The Clock Restorer Who Reads Time Backwards

Jonathan Betts, former Senior Specialist in Horology at the Royal Observatory Greenwich, has spent his career working backwards through time by deconstructing mechanisms that once defined it. Dismantling a seventeenth-century longcase clock, he reads its history in reverse: later modifications reveal first, the original maker's work emerging last, like an archaeologist excavating downward.

A clock restorer's first task is diagnosis requiring understanding not just the mechanism before them but the entire lineage that preceded it. A verge escapement behaves differently from an anchor escapement, which differs from a deadbeat. Each innovation improved accuracy but introduced specific failure modes the restorer must recognise.

The materials present unique challenges. Brass work-hardens over time and can become brittle at pivot points. Steel components rust if exposed to moisture. Lead-tin solder joints creep under sustained loads. Each failure tells a story about the clock's environment and care over its lifetime.

Restoration ethics mirror other conservation disciplines. The restorer preserves as much original material as possible, clearly marks new components, and documents work in detail. A wheel replaced in a previous century has become part of the clock's history and may be preserved even if not original.

The reference case for restoration ethics in Britain sits in Greenwich. John Harrison's marine timekeepers H1 to H3 were restored to running order by Rupert Gould across the 1920s and 1930s, work Betts documented in Time Restored, published in 2006. H4, the watch that settled the longitude problem, is deliberately kept unwound. Running it would wear original surfaces that cannot be replaced, and the museum judged the information lost greater than the pleasure of seeing it tick.

The sound of a properly restored clock is diagnostic. The tick should be even and confident, with a consistent interval signalling correct escapement geometry. The strike should be clean and resonant. A restorer listens to a clock as a doctor listens to a heartbeat.

There is one past repair whose evidence any owner can look for. Pivot holes in the brass plates wear oval in the direction the wheel is pulled, and the correct remedy is to broach the hole out and fit a turned brass bush. The quick alternative is to punch the metal around the hole to close it, which leaves a ring of crescent-shaped indentations on the back plate and, in time, a crack running from them. Those punch marks are the single most common sign of bad work.

Most damage to domestic clocks is done with an oil can. Clock oil belongs in the pivot holes and on the pallet faces and nowhere else; oil on wheel teeth and pinion leaves collects dust and turns into a grinding paste that wears the teeth into hooks. Aerosol penetrating fluids are worse, since they wash out what lubricant remains and dry to a varnish. A clock that has stopped is asking to be cleaned, not fed.

If you own an antique clock, resist the temptation to disassemble or lubricate it yourself. Seek a qualified horological conservator through the British Horological Institute, and expect the process to take months. The clock has waited this long; it can wait a little longer. Find specialists at https://www.bhi.co.uk