The 1858 (Underground) Railroad Watch

A shameless bit of self-promotion -

For those of you who might have missed it, this is the 1858 from the Oberlin Watch Company. And to clarify things, yes, I am the owner of the Oberlin Watch Company ; )

The 1858 is a hand-wound watch. The case is stainless steel with a solid case back. 

This was originally a pre-order model, but we are now selling the final 9 available pieces. The price is $458 US.

Should it be in your wheelhouse, here are the pertinents -

The Basics:

The 1858 is a hand-winding watch. It is stainless steel, with a solid case back to allow for personalized engraving. The movement is made by Seagull, a Chinese manufacturer. The movement is the ST-3600, which is a clone of the ETA 6497.

The watches are assembled and tested in the United States. The watch comes standard with a blue and a black leather strap. The straps utilize quick spring bar attachments so they can be changed without the use of a tool using your finger and thumb!

The Particulars:

Case - stainless steel, 40 mm in diameter, solid case back with Oberlin engraving

Movement - Seagull ST-3600

Strap - black leather with quick spring attachment, stainless steel folding clasp

Warranty - 1 year

The 1858 - From a Friend For a Friend

As a matter of full-disclosure, I (James Henderson) am the owner of the Oberlin Watch Company.

Ladies and gentlemen, and children of all ages, I am very proud to introduce you to the 1858 from the Oberlin Watch Company.

When I introduced the first quartz pieces back during the pandemic, there were some who thought that I had "re-birthed" a defunct French watch brand. That notion was based on the existence of a pocket chronograph that had been produced by the Oberlin Pharmaceutical  Company, of France back in the 1900s - 

As far as anyone knows, the Oberlin pocket watches were manufactured to be given as promotional gifts to doctors and pharmacists in an effort to promote the Oberlin Pharmaceutical Company. These watches were manufactured in Besançon, France.

So in other words, there was never an Oberlin Watch Company. But there is one NOW!

Courtesy of D.N. Mason

So for those just tuning in, the 1858 is what we're calling an (Underground) Railroad Watch. The great Kipton train wreck that forced the dramatic improvements in the manufacture of pocket (railroad) watches and standardization of scheduling and timekeeping, happened within virtually walking distance of Oberlin. So there is certainly a train connection to my hometown. But dig a little deeper into Oberlin history, and you will learn about the Oberlin - Wellington Rescue -

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Long story short? John Price was an escaped slave who had found his way to Oberlin. Under the fugitive slave act, the government would assist slave owners by capturing and returning those lucky enough to escape in the first place who were unlucky enough to be discovered and identified as an escaped slave. And this is exactly the fate that befell John Price. He was spirited away by a Marshall and small group of henchmen to Wellington, the town next door where they intended to hop onto the first thing smoking the next day and forcibly take John Price back to Kentucky.

From a Friend For a Friend -

In his short time in Oberlin, John Price had made some friends. More than he probably knew. Because as word spread of his abduction, the townspeople of Oberlin got together, met with like-minded folks in Wellington, and when negotiations for Price's release failed? They forced their way into the hotel that Mr. Price's abductors had been holed-up in, and found him in the attic. They took him back to Oberlin, where he was hidden in the basement of future Oberlin College president James Harris Fairchild. Shortly thereafter he was taken to Canada, the last stop on the Underground Railroad. 

The Oberlin Watch Company was born out of a request from a friend - could you make a watch for us? The first series sold out before it was even produced. It would seem that the Oberlin Watch Company had more friends than we realized ; )

The pre-sale of the 1858 sold out, but we will have a handful of pieces available for those who joined us late.   

Stay tuned!

Less Than A Week To Preorder!

We're coming down to the wire, with seven days left to preorder the Oberlin Watch Company's (Underground) Railroad Watch - the 1858.

Here is a quick rundown -

The preorder deposit is $58 US dollars and is non-refundable. The total price for those who do preorder will be $285 US. The watches are projected to ship in April. Keep in mind, that is a projection, not a guaranteed delivery date.

Once the preorder period is over, the price will be $385. The preorder will run until December 15.

Artistic Interpretation courtesy of D.N. Mason

The specifics:

The 1858 is a hand-winding watch. It is stainless steel, with a solid case back to allow for personalized engraving. The movement is made by Seagull, a Chinese manufacturer. The movement is the ST-3600, which is a clone of the ETA 6497.

The watches will be assembled and tested in the United States. The strap that the watches will ship with will be black. The blue strap in the image is strictly for rendering purposes.

The initial production will be for a minimum of 25 pieces with the potential for a larger series, up to 100 pieces. This will be dependent upon the number of preorders received.

Specs:

Case - stainless steel, 40 mm in diameter, solid case back

Movement - Seagull ST-3600

Strap - black leather with stainless steel folding clasp

Warranty - 1 year

Artistic Interpretation courtesy of D.N. Mason

You can preorder here -

https://oberlinwatch.com/products/1858-preorder-deposit

Announcing the 1858 from the Oberlin Watch Company!

A bit of shameless self-promotion, but here goes -

We are very excited to announce that our newest watch from the Oberlin Watch Company, tentatively named the Montre 1858 will be available for pre-order shortly.

Pre-orders will be available for a non-refundable deposit of $58 (US dollars). We anticipate delivery next April / May, in time for graduation and class reunions.

And we are very pleased to announce that these will all be assembled in the US.

The pre-order price is tentatively set at $358.

Stay tuned!

Preview of Coming Attractions!

A little bit of shameless self-promotion!

 

This is a first look at the next offering from the Oberlin Watch Company. Hand-winding, and assembled in the US. Pre-orders will start in December, with delivery targeted for March, 2024.

Stay tuned!

When You Put Pineapple On Your Pizza

Lesser known Henki factoid - I worked my way through my final year of high school and first year of university "slinging" pizzas at Selenti's Pizza in Oberlin, Ohio and a brief stint at Track Town Pizza in Eugene, Oregon. Now in the interest of full disclosure, as regards todays title, I did pioneer what I believe is the ONLY instance where pineapple truly belonged on pizza: whole wheat dough, tomato sauce (and this part is important) NO CHEESE. The  Coup de grâce? Linguica and pineapple. The saltiness of the sausage creating a playful contretemps with the pineapple. In a world dominated by pepperoni and extra cheese, it was truly "disruptive".  Yeah, I went there ; )

Now I know what you're thinking - sounds dreadful! And in hindsight, for other folks (let's say 98% of the pizza eating population) it would be. But for me (the inventor and champion of it) it was the witches britches (that means good). And while the "Portuguese Pineapple" pizza is now lost to culinary history, it serves as a pretty good metaphor to one of Rolex's Watches and Wonders releases -

Courtesy of Rolex

Yes, gentle reader, a two-tone Explorer. 

Now I want to go on record for 2 things -

1. I really respect Rolex and 

2. I think that 98% of the time, they hit the bullseye. 

But like my gastronomical creation back in the day, this is not one of those times.

Now a bit about me - I do not attend "watch gatherings". I do not sit up late at night memorizing Rolex serial numbers so that I can seem witty at the next collector's gathering. Truth be told, after A LOT of years in the industry, I truly do not care any longer. My point being, I am not a dyed in the wool purist.

Would I buy a Rolex?  Hell's yes! I was a proud owner of an Explorer back in 2003 and sorely miss it. I love the new, brightly colored Oyster Perpetuals (just in case you think I am a fan of monolithic design codes). But there are some things that are just right, just as they are. And the Explorer was one of those things.

Having said that, if this is the one that you've been pining for, wear it proudly and without apology. Because above all else, a watch should be a personal choice.

Enjoy your watches - and your pizza!

Do It Yourself Swatch Haring!

So for those of you who missed out on the Swatch Haring/Mickey Mouse drop (I managed to get 2 out of 3) Swatch is giving you the chance to harness your inner 80s street artist -

Courtesy of Swatch (and Henki)

So I rolled up my virtual sleeves and teleported myself to a cold and snowy Ohio morning at Oberlin Middle School back in 1981 in Mrs. McEvoy's art class, where my ham-fisted and poorly executed art projects garnered a raft of Cs given most likely out of sympathy rather than even being good enough to earn that average mark ; ). 

In fairness, I did the work, I just could not execute anything vaguely resembling something aesthetically pleasing. But fortunately Swatch had me covered with a "Henki-Proof" system of design.

So if like me you missed out on Kinetic Mickey, lively-up yourself and head over to the Swatch x You page and make some 80s magic!

You Don't Choose Your Watch, Your Watch Chooses You

If there are two very solid constants I remember from my coming up as a Northern Youth, they are these -

1.  My father was a country club manager.  Meaning he oversaw the Elyria Country Club, in Elyria, Ohio back in the 70s and early 80s.  For those of you unfamiliar, a country club typically has a golf course, some tennis courts, a swimming pool and depending on the inclinations of the founding members (and in the case of the Elyria Country Club), a fairly massive amount of dining options for the members and their families and guests.  ECC had a main dining room, a "mixed grill" (essentially a slightly more casual dining space that could accommodate about 100 or so, and the "men's girl" which was a bar with about 15 tables in a private room that abutted the men's locker room (remember the golf thing).  And inside that men's locker room was where I got my introduction to the world of work.  I worked in the shoeshine room, where I polished the footwear of some of Northern Ohio's captains of industry, including one George Steinbrenner, the owner of the New York Yankees immortalized in Seinfeld some 15 years later.

And in that job, as well as other interactions I got to know many of the members' kids.  Some were quite nice, some were little caricatures of their fathers and mothers (often exhibiting some of the less favorable characteristics).  They all had nice clothes, they all played golf, ate at the restaurant, swam at the pool, and partook of the tennis courts when their moms weren't either having tennis lessons or (in some instances) machinating over how to lure the tennis pro into a dark corner of the club where nobody could see.  As a side note - one year the tennis pro bore a downright striking resemblance to Tom Selleck circa 1983.

A fair number of those kids went to the nearby private school - Lake Ridge Academy in North Ridgeville, Ohio.  Curious to relate, there was more than a small rivalry between my alma matter - Oberlin High School, and Lake Ridge Academy in matters of Soccer (that's football to many of you).

2.  I was a soccer player.  I played A LOT.  I was not particularly intrigued by school, but managed to keep my grades in check so that I could play for the middle school and high school.  After practice, I would go to the (Oberlin) college fields and watch the team practice and sometimes one of the goal keepers would invite me to take practice penalty kicks with the team.  After they cleared out I would practice my corner kicks.  I had one ball, so it was a pretty tedious process of taking the kick, jogging to the other side of the field to gather it, then take another kick from that corner.  I would do this about 25 or 30 times before the autumn skies would get too dark to keep going.

In terms of how we matched up against Lake Ridge, at least in my time it was fairly level.  In middle school we won the tournament the first year, they won the second.  In high school we won my sophomore year (that game immortalized by the "Oberlin fake" corner kick play).  A brief bit about that -I always took the corner kicks, and the first kick that comes up in that game, my team mate David Sonner starts running towards the corner shouting - 
"I'll take it, I'll take it".  
Me, being me, was having none of it and a verbal altercation the likes of which polite, Town & Country Lake Ridge parents only heard when watching Cinemax After Dark flowed forth as we both now sprinted for the ball.  For the record, David Sonner was (and by all accounts still is) a phenomenal athlete and had he really been trying would have made it to the ball, knocked it into play, and returned to the center circle before I even got to the corner.  I would like to think it was anger that moved my less than swift frame, but it would become clear that his plan was for both of us to arrive at the ball at the same time.  We both, effectively shielded the ball from view, backs to goal as we continued to argue.  Just as the referee was about to put the whistle to his mouth, David took a quick step away and whispered -
"Here I'm going to pass you the ball."
And at that moment, the 20 watt bulb above my head went off, I understood how this would unfold.  All of our teammates were crowded around the penalty area, as were ALL of the Lake Ridge Royals (another reason to hate them - the Royals?  Why not just call the team the Lake Ridge Money?  But I digress).  Long story short, ball rolled to me, David ran into space as nobody was marking him, I slotted him the ball, he took three touches (his only weakness as a player, he liked to have at least 3 touches before passing or shooting), and parked it in the back of the net.  The Lake Ridge players protested, but there was no rule against exploiting a team's inattention.
Curious to relate?  Later in the second half we did EXACTLY the same thing, this time with me scoring.  That game taught me something, your parents can have a lot of money, you might have nice clothes and be a straight A student heading for Princeton, but if you are used to things in your life following a certain pro forma?  Sooner or later, you are going to get played.  

I guess they smartened up in our junior year as I seem to recall that we drew.  Our senior year I missed the game for romantic reasons probably best left vague in case surviving family members might be reading and be scandalized by what I was up to with a female a wee-bit older than me.  And we lost.

But let's get back to watches, and choice.  First things first, it was fair to say that by the time I hit 16 and 17 I had a fairly healthy aversion to people who were flashy with money, and more certain that money wouldn't necessarily reflect taste, or judgment.  Now, my own judgement was not exactly state of the art at that point, and my taste ran towards modern day Salvation Army.  Following high school I drifted a bit for a year, looked after my Mee-Maw (grandmother) who was in her final year fighting cancer, and finally landed a few thousand miles away at the University of Oregon.  And then my grandmother passed and part of my inheritance was her Omega.

Now let's reflect back on judgement, etc.  In fairness, the Omega was a woman's model.  A bit bigger than some, a fair bit smaller than others.  Even in the smaller sizes favored in the late 80s and early 90s this was more than a bit small for me.  I was also not much of a watch guy.  Oh, one other thing - I WAS POOR.  Following my graduation from the U, I absolutely struggled for the first 2 years or so.  To quote Bud Fox (played by Charlie Sheen in Wall Street) - 
"I'm tapped out Marv. American Express' got a hit man lookin' for me."  
Out of options, I replied to a newspaper ad (remember life before Indeed?) to teach English in Japan.  It was really more of a whim, a way of telling myself that I hadn't completely given up.  I went to the interview, got invited to a second one - asked to bring a copy of my university diploma with me (seemed odd) and was offered a job there on the spot!

Now while this would seem like all of my problems were solved, it opened up a slew of others!  Remember, gentle reader, I had no money!  So in fairly short order I had to:
1.  Sell off everything that would not fit into 2 suitcases.
2.  Buy another suit (A friend had loaned me an in store credit at a used clothing store where I lucked into a Polo suit that fit perfectly and had low mileage that I wore to my 2 interviews), a pair of black leather shoes, several dress shirts and ties.
3.  Come up with $1,200 for a one-way flight from Portland, Oregon to Tokyo, Japan.
4.  Sell my car (at a loss of $2,500).
5.  Save $2,500 for my first month of living expenses in Japan.

So after everything else was offloaded, it was down to a few items of resale value left, and truth be told that while my Mee-Maw's Omega didn't bring in a lot of cash, it put me over the top, and I was able to get on that plane.

And to be honest?  I would probably do it again.  My grandfather bought the Omega for his wife not because it was glamorous, expensive, etc.  Because it wasn't.  There were no celebrity endorsements, nobody was putting out press pieces about a model, model's family, model's troubled model children wearing an Omega.  The Omega he bought for his wife was what my grandfather called - "A very fine watch".  Very fine not being defined by how much it cost, but that it looked good and worked very well.  Remember, this was Omega pre Jean-Claude Biver revival.  Moreover, the Omega landed with me because my grandmother left a lot of jewelry, that all went to my sisters.  Fair enough, of course.  She was not particularly enamored of the watch as an heirloom, and it was viewed more as a means of "balancing the scales" for the purposes of inheritance.

Needless to say, a lot of years have passed since 1992.  And while I certainly appreciate a beautiful, expensive watch I find myself turned off by them more and more.  I think a part of it is wrapped up childhood memories of faux & nouveau riche and the crazy lengths they would go to pass themselves off as something more.  One last memory of that time - 
There was a minor scandal at ECC that involved the parents of a Lake Ridge student back in the early 80s.  I will state here quite clearly, how much truth there is to this remains unclear to this day, and I don't know how much of it was fact, and how much was locker room gossip.  The married couple were like so many of that era - husband worked "late".  Things apparently had come to a head when the couple split up after the husband announced he was running off with his secretary/ receptionist/ dental hygienist/ medical assistant (who knows or cares nearly 40 years later).  The wife, in a fit of pique, raided the husband's dresser while he was at "work" and grabbed his Rolex.  The Rolex had been a gift to him from a grateful patient/client (again, 40 years on it doesn't really matter).  Well, while the ultimate fate of the wayward husband and his romantic accomplice have been lost to history, the word around the back rooms of the club was that a few years later, the watch had found its way to a jeweler in Cleveland, and was revealed to be (a very good) fake.

Which brings us to now.  I have some watches made by friends who have their own brands, and I truly do appreciate them.  But about 5 years ago when I was raising money to put towards a charity, I sold several pieces.  One was, shall we say, a bit esoteric so you could not really leverage it for what it might sell for new.  But someone came in with some cash and traded this Omega into the bargain -

My original plan was to sell it as well.  But something twigged in my memory, and I have held onto it ever since.  I appreciate it because it is pretty simple in design - hours, minutes, seconds and date.  It is large enough to be quite readable to my 51 year old eyes, and like my Mee-Maw's Omega - it is a very fine watch.  

It does not dive down to the briny deep, it did not "go to the moon", and it is not crafted of Un-Obtainium.  Moreover, I do not lay awake nights hoping that George Clooney (who I do admire for his humanitarian work) will be spotted wearing the same model, therefore validating "My Choice".  Truth be told, nobody should really give two tosses what his "Choice" is.  

I am not an Omega fanboy, and truthfully find a lot of what they offer of little to no interest.  I think they have not recently treated several of their retail partners so well, their after service wait times have been, at times, pretty poor.  Sorry, but calling this one honestly.  I could not really care any less who else wears one, I think that they are currently grossly over-priced, and I feel that this is borne out over the abundance found in previously owned stock.  But deep down, there was a longing for something that tied together the past with the present, and my Omega in many ways reminds me of my Mee-Maw, albeit it in a convoluted, round about way.  

Life is, inevitably, seldom a straight line.  Just ask the Lake Ridge Varsity soccer team of 1983.  There are twists, turns and unexpected events.  It's a lovely idea to think that your watch will validate everything that you have achieved, and all of the choices that you made.  But ultimately, it is an object.  And we have a lot of objects in our lives, some stay with us, some some are passed on, and others are simply lost along the wayside.  For me, every time I have tried to choose that one watch, that super-duper-special piece?  It has really been anti-climatic and never really "taken".   Don't get me wrong, I love watches, I love wearing the pieces in my (very) modest collection.  But sometimes, if you are open to it, that one watch will choose you.  It happened to me, so anything's possible ; )

The Man Who Corrupted Watch Town - Part One

Author's note - this is a work of fiction that is heavily inspired by, and modeled after Mark Twain's story The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_That_Corrupted_Hadleyburg and adapted to the modern world of watch making and watch media.   I felt that Mark Twain was a great basis as he had once dabbled (albeit unsuccessfully) in the watch business - https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/mark-twains-quest-bring-affordable-watches-masses-180972813/ as covered by Stephen J. Mexal in Smithsonian Magazine.  And further for me personally as it has been theorized that Mr. Twain's original work (The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg) which this little horological farce is somewhat based on, might in fact be based on Mr. Twain's experiences in my hometown, Oberlin, Ohio when he lectured/gave a reading at Oberlin College.   This is intended as farce, based and adapted from Mr. Twain's original work and not based on any individuals living or dead.  

It was, in all honesty, only a few weeks ago when the stranger walked down Main Street and through the gold burnished doors of #itmustbetrue.  At first blush, to look at him, resplendent in his Saville Row suit, and bespoke custom shoes, he looked no different than most of the higher flying members of Watch Town society, perhaps a brand owner, or newly recruited CEO.  Watch Town was home to the most talented, most creative, and most skilled horological artisans in the WORLD.  This was known far and wide, because as fortune would have it, Watch Town was populated by the most tenacious, well-informed and forthright journalists who (if their advertising revenues were anything to go by) were renowned by one and all for their fair and honest coverage... of the denizens of Watch Town.  Watch Town's reputation was beyond repute, and had remained so for some two generations, and the populous took great pride in their regular (and to be honest, guaranteed) selection in the annual award giving event that recognized the best and the brightest of the Watch World - the "Whoopies".  Of this singular distinction, they were the proudest of all.  And while some of the not so-well-to-do inhabitants of Watch Town had yet to experience the joy and unbridled fame and renown that came with being awarded the  trophy, they felt confident that this was merely a formality, and it was only a matter of time until they too were recognized.  For they had followed the code of behavior set forth by the founders of Watch Town not unlike that of an organized religion.  They were, indeed, true believers and defenders of the faith. 

Now it is also important to note, there were neighboring communities to Watch Town.  And while the denizens of these burgs did try their hands at making watches, none could truly be called timepieces.  These were, to be fair, clearly lesser communities, populated by lesser people.  At least, that was what the denizens of Watch Town believed in unwavering fervor.  It had happened only twice in the preceding twenty years that an outsider had usurped the coveted Whoopie, and the press corps of Watch Town made sure that their displeasure and disagreement was known far and wide.  

And so it was that the stranger made his way to the offices of the public relations firm #itmustbetrue, one Friday afternoon in late spring and presented himself at the reception desk.  A well coiffed young woman was stationed at the desk, scrolling through her instagram feed, glancing over at the stranger who had stationed himself at the reception desk.  When she felt that she had ignored him for a sufficient amount of time, she sighed heavily, pushed her glasses up and scowled at him - 
"Can I help you?"
The tone was more of a statement than a question. The stranger focused his gaze directly at her eyes as he placed a package on the reception counter.  The receptionist looked at it with all the enthusiasm of a new father examining the loaded diaper of his first born while he's on baby duty.  
"What's this?"  
Again, more of a statement than a question as she stared down at the package, which was square, and wrapped in a brightly colored scarf (not Hermès or Chanel, she mentally noted, but quite elegant) and elegantly knotted at the top.

"I apologize, where are my manners?"  He slipped his hand into his suit jacket and produced a card.  The stamp gold leaf informed that he was, in fact, the newly appointed Grand Commissioner for the "Whooptie-Do" award.  Curious, his title, and an email address were the only two items on it.  He went on to explain that the "Whooptie-Do" was the culmination of several years of work to create an award that would recognize the absolute, bar none, best of the absolute best.  The winning watchmaker who won the Whooptie-do would be ensured eternal fame and fortune, no doubt that an investor from some mineral rich republic would be ready to invest hundreds of millions of dollars in the winning brand.  Most importantly, the Whooptie-Do was different than any other award out there, because no watch maker could nominate themselves, all nominations would have to come from the press, ensuring that this would be the most honest, sincere, unbiased award possible!

"So, Mr. Grand Commissioner, what is in the box?"

The stranger smiled at her, placing his well-manicured hand on the silken rainbow knot that secured the package.  

"This, dear madame, is a singularly superlative chronometric creation that somehow found its way to our office, but without a name or contact.  The dial has no name, but a symbol or trademark - but alas one we could not recognize.  Our assumption is that it is a new brand, or perhaps a special creation from an established brand.  But what my colleagues and I agreed on unanimously?  We agreed that this magnificent timepiece could only have been created in the rarified atmosphere of Watch Town."

The receptionist excused herself, and returned with the Commercial Director of #itmustbetrue himself, Mr. I. Deux Grasp.

"And what does that have to do with us here at #itmustbetrue?" asked Mr. Grasp.

The stranger smiled again.

"Well, after reviewing all of the previous entries for the Whooptie-do, my colleagues and I agreed that whoever created this watch is the winner this year, hands down.  But we have no way of identifying the creator."

"So no winner this year?"  

The stranger shook his head.
"We also feel quite certain that the creator of this watch will know who they are, and come forward.  The problems is..."

"Yes?"

"Oh, these damn silly rules!  You see, ironically enough, we know which watch is the winner, and identifying the creator of the winning watch shouldn't be so difficult, but we sort of painted ourselves into a corner with our rules."

"The rules?"

"Yes, the rules.  They are fairly, shall we say, loose?  But there is one that is rather inflexible.  The winner must be nominated by the press.  It's really just a formality at this point as we already know the winning watch, but rules are rules..."

The commercial director felt a strange, rather pleasant tingling growing in his stomach, and he did his best to suppress the smile that was creeping across his face.  Could it be, that in his first year in charge of #itmustbetrue that he, I. Deux Grasp would snare the retainer to become the primary PR firm for the Woopti-Doos?  He made a mental note to try on his tuxedo when he got home to make sure it still fit.

"Mr. ....  I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The stranger smiled once more.
"I didn't pitch it.  You see, at the Whoopti-Doos we insist on the utmost discretion and secrecy.  Does the Michelin reviewer identify herself when visiting a Parisian restaurant?  Of course not!  Our sole guiding principle is to be fair, and unbiased.  Therefore, we must also remain anonymous."

Mr. Grasp could contain himself no longer -
"May I propose a solution?"

The stranger nodded enthusiastically.

"May I suggest that you retain #itmustbetrue as the official PR agency of the Whoopti-Doo award?  We could then send out a release to the press, and to every brand and watch maker in Watch Town.  The release would announce the pending awarding of the Whoopti-Doo, and also share the need for the winning brand to be nominated by the press?  We would also mention that the winning watch had already been selected as it had been delivered to the Whoopti-Doo offices, but as it had not included a name or the nominating watch journalist it cannot be awarded until a journalist puts forward the nomination?"

The stranger frowned.   
"Well, we have not retained a PR firm yet as we fear it might be seen to influence the press."

I. Deux Grasp let the smile he'd been stifling spread fully across his face.  The fish was nearly in the boat...
"Dear sir, fear not.  Once again I have a solution!  May I propose that in addition to becoming the official press agent of the Whoopti-Doo award, that #itmustbetrue become an official sponsoring partner?  There would, of course, be no question of a fee.  We would be acting for the betterment of the watch making community!  By partnering with us as an official commercial partner, there could absolutely no question of impropriety!"

The stranger beamed with delighted surprise.
"I'm speechless, and honored that such a famous and reputable firm such as #itmustbetrue would be willing to partner with us!"

Mr. Grasp waved away the gushing thanks of the stranger -
"Well we all have to help each other in this small, wonderful world of watches, don't we?  We all work together!  And may I suggest that we hold the presentation of the Whoopti-Doo award here in Watch Town in two weeks' time?  #itmustbetrue will arrange for a grand banquet, orchestra and gala to make this year's Whoopti-Doo something that Watch Town will never forget!"

It was agreed that #itmustbetrue would handle all of the promotion and logistics, and make sure that the whole of Watch Town were in attendance in two weeks' time.  The stranger would return on the second Friday of the month for the gala and award presentation.  As I. Deux Grasp saw the stranger to the door, he could not help from letting his mind race.  Not only would the future retainer as the official firm representing the world famous Whoopti-Doo award be his, but #itmustbetrue could count on every single brand nominated to turn to them for representation!   

Yes, #itmustbetrue would be handling this first award season pro bono, but compared to the flood of business they would pull in, it was a tiny investment to make.  

Christmas had come early for Grasp and #itmustbetrue!

You Can Go Home Again

A bit about me.  1n 1985 I was seventeen years old, getting ready to start my final year of high school.  My father had remarried and the polite way to reflect back on that time would be to say that his new wife was not a fan of the family that came with her new husband.  Owing to this I moved back to my hometown and was spending the remainder of my summer working at the now (I am assuming) defunct Selenti's Pizza (Oberlin), living on my own and (not always successfully) trying to take control of my life and my future.  And about that time, two of my friends came back from summer vacation with some pretty nifty SWATCH watches.  And I became fairly obsessed.  So I saved up some pizza money, returned some soda bottles, and off I went to the Midway Mall (another long forgotten relic to another time) and did my best to choose.  And I chose this one -

Shamelessly borrowed from Squiggly

The Calypso Diver.  You can, I believe, still purchase an original Calypso Diver from the good folks at Squiggly in the Netherlands.  SQUIGGLY SITE

Spoiler alert - I managed, despite my best efforts, to graduate Oberlin High School in 1986.  From there a misfire at Slippery Rock University, then off to the University of Oregon.  And that Swatch Calypso Diver made the journey with me.  It saw me through high school graduation, it traveled to the Marshall Islands, and made sure (as best it could) that I got to the majority of my classes at U of O on time.

Somewhere along the way, that SWATCH was lost.  And I got older and my tastes evolved to other watches.  A Tag Heuer F1 (red and green rubber), a yellow Omega Speedmaster Schumacher, and perhaps my all-time favorite - an Eterna Super KonTiki 50th Anniversary.  Plenty of other SWATCHES came to me as they are fun, and my wife Wendy has a great eye for picking out a fun SWATCH.  But I always felt a bit of wistfulness about the absence of the Calypso Diver.  It had, in many ways, marked the beginning of my adult life.  It saw me through the type of dramatic highs and lows that only a particularly self-absorbed person can experience ; )

And then, 32 years later, SWATCH has brought out this sweet 
baby -

This is the Hamarace from SWATCH.  And yes, gentlereader, you can go home again. 

But more and more, I have come to learn that home is not necessarily a question of where you're from, it's a statement about where you're at.

Enjoy your watches!

Summer Re-run: Happily Ever After - "Preservers of Important Intangible Cultural Properties"

This story is now three years old, amazing because it does seem like yesterday.  Recently, many of us were delighted to hear about a fellow watch enthusiast and writer who had landed (what at least to us) appears to be his dream job working for Seiko, which by all accounts is his favorite watch brand!  And seeing the genuine good wishes shared by those of us in our "fraternity of watch nuts", it reminded me of this post.  So I wish a good man the very best of luck in his new adventure, although given his drive, passion and knowledge I suspect that luck will be the residue of design ; )

Tempus Fugit!




We live in a throw-away society - and I hate that! Regular readers might recall this image from a previous post. This was a much maligned hand-wound, 17 jewel SEIKO wristwatch that I found on EBAY. I suspect that this poor fellow had been bashed, and then shunted into a dresser drawer.

I think it is only fair to take a few minutes and really talk about Japan, and what it means for me. So apologies in advance, and if you feel the need, hit the fast-forward button, no offense taken.

I grew up a Northern Youth. I had a sheltered upbringing - my problems were, admittedly, first world problems. And much of this time is fuzzy. But some things I remember pointedly - I remember being seven years old, and sitting in Mr. Grusser's class room. He was our teacher and had spent years working on Indian reservations - that is what they were called in the 70s. He was a good man. And in my class there was:

1.  Henry- his family had lived in France for a year and were just returning to the US.

2.  Milan Desai - from India.

3.  Kosuke Inaagaki from Japan. His father was a noted scholar from Tokyo who was a professor at Todai (Tokyo) University.


We were kids, and we talked about the things kids did. Henry taught us about Babar - and I suspect a deep-seeded need to see elephants outlive me was born. And a desire to live in France!
Milan instilled in me a desire to see everyone be healthy - if I remember rightly, his father was a doctor from India, and even at seven years old - he was far more eloquent and more sophisticated than I hope to be even now.

But Kosuke fascinated me. Fascinated me on such a sub-atomic level. He spoke a bit, but not a lot. But his English was fine, probably better than this Northern Youth's. I know that in hindsight that he had a lot to say, but also knew something that I have only learned later in life - that time is precious, and we are called upon to contribute something special - and oftentimes we say what is important. And at the end of the year, his family returned to Japan. And I remained fascinated by Japan, France and India.

And I suppose that in my own way I hit the "fast-forward button" and suddenly it was 1985. I was a Junior at Oberlin High School, and at soccer practice one day this kid showed up. The coach introduced him and something stirred in my memories. He explained that Kosuke would be with us this year, and explained that he had been with us back in the 70s. He then asked if Kosuke remembered anyone and he pointed at me and said "I remember him".

Understanding that my life between those two points had been something far from memorable. But for whatever reason, we connected. And an obsession with Japan was reborn and smoldered through my last year of high school, through university and ultimately delivered me to Satiama-ken in 1992 as a newly minted English teacher, setting up shop in the outskirts of Tokyo. Kosuke was at that time a journalist for the Yomiuri Shimbun. Not bad for a transplanted Northern Youth! If you are going to be a journalist, why not be one for the Japanese "paper of record"?

And when I think about that time between grade school, then high school - and then our twenties - I was blessed with a friend that I probably didn't deserve, but one that many of us long for in our later years. And I suppose that is in many ways this is what I see in this vintage SEIKO. A beautiful hand-wound watch that tells a story. A watch that I would wear proudly before passing it on. Something that reminds me that friendship goes beyond years, or distance. Friendship is the very best type of incurable virus - we're stuck with it .

This is what I have decided to call the Kosuke SEIKO in its "after" condition.  A new Seiko crystal installed - it is is wonderful, clean and nearly perfect  - just like my memories of a childhood friend.

The blue of the dial is indeed a blue that I have seldom seen on a Seiko of this age.  And while I know that they exist (because clearly this is one) try to find a hand-wound Seiko of this vintage, not too easy to come by, just like a good friend.

I Dream of Seiko

I sometimes feel the need to remind folks that watches are not the sole dominion of Switzerland and possibly Germany.  This is a "Japan Only" model from Seiko.  This is (I hope) my next watch!  It is something that I could realistically afford - and REALLY enjoy! 

Courtesy of Seiya Japan

Looking back it seems like a lifetime ago, and in many ways it was.  My first real job after graduating from the U (University of Oregon) was teaching English in Japan, in what everyone assured me was a small town - Kasukabe.  Now keep in mind that I was a Northern Youth from a tiny town in Ohio - population hovering around (if memory serves) 5,000 or so.  I am guessing that either my memory is faulty, or the town experienced some sort of "boom" because the census lists the population around 8,292 as a 2011 estimate.  So when I got off the train and looked around it felt like I was in the big city.  I seem to recall population estimates of over 200 thousand or so.

Anyway, Japan seemed the most amazing place to me.  I mean yes, there were many of the same things that we had in the US, but of course many differences as well.  I'll never forget my first meeting with a "talking toilet"!  But what I also really liked about Japan was that tradition was not a "fad".  Grandfathers, fathers and sons working together in the family business - making ramen the same way that it had been done for generations - maybe even all the way back to when another American barbarian arrived in Tokyo Bay to try and force some "cultural exchange" on them.  I suspect that he probably left without a new watch as well.

Some of the happiest memories I have are of that time and place - I met my wife Wendy there, and learned that in many ways, almost anything is possible so long as your willing to compromise and learn and accept that perhaps there are a dozen other ways to do things - and easily a million different points of view! 

So I dream of Seiko - of this Seiko!  And of my friends Obara-San and others.