Well there were a couple parts I didn't completely disassemble, yet.
The two mainsprings were still attached to their wheels and held with clamps. The springs still need to be removed from the wheels and doing so requires a terrific tool.
A mainspring winder.
And I have a fine example, custom built by craftsman extraordinaire, Scott Johnson.
The principle function of a mainspring winder is to safely control the installation or removal of mainsprings on and off their respective wheels.
A mainspring is hooked to the wheel arbor and the spring must be fully unwound to release it.
Winder made by JohnsonArts is beautifully crafted. More industrial versions look like this.
Here's one of the mainspring wheels taken off the clock with the spring wound and held by my clamp, peeking out under my index finger.
And here it is inserted in the winder which holds the spring end tightly in place while you wind or unwind the spring itself.
The winder is clamped to my bench. The pressures from a spring winding/unwinding are considerable.
Since we are removing the spring from its arbor and it is held in the clamp, we wind the spring a bit tighter, removing the pressure from the clamp.
Then the clamp is slid off of the tightened spring and then the spring is carefully unwound fully.
The winder is designed to be reversible as the two springs (one time train, the other strike train) are wound in opposite directions around their respective arbors.
Flipping the winder around I did the other spring.
The wheel of our mainspring has a very important feature not found on the other wheels.
A click.
What's a click?
Let me explain.
Clocks are wound by inserting a key over their winding arbors and turning.
Here are the two winding holes on our Adamantine with the winding arbor ends peeping out.
Now imagine we're turning the key, twisting it clockwise. There's pressure from the spring as it is tightening. The key wants to turn back in your hand but it doesn't.
It clicks and holds in place as you continue to turn it.
Click, click, click.
Now let's examine our wheel.
Looking below, there's the squared mainspring winding arbor pointing upwards. We insert the key around that arbor when we wind the clock.
Riveted to the wheel is the click. It has a point that matches the angle of the gap between the click wheel teeth. The click can rotate on that pivot but it is pressed downwards against the click wheel by the click spring.
As that arbor turns clockwise, with it turns the click wheel and that brass click wheel rides up a tooth of the click wheel and then is pressed into the gap of the next tooth.
By pressing the click downward into the gap, the click spring effectively locks the click wheel preventing it from spinning backwards.
Click.
Continue turning the key and the click rides up the next tooth and then snaps down into the gap.
That is the action that creates the click, click, click when you wind a clock.
And here's a video of the cleaned wheel demonstrating the click action.
In our last episode we discussed the roughly 100 year-old Sessions York banjo clock emblazoned with Betsy Ross on its glass tablet and an eagle sitting on top. And while in very good shape overall it was ticking and tocking in an uneven manner, what clockmakers call a "beat" problem.... What is a beat problem? Being in beat mean the clock is ticking and tocking very evenly, eg. tick-tock-tick-tock. That is a healthy beat for a clock. A tick or tock of a clock is the sound made when an escape wheel tooth hits a pallet... well... look at the gif above. You can see the escape wheel with its pointy teeth turning and gently colliding with the pallets of the pallet fork (that bent strip of grey metal). There are two pallets, one curved on top (the entrance pallet) and a second flat one on the bottom (the exit pallet). See each one hitting a tooth? That pallet fork, also called an anchor, is attached to a crutch (the brass rod that is bent and then descends down below the image)...
As noted in earlier episodes, your (ever learning) local horologist will often effect repairs even in the early phases of the examination of a clock. Pleasingly more of these have become regular parts of basic maintenance. Amongst the many efforts made by this lover of brass in the early phases of examination of Charlene's Ingraham regulator clock was the quick identification and gentle straightening of an errant escape wheel tooth, hopefully preventing the problems that can result . Subtle, yes, but that tooth is bent forward which can upset the beat of the clock. The awake... woke... er... reader might recall a similar issue with the Sessions York banjo clock . While the condition was visually subtle YLH did spy that bent tooth right after disassembly of the movement and while evaluating each wheel. YLH really enjoys no longer being a clock freshman. However, the errant tooth was not the source of the double tick / noise that was vexing this hor...
Charlene (name changed) called a couple weeks back. "Chip [neighbor who runs Wittpenn Antiques] gave me your name and number. I have a 'Regulator' clock that I think might be 'overwound'. Anyway it stops running after a few minutes." A few days later your local horologist headed over to Carmel for a look. Charlene was gracious and appreciative that this clock jock made house calls. And there it was in situ. A large and fine old American clock. An Ingraham timepiece (which means time only, no strike or chime; see the single winding hole on the dial just left of center). Charlene called it a Regulator, per the glass decal, and that is mostly correct as larger timepieces like this one were considered to be pretty accurate time keepers and commonly named as such. However the term Regulator ended up getting applied to a lot of types of clocks as more of a marketing gimmick. Spitballing YLH guessed it was made somewhere between 1890 and 1915. A couple things also...
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