The Arthur Pequegnat Brandon II Schoolhouse Clock – The Clock That Started My Collection

Looking around my home today, I can count twelve Arthur Pequegnat clocks, but the Brandon II will always be the most important one. It was the first Pequegnat clock I ever bought, and the one that started me down the Pequegnat road.

This particular clock is a Brandon II. The first edition was produced up to 1916, and although the two versions look very similar, the second edition was made from 1917 until production ended in 1941. I wish I knew the exact year mine was made, but that’s hard to determine since there are no identifying marks on the movement, the label, or the case to date it. Between the two, I prefer the cleaner look of the second version.

The Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company made clocks in Kitchener, Ontario from 1903 to 1941, and the Brandon was one of their more popular models. You would most often find one hanging in a Canadian schoolroom in the 1930s or 1940s, or in an office where a reliable, no-nonsense clock was needed. It’s an octagonal short-drop, time-only schoolhouse clock — simple, practical, and built to last. The first edition had the same overall dimensions but featured a more ornate frame around the dial bezel.

Schoolhouse clocks were usually time-only because schools already had bells or alarms to signal the start of class, recess, and the end of the day. In an office environment, a striking clock sounding every hour would likely have driven everyone to distraction. Some Brandon clocks were also fitted with calendars, which would have been useful in either setting.

Both the quarter-sawn oak case and the brass movement were made by the Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company in their Kitchener factory right up until 1941, when brass shortages during the Second World War forced the company to stop production rather abruptly.

The time-only movement is quite simple, with relatively few gears and not much to go wrong. It was designed to be reliable and durable — a clock that could survive years of schoolrooms, offices, and daily winding without complaint.

_{Arthur Pequegnat Brandon time-only movement, simple but durable}

I bought this clock from a local antique collector who had owned it for a number of years and eventually decided to sell it in his antique shop in Great Village, Nova Scotia. The price was reasonable, and since I had always wanted a Pequegnat schoolhouse clock, I brought it home.

The case is in excellent condition, and the dial and bezel are also very nice. The clock would run and keep reasonably good time, but it had an annoying squeak that clearly meant something wasn’t quite right. After taking a closer look, I discovered the first wheel had considerable pivot hole wear — the kind of repair that was beyond my tools and abilities in 2015.

So, the movement made a trip to a horologist in Halifax, Nova Scotia, where it was properly serviced. Five bushings were installed, the mainspring was cleaned, and the movement was oiled. It wasn’t an inexpensive repair, but in my view it was a worthwhile investment. Now, after ten years of running, it is time to take a look at the movement again and check for any wear. This time, my tools are at the ready!

My short video on Pequegnat clocks in my collection; As regular readers know, I have been a passionate collector for 15 years, I take great joy in repairing and restoring old clocks. My collection has grown to 85 unique timepieces, each with its own story.
The Pequegnat story and the Maple Leaf series of kitchen clocks; The Pequegnat name may not be familiar to international readers, but it was a significant Canadian clock company that manufactured both movements and cases beginning in the early 20th century.
My collection of Arthur Pequegnat Clocks; in 2020, I wrote about my growing collection of Pequegnat clocks. At the time, I had just purchased my eighth clock

May 11, 2026 0

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.

Daylight Saving Time and Mechanical Clocks — A Love-Hate Relationship

Twice each year, most people casually change the time on a microwave or stove clock and carry on with life. Those of us who collect mechanical clocks, however, prepare for what can only be described as a seasonal endurance event.

Yes — Daylight Saving Time has arrived again.

For the general public, DST is a minor inconvenience. For a clock enthusiast, it is an expedition. Every mantel clock, wall clock, regulator, and stubborn little alarm clock must be persuaded — politely — to agree with the new official time. Some cooperate willingly. Others protest by striking eleven when it is clearly ten, or by refusing to strike at all until properly consulted.

The original idea behind Daylight Saving Time was admirable enough: shift the clocks to make better use of daylight and enjoy longer evenings outdoors. In practice, it often means losing an hour of sleep in March and spending the next week wondering why everything feels slightly out of rhythm.

Interestingly, a Canadian helped set this whole process in motion. Sir Sandford Fleming, engineer and champion of standardized time zones, gave the world a sensible system for telling time. One doubts he imagined future generations standing on step stools twice a year, carefully advancing minute hands while negotiating with century-old movements.

Today, about 70 countries still observe DST, while others — including Japan, India, and China — have wisely decided that time works perfectly well without seasonal tinkering. Here in Canada, in most parts, we continue the tradition, guided by the familiar phrase: “Spring ahead, fall behind.”

For mechanical clocks, the rule is simple: move the minute hand forward one hour and allow the clock to do the rest. Let the chimes play out naturally. Patience is essential. Mechanical clocks have survived world wars, house moves, and generations of owners — they will not be rushed simply because politicians have decided it is suddenly an hour later.

In my home, adjusting the clocks takes long enough that by the time I finish, at least one seems ready to be wound again. And without fail, a week later I will discover a lone clock quietly living in the previous time zone, proving once again that clocks, like people, resist change.

There is growing talk of abandoning Daylight Saving Time altogether. Many argue it is unnecessary in our modern world of automatic devices and artificial lighting. It is about as useful as a chocolate teapot! I suspect few would celebrate its disappearance more enthusiastically than those of us surrounded by ticking reminders of the past.

The push to abolish seasonal clock changes in Canada is slowly gaining momentum. Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick have all considered the issue, although none have yet passed binding legislation.

Recently (March 1, 2026), the province of British Columbia announced that it would change its clocks for the final time on March 8 and remain on daylight saving time year-round.

Ontario has already passed legislation making daylight saving time permanent, but the change will only take effect if neighbouring Quebec adopts the same approach.

At present, Saskatchewan (one of Canada’s western provinces) and Yukon (one of the northern territories) remain on standard time year-round and do not adjust their clocks twice a year.

Until that day arrives in Nova Scotia and those “affected” parts of the world, we will continue the ritual — key in hand, listening to the familiar chorus of strikes and chimes — adjusting not just our clocks, but ourselves, twice a year.

March 7, 2026 7

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.

Can a Seized, Rusty Clock Movement Be Saved? An Ansonia Case Study

Some time ago, I was up for a real challenge when I bought an old clock that seemed hopelessly irreparable. While picking up another clock, the seller threw this one in for a few dollars more. The clock, an Ansonia Extra Drop, was in pieces and had been stored in a barn—literally—for many years. The case had completely come apart, and half the backboard was missing. Most would have thrown out this jumble of parts, but I saw a diamond in the rough.

The movement was intact, but it was the dirtiest I had ever seen. Okay, it looks bad, but might it be saved?

_{Front of movement showing plenty of rust}

It was so rusty that none of the wheels would move. I was less concerned about the wheels and pivots because I knew that once I took it apart and cleaned it up, there was a good possibility that the wheels would move again. The rusty mainspring concerned me, however. A mainspring’s strength can be seriously compromised by the presence of rust. That said, it seemed to me that a surface coating of rust alone should not be too much of a problem.

After cleaning, polishing, and addressing pivot wear, the movement was reassembled, and a deciding the mainspring could be reused; here is the final result.

How well did it function? So well, in fact, that it is now one of my daily runners.

And the case, you might ask? Well, it is not perfect, but I managed to piece together what I had, add a piece of backboard from an old ogee clock, touch up the dial, add a new set of hands, pallets, and crutch, suspension rod, and construct a lower access door. While it may look good from afar, closer scrutiny reveals its rough edges. Most importantly, it tells a story of resurrection.

In the end, what first appeared to be a hopeless, rust-bound movement destined for the garbage can proved otherwise. Does that mean every movement can be successfully brought back to life? No—though for some irreparable clock movements, some parts can be salvaged. However, with careful work, patience, and a willingness to look beyond first impressions, this clock was made to run again.

It served as a reminder that even the most neglected mechanisms often deserve a second look—and that revival is sometimes less about miracles than about time and persistence.

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

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

Echoes of an Unknown Maker: A Banjo Clock’s Journey Through Time

The American Banjo clock — often just called a banjo clock — got its name from the shape of its case, which resembles a banjo musical instrument. Although the design was patented in 1802 by Simon Willard, a renowned clockmaker from Roxbury, Massachusetts, Willard referred to his invention as the “Improved Timepiece,” not a banjo clock.

There are essentially three types of mechanical banjo clocks. Those with lever escapements are usually in the lower price range, spring-driven examples occupy the middle ground, and weight-driven banjo clocks represent the higher end, typically costing several hundred dollars in fair condition to several thousand for authenticated examples from reputable makers.

My wife spotted the clock on Facebook Marketplace one evening. It was listed for $100, and the photo immediately caught my attention. I had a feeling it might be a diamond in the rough. I suggested she offer the seller $75, and to our surprise, the offer was accepted almost immediately. It seemed they just wanted it gone.

_{Seller’s photo, looking a little tired}

The clock was one of several items the seller had for sale as part of a community-wide garage sale. So, a day later, we made the drive out to the rural part of Nova Scotia where the sale was taking place. When we arrived, we found the house and asked to see the clock. It was sitting there among other odds and ends, looking a little tired but full of promise.

As we examined it, I asked a few questions about its history. The seller explained that it had belonged to an uncle in Wolfville, Nova Scotia—a man who had once owned a large collection of antique clocks and had been in the family for over 60 years. That was all I needed to hear.

Before we left, the seller asked if I might be interested in another clock—a 30-hour mantel clock. “It’s worth a lot more than that one,” they insisted, nodding toward the banjo clock. I smiled and politely declined. Something told me the first clock was the one worth keeping.

And I was right. Once we brought it home, cleaned it up, and did a little research, we discovered that it was indeed something special—a genuine, 1830s timepiece, a true diamond in the rough.

The clock was surprisingly heavy when I first lifted it, which told me right away that the weight was still inside the case. That was a good sign. Had it been missing, finding a proper replacement would have been a challenge—and there’s really nothing quite like having the original weight that once powered the movement so many decades ago.

It turned out to be a Federal-style banjo clock, housed in a rich mahogany case that bore the quiet dignity of age. The movement was intact, a promising start. At the top sat a graceful acorn finial, original to the clock—a small but telling detail. At first glance, I thought the carved reverse-scrolled side arms and lower base section were missing, but later learned that not all examples from this period included those features; In fact, simplicity was a defining feature of early timepieces.

The original steel hands, shaped in that classic banjo style, were still in place, and the dial face, though worn, retained much of its character. The glass bezel was broken but easily replaced. The case itself was dusty and a bit tired, with a few areas needing veneer work, a split wood bezel, but nothing beyond repair. As I examined it more closely, I discovered the winding crank tucked neatly into the bottom of the case—perhaps placed there by its last owner many years ago.

After some careful study and comparison with other examples online, and with help from a few knowledgeable members of a clock forum, I came to believe that the clock was made in the late 1830s in Boston—possibly by John Sawin. Sawin had apprenticed under Simon Willard and later worked as a journeyman for Aaron Willard, two of the most respected clockmakers of their day and inventors of the original patent timepiece. Unfortunately, there are no identifying marks on the case or movement, leaving its true maker a mystery—but a fascinating one all the same.

_{Fully restored clock on display in my home}

With that in mind, I decided to give the old clock the attention it deserved. What followed was a careful cleaning, a bit of veneer work, minor repairs, glass bezel replacement, and the satisfaction of seeing history come back to life.

November 24, 2025 9

Echoes of Time: The Ansonia Wall Clock That Waited Fifty Years to Tick Again

We live in the northern part of Nova Scotia, and a trip to the Annapolis Valley for clock hunting is always a pleasure on an early fall day. It’s one of the province’s most beautiful regions — a mix of rolling hills, orchards, small farms, and picturesque little towns that always seem to welcome you back. Our destination this time was the town of Berwick, nestled right in the heart of the valley. It’s one of those places where time moves just a little more slowly — fitting, perhaps, for the clock that awaited us there.

_{Ansonia short drop} _{schoolhouse-style clock}

We had planned the trip beforehand, arranging to meet the seller at an agreed-upon time. The seller welcomed us warmly into his home and soon began to share the clock’s story. The clock had been in his family for over fifty years. “I never actually saw it running,” he said with a smile, “but my mother really loved that clock.” His mother had recently passed away, and he was in the midst of settling her estate. It was clear that selling the clock was not easy for him — it held sentimental value, as many family clocks do, but he knew it was time to let things go.

He told me that an antique dealer had been through the house earlier and offered one price for each room. “The clock alone was worth more than what he offered for one whole room,” he said, shaking his head. I could tell he wanted it to go to someone who would truly appreciate it. I promised it would be cared for and restored.

He believed the clock had come from an old schoolhouse in Ontario, decommissioned sometime in the 1950s, though its exact location has been lost to time. One can imagine it ticking away the hours for many years in that classroom.

The pine case is in lovely condition with only minor issues. Around the center of the dial, near the winding holes, some paint has been added — likely an attempt to cover small stains from decades of oily fingers winding and adjusting the clock.

Time only movement for a wall clock — _{Time only movement}

The clock is an Ansonia octagonal short drop, often referred to as a schoolhouse clock. I’d place its manufacture around the turn of the 20th century — likely between 1900 and 1912. The number “12” is stamped on the movement, which may represent the year, though it could also just be a batch mark. The faint Ansonia trademark is still visible, and the letters “TT” are stamped nearby. This was my first Ansonia, and it’s always a thrill to study a new movement up close.

One issue quickly revealed itself: the hour hand bushing was missing. The bushing provides the necessary friction fit with the cannon pinion, and without it, the hand simply spins. I suspect that’s why the clock was deemed “not working.” Someone probably thought the movement was faulty when, in fact, it was just missing this small part. Fortunately, it’s an easy fix that can be done with a replacement or a handmade bushing.

Testing in the case — _{Dial removed, showing the movement and its curious slope to the left}

When I examined the pendulum, I noticed something curious — small pieces of a rotted elastic band on the rod just below the suspension spring. Why it was there, I have no idea. Perhaps someone thought it would steady the pendulum, or maybe it was part of an old improvised repair. These little mysteries often make clock restoration interesting.

After a minor adjustment — a slight bend of the crutch to bring the clock into beat — it began ticking steadily. There’s minimal wear visible, which was confirmed when I removed the movement for a full cleaning and inspection.

Much has been written about the Ansonia Clock Company, once one of the great names in American clockmaking. The company went into receivership just before the 1929 stock market crash — a sign of difficult times ahead. The machinery and dies were later sold to a Russian company, marking the end of an era. It’s always a little sad to think that such a remarkable chapter in horological history closed that way. Clocks bearing the Ansonia name are still sold today, but the name on the dial bears no real connection to the company that once was.

When the new hands arrived in the mail, the final touches were complete. The hour hand came with a proper bushing and fit perfectly on the cannon. The clock, fully serviced now, runs beautifully — a fine old Ansonia, rescued from dormancy and restored to life. It’s now proudly ticking away on my daughter’s office wall in Alberta, keeping time as faithfully as it did more than a century ago.

November 17, 2025 2

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

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

Safely Using Brasso: Polishing Tips for Antique And Vintage Clock Collectors

After retiring from active duty, my father continued to serve in a reserve unit for several years. As a child, I still remember the formal occasions that called for his ceremonial uniform, when every detail had to be perfect. Before heading out, he would sit down with a tin of Brasso and a soft cotton cloth, patiently polishing each brass button and his service medals until they gleamed. The smell of the polish and the steady rhythm of his work became part of the ritual, a quiet reminder of the pride he carried in his service to Canada.

My father trusted Brasso, and so did many who regarded it as a reliable metal polish, valued for its ability to restore the shine to brass and copper.

Yet, as effective as it is, using Brasso without care can do more harm than good. Antique clock collectors, in particular, should be cautious since many valuable parts can lose their patina or protective finish if polished too aggressively.

Read The Instructions

When using Brasso, it is important to start with restraint. Less is more! Always read the instructions on the label and, if possible, test it on a small hidden section before committing to polishing the entire surface. Apply it sparingly with a soft cloth, working in gentle circular motions. Ensure you are in a well-ventilated space, as the fumes can be strong for some. Once the polish has done its job, buff thoroughly with a clean cloth to remove any residue and bring up the shine.

For detailed work, I use cotton swabs, which are excellent for accessing tight spaces.

A Word Of Warning

What you should not do is just as important. Brasso should never be applied to lacquered, painted, or plated surfaces, as it will strip away the finish and expose the bare metal. Special caution is needed with brass bezels around painted dials—Brasso will eat through the paint very quickly (yes, I know from experience). It should also be avoided on plastics, wood, and gemstones, as it can permanently scratch or stain them.

Some time ago, I purchased an U. M. Muller box clock. Everything about it was perfect except for the dial. A small section of paint was missing, likely the result of someone attempting to clean it with an abrasive cleaner (photo below). This is exactly the kind of damage Brasso can cause on a dial.

Immersing objects in Brasso is also not recommended—the product is made for surface polishing, not soaking. If you are working with thin layers of gold or silver plating, Brasso is too aggressive and will wear them away over time. Finally, don’t leave residue behind; always wipe the parts clean to prevent streaks or uneven tarnish from developing later.

Clock cases, dials, and movement parts often have lacquer, plating, or original patinas that Brasso can irreversibly damage. The very character of an old clock—its aged glow or mellow surface tone—can be lost with a single overzealous polishing. In horology, a gentle hand is usually best. Cleaning and preservation are preferable to aggressive polishing, especially if the clock has historic or sentimental value.

_{Tarnished weight on the left,} _{polished weight on the right}

Using Brasso brings back the shine, but it’s only temporary. No matter how well it’s polished, brass will eventually react with its surroundings and tarnish again.

_{Brass weights and pendulum polished on a 1970s Hermle wall clock}

Since Brasso contains ammonia, avoid skin contact, and rinse thoroughly with water if it gets into your eyes.

Safer Alternatives

If you are hesitant about using Brasso, there are safer alternatives. Mild soap and warm water can often remove surface grime without damaging the finish. I often used diluted Murphy’s Soap as an effective general cleaner. A simple mixture of vinegar, salt, and flour is a time-honored homemade polish that is less abrasive. For light cleaning, microfiber cloths can work wonders, often restoring a soft luster without the need for any chemicals at all.

A Wide Variety Of Cleaners

Commercial products such as Maas, Wright’s Brass Polish, Flitz, Twinkle, or Simichrome are also designed to clean metals while being gentler on delicate surfaces. I have not used these products myself, but I know several clock repairers who vouch for them. Personally, Brasso has always worked as expected.

The Science Of Brasso

When you apply Brasso, you’re essentially removing oxidation, dirt, and surface tarnish with abrasives and solvents. The surface looks bright afterward, but it isn’t “sealed.” Over time, the copper in the brass reacts with oxygen, moisture, and even substances in the air like sulfur compounds. This leads to the gradual formation of oxides and sulfides — the brownish tarnish we recognize.

Unless you coat the polished brass with a protective barrier such as lacquer, wax, or a clear sealant, this reaction is inevitable. Most brass weights in vintage tall-case clocks are coated with lacquer, but handling them over time allows sweat to eat through the lacquer, causing the weights to tarnish. Use cotton gloves when handling lacquered weights.

Within my circle of clock enthusiasts, there is plenty of debate about the use of Brasso, with both positive and negative claims. For me, however, Brasso remains the preferred product for cleaning brass. Although Brasso remains a useful product, it is not the only choice and not always the best one. The key is to use restraint, and when in doubt, take the gentlest approach possible.

There are times when the best polish for a cherished object is simply to leave its history, patina, and character intact.

October 6, 2025 4

Your Clock Has Stopped | Follow These First 5 Steps Before Calling A Clock Repairer

There are few things more frustrating for an antique or vintage clock owner than when a favorite clock suddenly stops. Mechanical clocks are intricate machines, but that doesn’t always mean the problem is complicated. In fact, many stoppages are caused by small, simple issues that can be corrected at home without tools or technical expertise.

Before you assume the worst or take your clock to a repair shop, here are 5 things you can do yourself to have your clock ticking again.

1. Is the Clock Wound?

It may sound obvious, but the most common reason a clock stops is simply that it has run down. Spring-driven clocks need their mainsprings wound fully with a key, while weight-driven clocks require the weights to be raised. All mechanical clocks require power to operate. Simply put, if the clock is not wound, it cannot run — so always begin here before moving on to more complex possibilities.

_{Winding arbors on a Seth Thomas mantel clock (arrows)}

2. Is the Clock Level and in Beat?

Pendulum clocks must be in beat to function properly. Being “in beat” means that the tick and tock are evenly spaced in time. If the case is leaning or the crutch (the arm that drives the pendulum) is out of position, the pendulum will quickly stall. Place the clock on a level surface and listen carefully: if the tick and tock sound uneven, adjust the clock slightly to the left or right until the beat evens out. Sometimes, fine adjustments to the crutch are necessary, but often leveling the case is all it takes.

Unless your wall clock is anchored, simply moving the case very slightly left or right and listening for an even beat is all that’s required.

3. Is the Pendulum Free to Swing?

The pendulum is the heart of your clock, and it must swing freely without interference. Check that the suspension spring is straight and properly seated, not twisted or bent. Make sure the pendulum bob is not rubbing against the backboard, striking the chime rods, or touching the bottom of the case. Any sort of rubbing will affect the swing of the pendulum, thereby robbing the clock of power. The smallest obstruction can rob the pendulum of momentum and bring the clock to a halt.

Clocks with a floating balance or a hairspring escapement are popular with some collectors since they continue running even when the surface isn’t perfectly level.

_{A mantel clock movement showing the pendulum}

4. Are the Hands Binding?

Sometimes the problem lies not with the movement but with the clock hands. If the hour and minute hands are rubbing against each other, or if the minute hand is scraping against the dial or the glass, the train can be stopped entirely. If the clock stops at a specific time every 12 hours, hands that are interfering with each other are likely the culprit. Inspect the hands carefully and make sure there is a little clearance between them. A gentle outward bend is usually all that’s needed to free them.

_{Any one of the four hands on this clock can cause interference}

5. Is the Movement Dirty or Dry?

Mechanical clocks rely on clean pivots and fresh oil. Over time, old oil becomes gummy and collects dust, creating friction that will eventually stop the clock. If you notice dry or blackened pivot holes, sticky residue, or an overall grimy look to the movement, then lack of servicing is likely the culprit. Gummed-up oil in the mainspring coils can also cause the springs to appear as if they are glued together. Some people incorrectly refer to this condition as a clock that is “over-wound”.

When I first examine a newly purchased clock that does not run, I carefully release the mainspring’s power and then attempt to run the movement. If it runs, that tells me the mainsprings require servicing. At this point, the clock will need a complete cleaning and oiling by a qualified repairer.

Very dirty movement — _{A very dirty movement}

Conclusion: When Simple Fixes Aren’t Enough

If you have checked these five areas and your clock still refuses to run, the cause is almost certainly deeper and more complex. Worn pivot holes, tired mainsprings, bent teeth, or other mechanical issues may be at fault — problems that cannot be corrected with quick at-home adjustments. A clock movement may appear clean, yet still be quite worn — something you can’t always detect without disassembly.

The good news is that your clock is very likely repairable, but it will require the attention of an experienced clockmaker. By ruling out these simple issues first, you’ll know with confidence when it’s time to seek professional help, and you may just save yourself a service call.

September 15, 2025 3

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

The Arthur Pequegnat Regulator No. 1: A Canadian Collector’s Dream

Clock face Arthur Pequegnat Canadian Time clock

One clock that’s high on my wish list is the Arthur Pequegnat Regulator No. 1. It’s a single-weight, 8-day, time-only wall clock, and it’s a rare one. Every so often I’ll see one for sale, but the price tags are usually well out of my reach—for now, anyway.

Pequegnat as a clock company was Canada’s answer to the big American clockmakers, especially Seth Thomas. Their wall clocks often borrowed design cues from their U.S. counterparts, but Pequegnat also came up with some distinctive styles of their own. One thing they were known for was their use of quarter-sawn white oak. If you’ve ever seen the way the ray flecks shimmer in that wood, you’ll know why collectors admire it so much.

The Regulator No. 1 is often compared to the Seth Thomas Regulator No. 2. While Seth Thomas sold thousands of #2s into schools, offices, and railway stations across America, Pequegnat’s No. 1 didn’t reach the same production numbers. But here in Canada, it served the same purpose—and today it’s one of the most sought-after Pequegnat models. In fact, a well-preserved example will usually bring twice the price of a similar American regulator.

The photo below of the Regulator No. 1 was taken at The Canadian Clock Museum in Deep River, Ontario, back in 2013.

The Pequegnat Story

Arthur Pequegnat was born in Switzerland in 1851 and came to Berlin, Ontario (now Kitchener) in 1874 along with his wife, parents, brothers, and sisters—a total of 18 family members. By the late 1870s, he was running a jewelry and watch repair shop, and before long, he and his brother Paul were in business together in Berlin. After about a decade, they each went their separate ways, both staying in the jewelry trade.

In 1897, Arthur took a bit of a detour and started making bicycles. That worked well for a few years, but as the market declined, he pivoted once again. By 1904, he was using his bicycle factory to make clock movements, marking the start of Canada’s best-known clockmaking venture. At first, local furniture makers supplied the cases, but Arthur eventually brought case production in-house.

One detail that helps date Pequegnat clocks is the town name. Berlin, Ontario, was renamed Kitchener in 1916 because of anti-German sentiment during the First World War. So, if a dial or movement is stamped Berlin, you know it’s pre-1916. If it’s marked Kitchener, it’s from 1916 or later. Of course, since many models were made for years, you’ll only get an approximate date—but it’s still a handy clue.

Arthur passed away in 1927, but his family continued to run the company until 1941. When brass became scarce during the war, production stopped and never started up again. The factory was demolished in 1964, and today all that’s left is a commemorative plaque in Kitchener—fitting recognition of Canada’s most famous clockmaker.

Where to See Pequegnats Today

If you want to see Pequegnats in person, The Canadian Clock Museum in Deep River is the place to go. They have the largest collection in the country, and it’s well worth the trip.

On the East Coast, the Macdonald Museum in Middleton, Nova Scotia, has a smaller but very nice display too.

My Own Collecting Dream

For me, the Regulator No. 1 is about as good as it gets in Canadian wall clocks. Is it the best Canadian clock ever made? No, it has its faults, but it’s got the look, the history, and the craftsmanship that make it stand out. I can’t quite justify the price of one right now (my wallet insists on reminding me of that), but that’s part of the fun of collecting—dreaming about the ones that might join the collection someday.

Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll stumble across a Regulator No. 1 tucked away in an antique shop or sitting quietly at an auction, waiting for the right bidder. Until then, it stays on my wish list—one of those “holy grail” clocks that keeps the hunt exciting.

August 25, 2025 3

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.

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

Top 6 Locations to Avoid for Antique Clock Placement

Kienzle clock on display with Ingraham Huron

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

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

A.G.U. Lenzkirch: Rare Opportunity to Own a Historic Clock Trademark

_Over the years, I’ve explored countless stories tied to the world of horology, but few carry the prestige, legacy, and craftsmanship of A.G.U. Lenzkirch, one of the oldest and most respected German clockmaking brands. While there is much more to say about this iconic name, I’ve prepared a brief summary—based on information provided by brand owner Jens of the Jens German Company—highlighting its rich history and significance in the world of fine clockmaking.

In an era when heritage brands are being revived and newly appreciated, the A.G.U. Lenzkirch trademark is now available for purchase. For those with vision—whether launching a new line of precision clocks or watches, honoring the legacy of Black Forest clockmakers, or building a collection rooted in history—this is a rare opportunity to own a name synonymous with excellence.

Serious offers are welcome. While past estimates placed the brand’s value between EUR 50,000 and EUR 80,000, Jens believes a more reasonable and fair offer can be negotiated. Naturally, any transfer of ownership must be completed formally through a lawyer or notary.

If you’re interested in acquiring this historic trademark, feel free to reach out with your offer. You can contact Jens through me. Perhaps, like me, you’ll recognize the potential to breathe new life into a name that once set the standard for German clockmaking.

This is a unique opportunity—one that doesn’t come around often.

The Lenzkirch Story

Aktiengesellschaft für Uhrenfabrikation Lenzkirch (Public Company for Lenzkirch) was founded in 1851 in the village of Lenzkirch in Baden by Eduard Hauser, who had trained in France and Switzerland. The company carried on the tradition of Black Forest clockmakers. Hauser, the son of a teacher, was born on August 21, 1825, and gained experience building music boxes under Johann George Schopperle. During this period, he developed skills in metalworking, precision mechanics, musical instrument design, and even music composition.

_{A catalog selection of regulator clocks}

The firm became renowned for producing exceptionally fine regulators. Well into the 1920s, Lenzkirch was still crafting precision movements with compensated pendulums. Junghans eventually acquired the company, and the factory closed in 1932, a casualty of the collapsed wall regulator market.

Company History

The Beginning of a Clock Empire

Aktiengesellschaft für Uhrenfabrikation in Lenzkirch was the oldest clock factory among the Black Forest manufacturers. Founded by clockmaker Eduard Hauser and Ignaz Schopperle, a mechanical organ maker, the company began in 1849 in a modest workshop producing clock parts. These were sent to clockmakers for final assembly, a shift from the traditional practice where clockmakers produced every part by hand.

Hauser and Schopperle aimed to introduce “serial assembly,” delivering compact, machined, and pre-assembled clock movements to clockmakers. This innovation marked a turning point in horological manufacturing.

The Growth of the Company

Hauser soon employed 14 workers using hand-driven flywheel lathes and other tools. He invested heavily in machinery, draining much of his capital, and faced payroll and operational expenses without a robust marketing network or distribution plan. Growth was slow.

On August 31, 1851, Hauser approached Franz Joseph Faller, Joseph Wiest, Nikolaus Rogg, and the brothers Johann Nikolaus and Paul Tritscheller. Together, they officially formed Aktiengesellschaft für Uhrenfabrikation in Lenzkirch. In 1865, their brother Albert Tritscheller joined to study international clockmaking practices. With new financial support and strong management, Lenzkirch flourished. Powered by two steam engines and equipped with a gold and silver plating shop and a tool-and-die workshop, the company achieved remarkable technical excellence. Secrecy was paramount—Hauser famously covered machinery with linen sheets to protect trade secrets from visitors.

_{Lenzkirch patent, 1881 for a gong support bracket}

Delivering Clocks Becomes a Challenge

Eventually, Lenzkirch began full in-house movement assembly, with wooden cases imported and finished at the factory. The company’s reputation soared with the introduction of its German regulator, which won numerous awards in 1860–61. The Viennese-style wall regulator also gained popularity. The firm invested in R&D to develop durable mainsprings, both for its own clocks and others.

However, transporting the growing volume of finished clocks became a major obstacle. Franz Joseph Faller, fluent in several languages, launched an aggressive marketing and distribution campaign. He circulated catalogs, sent representatives to international expos, and opened offices in Florence and Venice. But operations remained based in the Black Forest.

After years of lobbying, Faller secured a railway extension to Lenzkirch, and on May 21, 1887, the first train arrived. Tragically, during the celebration, Faller suffered a fatal stroke moments after delivering the welcoming speech.

The Rise and Fall of Lenzkirch

For over 80 years, the Lenzkirch Clock Factory employed thousands who took pride in its renowned craftsmanship. At its peak, the factory had over 600 workers and contributed to making Lenzkirch a wealthy town synonymous with high-quality Black Forest clocks.

Lenzkirch was also a pioneer in employee benefits. In 1858, it began offering medical insurance and a disaster relief fund. Despite economic downturns and the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, the company maintained its commitment to quality.

Yet competition grew. New firms with modern equipment and better capital reserves began to outpace Lenzkirch. The company, still operating with mid-19th-century equipment, struggled to adapt. In 1928, the Junghans brothers proposed a merger. The factory was dissolved in August 1929 and functioned as a Junghans satellite until 1932, before being sold to a beauty salon equipment manufacturer in 1933.

Even today, Lenzkirch clocks remain highly collectible. Many are listed on eBay and through antique dealers and auction houses worldwide. Known for their quality and precision, Lenzkirch clocks continue to capture the attention of horology enthusiasts. The company ultimately sold over 1,000,000 clocks, with each movement stamped on the back as a testament to its legacy.

Disclaimer | My Role in the Sale

If you have further questions concerning the sale, I can pass them on to Jens.

As I mentioned, if you’re interested in acquiring this historic trademark, feel free to reach out with your offer.

However, I want to make it clear that I have no personal interest in profiting from the sale of this brand. As I’ve mentioned to Jens, my role here is simply to help him amplify this information and share it with readers of this blog. There may be someone among you, or someone you know, who would be genuinely interested in acquiring and preserving this prestigious and historic clock brand.

June 27, 2025 1

The Empire Gallery Clock: Built to Impress

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

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

The Company

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

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

Empire was actually a model name used by this firm.

So, the clock is from the Empire 150 series.

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

Interestingly, the company made fusee wall clocks as well.

Features of this Clock

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

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

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

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

_{Grimshaw, Baxter, and J. J. Elliott} _{gallery clock called the Empire}

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

_{A well-made movement designed to last, pendulum is secured in place}

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

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

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

June 20, 2025 1

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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

**The Clocks We Don’t See**