I’m Obsessed With Watches and I Don’t Even Mind
My thing for timepieces is not new. I worked in master control rooms in broadcast and cable TV for over a decade. Keeping accurate time is no joke in the TV business; advertisers will hedge payments for spots based on timeliness. There are also “hard breaks” tied to satellite transmission windows as well as other events — moments when whatever is airing absolutely has to be on time. If you are microwaving a burrito in the company kitchen across the hall and not in the master control suite, you better have a watch that’s ticking second by second with the studio clock, or a workplace disaster could ensue.
But — the 15+ years since I worked in TV seemed to blunt an obsession I’d once had with showy, chunky, atomically accurate digital watches.
Then I started writing the occasional watch post for Maxim.
It’s never elaborate writing, often little more than whatever was on a press release. Yet each time, I am drawn a little deeper down a horology rabbit hole.
Is it about measuring time? About turning 51 and facing something that actually looks like age after a lifetime of always feeling like the most youthful person in the room? Or is it about growing up poor and suddenly realizing — though I am by no means wealthy — that I can occasionally afford something nice now?
It’s all that and more.
This week I realized it’s not really about investing in a collectible. It’s…more like the yen that makes some people go search for 4-leaf clovers on a regular basis.
And I already have my first white whale. Or 4-leaf clover, whatever. The Vulcain Cricket.
Vulcain watches are not major rarities. They may be one day, and that’ll be a shame, as they have major historical value. But the brand appears to be defunct as of 2016. Anyway, the Cricket in particular has a very cool feature that’s never been common to mechanical watches: an alarm.
That’s the lameass way I learned about the Cricket, by the way — googling “mechanical watches with alarms.”
What I was thinking: What if something fried all my electronics? Solar storm, EMP, whatever. It wasn’t the most serious line of thinking. I was also pondering how watchmakers have worked so hard to put new complications on their timepieces through the ages, before digital or smartwatches ever existed — and that one seems so simple, given mechanical alarm clocks have been a thing for ages.
So I happened onto online discussions of the Cricket and learned that it’s been known as the Presidents’ watch since the 1950s, when one was given to Harry Truman as he left the presidency. It became traditional presidential wrist wear, and a history of the Cricket by Bob’s Watches describes how Lyndon Johnson in particular delighted in its use:
Lyndon Johnson was possibly the watch’s biggest fan, buying his personal piece in Geneva and having his signature included on the dial. He also acquired a bulk order of 200 Crickets to give away as gifts during his term. But while the president may have been an admirer, with rumors stating he would often set the alarm to go off during meetings to give him an excuse to leave early, it caused those around him nothing but headaches. The mechanism’s constant droning noise was mistaken for a bomb on several occasions, terrifying his secret service detail.
I love everything about that story if it’s true. From the same history, here’s how the Cricket’s creator, Robert Ditisheim, developed his chirpy baby, conquering technical problems that had plagued earlier efforts by others:
By 1942, Robert had produced a prototype which went someway to overcoming these previous obstacles. His Caliber 120, a 22mm, manually-wound mechanism, solved the problem of the vibrations by utilizing two separate barrels, one for the movement itself and the other for the alarm function. By keeping the two independent of each other, the alarm not drawing energy away from the movement, it meant it could sound for up to 25 seconds when fully wound.
However, it was the issue of the volume which proved most difficult to crack. Robert consulted with physicist Paul Langevin on the task, who suggested that if a tiny cricket could produce enough noise to carry long distances, then the same must be possible for a watch mechanism in a small case.
There’s plenty of hype and myth in horology, of course, but you rope in Paul Langevin — former lover of Marie Curie and developer of revolutionary ultrasound technology used for World War I submarine detection — and it’s like sliding open a false wall to see another room full of history. That is, for what it’s worth, a great way to hook me on anything.
Yeah, I want a Cricket. There are some for sale online, sure — it’s not like I’ll have to go digging. But like too many great watches, they aren’t a casual purchase, running in the thousands of dollars, for the most part.
I’ve recently developed other recent fixations as well — the Cricket is just a strong one. Example: Bulova’s Computron, just revealed as a reissue for the watchmaker’s Archive Series at Baselworld 2019.
The original Computron was a quintessentially 70s stab at a premium (or at least very nice, dressy) digital watch.
Bulova nailed that throwback vibe with the new Computron and added a fascinating little tweak of watch functionality by making the majority of the face blend bracelet-style into the band then putting the time display on the side. It’s not just coolly original, the red LED is 70s as hell and its positioning makes subtly glancing at your watch in situations where it might otherwise seem rude just that much easier.
Is this a monkey on my back? I don’t know. I’m not broke yet, but I do have the beginnings of a decent collection.
I started with the Zodiac brand. Originally I learned of Zodiacs because a theory about the still-at-large Zodiac Killer was that he took his crosshairs symbol and name from the watch company. And it’s easy to see why that theory arose.
It even seemed like the killer wanted to write his nickname in a way that mimicked the font the watchmaker used in its ads in the late 1960s.
From there I grew more and more curious about the brand itself and eventually found an affordable, barely-used Zodiac on eBay. I bought it and loved it immediately. Zodiacs have weight and substance, and a blend of practicality and elegance that will get my attention every time.
(Okay, I did audition for and get a leading role in a local production of The Mikado while wearing one of my Zodiacs, and if you know how that operetta also ties in with the history of the case, you understand why I weirded myself out when I realized what I’d done.)
I don’t know if I will continue noodling around with watches or what. As I sit here now I certainly think I will, but I know myself well enough to admit I can be pretty mercurial, too.
Yet I’ve used more words here than in any purely personal blog post in ages. There’s also the fact I even chose to write the post in the first place.
Then again, at Maxim we aren’t looking to wade into the weeds like this, just inform our typically male readers about cool stuff. So maybe I’m getting the geekiness out of my system.
Whatever the case, what are you wearing?
On your wrist, I mean. Weirdo.
