For some reason I am attracted to German wall clocks (what collectors sometimes call “German box clocks”). One of the six timepieces in my collection is an early twentieth century example; a Wanduhr purchased on eBay in 2005 from a seller in Alabama, USA. It hangs unwound and silent in my library, inspiring while not disturbing my ability to muse blogwise. In truth, its country of origin is unknown to me but the look and construction are unmistakably German, and there are other clues. The dial is zinc and finely painted, but it bears no maker’s logo which makes me think it came from a small shop. The case has simple teutonic inlays and carvings which tells me that its maker cared. Otherwise it is a hodgepodge, and unlike anything I have seen since. The woods are a combination of oak and mahogany veneered fir, and the glasses are pocked with impurities. Once, while having it serviced, my clock guy informed me the works were an assortment of brass and steel parts. This made him believe it was created during or shortly after World War I when German brass was scarce, and that jives with the evolution story that follows. Anyway, it certainly has an interesting history, and I find it to be overall enchanting.

Recently, I was approached to make an heirloom clock for a customer, and after some back and forth we settled on the German wall clock “type” given the decor and space considerations of their living room. Great … but there are hundreds of German wall clock patterns to choose from, and that does not include the cuckoo variety. (For example, typing “antique German wall clock” into eBay, just now, generated 538 results. A few are not relevant, but I doubt there are many duplicates among the majority that remain). Remaking a large portion of these would serve just fine, but not all of them. Some were much too ornate and that got me wondering about their design story. Woher kommt die Wanduhr?

It is fun to think about the history of clocks and, specifically, about their evolution of form, although at the outset it can appear overwhelming. The renowned Swedish naturalist/taxonomist Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), when confronted with a similar challenge, began his Systema Naturae by dividing all of the world’s objects into three Kingdoms: animal, vegetable and mineral. It turns out that the pioneering binomial classification system introduced in this work (e.g., Homo sapiens) may have been developed by earlier thinkers, but his clarifying Step One of placing each of Nature’s innumerable members into just a few big buckets was genius. Now, there have been a lot of different clock forms (types) created over the past 400 years but, à la Linnaeus, a simple start toward classifying all timepieces* would be to place each into one of three categories based on their place of rest:

1. wall clocks

2. case clocks (aka grandfather)

3. shelf clocks (aka mantle)

*This system neglects outdoor clocks (my term) such as tower clocks and marine chronometers but you get the point.

Pendulum-governed wall and case clocks go back to the mid-1600s, whereas shelf clocks came along a century later. Clocks from each of these “buckets” chart independent (and discernible) evolutionary paths as their cases and mechanisms morphed in response to both technological advances and the commercial pressures of taste and price. Interesting books, such as E.J. Tyler’s Clock Types, have been written on this subject, and learning about the evolution of timepieces is a good way to appreciate the field of clock collecting.

To summarize my understanding of things, our Wanduhr descended from earlier Continental wall clock types by a stepwise reduction in both size and extravagance. We can begin 200 years into their journey with the ostentatious Vienna regulator clock (see illustration below), a large and accurate, weight-driven timepiece popular for decades with the wealthy of nineteenth century Europe. Near the end of their reign, to suit the constraints of a growing middle class, this form spawned the so-called German regulator; still ornate but often spring-driven, more affordable and of manageable size. Around the turn of the twentieth century, the artistic movement known as art nouveau, coupled with the advent of mass production, caused German regulator cases to drastically simplify and become recognizable as a new form, the so-called German wall clock, a timepiece that still looks appropriate in today’s interiors. This species remained brown in color and with a visible pendulum that now hung from a simple wooden stem. In terms of ornamentation, the case became minimalist and largely utilitarian, the dial changed from porcelain to metal, and new breeds within this species exploded with the emergence of additional makers. We’d better get back to the story now.

Design

It would be easy to conjure up yet another “unique” Wanduhr based on the features described above but we had our eye on a particular individual, first spied while prospecting on eBay. Built in 1920 and described as “art deco” this small and sturdy version looked to have it all: beauty and class. I would try my best to replicate the case, while replacing the unavailable dial and pendulum bob with reasonable doppelgängers: doppel (double) + gänger (walker).

The rough plan was divined by measuring features from a printout and then scaling to fit the dimensions of the dial I was able to purchase.

Materials

The eBay listing for that art deco Wanduhr claimed it to be made of “walnut”, but the wood appeared too orange and fine-grained to pass for that species. My bet is that it was made from a tropical, mahogany-like species. Anyway, ours would be black walnut, to match the deep brown color desired by the customer. I purchased a nice, 10 foot long, 4/4 plank from Highland Hardwoods that looked like it would work.

The clock components were purchased online. I found a reasonable substitute for the metal dial at Klockit, and the remaining quartz mechanism, pendulum parts and hands were secured from TimeSavers. These would all be assembled in the final step.

Dimensioning

Cutting the case parts to rough dimension, and eventually to their final size, went well in the machine room. I like the way walnut behaves when being shaped by steel: slick and crisp. The first steps were to fashion the sides and door frame parts. Most German wall clocks had glass sides, which I believe is an evolutionary hold-over for when it was useful to look into the case for a peek at the weight cables. With nothing to see in our version, I would use this panel space to show off the beauty of wood instead. The stiles and rails were made of quarter sawn boards but I had some nice flat sawn scraps lying around from an earlier Project. One of these was resawn to make book-matched panels that were then treated with a course of boiled linseed oil before assembly.

Next came the door. On German wall clocks, the door plays a starring role. It frames the dial and shows-off the pendulum as it should, but the stiles are also decorated in some manner as a muted tribute to their rococo kin. Many, like my own version, include some carvings within this frame member but our “art deco” version possessed actual half columns. We’ll get to making those shortly, after the door is assembled.

The seams of the original door are covered by those half-columns, and so it is unclear to me how they were joined. I chose to use mitered corners and this decision essentially converts the door into a segmented picture frame. The opening of the frame needed to be just narrower than the dial’s width and so all dimensions were scaled accordingly and the familiar framing sequence of creating parts, rabbeting their undersides for glass, and then cutting the members to length at a 45° at the table saw ensued. The parts were then glued together with the aid of a band clamp.

After fashioning a muntin, and carving out a couple slots to hold the shop-made grilles, these could all be glued into place.

There is an “extra” layer along the top of that original door that seems to serve no purpose other than decoration. It is a small, rough board that looked to be both hand gouged and dubious, for it referenced no other component of the case. Anyway, it looked a bit shabby for what I had in mind and so my version replaces this part with a beaded board reminiscent of the shelf feature.

With the height dimension of that extra layer now fixed it was time to make the half-columns. These would need to be fashioned by turning on a lathe, which I do not possess, and so collaboration with a skilled lathe owner was required. As it happens, there is a professional furniture making shop just down the road from me, Still River Woodworks. Josh, the craftsman there, is a terrific guy who graciously offered to help with the wood turning. I provided him with a walnut “blank” and a pattern from which he carefully shaped the column on his tool. He even took a pic upon completing the job and it came out wonderful. Thanks Josh!

To finish-off this part all I needed to do was slice the column in half and then cut the ends to length. Bisection was done at the band saw where an auxiliary table and fence were installed to keep things centered through the entire cut.

Before attaching the half-columns I wanted to complete the cabinet portion and hinge work, as it would be easier to get the hinges placed properly without having to deal with that irregular column shape. The remaining cabinet parts consist of a bottom “shelf”, a top and a back board. The bottom of the original case looked to be a shelf made of decorated moldings fastened with miter joints which I would try to copy. First, a double bead pattern was created along the edge of a board at the router table. This fancy plank was then trimmed to final width and a groove was added at the table saw to house an interior panel before chopping the mitered ends. A short “connector” piece for the backside was formed in a like manner, along with that panel, making for a 5 part shelf.

Next, the top was formed by rabbeting the edges of a 3/4 in. board so as to fit within corresponding rabbets created along the top edge of the side pieces. This fixed the width dimension of the case, and with that dimension now known, two stopped grooves could be (carefully) routed into the shelf to house the sides. Finally, the back board was prepared to fit within rabbets created along the cabinet perimeter. Lots of futzing enjoyed here.

It made sense to prepare for the hinges at this stage, before glueing the parts together. And since the door frame overlaps the case on German wall clocks this turns out to a be trickier-than-normal operation. To begin, a double-depth mortise is cut into the case side. By this I mean that the mortise is deep enough to house both hinge leaves so as to present the door’s flap flush with the case. So far so good. The last step of mounting the door without an edge to reference is the dicey part. We’ll save that for later.

I jumped ahead here to fashion the decorative “bracket” (for lack of a better term) that completes the bottom portion of the case. It just seemed easier to manipulate things on the underside of the shelf at this stage without that bulky cabinet attached on the opposite side. The bracket consists of four parts, a back, two arms and what I’ll call a frontispiece, and making these involved executing freehand cuts along curved edges. I started by sketching a few cardboard patterns based on the eBay photos. In the workshop, these shapes were then traced onto some prepped walnut and cut out at the bandsaw. A drum sander at the drill press was used to smooth the curves and they came out nice. To assist with mounting the bracket to the shelf, a biscuit slot was cut into both the back piece and shelf.

Assembly and Finish

At last, it was time to put it all together. There remained a few trim elements to complete on top, but these would be best addressed once the bulk case was in-hand. To create the cabinet portion, the side parts were slid into glue-filled grooves within the preassembled shelf. Glue was then applied to rabbets along the back and top of the sides, into which the back and top boards could be slid. The nascent case was then clamped square to cure.

The top, possessing weak end-grain seams, was further secured using two small screws, and then it was time to mount the door. As mentioned earlier, the trick here is to get the proper hinge placement on the door stile without any edge to reference. Fortunately, this turned out to be easier than expected by using the assistance of double-stick tape. With the case laid prone on the bench, the brass hinges were nestled into their mortises and then tiny cardboard spacers were inserted between the flaps so that the door’s leaf sat flush with the case surface. Onto these flaps a small piece of double-stick cellophane tape was applied. With a metal rule laid at the base of the door frame to act as a “spacer” the door was then carefully centered over the case and pressed down firmly to gain adherence of the taped hinge flaps. Lifting-off the door and then laying it face-side-down on the bench revealed the hinges stuck in their exact position for mounting. Screw holes were drilled into the door and mortise openings and the door was then attached. It worked great.

I decided to get the glass for the doors cut at this stage, even though it will be not be installed until the end. A local glass supply store, Country Glass, was selected and they were a pleasure to work with for this small job. Once the door was back from their shop it was time to add the remaining parts. First, that “extra” layer mentioned earlier was attached along the top edge of the door with glue (and clamps). Next the tops and bottoms of those two half-columns were trimmed to their final dimension and the column parts were then glued on to the door stiles.

The original clock contained some brass metalwork on the upper columns. It is unclear if the function here was purely decorative or whether some fastening role was also at work but, in any case, I decided to replace the metal with wooden dowels which would serve to anchor the top of the column to the door. With the help of a simple drilling jig to center the holes, (4) handmade cherry sapwood dowels were inserted, and the ends sawn flush. This creates an “honest” decorative element in the spirit of Arts and Crafts.

The completed door was then re-attached to the case so that the top trim (cornice) could be applied. This molding piece was shaped using a cove bit at the router table, then cut to final width before chopping 45° joint ends at the miter saw. The three pieces were glued into a “U” prior to attaching the resulting construct to the case.

The next step was to figure out a way to mount the works. Quartz clocks, in general, are easy to build as the lightweight mechanism bolts directly to the dial; mount the dial and you’ve mounted the works. The one niggling issue is that the clock’s owner will need to periodically access the back of those works for battery changes and time adjustment. To fiddle with my wall mounted quartz clocks I simply take them off the wall to expose the back of the works, but this clock is heavy and, with no flat sides, it would not be easy to set down and open up the back. I decided that the way forward was to make the dial, itself, removable. After playing around with some scrap boards I managed to form a cradle that securely mounts the plywood dial board within the case using magnets as fasteners. To change the battery, one merely removes the pendulum and then snaps off the dial from its magnetic mooring while the case remains wall-bound. I think it will work fine.

Final case assembly involved attaching the bracket to the underside of the shelf, constructing a bonnet (pediment) to place on top, and adding a door stop and wall mounting fixture. These all proceeded without incident and it was at last time to finish the wood.

Finishing began with two applications of boiled linseed oil, the first cut 50% with mineral spirits, and the second wiped on a day later at full strength. After curing for four additional days, a light coat of gel polyurethane was wiped on to seal things up. The goal was to preserve the variety of natural walnut tones present in all 36 wooden parts while maintaining a lively appearance over time.

Only three steps to go. First, the glass panes were set in place and then thin walnut strips were glued onto the door frame to hold them there. I used a couple dots of water soluble wood glue on each strip for this. Still removable, if needed, and cleaner than nails. Next, the hinges were reattached, and the door mounted to the case. Finally, the fancy brass colored dial was cemented to its backing board and the quartz mechanism bolted into place through the central opening. Two hands, a battery and decorative pendulum complete the ensemble which can now take its proper place on the wall.

There’s something exciting about this clock. I hope you enjoy it.