1956 Accumatic

Sometimes Hamilton watches come with a bit of a mystery... especially when come across two of them.  

This post gets to a good example of a mystery model.  Back in 2015 I had the same situation and I called it the 1956 Accumatic.

The Accumatic introduced a new line of automatic models to supplement the K-series that was introduced earlier.  The Accumatic model line really was a continuation of the Illinois automatics that were introduced even earlier - so you could say the Accumatic line came first, depending on what you called the starting point.

The Accumatic was followed initially by the Accumatic II, Accumatic III, etc. all the way up to the Accumatic XI before being continued with numbers like the Accumatic A-501 starting in 1961.  The Accumatic line continued on into the 1970s, long after the K-series ended.

The original Accumatic was produced from 1956 through 1958.  It was distinctive because of the "flying saucer" case but also because of the dial options.  And here is where it gets interesting.

Here's a photo of the Accumatic with the all-numeral dial option shown in the catalog depiction.  If the case looks familiar, it should.  A similar lug shape was used on the design of the 1955 K-503. 

The similarities are definitely there but as you can see in the photo below of a K-503, the bezel isn't an exact match. 

So what is it that makes the Accumatic so different?  Mainly it's the movement inside... the Accumatic line uses ETA movements while the Automatic K series used Kurth Freres movements (primarily).  That means that if you have a mystery watch with an ETA movement, it's going to be an Accumatic of some ilk.

Of course, ETA made different versions of automatic calibers and continues to do so to power today's modern Hamilton watches.  I suppose you could safely argue that the Accumatic is the great great grandpappy of all Hamilton automatics today.

So onto my project watch.  As I said above, it's the exact same setup as my 2015 watch.  It's an Accumatic dial and movement in a case with slightly different lugs.  The Speidel bracelet is a 1970s aftermarket add on and can be safely disposed of, although it does have one of those funny analog calendar scroll do-dads, which is interesting.

The case back is the same setup as the 1958 Sea-Glo I recently did.  It's a pie-pan disc held in place with a screw-on ring.  They can be tricky to remove if they are secured by layer after layer of "old man funk".  This one is engraved with a presentation from 1958... in keeping with the time frame for Accumatics.  If you peruse the catalogs, there are no other options that utilize this case.  Having now found two examples in the wild, I think you can safely say that this is an Accumatic variation.

Tucked inside the case is a Hamilton 672 movement.  This is the same caliber Illinois models used and clearly dates this watch to 1958 or earlier.  Again, by 1958 you only had a small handful of Accumatic models to choose from and this doesn't match the Accumatic II through V.

Black dialed watches are interesting.  The green lume is an obvious add on.  The appropriate color would be white.  The black dots at the numerals are spent radium lume paint.   Part of the challenge with black dials is if you attempt to clean them they usually turn gray - so you have to be really careful with them.

With the dial out of the way, you can see the business end of the movement.  It's a classic ETA design.

Once the automatic framework is removed, you're left with essentially a Hamilton 671 like what was in the Sea Glo.  The difference would be the mainspring and mainspring barrel.  

Everything is cleaned and ready to reassemble.  I relumed the hands with white lume and the dial too.  Before doing the dial, I treated it to a "poor man's refinish" and gave it a light spritz of lacquer after removing the old radium in my watch rinse.

Like the 671, the trick to this movement is to get the train bridge back in place.  It's not as difficult and the later ETA movements with four wheel pivots to align - but it still takes some finesse to get the bridge to drop on place so all the wheels spin freely.

Once the movement is reassembled and wound up a bit, the balance comes back to life and it can go on the timer.

Not too shabby at all.  I can tweak it a smidgeon from here.

The finished watch looks great with a fresh strap and a new crystal.  The new lume looks a little like new shoelaces on old sneakers but it's a load better than what I started with.  Applying lume, especially to dials, is very challenging.  At least it will glow in the dark again.

1958 Sea-Glo

The first "sea something" was the 1957 Seabrook.  Over the next 15 years there would be almost 50 models with Sea in the name somewhere.  I don't know what the origin story is for the theme, but there surely has to be a reason for it.  Perhaps it's because most of them were "waterproof"?

In 1958 the Sea-Glo was introduced.  It was listed in the 1958, 1959, 1960, and 1961 catalogs and nothing changed from year to year, not even the price.  By 1961 the catalog showed "sold out", which sometimes occurred in the catalog.  Makes you wonder why you'd do that though... why list a watch and say it was unavailable?  Maybe all of the examples for that model year were already allocated, so you couldn't order it.

As you can tell from the artistic rendering, the Sea-Glo came in two dial options, white or black.  The dials were embossed with white (silver) numerals and markers and the dial has a really interesting scallop-shell pattern.  Perhaps that was keeping with the Sea-theme.

Tucked inside the case you'll find a 17 jewel Hamilton 671 movement, based on an ETA 1080 caliber.

My project watch has been patiently waiting it's turn at the spa for several years.  I've had it for a long time and it never came up in my queue, mainly because it looks like it had a three-pack-a-day cigarette habit and the white dial has a yellow-ish tan look to it.  The crystal is a bit beat up too, and that adds to it's "rode hard and put away wet" aesthetic.

Now this is interesting... the case back is my least favorite design... the old pie pan with a screw-on ring.  Actually, that's not entirely accurate... my least favorite design is the snap on case back that no longer snaps on firmly - and that can actually cover quite a few models.  However, this screw-on ring design can be a bugger to open if you don't a good case wrench.

Another reason that it's noteworthy is the Sea-Glo that I posted on back in 2013 (has it really been 13 years?) had a snap on case design.  That begs the question... in what year did the case change and which style came first?  Regardless - it would appear that the Sea-Glo came with two different case designs... go figure.

My Bergeon case wrench made short work of opening the case back... once the old grime and DNA broke free, it opened right up.  Apparently the gasket may not have been properly seated the last time it was closed - whenever that was.  It's been a while, based on the green funk inside the rim.  The movement looks fine though.  Once the stem is removed, the movement should drop out the back.

Now that the movement is outside the case, you can see the dial has an even coating of grime... notice the numerals and markers have no shine.  This is going be a judgment call... I can try to clean it but I might lose the Hamilton logo, or I can leave it as is and call it an "honest patina". Hmm....?

All the parts get disassembled and cleaned and while that's going on I decided to work on the dial with some Rodico putty.  That's basically like a cross between an eraser and silly putty.  I was able to remove a good portion of the grime and left the logo alone.

While the parts were in the cleaner, I also applied fresh luminous paint to the hands and dial so it will glow in the dark again.

The trickiest part of reassembling the movement is to get the train bridge to seat.  It's not the most difficult movement but the wheels all have long arbors and you have to get all three pivots to seat or the bridge won't go into place.  At this point, in the photo below, the wheels all spin freely - that means the power from the mainspring will flow smoothly to the pallet fork and onto the balance, once they're installed.

Next in place is the barrel and mainspring, along with the barrel bridge.  Then the pallet fork and it's bridge.  At this point I can wind the watch and once the balance is in place it should spring back to life.

My camera has captured the balance frozen in time, but it's actually ticking away with a good motion.  After over a thousand watch restorations, I've learned to judge how well a watch is running just by looking at it.  Well, that's not entirely true... I can't tell how well it's running but I can tell if it's not running well.  I still need a timer to tell how well a watch is running, and that's where the movement is headed now.

That's not too shabby...I'm going to leave it just as it is.

I have found that these old gaskets shrink if you heat them but will expand if you put them in cleaning rinse solution.  I was able to get it to soften up and take it's proper shape.  Now when I close it up, it should stay in place thanks to the compression of the threaded ring.

The last finishing touch is to replace the crystal with a fresh PHD-style.  28.5mm should do the trick.

My camera doesn't do the finished project justice.  The dial is an even honey color and the numerals and markers have a little shine to them now.  The new lume looks fine on the hands and, when charged with light, they will glow in the dark.  A fresh mocha-colored strap completes the restoration and this drawer-queen of a watch is finally ready for a little well deserved wrist time!

1977 Thin-o-matic T-2 something

The last post I did happened to be an early Thin-o-matic model.  By chance, my next project was also a Thin-o-matic, but I think it was a Thin-o-matic in name only.

It's from "the dark ages" of Hamilton watches - the late 1970s, which extended into the 1980s.  A lot was going on during that period and the company that was once the Hamilton Watch Company in Lancaster PA, became the Hamilton Watch Company, a division of whatever holding company owned them, eventually landing on the Swatch Group.  Concurrently, watch technology quickly evolved too and a good portion of Hamilton's model lineup in the 1970s was electronic watches like LEDs and LCD models.

My project watch was an award for an employee of Chevron.  You'll see a lot of watches in the wild with the Chevron logo.  Like Hamilton, Chevron had several predecessors incliding; Star Oil, Pacific Coast, and Standard Oil.

My project is a nice watch, cased in solid 14K yellow gold.  The dial appears to be a classic Hamilton dial, sterling silver with solid gold numerals and markers.  The Chevron logo dominates the top portion of the dial and Hamilton with Thin-o-matic is printed on the bottom half.

Although the dial says Thin-o-matic, this is not a very thin case.  The model number is 978077.  I believe the last two digits are the year of the model.  The case back is engraved with a presentation from 1981 from Standard Oil Company.

The watch opens through the crystal.  Once the crystal is removed, I can lift the dial and movement ou the front.

The case has a deep back, with no mention of Lancaster PA by this time. The number within is unique to this watch and means nothing to anyone other than the case maker, B&A.

The power plant behind the dial is a Hamilton 835 movement.  This is based on an ETA 2871.  I expected to see a white Buren micro-rotor behind the dial, being a Thin-o-matic, but I guess those days were behind them when this watch was made.

The female-side of the two-piece stem looks odd to me, like the old CLD-style female stem.  Turns out it was just loaded with dirt.  Once it was cleaned it looked normal.

By this time period, dial foot screws were replaced my dial clamps, J shaped levers that rotate to pinch the dial feet in place.  Once they are rotated outward, the dial can lift off.

The dial side of the main plate is rather crude looking to my eye... it's sort of Jack Webb of Dragnet theme... "just the facts".  A single screw holds the bridge for the minute wheel and setting wheel.  The ring around the perimeter is a spacer that supports the dial and will lift off.

A single screw holds the oscillating weight in place and once it's out of the way, I can remove the framework that supports it.

At this point this is now just a manual winding watch.  You may be able to see the strong family resemblance between this movement and the earlier ETA calibers like the 688.  There are some differences, of course, but the basics are all the same.

The case has short lugs and will benefit from curved spring bars when it's time to mount a strap.

Everything is cleaned and ready to be reassembled.  I found the little bent golden wire at the top in my cleaning solution... I wonder where it goes?

Aha!  It took me a while but I realized that the bent wire was part of the click that enables winding.  This movement uses an integrated click and spring and the spring part broke off.  Fortunately I have a donor part to use.  You can see on the left what it's supposed to look like.

With a functioning click, I can wind the watch and then install the balance.  It's now ticking away with a brisk motion.  This movement has a 21600 beat per hour rate - a lot faster than the typical 18000 BPH rate of most vintage watches.

Not too shabby.  I can slow it down easily enough.

And voila!  The movement is now running right on the money.

A new crystal and a fresh strap complete the restoration of this elegant almost 50 year old watch.  I relumed the hands and dial so it will glow in the dark again too.  Looks pretty good, don't you think?