The Watch

 Business was brisk for the budding entrepreneur in the growing city.

By day, Tic toiled over intricate gears and delicate springs, restoring life to time-worn pieces. When he was not in the back of his shop, repairing his “babies,” he was up front selling them.

 By night, he was a devoted family man, returning home to the warm embrace of his wife.

“When I am with you Sarah… time stands still,” he would tell his wife.

On Sunday he attended services. Often dozing off, exhausted from his weeks work. Sarah was religious and devout, trusting in angels.

 Often inviting strangers to the house for a home cooked meal. Ticking Tic off.

“Be kind and generous to all you meet. It might be an angel,” said Sarah.

“You are too naïve. Not all men have good intentions,” Tic said.

“My angels protect me. I need not worry,” she countered.

“Promise me no more strangers, unless I know about it,” said Tic.

“Yes… dear,” said Sarah.

As his anniversary approached Tic surveyed his shop, “look at what I have built, all by myself,” he thought.

 Sarah nagged, “Tic you need to get somebody to help you.”

“Why are you reluctant to hire someone,” she asked.

“No one is as passionate or cares like I do,” he replied.

“Well, I wish you were home more, especially since we are starting a family,” said Sarah.

Tic was successful on his own, fixing every watch that he saw. His reputation preceded him.

 “Got a problem with your clock, just take it to Tic, he will get it talking, he knows all the tricks,” the jingle was sung all around town.

Tic reveled in his success; it went straight to his head. “Never met a watch I couldn’t fix,” he said.

 Now a respected businessman, a pillar of the community, life was grand. Until that morning when the stranger came calling.

Tic was busy in the back when the bell rang. An older, sophisticated, gentleman entered the shop. Wearing a three-piece, wool suit, strutting with authority, he started looking around.

“Look at those shiny shoes,” Tic mused.

“Good day, wow this is quite a shop, you have every kind of clock,” said the stately gentleman removing his derby.

“Thank you, sir,” replied Tic.

“I heard from folks in town that you are the man to see, when your watch stops talking,” he said with a chuckle and a grin.

“Well, thank you sir, those are kind words,” replied Tic. “So, how can I help?” he asked with a grin.

“I have an antique pocket watch; it means a lot to me. Sadly, it is not talking,” said the gentleman smiling again.

“Well sir, you can leave it with me, I will take a look, I am busy right now, but give me a week and I will get it talking,” said Tic with a confident smile.

Out to impress the stranger, with bravado, he added, “never met a watch I could not get to talk.”

“Jaspers, that is just dandy,” exclaimed the gentleman. “Here you go,” he said, handing Tic his watch.

“Let me write you a receipt,” said Tic as he pulled out his book.

“Your name sir?” asked Tic.

“Marcus Daly, Bittersweet Ranch,” said the gentlemen.

Tic’s heart skipped a beat and he felt sick. Barely breathing he stuttered, “na…… nice to meet you Mr. Daly.”

 “I cannot believe my luck, a Copper King here in my shop. Royalty wants me to fix his watch. I will make a sign. The repairman for Kings. No, the King’s watchman,” he thought.

“I am Atticus Sullivan,” but everyone calls me Tic. “You know like the clock. Tic Tock,” he said.

“Ah Sullivan, a fellow Irishman,” said Mr. Daly.” Adding, “call me Marcus.”  

“Yes, Marcus, an Irishman… with a Greek first name,” said Tic, stunned that he was calling a King by his first name.

Marcus let out a belly laugh. “I must admit I know a lot of Sullivans, but none with a first name like yours,” said a chuckling Marcus. Tic smiled.

“Well, I feel better knowing my precious heirloom, is in an Irishman’s hands,” said Marcus.

“See you in a week,” said Tic.

 The men shook hands. Tic took the watch to the back of his shop.

 “A complex watch with sentimental value… this is a high-stakes task… a big gamble… but when I fix it…oh man…” he started to ramble.

Looking closer he was shocked at the sight; the watch was a repeater. Fitted with bells, wire gongs and complicated striking works.

 The movement was a feat of fine watchmaking. It was an expensive luxury watch, a status symbol.

To his dismay, while disassembling it, and using his eye loupe he saw a crucial wire pop out. “So, that was the problem,” was all he could say.

The snapped wire sent a wave of despair throughout his body. His heart began pounding in his chest like a hammer on an anvil. Saying, “how will I make the repair.”

 “My God, what have I done. This is not a simple fix. “I should know, I know all the tricks, “he cried out.

Panic set in, “my excellent reputation will end. Everything that I have built will soon be gone,” he thought.

The shop’s ticking timepieces turned into a taunting reminder, a ticking time bomb.

He juggled the possibilities in his mind. In only a week my work must be complete.

“Should I confess to his majesty that I was unable to fix his watch… oh no…no… that would be a travesty. I could try to find a wire from another watch, but would it work? Would it last?” he let out a gasp.

 “I will be the brunt of jokes. All will say, “Tic could not get the King’s watch talking.”

“Oh…no… the humiliation would be too much to bear,” Tic said as he tossed his hands up in the air.

With vigor he began anew, studying the watch. Every tiny part, looking closely at the chimes, the tones for hours, quarter hours, and minutes, hoping to understand its intricacies.

 Tic was lost in the cosmos of cogwheels and springs. Spending hours tinkering, thinking, and turning the levers.

 As time passed, he knew, a custom wire was needed for sure.

He scoured every corner of his workshop, rifling through drawers and cabinets, he gathered the wires he found, as his frantic search came to a stop.

Working late into the night, under a dim light, trying every wire in sight, using his fitter and loupe. But nothing would work. His fingers were sore from his relentless pursuit.

 Each passing hour was marked by the rhythmic ticking of the myriad of clocks, a solemn reminder that his time would soon run out.

As the burden of his predicament lay heavily on his shoulders, Tic found himself staring at the broken watch over and over. With the fifth day upon him there was no progress, and Tic was losing all hope.

 He was beyond desperation, he was defeated. Crying out “oh the humiliation.”

At home in bed, tossing and turning. “It’s the watch,” his wife said.

“Yes. I am not going to be able to fix it,” said Tic.

“Why not find someone to help. Why do everything on your own?” she asked?

“It’s late, I have run out of time,” said Tic.

“I was so arrogant. Full of pride,” he added.

“Do not despair, you have one more day, I will sit here and pray and pray,” said Sarah.

The sixth day dawned without success; Tic sat slumped over in front of his desk, in the back corner of his shop. Tired and worn out. A beaten man ready to surrender.

He knelt down, bowing his head, “Lord, please send an angel,” Tic said.

 Suddenly the doorbell sounded, and a stranger walked in.

 It was a short, man, wearing a three-piece suit and shiny shoes.

“That is not an angel,” he whispered looking up to the ceiling.

“Oh my god, I hope he does not have a watch that needs repair,” he said with despair.

With an air of playfulness, the man started walking around. Stopping and fondling the watches.

“Good day, this is a dandy collection of clocks you have there. It looks like every timepiece known to man lives here,” said Arthur laughing.

“Good day… well… I try to keep it stocked,” replied Tic.

“Just killing time,” said Arthur. Saying, “heard about the shop from Willie the news boy.”

“I have a fondness, an obsession for time pieces, thought I would stop in and see what is ticking,” chuckled Arthur. 

“Got dozens of watches and clocks, at least one in every room of my house,” he added.

“I can appreciate that,” said Tic.

Both men laughed aloud.

“New to Butte?” asked Arthur.

“Yes sir, arrived from Chicago, a year ago,” said Tic.

“Really, so did I… a long time ago…there I was working at the Elgin Watch Company…that is why I love watches so… know the place?” asked Arthur.

“Well, I’ll be darn… I sure do… that was where I was working,” said Tic in amazement.

 Taking a liking to the stranger he added, “you know Arthur I have always been fascinated by time.”

“Me too,” said Arthur. “However, my wife says, time is an illusion,” he added.

She says, “there is no such thing as the future or past, there is only the present and it won’t last.”

Tic went on to explain,” while working in the factory I learned about Peter Henlein a locksmith from Nuremberg, Germany, who invented the world’s first device to accurately measure universal time using science and mechanics.

 It happened back in 1510. Over four hundred years ago. I find it fascinating that he made a mechanical device that could accurately keep track of both day and night,” said Tic.

He went on, “now we are all slaves to them.”

“Yes, quite amazing, I love the mechanics of it all too. Always have, ever since I was a boy,” said Arthur.

 “That is how I got started. Fixing watches. Now I am working as the master machinist on the Hill as the leader of the Butte Mines Shop,” he added.

“Look what I have here,” Arthur said as he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his prized possession. Tic’s eyes lit up as Arthur handed him the watch.

“Wow, that sure is a dandy of a watch, finest made. That sir, is a Hamilton Railroad Grade 940 Pocket Watch, made by the Hamilton Watch Company,” said Tic as he rolled the timepiece in the palm of his hand.

“Exactly. My favorite one,” said Arthur.

Tic enthusiastically continued, “it has twenty-one jewels, a motor barrel, double roller, and lever set that were designed for extreme accuracy. Railroad conductors and engineers use it to keep the trains running on schedule. That is why it is called, “The Timekeeper of America.”

“Impressive, you really do know your watches,” said Arthur in amazement.

Tic handed the watch back to Arthur. There was a long pause. Arthur noticed the distressed look on Tic’s face as he lowered his head.

“Not to pry Tic… but are you worried about something?” asked Arthur.

Tic paused. Suspicious of strangers, he was not sure how much he should share.

“I met my Waterloo,” said Tic.

“Really,” said Arthur.

Tic was still hesitant. “My soul, should I bear?” Pausing, “what the hell, what can I lose?”

“I have been working on a watch for a week and my time is running out. I promised the owner it would be ready tomorrow and I cannot fix it,” he said.

“Where is the watch?” asked Arthur.

“On my desk in the back,” said Tic.

 Arthur followed Tic to the back of his shop.

“Here it is,” said Tic.

“That is an old, expensive watch, a repeater, right?” said Arthur.

“Sure is… it belongs to a King,” said Tic.

“You don’t say… a King?” asked Arthur.

“It belongs to Marcus Daly,” said Tic.

“Oh my… the Copper King… mind if I take a look?” asked Arthur.

“Be my guest,” replied Tic.

 Arthur with hands, custom to tinkering, grabbed the eye loupe and hammer and went right to work.

 The sound of the ticking clocks marked the minutes. The chimes sounded for the hour.

 Tic watched in silence, his heart pounding with anticipation. Anxious to help, handing Arthur different wires. The two men tinkered together. Sharing ideas.

 After what seemed like hours, Arthur bent a small wire. Wiggling it this way and that way, he put it in place. Miraculously fixing the priceless time piece.

“Tic, tock,” the watch came back to life.

“We did it,” exclaimed Tic.

“My god, you made it look so easy…I never thought of fixing it that way,” he added.

“I cannot thank you enough. Please take a new watch chain for your trouble,” said Tic with gratitude.

 “No, my pleasure, I am glad to help,” said Arthur.

 The men shook hands. Arthur disappeared.

Tic stood there frozen in time. Staring at the watch in shock and disbelief.

“I did it… we did it. My god, the Kings watch is fixed,” he said a loud.

The encounter with Arthur was profound. Tic greeted every stranger with enthusiasm. Some he even invited to dinner.

On the way home he stopped by the florist and bought roses for Sarah.

 He burst through the door with flowers in hand. Grabbed Sarah lifting her high into the air.

“You fixed the watch?” Sarah shouted out.

“No… and angel did,” said Tic.

Several months later Arthur decided to drop in on Tic.

The bell rang as he entered the shop. A young man shouted out, “good day sir, how can I help?

“Oh, I just came by to see Tic, is he about?” asked Arthur.

“He will be back shortly, he just stepped out,” replied the young man.

“And who are you lad?” asked Arthur.

“I am Johnny Hancock, but everyone calls me Tock because of my love for clocks,” he said.

Arthur erupted in laughter. “How long have you been working here?” asked Arthur.

“About a month, arrived from Chicago, where I just graduated from the Parsons Horological School at the University of Chicago with a degree in horology,” said Tock proudly.

“Don’t have any family so I came West, and by chance I ran into Tic, I can be a partner after a bit,” he said.

“Well, son, my wife says there is no such thing as chance, it is by God’s grace, that he orchestrates life’s events to benefit us all, collectively,” said Arthur.

Just then Tic entered the store with a sign in his hand.

“Hello, my good friend Arthur, how are you?” asked Tic.

“I am just dandy,” replied Arthur.

“I see you have met my partner Tock,” said Tic.

“I sure have, a fine young man and a college graduate,” said Arthur.

“Yes, he is teaching old Tic, all the new tricks.”

“Take a look. What do you think?” asked Tic.

Arthur erupted in laughter once again. The sign read, “Tic and Tock’s Clocks.”

Written by William Wedgwood Hawkesworth @williamhawkesworth.com.

 Copyright 11/09/2023.