^{Tick-Talk Tuesday is a special time when I respond to readers’ letters and comments about clock issues, challenges, and recommendations for specific clocks. When the comments and questions are especially complex, I consult with fellow clock enthusiasts within my circle to ensure I offer the most precise and helpful answers possible.}

David P writes

I am inquiring if there is any chance you could offer me an opinion of who the maker maybe of the below clock. I am exploring purchasing the clock and just trying to learn more about it. I am not looking for an appraisal or value, just trying to determine the maker. Thank you in advance for any help you can provide.

Respectfully,

David P.

My Reply

Hi, and thanks for your email, David P. What do you know, and what have you been told about the clock? (Unfortunately, I received no further details about the clock from David)

My initial impression was that it might be an English or Scottish tall case clock. This style was widely produced in both England and Scotland from the early 19th century up until around 1900. American clockmakers of the period were strongly influenced by these British designs.

However, upon further examination, it appears to have all the features of an early 1800s to 1825 American clock, including the plain, understated case, the design of the columns and capitals, the top fretwork, the brass finials, and the arched dial with a moon phase and calendar window.

These clocks are difficult to identify unless there are markings on the clock case or dial face. A painted name is typically on the dial, usually below the center arbour, often including the maker’s town or city. On painted dials, the name may be faint or worn off due to age.

There may be a name or trademark on the backplate or front plate of the movement but I have found that to be less common with many clocks having generic “English-style” bell strike movements. Even less common is a signature found inside the case door or on the backboard. Sometimes, paper labels were pasted inside the case though extremely rare.

Some makers at the time were Simon Willard (Roxbury, MA) – Famous for tall case clocks and his patent timepiece (“banjo” clock). He used finely made 8-day brass movements.

Others were Elnathan Taber, Aaron Willard, from the Willard family.

Daniel Munroe, Lemuel Curtis were top-tier Massachusetts makers, David Rittenhouse (Philadelphia) was renowned for his precision movements and astronomical clocks. John Wood, Benjamin Chandlee, and others in Pennsylvania and Maryland made complex 8-day brass movements.

That said, determining the maker of a clock can be particularly challenging when there is no visible trademark, label, or inscription. However, experienced collectors and horologists often look for clues in the construction of the case and the design characteristics of the movement. Certain features—such as the shape or the style of the hands and pendulum, the design of the dial face—may point to specific regions or even individual makers. That said, without definitive markings, any attribution remains speculative and requires careful comparison with known examples from the period.

In short, I cannot identify the clock—more research is needed. I would add that if it were made by an eminent American clockmaker, such as Simon Willard, it would have been identified as such by now.

The bottom line is that it looks impressive, it appears to be intact, and if you like it and it falls within your budget, it would be a nice acquisition.

Ron

July 29, 2025 0

Celebrating the Return of Nova Scotia’s Bishop Family Clock

In late June 2025, I received an invitation to attend the installation of a historic Nova Scotia family clock. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the July 12th ceremony, but I asked the museum manager if I could publish the public service announcement on this blog. She agreed and gave permission to include photos as well.

The Nova Scotia (Canada) Kings County Museum’s mission statement is “To preserve and promote the cultural and natural history of Kings County for present and future generations.”

The Bishop Family clock left Nova Scotia in 1902, has been returned to Nova Scotia after more than 120 years. The circa 1770 clock will become part of a permanent exhibit at the museum focusing on the New England Planters and the Bishop family.

“Built by John Bishop, a member of one of the first Planter families to settle in Horton (eastern Kings County), the clock was given to his daughter Amelia as a wedding gift when she married Charles Dickson in 1772.”

_{King’s County Museum, 37 Bridge Street, Kentville NS}

Here is the announcement:

Historic Bishop Family Clock Returns to Nova Scotia
Installation to Take Place at Kings County Museum

July 12, 2025
1:00 PM
Kings County Museum, Kentville NS
All welcome

Please join the Kings Historical Society as we welcome Stephen Sieracki, a Maryland-based horologist (clock specialist), who will permanently install a historic clock in the Kings County Museum.

The clock, a significant Planter artifact and a rare example of early clockmaking in Nova Scotia, is returning home after 200 years. It was crafted in Horton Township in the late 1700s by John Bishop and given to his daughter, Ameila, upon her wedding to Charles Dickson, of Horton in 1772.

Since 1772, the Bishop Clock, a remarkable example of early Nova Scotian ingenuity and woodworking, has found itself in many different homes and, most recently, in Annapolis, Maryland where it has been taken care of by descendants of John Bishop. The clock will return home to Nova Scotia in July, accompanied by Stephen Sieracki, and find a new home at the Kings County Museum where it will be preserved for generations to come.

On July 12th, 2025, the clock will be installed in a permanent exhibit which will pay tribute to the Bishiop family, the Bishop family clock, and the planter legacy of Kings County. This installation will include reinstalling the Bishop Clock mechanisms (which will have been removed for safe transport). Stephan Sieracki will also be giving a talk on 18th-century clocks, including specific details and research on the Bishop Clock, and demonstrations. Q&A session to follow presentation.

For more information, please contact info@kingscountymuseum.ca or call the Museum at 1-902-678-6237.

Ellen Lewis

interim Office Manager

Kings County Museum

902-678-6237

The following article from The Annapolis Valley Register provides more detail.

https://www.saltwire.com/nova-scotia/annapolis-valley/historic-bishop-clock-returning-home-to-nova-scotia-after-more-than-a-century

The return of the Bishop Clock is more than the homecoming of a cherished family heirloom—it is a powerful reminder of the ingenuity, craftsmanship, and stories that shaped our communities. Preserving artifacts from the past, like this remarkable tall case clock, allows us to connect with the lives and legacies of those who came before us.

These tangible links to history enrich our understanding of who we are and where we come from. By safeguarding them today, we ensure that future generations can continue to learn from and be inspired by the people, cultures, and innovations that helped build our communities.

July 25, 2025 0

Top Reasons Your Mechanical Antique Clock Runs Slow: Tips & Fixes (2025 Ed.)

We are quite accustomed to the accuracy of quartz clocks which lose or gain mere milli-seconds per week. Contrast that with an era when folks were content to accept that their mechanical clock would be a minute fast or slow through the week, and it was a common practice to make small adjustments over the run cycle of a clock.

Clocks generally fall into four categories: quartz, electro-mechanical, electric, and mechanical. In this discussion, we’ll focus on mechanical clocks—whether antique or vintage—as we explore the common reasons why a clock may run slow.

Our discussion on why a clock runs slow should be grounded in a few practical realities. A typical American spring-driven clock, even when properly serviced, may gain or lose a couple of minutes per week—this is considered normal. In contrast, weight-driven mechanical clocks that vary by only a few seconds per week are regarded as highly accurate, with astronomical regulator clocks being among the most precise of all.

That said, how many mechanical devices do you know run perfectly (relatively speaking) after 120 years?

A clock runs slowly for a variety of reasons.

Let’s consider several factors and examine each in detail.

Environmental factors
The pendulum is too low or too high
The pendulum is the incorrect weight
Incorrect suspension spring length
The suspension spring is not attached correctly
Lack of lubrication
Gummed-up lubrication (over-oiled)
Balance Wheel Requires an Adjustment
A weak mainspring
Changes or Alterations During Servicing
Clock cycle time variance
Slipping, Binding and Rubbing

one-weight Vienna wall clock — _{One-weight wall clock with a large pendulum bob and rate adjustment on the bottom}

Environmental Factors

Mechanical clocks are subject to a number of environmental factors that may cause them to gain or lose speed over the course of a year. These factors include heat, cold, and humidity. Increasing the ambient temperature of a clock will slow it down from the expansion and lengthening of the pendulum unless the pendulum is a compensating type using Mercury or dissimilar metal rods. Denser air also causes the pendulum to move more slowly.

Ogee clock showing replacement pendulum bob — _{Ogee clock showing replacement 1 oz rate adjusting pendulum bob}

Moving a clock from sea level to a higher elevation will affect the speed of the clock.

It is common to make seasonal speed adjustments on a clock that does not have a compensating pendulum.

Numbers on bob correspond with the movement — _{Pendulum bob with inset rate adjustment}

Pendulum Too Low or Too High

The lower the pendulum bob, the slower the clock will run. Many pendulum clocks can be adjusted either by a set screw at the bottom of the pendulum or by an inset screw on the pendulum.

In the absence of an adjustment on the pendulum, there is a regulator on the clock face. Use the small end of a double-sided key and insert it into the dial face of the clock to speed up or slow down the clock.

Shortening the pendulum will speed up the clock. Anything that increases the length of the pendulum will reduce the rate of the pendulum and result in a clock that will run slower.

_{Parts of the clock related to the pendulum}

Pendulum is the Incorrect Weight

If the pendulum is too heavy, it causes the centre of gravity to be too low, consequently, the clock will run slower. Having the correct weight pendulum for your clock ensures smooth running.

Incorrect Suspension Spring Length

Often, when a clock is repaired by a person who has limited knowledge of the effect a replacement spring will have on the running of a clock they will occasionally install an incorrect length or thickness of suspension spring. Choose the suspension spring that is correct for your clock.

_{Rate adjustment under the 12. Use the small end of the double-sided key to make the adjustment}

Suspension Spring Not Attached Correctly, or Bent or Twisted Spring

The suspension spring is located at the top of the pendulum rod and serves as the flexible part that allows the pendulum to swing. It connects the top post to the pendulum leader. If it is not installed securely, the pendulum may not swing at all or could wobble, which robs the movement of its energy.

If the spring is bent or twisted, the imperfection will also drain its energy. This imperfection reduces the efficiency of energy transfer to the pendulum, causing it to lose amplitude and making the clock run slow or stop altogether.

Lack of Lubrication

Pivot holes that have dried up mean that there is no lubricating barrier between the pivots and their bearing holes, although the movement may otherwise be very clean.

Small drops of clock oil applied to the dry pivot holes will ensure the clock runs well and will have a long life. Without oil, the steel pivots will wear the brass pivot holes, resulting in wheels that will not mesh properly, eventually stopping the clock.

An approved clock oil must be used, although I have heard that synthetic oil works well too.

Note: a small drop of oil in each bushing hole is all that is required. As they say, Less Is More!

Gummed-up Lubrication

Clock oil loses its viscosity over time. Aging oils also lose their adhesive properties. Oil becomes oxidized, and oxidized oil forms varnish-like residues or gums that can clog pivots and bushings, increasing friction.

When a clock runs slowly, the first instinct is to apply more oil. Old blackened or greenish oil in the pivot holes is a sure sign the clock has been over-oiled or the oil has degraded. The addition of fresh oil produces an almost immediate improvement in the running of the clock, but it will not be long-lasting. In a short time, the clock will begin to run slowly again as the new oil mixes with the dirt and grime in the old oil. When this occurs, the oil becomes an abrasive paste, resulting in exacerbated wear.

The only solution is servicing, which includes disassembly, cleaning of the movement, addressing wear issues, reassembly, and testing.

Balance Wheel Requires an Adjustment

Balance wheels can be adjusted to speed up or slow down a clock.

Regulation of the escapement is done by sliding the two small weights attached to the center of the balance wheel inward to make the clock run faster, and outward to slow it down.

To adjust, simply hold the wheel and push the small adjustment “finger.” Moving the finger to the right will speed up the clock, and moving it to the left will slow it down. Each movement of one dot typically changes the rate by about 10 seconds per day.

The movement usually has a directional indicator guide near the balance wheel, with an “S” for slow and an “F” for fast.

A Weak Mainspring

Often, the mainspring you will find in your antique clock is the original one(s). The steel used at the time the clock was made was generally of higher quality than the steel used today, with some exceptions. By their very nature, mainsprings become weak over time.

Weak mainsprings are called “set” mainsprings. If “set”, your clock will not run a full cycle, 8 days for eight-day clocks, a full 30 hours for one-day clocks, or whatever the designed cycle. When a spring-driven clock is brought in for a professional repair, the mainsprings are often replaced.

Most properly serviced clocks with their original mainsprings will complete their full cycle, even if the springs are not as powerful as they once were, because cleaning reduces resistance throughout the gear train.

If your clock requires a mainspring replacement, a correctly sized, quality American- or German-made mainspring should provide years of reliable service.

Changes or Alterations During Servicing

Changing or altering the mechanism, such as replacing a gear with an incorrect tooth count, may speed up or slow down a clock. Although movement parts may appear to be similar, manufacturers often made small changes, resulting in parts that may not be interchangeable with the exact movement over the years.

Clock Cycle Time Variance

American spring-driven eight-day clocks typically run slightly faster at the beginning of their cycle because they provide most of their power early on, then run more slowly throughout the week as the mainspring unwinds. A spring-driven clock that is one or two minutes fast at the start of the week may often be a minute or two slow by the end of its cycle. This is considered normal, and no adjustment is necessary.

Occasionally, you will see Geneva Works or stop works on a clock movement. These mechanical additions are designed to compensate for the variance of spring power by utilizing the mechanism to limit the mainspring’s unwinding, ensuring a consistent amount of power is delivered throughout the clock’s running cycle. I have also seen enough of these clocks with the Geneva stops removed. Why? Often, the repairer did not understand how to set them!

The power on a weight-driven clock, on the other hand, is constant, and the loss or gain in time at the beginning of the cycle will be the same at the end, assuming no wear issues are slowing it down.

Slipping, Binding, and Rubbing

If your clock is losing many minutes per day, something in the mechanism is slipping or binding. If your clock is losing minutes per day after all adjustments are made, it is likely that bushing wear or some other worn component, including a weak mainspring, is causing the problem.

Clock repairers often use a term called end shake. End shake allows freedom of lateral movement for each of the wheels between the movement plates. If the plates are tight and there is no end shake, too much resistance will slow a clock. It is why clock repairers always check for sufficient end-shake when servicing the wheels/gears on a movement.

If a wall clock is not mounted correctly, the pendulum might rub against the case. Make sure the clock is not only level and in beat but also properly aligned vertically against the wall. If a clock is not aligned vertically, the pendulum may not swing evenly, causing it to rub against not only the clock case but other parts as well. This uneven motion puts extra stress on a distorted suspension spring.

Final Thoughts

Your situation may be unique, and if it is not covered by this article, I recommend consulting a clock repair expert. If you have little experience and choose to work on an antique or vintage clock yourself, the mistakes you make could be irreversible. For beginners, there are many reputable books and online forums dedicated to clock repair that can provide guidance before attempting any work.

There is also a certain element of risk working with mechanical clocks, as the power contained in the mainsprings may cause serious injury if not handled properly. Always take proper precautions when handling mainsprings or winding mechanisms. If you are unsure or unfamiliar with safe procedures, it’s best to seek assistance from a professional clockmaker to avoid injury and damage to the clock. That said, the safest clocks to work on for beginners are weight-driven ogee clocks or time-only, spring-driven clocks.

Knowing why your clock runs slowly is the first step in diagnosing the problem. Addressing the issue is the next step. Beyond that, periodic maintenance and servicing with quality parts is the key to a long life for your clock.

July 22, 2025 0

Looking Beyond the Surface: How Survivorship Bias Shapes Our View of Antique Clocks

If you’ve ever browsed an antique shop or clock auction and marveled at the craftsmanship of century-old clocks, you might find yourself thinking: “They sure made things better back then.” And while that’s sometimes true — many antique clocks were built with care and skill — there’s a hidden trap in that assumption.

It’s called survivorship bias.

What Is Survivorship Bias?

Survivorship bias is a common thinking error where we draw conclusions based only on the things that made it through a process, while ignoring those that didn’t. In doing so, we develop a distorted view of reality.

We often lament that cars from the 1950s and ’60s we think were better built than those today, forgetting that many were poorly built even back then. The ones that survive often bear little resemblance to how they were originally manufactured — replacement parts have been modified and improved over the years, making them seem more durable than they actually were. So while some vintage cars were outstanding, the idea that they were all built better doesn’t hold up under scrutiny.

We often hear that “Anyone can become a billionaire if they just work hard and follow their passion.” But in reality, we hear about the few massively successful startups like Apple, Google, or Tesla, but not the thousands of startups that fail every year, many with equally passionate, hardworking founders.

In the world of art and literature, we hear, “If your work is good, you’ll get discovered.” But in the real world, many great writers, musicians, and artists never get recognition. We remember Shakespeare, Jimmy Hendrix, Andy Warhol, or Hemingway—not the countless others who were equally or more talented but remained unknown.

And in horology? It means assuming that most antique clocks were well-made, simply because the ones we see today are the ones that survived.

**The Clocks We Don’t See**

The clocks in our collections today — the Seth Thomas regulators, Arthur Pequegnats, Vienna regulators, and elaborately carved Black Forest cuckoos — survived decades of use. They endured house moves, children’s fingers, neglect, and sometimes even disasters like floods and fires.

Brands like New England Clock Company or Gilbert produced thousands of clocks, but many examples haven’t stood the test of time, not necessarily because they were inferior, but because they were ordinary

But they’re only part of the story.

A great many clocks didn’t make it. Countless kitchen clocks, shelf clocks, novelty pieces, and cheaply made imports wore out, broke down, or simply weren’t valued enough to be saved. Some were discarded when electric clocks — and later, quartz movements — came along.

Others were lost during attic clean-outs, yard sales, or were upcycled (an ogee clock converted into a curio cabinet), while many were simply discarded. In some cases, their movements survived, salvaged as spare parts by a professional repairer or an enthusiast.

_{A common early 20th-century kitchen clock by Sessions}

Designed obsolescence and why old clocks still work

What we don’t see are all the poorly made clocks—both old and modern—that broke down and were discarded, especially those intentionally designed with a limited lifespan. For example, many alarm clocks were built with planned obsolescence in mind. While they are often fixable, they were not originally designed to be repaired.

_{Baby Ben, made in China, designed with a short lifespan in mind}

During the late 1800s and early 1900s, companies like Ingraham, Sessions, and Waterbury were churning out affordable clocks for middle-class households. Many of these were built to a price point, not to last generations.

Grandfather clocks from the 1970s and ’80s were often designed with a useful lifespan of about 25 years. So why are so many still running today, decades beyond their expected service life? Survivorship bias may offer us a clue: the ones we still see are the exceptions—the clocks that were better made, gently used, well maintained, or lucky.

The many that failed early or were discarded quietly don’t show up in our collections or on auction sites, so we assume they never existed or that these clocks were built to last forever. But the full picture tells a more nuanced story. Survivorship bias hides their absence, leading us to believe that the average quality was higher than it actually was.

A case in point: my Ridgeway grandfather clock has been running regularly since I acquired it in 2013. The clock isn’t necessarily better made than others from its era, but when I bought it from the seller in Halifax, he told me it had belonged to his mother and was likely rarely kept wound. When it eventually stops—and that day will come—I will face several choices: repair it, replace the movement, or discard the clock altogether.

So when we look around and see only the clocks that survived, we risk thinking that all clocks from 100 years ago were reliable, attractive, and well-built. That’s not true. We’re looking at a biased sample — the winners of the survival game.

And let’s not forget that many of the clocks we admire today wouldn’t still be ticking if not for the patient efforts of collectors and restorers who brought them back from the brink.

What This Means for Collectors and the Value of Their Prized Clock

Understanding survivorship bias in horology serves as a helpful reminder to appreciate the clocks we do have — they endured, though the fact that they survived does not necessarily make them valuable or rare.

Recognizing this bias helps us avoid assuming that everything old is of high quality or value, and encourages us to remain open to discovering lesser-known makers or designs that weren’t widely preserved, perhaps because they were ahead of their time, produced in small numbers, or simply unlucky.

_{A New Haven Schoolhouse clock was saved from the trash bin; not particularly pretty, but still a reliable timekeeper}

Final Thoughts

Antique clocks are storytellers — not just of time, but of survival as well. Each one we wind today represents dozens or hundreds that didn’t make it. That’s part of their magic. And as collectors, restorers, or admirers, it’s worth remembering: what we see is just the tip of the horological iceberg.

July 11, 2025 2

Dating a Historic Junghans Crispi Wall Clock

In the winter of 2017, I took on the restoration of a Junghans Crispi wall clock, made in Schwenningen, Germany. Built in the Vienna Regulator style, the clock came to me as a box of parts—an exciting challenge, especially once I learned of its remarkable history.

This clock survived the Halifax Explosion on December 6, 1917. I discovered it through an online listing and was immediately intrigued. While I wasn’t sure at first how far I’d go, I soon committed to restoring it to its full 19th-century glory.

Most of the clock is original: the movement, pendulum, coil gong, case crown, backboard, columns, and decorative trim. The front frame had been rebuilt about 30 years ago using modern materials. Though not fully authentic, the work was done with care and is largely hidden. I had no issue keeping it intact.

To complete the restoration, I replaced two small decorative trim pieces using birch and my vintage router, matching the originals as closely as possible. The result blended in beautifully.

The design reflects a time of grand ornamentation and eclectic influence, not its place of manufacture.

Was the effort worth it? Absolutely. The clock is now fully restored and running beautifully. Its resonant chime fills the house, and its unique presence always draws attention. More than a timepiece, it’s a piece of history and a cherished family heirloom.

When was the Clock Made?

I always wanted to determine the exact date of the clock, and when I first received it, I guessed it was made around 1900. While on the NAWCC forum site, someone posted an image from a Junghans catalog and suggested the clock was made in 1899. That seemed plausible, and I was satisfied it was made then.

More recently, while browsing the historical index on the Junghans website, I discovered catalog images dating as far back as 1893, with listings for 1893, 1894, and 1898. It appears the clock was last produced in 1898.

There are subtle design differences between the 1893 and 1898 versions. The 1898 model features simpler clock hands, a beat plate, and longer crown finials. The pendulum design is also slightly different. Otherwise, the two versions look nearly identical. Based on these design changes, I believe my clock was made in either 1897 or 1898.

Final Thoughts

Researching your clock is one of the most rewarding parts of restoration. It deepens your connection to the clock and often uncovers fascinating history you might otherwise miss. In my case, exploring online forums and archival catalogs helped me more accurately date the Junghans Crispi and appreciate its evolving design. Manufacturer archives, collector communities, and historical indexes are invaluable tools; don’t overlook them. Every clock has a story, and with a bit of digging, you might be surprised by what you find.

July 4, 2025 0

Why You Should Avoid Buying Chinese-Made Mechanical Clocks

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.

Daniel Dakota movement — _{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, one of Tempus Fugits more popular models — _{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.

June 10, 2025 9

Tick Talk Tuesday #58 | A Beautiful, But Not Perfect Clock

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,

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 20^th 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.

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.

May 23, 2025 0

Finding a Suitable Replacement

Matching the Finish

Restoring the Clock’s Symmetry

The “Horse Crown” Vienna Case Style

The Mauthe Movement

A Small Piece, A Complete Clock

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Polishing Bushings

Bushing Work

Reassembly

Testing

Final thoughts

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Huron shelf clock by E. Ingraham & Co.

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A Little About the Hamilton Clock Company

A Clock with Character

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Myth #1 – Overwinding A Clock

Myth #2 – More Oil Is Better

Myth #3 – A pendulum Clock “Adjusted for level” Will Work On Any Surface

Myth # 4 – A loud Ticking Clock Is An Unhealthy Clock

Myth # 5 – WD-40 Works Well As A lubricant

Myth # 6 – The Older the Clock, The More Valuable It Is

Myth # 7 – Don’t Assume Black Forest Means “Made in Germany“

Myth # 8 – It’s Running Fine, So It Doesn’t Need A Service

Myth # 9 – An Antique Clock Should Always Look “Like New”

Bonus Myth #1 – Serial Numbers Always Tell A Clock’s Date of Manufacture

Bonus Myth #2 – A Quick Bath Is All A Movement Needs To Run Properly

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Around Or Above Door Frames

Humid Areas Such As The Kitchen, Especially Above a Sink

On Top Of Appliances Or Anything That Vibrates

High Traffic Areas, Such As Narrow Hallways, Especially For Hanging Clocks

Direct Sunlight

Near Heating Vents Or Above Heating Registers

Children’s Play Areas

Final Thoughts

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David P writes

My Reply

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**The Clocks We Don’t See**