Tempus Fugit

From my earliest memory, there was a chiming mantelpiece clock in my boyhood home. It played the traditional Westminister chimes, starting with a 4-note chord on the quarter hour, adding additional 4-note chords on the half and three-quarters hour, and finally playing the full, famous 16-note melody on each hour, followed by a sonorous tolling for each hour measured.  Specifically, it was a Seth Thomas tambour-style mantel clock with the No. 124 Westminster chime movement. 

When my parents moved to a retirement village, the clock went home with my sister. She recently moved to a smaller apartment, so (lacking a mantle) the clock is sitting on a shelf in my office at this time. 

The provenance of the clock is somewhat murky; my sister has a vague recollection that it belonged to a neighbor woman who was going to be gone for a lengthy period. The woman never asked for the clock back and my father finally paid her $40 for it – a princely sum in that day, equal to $550 today. Or perhaps the clock came to us in another manner. It doesn't matter.

It came to live with us sometime in the latter part of the 1930s. A clue is on the Guarantee and Directions page tacked inside the rear door. It states at the bottom that the Seth Thomas Clock company was a division of General Time Instruments Corporation - a business arrangement that existed only from 1936 to 1949, so the clock can be at most 81 years old.

The Seth Thomas Clock Company began producing clocks in 1813, and for the next 167 years was famous for its long-case clocks as well as mantel, wall, and table-top clocks. It was also well known for the giant clocks they installed in many public buildings, like the 4-dial clock installed on the information kiosk in Grand Central Terminal in 1913. and the Fireman's Hall clock in New York. 

 The notable thing about our clock is that it chimes. Every. Quarter. Hour. And. Every. Hour. Growing up with this clock, we got used to the chiming and paid it no attention. Not so, those family members and friends who came to visit and stay overnight. I recall several guests saying, “I heard that clock every time it chimed – all night long!” 

On occasion, my father would actually stop the clock in honor of some sleepless guest, the only way the chiming could be completely silenced. And it ticks. Loudly, at a frenetic pace of 180 ticks a minute! My Grandmother Bramblett, however, loved listening to the clock, I'm told. She even worked out the notes of the chimes. 

An interesting phenomenon of that chime was that it persisted in my memory for several years after I went off to college. In quiet moments, I would hear the chimes in my head – usually at exactly the right time! 

The clock needs some professional attention at this point. The case, glass bezel and face should be refurbished, and the mechanism needs to be cleaned and oiled by a conservator. It still runs – though it loses time at a steady clip and stops when I forget to wind it (duh!). It still performs the full repertoire of the Westminister chime set, but strikes the hour very lightly, if at all. Perhaps that's a small favor. 

Nostalgia can be expensive, however (in this case from $300 to $1,200 depending on the amount of restoration done), and not everyone in the family is thrilled with the incessant chiming anyway, so it may stay in its present condition. Whether it continues to chime, however, is still being discussed. I will say that a chime every 15 minutes really makes you notice how rapidly time flies! Tempus Fugit!

Of course, I insist that I share the joy with you. Click on the movie below to watch and hear the hour chime (with Blogger you have to use a 3rd-party movie player, so you may see some links to other videos at the end. Just ignore them, especially if they are embarrassing!).