The Joys of a Real Clock

Until about a week ago, I never had a real clock. Don't get me wrong, I use time pieces all the time; my cell phone wakes me up every morning, a digital clock sits blinking on my desk, I wear a watch to class every day, and the clocks on my computer screen and cable box are dead accurate and always in view. But all of those are missing something distinctly clock-like. They don't tick. 

That never occurred to me until I bought an old Big Ben alarm clock. It's old and beat up, but there's just something charming about it. I paid ten dollars for it and just assumed that the seller was telling the truth when he attached the "still works" tag. Mary Ruth was with me, and she'd heard of the brand before. She's right about practically everything, so I ponied up and bought it.

I showed the clock to Mary Ruth's father, and was taken aback when he he told me "You'll have to get used to the ticking." I hadn't thought of that. But when I got home and fully wound it (also a first for me), I was amazed at how ridiculously loud the thing was. I freaked out when I heard it from the back seat of my car. Mary Ruth had wound it without my knowing, and the damn thing sounded like a car bomb. It sounds like a little metronome always set for 4/4 cut time. Twenty-four hours a day. Seven days a week. But oddly enough, I like it. It's like a perfect white noise machine, even if it doesn't keep time very well. When I wind it  every night, it manages to to be anywhere from  five to fifteen minutes behind.

I suppose I like it so much because it has character, which is more than I can say of the other clocks I use. A long-dead bug has somehow managed to get itself wedged between the the two front plates, the brass is tarnished, the beige paint is chipping, it wobbles on its base, the second hand doesn't work, and a former owner named Roy carved his name and a smiley face on the bottom. Sure, the mummified bug creeps me out and it'd be nice if the second hand worked. But I'm a convert. You haven't really had a clock until you've had one that really ticks.


Now for a little historical background, Big Ben clocks were made by a company called Westclox from 1909 to 2001. There are ten distinct styles; mine is a number eight, which dates from 1964-1981. Mine is pretty obviously from the early part of that span. I could tell you the exact date down to the month it was made in. That is, I could tell you if I could remove the housing. But I'm armed only with my stubby nails and a bobby pin and I'm not MacGyver , so I can't. However, someone who is more mechanically minded could easily find it. Westclox stamped the month, year, and sometimes the day on the back of the movement. I was able to date mine pretty well as a style eight just by looking at the diagrams I found online.


By the way, if you buy one with a luminous dial you probably don't want to take it apart. Back then the luminosity was created by painting the dial with radium. Just sitting there it's totally fine, but not surprisingly, some of the people who had the lousy job of painting with radium got cancer. All that to say, it's fine to own one, just don't take it apart and lick the movement or anything. And even if it's lost its luminescence, it's still radioactive. The half life of radium lasts far longer than its glow in the dark properties.


For more information on Westclox Big Ben, visit http://clockhistory.com/westclox/products/ben/index.html.


Always, 
Callie