Back in 2013 I began paying attention to my health metrics a bit when I started wearing a Fitbit Flex. I found I enjoyed ‘keeping track’ of basic data and I upgraded that to a Fitbit Charge HR in 2015 to add my heart rate to what I was collecting. None of this particularly encouraged me to ‘improve’ my health, but at least I was able to keep an eye on some basics. Along the way I started looking at the Apple Watch, but the Fitbit was working well enough for my purpose so I held off.
I started to notice some hiccups with my Charge HR this year: the battery wasn’t holding its charge very well, and there were some cracks appearing in the display. Nothing serious- it was still working fine. But I decided I’d take this as an opportunity to upgrade to the ‘next’ version of the Apple Watch. Apple shipped the Apple Watch 7 on October 15, and I got mine delivered on October 22. Now I’m drowning in data: my first impressions follow.
My most recent clock family member arrived on Thursday. It is one that I plan on keeping: a mid-19th century (sometime before 1853) “ogee” style clock made by the Chauncey Jerome factory in New Haven, Connecticut:
I’m getting another round of bits and pieces together in order to work on the next clock repair challenge in front of me: a circa-1915 mahogany-veneered Ansonia time/strike mantle clock.
Working on this clock is like two separate projects in one: a wood restoration project for the case, and a mechanical rebuild for the clock mechanism itself. And this duality will be true of the majority of the clocks I work on going forward: I like wood mantle clocks more than I like the “figural” or the “stone” cased clocks. So that means I need to learn some things that would be familiar to an antique furniture restorer.
One of the things I need to learn is how to deal with putting a broken case back together, and how to restore the finish. Since these clocks were made something on the order of a century ago, that means dealing with materials and methods that are different from how things are done today. Two big differences: glues and coatings.
Modern glues involve all sorts of plastics and fancy chemicals. They can bond two pieces of wood together so that the bond is stronger than the wood itself- this is great for something that is intended to last at most one generation. Older glues were mostly organic: gelatin, or hide glue, is the most common- it creates a fairly strong bond, but no where near as strong as a modern glue.
Unfortunately, any wood that lasts more than a couple of decades will shift, shrink, dry excessively, and expand with time: in old clocks, this puts stress on those weak glue joints, and that’s what breaks down. In newer clocks, the wood itself usually breaks: the idea is, at that point you throw the item away and buy a new one. With the old pieces of furniture, including old clock cases, the idea is that you re-glue, and use the piece for another generation or two. The old hide glues facilitate this: with heat and moisture, you can return the glue to its original “soft” state, allowing you to remove it/reseat it. Further, unlike modern glues, hide glue can adhere to hide glue so your cleanup doesn’t have to be perfect. Modern glues, on the other hand, require harsh chemicals to “unbond” or remove, causing damage to surrounding finishes and even the wood itself… and if you fail to thoroughly clean the old glue away, the new adhesive won’t bond very well.
I've put my clock repair self-education "on hold" the last month or so. A few things led to this: need for parts and tools: my first and second clock both…
I picked what I thought would be the least complicated clock to work on first. This circa 1913 Gilbert “gilt No. 115” clock has a simple time-only mechanism. Unfortunately for me, it is a small and “cheap” (mass produced) clock, meaning the thick brass and large pivots found in some of the other “fancier” clocks are replaced with pot metal and tiny parts that aren’t really made for easy repair.
What follows is sort of a journal of my experiences thus far in working on this clock. For anyone who doesn’t have at least a passing interest in clocks, it is probably advisable to skip reading the rest of this post. The short story: I successfully disassembled, cleaned, repaired the main problem, and re-assembled the clock. It still doesn’t work properly, and I’ve found at least one additional problem that I will have to fix later.
Folks following my twitters, which appear conveniently on the left side of my web page, will possibly have noted that I mentioned buying some “broken” clocks.
I’ve won two of the “broken clock” ebay auctions I’ve bid on: I may live to regret this…1:23 AM Jul 5thfrom TweetGenius
I’ve actually won five out of five auctions, achieving my objective of establishing a collection of various abused antique timepieces. Why would any sane person want broken clocks? Your first mistake is use of the word “sane” in reference to me. But I’ll try my best to explain what is going on here, since there is some logic to what I’m doing.
A few weeks ago I decided to start setting up a little place in the house where I can work on fiddling with clock mechanisms. I have discovered that there is some sort of strange and mysterious aura surrounding what I had originally thought was a humble and simple to acquire item: a suitable workbench.
My “new” antique clock stopped running today. This doesn’t surprise me a lot- it has travelled half way around the world, and it is pretty old, so it being a bit out of sorts is somewhat expected. But I had some learning to do in order to figure out what was going on, and to see if it could be “fixed” without major challenges. I’ve collected some of what I found here for future reference.
