Horological Meandering

In the wristwatch genre, I believe that a strong case can be made that Gübelin stood apart from other high-end retailers in at least one important respect. During the golden age of watchmaking (i.e. the mid ‘40s through the mid ‘60s), they sourced a wide array of good to excellent movements from different manufacturers, incorporated them into their in-house designed watches, and produced a fair number of interesting and (in some cases) very fine timepieces under their own banner.

That aspect of Gübelin’s business culminated in 1954, the company’s “Jubilé” year. To mark their 100^th anniversary, Gübelin created three special, limited edition series of watches. One was a nice version of their successful “Ipso Matic” watch (based on the Felsa 690 movement), limited to 300 pieces. The other two, however, were both manual-wind, and quite special.

The Best of the Golden Age Movements

While there is always some subjectivity involved in compiling such lists, it is generally agreed that there were a few extraordinary production movements developed during the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s that tested the upper limits of mechanical watch performance capabilities. Much like production automobile engines that were based on specialized, race-tested engines, these movements typically evolved from successful Observatory chronometers. In stark contrast to automobile engines, however, the best of the hand-finished chronometer-grade movements of 60 years ago remain virtually unsurpassed in potential accuracy, a truly remarkable achievement given the advances in materials, computer design, and machine technology.

There may well be others worthy of mention, but my short list of manual-wind movements includes the following (in no particular order):

Zenith 135

Peseux 260

Audemars VZSS/c (based on a Valjoux ebauche)

Patek 27SC

Movado 126

Omega 30T2rg

JLC 478/BWS/br

Vacheron Chronometer Royal (based on the above JLC ebauche)

Longines 30L/LS (chronometer version)

Along with many vintage collectors, I have been attracted to watches powered by such elite movements for some time. They were all produced in relatively small numbers, and, as awareness of them has spread in recent years (thanks largely to the internet), there are fewer good examples available, and values have escalated.

Most collectors would be delighted to own a nice example of a watch powered by any of the above movements, myself included. But even given a generous budget, we all tend to express our individuality by making distinctions, and narrowing our focus. In that context, I found myself, over time, gravitating towards one of the lesser known calibers on the list: the Audemars Piguet VZSS (VZSSc for the center-second version).

My reasons for developing a particular interest in, and attraction to that caliber were basically threefold. It is arguably the most esoteric of the top-tier, golden age calibers; it has an interesting and unusual pedigree; and it features uncommon (and to my eye quite pleasing) aesthetics. The short version is that these 13 ligne movements were derived from a Valjoux ebauche, and were used by both Patek Philippe and Audemars Piguet in their Observatory chronometers. For a much more detailed and thorough treatise on this interesting caliber, follow this link to an excellent post authored by Suitbert Walter:

patek.watchprosite.com

A Stroke of Luck

Most of the VZSS movements are found in fine, often understated Audemars Piguet watches from the 1950s. But a total of 400 of them also ended up in watches produced by another company, and yes, that company was Gübelin.

Of the various superb calibers available at the time, the VZSS was chosen by Gübelin to power the finest, and most historically important hand-wind watches that they ever produced. They made 200 sub-second versions, which were quite thin for the time, and 200 center-second versions. They were all finished to a very high standard, and serialized on the main-plates. The movements also featured a reference to Gübelin’s anniversary on the main-plates. All of the watches were cased in gold.

Given how few were produced, it is no surprise that they rarely appear on the market. I found one on ebay a few years ago, but someone snapped it up with a private offer, leaving those of us taking part in the auction empty handed.

During the winter of 2012, as I was cycling through some of my saved searches on ebay, I stumbled across – of all things – an orphaned Gübelin VZSSc Jubilé movement and dial. They were located in Germany, and appeared to be in very good condition. Acutely aware of my previous, frustrating experience, I contacted the seller, made an offer, and quickly consummated the deal.

The acquisition was utterly inconsistent with my long-standing position on marriages. I also had no illusions about the possible difficulties that I might face in terms of completing such a project, not least of which would be finding a suitable case. I knew full well that I was heading into uncharted waters, and yet, for some reason, I didn’t hesitate.

Three Essential Ingredients: Luck, Skill, and a Good Friend

While I considered myself lucky to have found and acquired such a fine, rare and desirable movement and dial, I wouldn’t have had a prayer to complete the project successfully without the help of an exceptional watchmaker. I say that, in part, because I would never have embarked on the journey with modest goals. No, I have high standards, and from the beginning I envisioned a watch that would be a showcase for the top-class movement, yet also stand on its own as a superbly integrated timepiece.

I had worked previously with Keaton Myrick, who is based in Oregon, and had been very impressed by his work, highlighted by two previous display back projects. His ability to fabricate parts, coupled with his experience in creating his own independent designs, also pointed him out as a logical choice for the job.

I sent the movement and dial to Keaton, and awaited his feedback. I was relieved to hear that the movement was fundamentally sound, and in excellent condition overall. However, he added that the set lever was broken. He assured me that he would be able to fabricate a replacement, so, to my relief, one potentially difficult (if not hellish) hurdle had apparently been cleared.

Keaton then measured the movement and dial to very close tolerances, so that he could gain a good feel for the approximate dimensions needed in a donor case. The VZSS movements are 13 ligne (30mm), which was typical of the best movements of the day, as they were capable of accommodating larger balance wheels. It was predictable, therefore, that a good-sized case (by period standards) would be required. What wasn’t expected, however, was that the dial was unusually large (30mm). This meant that I would either have to source and be satisfied with an oversized case, or somehow find a more normal one that could be adapted to the extra-wide dial.

I hasten to add that I had no interest in sourcing a gold case, not due to cost considerations, but because I prefer steel cases, and knew that I would want to have the movement visually accessible at all times through a display back.

Keaton and I tested two or three candidates, none of which were quite right, before a good friend came to my rescue. That friend is known to many collectors as the exceptionally knowledgeable and excellent moderator of The Purists’ Omega forum, Bill Sohne. Bill, who has long been ahead of the curve as a collector, had somehow found and acquired a NOS case for an Omega cal. 333 bumper chronometer, and, given its size, suggested that it might just work for my project. I sent the case to Keaton, and he confirmed that, with only very minor modifications, the case would likely work well. This was great news, as I happen to own a couple of 333s, and like the case design very much.

Fast forward several months, and the project was finished. The result, frankly, exceeded my expectations, and by more than a small margin. The case suits the movement and dial beautifully, and it is not difficult to imagine that if Gübelin had chosen to create a steel cased version of this special edition watch, it might have looked something like this.

The movement, not surprisingly, is highly accurate, and shows very well through the display back. It was originally adjusted to six positions and two temperatures. The winding action is silky smooth. The dial, while showing a scratch between the 12 and one o’clock markers (I liken it to a scar on a lovely woman's face), is very attractive, and the contrast of the gold markers and hands with the steel case is quite pleasing to my eye. A couple of small details worth noting are that the “sword” hands are the finest of their type that I have ever seen; the second hand must have a very high gold content (as many from that period, even those produced by top-class houses, tended to tarnish over time due to a lower content); and the eye-catching beveling of the markers are, on close inspection, small mirrors of the iconic Gübelin (hour glass) logo.

Hopefully I didn’t bore you with all of the above background and detail, but given how interesting and ultimately satisfying I found the project to be, a thorough review seemed appropriate.

As a final note, many thanks to Bill and Keaton (who is also credited with the photos below), without whom the project could not have been completed to anywhere near such high standards. And what a journey, from turning my nose up at marriages for years (decades, in fact), to envisioning, creating and owning one that I would never consider selling! It’s yet another example of just how interesting the world of vintage watch collecting can be, and how gratifying it can be to follow an unexpected fork in the road.

(Please respect the copyright of the images, but feel free to link to the post.)

Tony C.