We occasionally went downtown for live theater in the evening, and this was a big event. But on occasion while Father was working he would lose a small part—it would flip away into the living room. This would then become a hands-and-knees operation, with magnets and flashlights and brush and pan. As one can imagine, any theater visit planned for that night was usually spoiled by this event. Sometimes we found the item before evening’s end, and other times it would turn up at the top of the stairs a few days later. Stress was part of this work! Some of my tasks involved going to a supply house in Clerkenwell to buy various parts and supplies such as mainsprings, cleaning brushes, and possibly some of the simpler tools. Other errands consisted of taking work to the nice German lady dial painter. She did wonderful work, and I should have asked her how she did it. We had loose ties with the jewelry trade, of course, but did not take such work on any regular basis. However, I did take items such as large silver vases for expert polishing and lacquering, or perhaps a ring for resizing. Despite the difficulties that my father experienced, I don’t want to paint a picture of continual misery. Hopefully the word images that I have created for you portray a hard-working person who lifted himself from depressing surroundings to become a respected member of a worthy trade. Recalling the Watchmaker’s BenchFirst, my father’s watchmaking bench is located in a quiet area of our living room and in an alcove, so if a spring “flips” away we know more or less where to look—or at least where to start looking. Father sits on a chair with a back because he needs to rest after working without a break on one piece. The bench height is such that he will not have to bend his neck much; thus the benchtop is level with the middle of his chest when he is seated, and his arms can have full motion. He must be able to reach everything on the bench without much motion. A white apron is attached to his body by a loop over his head and is fastened to the ends of the bench by two small loops attached to hooks. The apron is tied around his waist by means of two laces and thus forms a flexible catching region for hand tools if they must be dropped into it, and so they can be easily retrieved with little motion. The benchtop is approximately four feet wide by two-and-one-half feet in depth. A lamp with a flexible neck provides illumination. The front edge of the bench has a low-profile smooth ridge in order to prevent tools from toppling into the apron and to allow the watchmaker’s wrists to rest on the edge without pain. The apron is spread over the benchtop when not in use. The wood from which the bench is made (satin walnut) is soft and without visible grain. The bench does not rest on legs but is attached to the alcove walls. An eight-by-ten-inch piece of white paper forms the immediate work area, with a small corrugated tray to place screws and other small parts in, for easy retrieval. A lathe is attached to front left of the benchtop and can be swiveled away when not in use. A storage chest for larger tools, brushes, and other items is bolted to the right underside of the bench. A pocket watch is fixed permanently within easy view and is used for all timing references. Various tools such as the poising tool, tweezers, and screwdrivers are scattered within easy reach. A small vise is located to the right, also within easy reach. At first, cleaning was done by brushing each watch part after disassembly—but this created a messy bench. Later Father had a watch-cleaning device consisting of two glass containers, one containing a soft-soap solution and the other trichlorethelynr. The watch parts were contained in a small basket which was rotated in the solutions by an electric motor. The parts were dried finally by rotation in a heated chamber. Other items that we see on the benchtop include a spirit lamp (methylated spirits) used to melt shellac and to heat and temper small parts; a small covered oil container; various tweezers and screwdrivers; a boxed set of punches with the anvil; a boxwood block; a small pin vise; in the earlier days a small block of hard chalk for cleaning plates with a brush; a container with benzene; a small wood box containing sawdust for dropping in hairsprings to dry; two very small hammers; a small pocket knife; pegwood for cleaning jewel holes; eyeglasses (the loupe is held only in the right eye), a 5-mm-diameter magnetic compass to check whether the balance is magnetized and needs demagnetizing. In the chest on the right side, under the bench and easily reached, we find: in the upper right eight small drawers containing many glass-topped containers with small parts from other watches, screws, a collection of palette stones, and jewels and end pieces. Middle drawers contain small tools—broaches, files, very small drills, and burnishing tools for use with the burnishing turns. Lower drawers contain larger hand tools—pliers, various gauges, etc. A large bottom drawer contains chamois leather and a box of rouge. I recall the bench setup well, because after failing health forced my father to work at home, one of my daily tasks was to clear up his bench and to place the tools in their correct locations. |
Born in London in 1925, James Watson attended Northampton Engineering College, which is now City College. He obtained EE degrees and served in World War II in the Home Guard and for a short time in the RAF. Control systems became a lasting interest; he worked as a missile control designer at British Aircraft Corp. Mr. Watson moved to Canada and then the United States some 40 years ago for a more dynamic engineering work environment. His career achievements include: an Apollo mission simulator at Cape Kennedy, servomechanisms controlling missile tracking antennas, missile guidance platforms at Litton, and finally, navigation systems at Sperry. The study of the motion and control of practical devices has always interested him, and now it involves using the PC to model the math—a wonderful ride! Mr. Watson may be reached at jdwats@earthlink.net |