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Yema was formed in Besançon France in 1948 by Henry Louis Belmont who employed a team of young watch technicians with the intention of putting French watchmaking on the map. Things went well, and by the late 1960’s Yema were already producing 500,000 watches per year and were the first French watch company to produce a chronometer rated calibre.

The 1970’s were good years for Yema who produced a number of popular (and now collectible) watches, most notably a range of Valjoux powered chronographs including the Flygraf, Navygraf and Yachtingraf.

They also produced a line of popular divers watches such as this Superman model which has a look of the Heuer diver with French roots which I wrote about recently (see that post here).

Production had been increasing steadily over the years and had reached 2 million per year by the early 1980’s. Henry Louis Belmont stepped aside in 1982 and passed control of the company across to his son, after which “the wheels came off” you might say.

The company was quickly sold and though the brand name remained intact, the company changed hands several times over the next 20 years. The quality of the watches quickly deteriorated, the brand image suffered, and production decreased to just over 100,000 units per year.

It looked like the end of the road for Yema when the company filed for bankruptcy at the end of 2008. However, all was not lost as a French company, Ambre, stepped in and purchased the brand, making it a wholly French owned company again.

The watch in this post is from the Sous Marine range which was first introduced in 1953, though this one is from the 1970’s. This model  has a rotating inner bezel which is turned using the upper crown and inside is a 17 jewel, French Ebauche (FE) cal. 4611 automatic.

The watch arrived in running condition but badly needed a service. As you may have seen in the first picture the lume in the hands had literally turned to dust and distributed itself across the entire watch.

After servicing the movement it was on to the cosmetic issues. The hands were relumed and the dust was carefully removed from the dial, inner bezel and inside the case which finished the job.

I’m intrigued by the second scale on the dial on this watch. “Temps Ecoule” means running time and “Moyenne” means average, but I’ve got no idea how you would use it. I don’t think it is related to the scale on the inner bezel but I could be wrong. If anyone can tell me what this scale is for and how to use it, I’d be much obliged.

If you would like to read a more detailed history of the Yema brand and see more of their models, check out this post on Harry Bishop’s excellent blog Seiko Champion.

You can also see the current Yema lineup here, which still includes a sprinkling of automatic models I’m pleased to say.

Rich.

** Many thanks to Dave Noke for letting me feature his watch on the blog. **

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This watch arrived in running condition, but had problems with the chronograph mechanism. It would stop as soon as the minute register started to advance, suggesting a problem with the depthing of the wheels in the chronograph mechanism.

The movement in this watch is quite interesting as it is one of the rarer Lemania calibres, the cal. 1277.

What makes it interesting is that it was only produced in 1969 and was used almost exclusively in a handful of Tissot chronograph models from that year. After 1969, the cal. 1277 was modified slightly and renamed as the Tissot cal. 872.

My initial suspicions about the chronograph problem proved to be unfounded as disassembling the watch revealed that it had been seriously over-oiled in the past.

This had obviously been done many years ago as the oil had thickened to a paste and the problem with the minute register was immediately apparent. The chronograph heart was literally stuck to the underside of the bridge with old oil.

After a thorough cleaning the movement was back up and running again and after polishing the crystal and cleaning the case, here is the result.

Though the pictures don’t really show it, at 36mm wide, this watch is quite small for a chronograph. Here is a picture of it with a couple of its stablemates from the same era to give you an idea of its size.

Rich.

** Many thanks to Anders Wengman for letting me feature his watch on the blog. **

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This is the third Mille Miglia model that honours the veteran Belgian racing driver Jacky Ickx who competed in 144 Formula 1 races between 1967 and 1979, and had a successful endurance racing career, winning the Le Mans 24 Hour race 6 times. Karl-Friedrich Scheufele, the co-president of Chopard, and Jacky Ickx are good friends and compete in motor racing events together. This friendship was undoubtedly the catalyst for the Ickx series of watches.  (The fourth edition is now available, you can see that watch here.)

The movement inside this watch is a decorated and adjusted, 49 jewel, ETA cal. 2892-A2 which has a Dubois Dépraz designed chronograph mechanism. This calibre is a “modular” rather than an “integrated” chronograph, which means that the chronograph and timekeeping parts of the calibre are two independently designed modules coupled together.

With the modules ‘uncoupled’ you can see how they integrate, the first picture shows shows the top of the timekeeping module (where the dial would sit on a regular ETA cal. 2892). The power from the going train is fed directly into the chronograph module by the hour wheel and the ‘blank’ date ring advances the date, either normally at midnight or via the quickset.

The second picture shows the underside of the chronograph module, the arrows showing the parts driven by the timekeeping module.

The disadvantage of modular chronograph calibres is that they are generally thicker than their integrated cousins, which of course means that a thicker case is needed to go around them (although this is less of an issue in these ‘big watch’ times). The ETA 2892-A2 also has another quirk in that the crown and pushers are out of alignment when viewing the case from the side.

A routine service solved the timekeeping issue, but finding the date problem required quite a bit of thought. With the dial and hands removed you can see that the date mechanism is mounted on the front of the chronograph module. (Note that even under the dial the top plate has been decorated; another sign of quality.)

This watch has what is referred to as a ‘big date’ wherein the date is made up of two separate discs which rotate independently. The discs have a ’star’ shaped gear mounted on their underside, so their position in relation to the mechanism underneath is essential for correct operation.

I can only assume that the watchmaker who last serviced the watch didn’t fully understand how it worked as the discs had been positioned incorrectly. Consequently, the date had fallen into a ‘dead zone’ and would longer advance. No parts were damaged, so after setting up the mechanism correctly it was working properly again.

With the problems solved, the watch was reassembled which completed the job.

Chopard are celebrating their 150 year anniversary this year and you can see their current range here. (Don’t miss their L.U.C. series of in-house designed and hand finished watches).

Rich.

** Many thanks to Helge Johnsen for letting me feature his watch on the blog. **

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What makes this Aquastar different to the other Regate models on the blog is the design of the case and bracelet. It has what is called a ‘Lobster Tail’ or ‘Armadillo’ bracelet which consists of overlapping sections of metal, rather than being made up of independent links like a traditional bracelet.

While it sounds like more like an instrument of torture than a watch bracelet, it is surprisingly comfortable as the bracelet forms a natural band around the wrist.

The same case and bracelet was also used by Tissot who released a dual Tissot/Aquastar branded version of the Regate, and also a similarly styled chronograph fitted with a Lemania cal. 1341.

The calibre in the Regate is the Lemania cal. 1345 which is a modified version of the cal. 134x chronograph. Rather than repeating how the timer mechanism works, I’ll direct interested parties to this post for more details.

The watch arrived in running condition, but it hadn’t been serviced for many years. It was almost impossible to set the time or wind the watch manually, and the power reserve was minimal.

When disassembling the watch I noticed something odd about the dial. Underneath the “REGATE Automatic” lettering on the dial, it had once said “REGATTA Automatic”, the name of the Heuer variant of this watch. The deleted lettering was just legible using a microscope.

I presume that the dials for all models will have been produced in the same factory, but whether the Aquastar models were to be branded “REGATTA” rather than “REGATE” at some time, or they just had some Heuer dials left over and re-used them, who knows?

A movement service cured the winding and setting problems, so after a clean up, the watch was back to its best.

The owner of this watch, Mark Reichardt, has a keen interest in sailing timers. If you have any questions or information about them, especially the vintage mechanical models, I’m sure he’d like to hear from you. You can contact him at the following email address; j.m.reichardt@planet.nl

Rich.

** Many thanks to Mark for letting me feature his watch on the blog. **

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The history of Jaquet-Droz is colourful to say the least. Pierre Jaquet-Droz opened his first studio in La Chaux-de-Fonds in 1738 where he specialised in automata, or ’self operating machines’. He started by adding singing birds to clocks and pocket watches and as his talent grew, he moved on to larger, more technical pieces, i.e. richly decorated bird cages with multiple automated song birds.

A trip to Spain in 1758 proved very lucrative for Pierre. The King of Spain was so enchanted with his automata that he bought his entire collection, enabling him to open a second studio in London and devote all his time to his craft. Consequently, his reputation spread rapidly and his creations found their way into many European courts.

His three most elaborate creations are referred to as the ‘Jaquet-Droz Automata‘ and can be seen at the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire of Neuchâtel, in Switzerland – “The Draughtsman” draws four different images, “The Musician” is a female organ player who physically plays the tunes rather than miming to a music box, and the most complex of the three is “The Writer”, who can be ‘programmed’ to transcribe any 40 character message. Here is a short video of the three of them in action.

Pierre died in 1790, shortly after opening a watchmaking factory in Geneve with his son Henry-Louis. Tragically, his son also died the following year while traveling and this had a devastating effect on the company, which ceased trading sometime in the early 1800’s.

The Jaquet-Droz name was resurrected in the 1960’s by a consortium who produced a range of chronographs and diving watches. Unfortunately, the company was hit by the quartz crisis and closed before it really got started. (Watches from this period, like the one in this post, can be recognised by the arrow logo.)

Like a phoenix from the ashes, Jaquet-Droz rose yet again in 2001 when the name was bought by the Swatch group. Since then the company have produced a range of dress watches and chronographs with in-house calibres. You can see their current range here.

Ok, back to the watch. By the 1970’s, whistling birds and other such tom-foolery were no longer incorporated, but removing the caseback did reveal an unexpected surprise, a rhodium plated Landeron cal. 189.

The cal. 189 is one of the rarer Landeron calibres, and was used in very few production watches, the best known probably being the Heuer Carrera Dato 45.

The cal. 189 differs from other Landeron calibres in that it has a date display, and operates like a regular chronograph; the top button is used for start/stop and the lower button resets. On most Landeron chronographs the top button starts the mechanism and the bottom button is used for stop and reset.

Overall, the watch was in relatively good condition but hadn’t been serviced for years, so after a routine service it was back up and running again.

Cosmetically it was still in good condition, but you may have spotted in the first picture that the sweep second hand had been broken off at some time. After that was replaced, there was little left to do except clean the case and polish the crystal.

Rich.

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From the front there is little to distinguish this Tissot Seastar from many of its 1970’s stablemates. The word ‘Electronic’ on the dial is a clue that there is something different going on here, and opening the caseback reveals an electronic or transistorised calibre, the ESA cal. 9154 Dynatron.

Transistorised watches form an interesting chapter in wristwatch history. They were first introduced between the true electric watches of the 1950’s, such as the Hamilton 500, and the earliest quartz watches which appeared on the market in 1967.

They can be thought of as hybrid calibres in that they have a balance, hairspring and regulator just like a mechanical calibre, but the mainspring is replaced by a battery and an electronic module. The obvious advantage is that being battery powered they never need to be wound, but also the power from the battery remains constant unlike the torque from a mainspring which varies depending on the state of wind.

To say that the watch has a traditional balance assembly isn’t exactly true, here is a picture of the balance suspended on a balance tack.

The balance wheel consists of two discs which pass above and below the induction coil on the electronic module as the balance rotates. On each disc are two magnets which are used to convert the electric charge from the induction coil into electromagnetic energy. You can see the magnets on the lower disc in the picture above, the upper disc has two identical magnets on the underside.

To compensate for the weight of these four magnets, the lower disk also has a counterweight (see inset). As the balance wheel has to be poised to minimise positional errors, just like a traditional balance wheel, several holes are drilled into the counterweight to achieve this.

At the heart of the calibre is the electronic module, which consists of a stop contact, a transistor, two capacitors, a resistor, and two induction coils. Although it looks like a single induction coil it is actually two coils wound together, one is connected to the base contact of the transistor and the second to the emitter.

Here is how it works. The key to the circuit is the transistor which acts as a switch. As the first pair of magnets on the balance wheel pass over the induction coils and a positive current is induced in the coil connected to the base of the transistor. This current effectively ‘opens’ the transistor and allows a larger flow oc current from the capacitor/battery through the transistor and down through the second induction coil.

While this is happening the balance rotates further and the second pair of magnets are over the coils just as the second coil is charged which repels the magnets, giving an electromagnetic push to the balance wheel. When the balance returns in the opposite direction, the first pair of magnets induce a negative current in the coil which ‘closes’ the transistor, cutting the power from the battery.

The system is undoubtedly ingenious and it is a shame that this invention, along with many others, was effectively “kicked into the long grass” with the introduction of quartz watches. You still see a few of these watches around, but they aren’t really that collectible due to the lack of available spare parts and difficulty of repair.

I bought the Tissot in a non-running state which was a bit of a gamble, but I did have another watch with the same calibre which I could use as a donor, so I was confident that I would be able to make one good watch out of the two.

The original hands were pretty tired so I found some suitable replacements, and after cleaning the case, fitting a new crystal and battery, the restoration was complete.

Rich.

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In the eBay listing the seller’s description was worded ‘economically’ to say the least, here it is in its entirety: “Does not run but the movement looks great.” The second picture wasn’t much better than the first but I still thought it was worth the risk.

Albert Wittnauer created the Wittnauer brand in 1880 after spotting a gap in market for an affordable Swiss watch designed specifically for US buyers. The watches were designed and produced in Geneve, and as he was already working for a watch importer, getting his watches into the US was no problem. Priced lower than Swiss competitors at that time, the brand was an instant success.

The popularity of the brand continued to grow over the following decades and when Wittnauer timepieces were fitted to the aeroplanes using during World War I it began a strong link with aviation, their timepieces being used in later historic flights such as Amelia Earhart’s solo crossing of the Atlantic in 1932, and Howard Hughes’ coast to coast speed crossing of the US in 1937.

In terms of notable wristwatches, Wittnauer released the world’s first waterproof, shockproof, anti-magnetic wristwatch, the “All-Proof”, in 1918…

… and the first Swiss made electric watch available in the US, and still a candidate for the watch with the coolest hands ever, the Electro-Chron in 1957.

Wittnauer are still producing watches but they are now owned by Bulova who took over the company in 2001. If you would like to read more about the history of the Wittnauer brand, you can do that here.

When my watch arrived I was pleased that the risk had paid off, the case, dial and hands were in great condition and the seller had been true to his word, the movement did indeed look great.

All the watch needed was a full service for the movement, so after that, a thorough cleaning of the case, and fitting a new crystal and strap, here is the result….. “Retro”!

Rich.

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Known as the ‘De Baschmakoff’ this watch was first released in the early 1970’s when Lip commissioned a number of architectural, interior and graphic designers to develop a series of groundbreaking watches. This model was designed by Prince François de Baschmakoff in 1971.  (I wrote recently about another model from the same series, the Lip Mach 2000, you can read that post here).

Rather than displaying the time with hands in the traditional manner, in this watch the time is represented by three spinning disks, one each for the hours, minutes and seconds. The red line on the crystal is used as the reference point for the current time.

The movement inside this watch is a manually wound A. Schild cal. 1902, which is a standard mechanical manually wound movement but with modifications to support the three disks. Here is a picture of the movement with the dial removed so you can see the disks.

This style of watch is known as a ‘jump hour’ because rather than rotating constantly  like a traditional hour disk, the hour disk springs forward when the hour changes. With the second and minute disks removed you can see the mechanism that makes this happen.

In the centre of the hour disk is a separate section containing a coiled spring. The hour wheel sits over the cannon pinion like a regular hour wheel, but rather than the whole disk turning, only the centre section turns, building up power in the coiled spring as the hour passes. The outer edge of the hour disk is stepped and the disk is held stationary by the release lever.

The changing of the hour is triggered by the minute disk which has a raised point on its outer edge between ‘0′ and ‘5′ (see inset above). As the end of the hour approaches the raised point on the minute disk begins to push out the release lever, until it is eventually pushed off the step and …. ‘choing!’… the power from the coiled spring is released, the hour disk jumps forward to the next hour, the release lever hits the next step and the process begins again.

As you can see in the pictures, the mechanism is quite fragile and while good in principle, it didn’t prove strong enough to handle the rigours of daily use, relegating the watch to more of a novelty item than a serious timepiece.

This particular watch came to me with a broken hour spring and other sundry problems. Also supplied was a second watch to use for parts, so after puzzling out how it was supposed to work, I was able to make one working watch from the two.

Like many of the designs from the 1970’s, Lip have chosen to release a modern version of the De Baschmakoff in a variety of styles, this time the watch is  fitted with a Swiss Ronda quartz rather than a mechanical movement.

For more details, and to see the current Lip range, visit www.lip-horloges.nl.

Rich.

** Many thanks to Henrik de Keizer for letting me feature his watch on the blog. **

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The brand name “CWC” stands for Cabot Watch Company, who were established in 1972 and have been providing equipment to the British military for over 30 years.

As you would imagine, a wristwatch is an important piece of equipment for any defence force and performance specifications have to be met before any timepiece is deemed fit for military use.

Every country has its own specifications (and suppliers) which have evolved as technology has advanced. The British forces have been supplied by several companies over the years, namely Lemania, Rolex, Hamilton, CWC, Tudor, Newmark, Precista, Seiko and Pulsar.

Any watch issued to a member of the armed forces is marked with a designation number and a serial number which includes the year of issue. In addition to this, equipment issued to British personnel is marked with the “Broad Arrow” symbol. As you can see, the watch is marked with the Broad Arrow symbol on both the dial and caseback in this case.

The Broad Arrow symbol is used to denote British Government property or more specifically Ordnance; weapons, ammunition, combat vehicles and equipment. The history of the symbol dates back to 1553 when Sir Thomas Gresham, the founder of the Royal Exchange, smuggled gunpowder into England in barrels marked with the symbol “(/\)”. In 1633 it became the universal marking for Ordnance when it was used on all small arms and ammunition, and the symbol has developed over the years into the Broad Arrow symbol used today.

The watch in this post arrived in a pretty sorry looking state, it did run, but the chronograph didn’t work or reset. Opening the caseback revealed a relatively clean Valjoux Cal. 7733…

As you can see the caseback gasket had deteriorated into black gunge but it had managed to keep the moisture out.  Mechanically the movement was sound with no damage or signs of  corrosion, so a regular service restored it to fully working condition.

The case needed two cycles through the ultrasonic to remove the build up of dirt and the pushers had to be taken out and relubricated, but after that, all that was left to do was install a new crystal and the job was complete.

It is still possible to find these watches on auction sites and sales forums in a variety of conditions, but you may need to open your wallet wider than you think as most military watches are extremely collectible.

It is also possible to buy a modern interpretation of this watch (fitted with a ETA cal. 7760) directly from CWC… but go for the original I say!

Rich.

** Many thanks to Lee Curtis for letting me feature his watch on the blog. **

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The Chronomaster was first introduced in 1963 and remained in the Nivada lineup until 1978. During that time it changed significantly both in terms of styling and the calibres used inside. The main changes being that the broad arrow hands were eventually replaced by baton style hands, and the column wheel chronograph calibres were replaced by cam-lever chronograph calibres which were significantly cheaper to produce.  (For a detailed history of the Chronomaster check out this excellent post on the website Inventit Et Fecit).

I bought this watch as a restoration project based on a few pictures and an email discussion with the seller. Overall the condition looked to be relatively good, but the calibre inside remained a mystery until the watch arrived. While there is no such thing as a ‘bad’ Chronomaster (in my opinion!), I knew based on the style of dial and hands that this watch was one of the earlier models which gave me hope that one of the better column wheel chronograph calibres would be inside.

Opening the caseback I was pleased to see a Valjoux cal. 23, still in excellent condition and with no sign of abuse or corrosion… always a bonus.

In terms of the cosmetic condition, things looked good too. The case had a few marks, but no major dents, and the bezel insert was still in decent condition which is not always the case on these watches. I’ve yet to see a Chronomaster with a perfect original bezel insert as the bezel insert sits slightly above the level of the bezel it is subject to wear, especially on the outer edge.

The dial was still in near perfect condition, the lume on the hour markers had darkened but was still intact. The lume in the hands was well past its sell by date and had deteriorated to the point of falling out.  You may have noticed in the first picture that the hand for the minute register was missing. When a hand is floating around the dial there is always a chance that the tip of an axle has been broken off, but thankfully that wasn’t the case here, the hand was just loose.

While the watch did run and the chronograph was working, looking at the condition of the oil under the microscope I could see that it had completely dried out, a sure sign that the movement hadn’t been serviced for quite some time. A full service followed and the movement was looking good again.

All that was left to do was to tidy up the cosmetic issues. The hands were relumed, the case cleaned and the crystal polished, here is the result.

To finish off this post, here is a 1960’s advertisement I found for the Chronomaster… a watch for all time.

Rich.