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Build a Watch: Thank a Watchmaker
News
Build a Watch: Thank a Watchmaker
I’m not a watchmaker, but I played one in Las Vegas. I traveled there to build a watch in a class sponsored by the American Watchmakers and Clockmakers Institute (AWCI). And contrary to the saying, what I did in Vegas did not stay in Vegas. I was assembling a mechanical watch and taking it home. AWCI was capitalizing on the abundance of watch-related events in Sin City in early June to offer this build-a-watch class to people like me.
I call myself a geek because I read a lot about watches and write about them too. I meet with friends to talk about watches. I do additional work to buy watches. But really, I’m a normal guy and my wife and kids thought my trip to build a watch would be an early Father’s Day event too. It seemed fitting since my earliest watch-related memories are of my dad. I sat on the floor of his company’s darkroom lab as he processed black-and-white film, and all I could see was the illumination of the hands on his Wyler watch. I still have that watch, and I cherish the memories that surround it. We all seem to come to the Watch Altar by some emotional connection to our past or a deep curiosity of the micromachines that mark our passage of time.
I was one of six students who traveled from Atlanta, Vancouver, Chicago and Birmingham for the six-hour build-a-watch class. When I arrived at the hotel suite on the 45th floor, we greeted each other, did a wrist-check to see what watch we were wearing, and took our seats. Our class was made up of enthusiasts and collectors like me. Some brought their spouses. Two of us had our spouses’ blessing.
Our two instructors were smart, patient, family-guys who have been professionally trained in every aspect of watchmaking, and their quiet and steady demeanor might also be found in medicine or ministry professions. One had a goatee and bow tie, and the other had a ponytail. Both had an Apple Watch on their right wrists, and a mechanical watch on their left. Their two watches might be a picture of how they embrace the mechanical and digital world in which we live.
Our class began like you’d expect. There was a PowerPoint that slowly introduced us to the process and parts. We had to learn how to walk before we ran. They explained how you hold the tweezers. They showed how the color of the screwdriver corresponds to a screw size. They mandated that the finger cots go on your index finger and thumb. These basic steps kept us from leaving marks and damaging the watch parts and preserving the delicate structure.
In front of us was a small plastic box that looked like a pill box with a week’s worth of prescriptions. Instead of pills, it was filled with the parts of my ETA 6497 watch movement.
We installed the escape wheel and the third, fourth and center wheels before we got our first lesson in lubricating the pivots, the points of friction for the metal parts.
Our first functional test was to make sure the train of wheels could spin. As simple as this seemed, it was an accomplishment and a joy to see these three tiny Ferris wheels spin in unison. We all looked up at each other and smiled like we just got a call from an authorized dealer telling us a new watch had arrived.
The watch parts could spin, but they needed an energy source. The barrel was next and oiling the arbor pivot was easier said than done. Again, the drops of lubricant required were so small. The instructors pointed out that if bought in a barrel like the ones holding crude oil, the oil we are using would cost $200,000.
Working small was hard. Working carefully was my challenge. I had most of the movement assembled and had to install the balance bridge, which holds the balance and hairspring. The hairspring is the Slinky-like spring we all like to see turning in the back of a watch. I used my Plexi-stick to press the bridge onto the base and suddenly the hairspring coil jumped onto the table and wrapped around its bridge. And, just like that, I had damaged the part.
The instructor quickly assessed the tangle and deemed the hairspring too far gone. Within a few minutes, I had another part, and, with shaky hands, I was installing the replacement part in the same spot. I can’t imagine how traumatic this would have been if it had been a rare movement and the replacement parts in very short supply.
Through the rest of the night, we completed lubrication and installation of the dial washer — or cowboy hat as we called it — and we finally took a break. At dinner, we selected one of three dial designs and laughed about our work and wondered if some of us could catch our flights out that night.
I’ve gotten to know a number of watchmakers in the last few years through AWCI. I’m fascinated by their path to a profession that continues after hundreds of years even though modern-day Uber drivers think it is unnecessary. Despite the indifference from some, the interest in these micromachines continues to grow. AWCI knows this and continues its work to certify and train its members as well as enthusiasts, with classes planned for the rest of this year in Austin, Dearborn and Chicago.
My new, hand-assembled watch is keeping time, but that’s not the reason I traveled across the country. I don’t wear it for accuracy. I wear mechanical watches because they engage me by making me wind them, set them and maintain them. They also connect me to stories, experiences and people in my life.