1947 Fortune Magazine Article on Hamilton

 Excellent article in a 1947 issue of Fortune magazine. It's long, but definitely worth reading. My thanks to Mark Cardelucci for helping me transcribe this.

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Where the Lincoln Highway on its way west leaves the south-eastern Pennsylvania city of Lancaster there stands the five-story, red-brick plant of a rare commercial phenomenon— a business built entirely on the quality of its product. The enterprise is the Hamilton Watch Co. Its product is a timepiece of superior accuracy, a watch that for half a century has successfully been meeting domestic and Swiss competition. The company, because of the quality of that product, fears no competition. To survive, Hamilton needs no protection — especially since it has put into effect a relatively recent conviction that clever merchandising plus quality sells more watches than does quality alone.

Of the seven million watches bought in the U.S. in 1941, only the two million sold by Hamilton, Waltham, and Elgin were made here. The rest — such famous brand names as Gruen, Benrus, Longines-Wittnauer—are Swiss movements marketed in American-made cases. Hamilton's share of the output of the domestic industry was 400,000. The company, however, is a profitable testimonial to the theory that assets and sales are not the only dimensions of success. Even within the Ameri-can industry, its sales figure—$10 million—was but second, leading Waltham's by only $3 million, trailing Elgin's by $6 million. Nevertheless, except during the war and the depths of the depression, Hamilton has consistently earned 10 per cent or more on its capital year after year. And it made this record in spite of—sometimes because of—its habit of running counter to general trends in the watch business. In the hectic twenties, when importers sought to swell their share of the American market with flashy models of dubious timekeeping ability, Hamilton was quietly pitching its appeal to its favorite kind of carriage trade—those who expect a watch to keep good time for a long time. In the thirties, while domestic rivals were frantically shaving prices to meet low-cost foreign competition, the company deliberately concentrated its selling on what was then a high-priced line, $50 and up. The story of the Hamilton salesman who waited on the rural trade in top hat and morning clothes is probably apocryphal, but certainly Hamilton was long indifferent to the sales persuasions of smart styling, dealer promotion, and advertising. Today, Swiss competition looms as large as ever. Waltham, Elgin, and the U.S. watchmakers' union have mobilized to meet it. The favored weapon is an agreement, concluded with the government of Switzer-land, to limit the annual export of Swiss watch movements to the U.S. Hamilton does not object but it is seldom found among the pilgrims who journey to Washington in the interests of protection. There are reasons why. 

Disassemble a Hamilton and you get a case plus some 140 gears, plates, bridges, springs, jewels, and screws that look suspiciously like those of any other jeweled watch. Indeed, most makers use the same manufacturing methods and set the same standards of tolerance. Quality in a timepiece is almost insusceptible of visual proof. But differences do exist. Generations of railroad men and graduates who chose Hamiltons on the basis of reputation have not been disappointed. Jewelers know that a Hamilton watch rarely comes back—except for regular cleaning. (The purchaser of the second Hamilton watch made—in 1893 recently sent it in for a minor repair.) 

Hamilton quality is the direct result of the application of enormous amounts of time and money to the production of the tiniest of parts. A pound of alloy steel costing 90 cents delivered at Lancaster will go through forty drawing, cutting, turning, and polishing operations to yield 275,000 screws worth $9,100. Tolerances will be kept to one ten-thousandth of an inch or, in special cases, to one hundred-thousandth quite ordinary in some industries but exceptional where the parts handled are so small. The tool most commonly used at the factory is the micro-gauge in the eye of almost every one of the 2,600 employees is the jeweler's loupe. Before it is shipped, every Hamilton movement has been subjected to 600 formal inspections and hundreds more at the operators' benches.

Founded in 1892

The Hamilton Watch Co. was organized in 1892 by a group of Lancaster County investors and businessmen. In the preceding two decades, no less than five watch-manufacturing companies had failed in that locality because of low-grade production. and insufficient working capital. But Hamilton began at a most propitious time. Some years earlier, the incidence of railroad wrecks had reached the proportions of a national calamity. A congressional investigation found that faulty tinting was to blame and recommended vigorous watch inspection with a standard variation of less than thirty seconds a week. In that day no railroad timepiece met the specification. The men who cautiously edged into this vacuum thought they saw profit possibilities in high-quality watches. The models for the early Hamiltons -- turnips, the railroad men called them — were made by Henry J. Cain, a leading horologist of the period. By present standards bulky, heavy, and unattractive, they kept nearly perfect time. In the first fifteen years, sales of the famous No. 940 moved nicely. But Hamilton was building better than it knew. Railroad watches, which made up 24 per cent of sales, were slow in wearing out. It wasn't long before the limited market reached saturation and sales began to level off. The industry introduced a series of far-reaching innovations, but Hamilton waited until long after the handwriting had covered the wall. It fell behind the industry as a whole and stayed behind for twenty years.

The first innovation came in casing. The early practice was to wholesale uncased movements to watch inspectors and retail jewelers. If a movement was poorly cased and later returned for repairs, the manufacturer had to foot the bill. The domestic industry worked out a better system: they began to case their own movements and to advertise standard models. After a time, however, Elgin and Waltham went on to create new business by promoting new styles, like ladies' chatelaines and men's fancy pocket watches. Hamilton failed to follow suit. By 1908 the trend toward more elegant watches had become unmistakable. and in that year, when there was an industry-wide decline of 10 per cent, Hamilton sales slumped a third. Belatedly, the company decided to go along. 

After 1917 the watch business was deeply affected by the growing popularity of the strap watch. Again, Hamilton was a little slow to spot the trend: in 1920 pocket watches still made up 96 per cent of its total output. as against 52 per cent for Elgin, 75 per cent for Waltham. In the middle twenties, just as Hamilton was catching up with wrist watches, the business went off on a new tack. The Swiss industry, which had been making half of the three million jeweled timepieces purchased annually in the U.S.. thought it saw an opportunity for increased sales of ladies' watches. While American manufacturers were wrestling with higher costs, the Swiss helped themselves to an additional 20 per cent of the market by means of sheer high-pressure salesmanship. They introduced a new clement to what had been an heirloom item: high-styled watches and sold them as costume jewelry subject to the influence of fashion. They made it smart to own two, three, or even four watches, and more than doubled the market. The maneuver resembled an international game of tag which the American industry was "it."

When the first American wrist movements appeared, they sold against tiny Swiss watches that made the domestic product seem elephantine by comparison. By 1925 the Hamilton had shrunk, but the Swiss had moved on to elongated baguettes. Later they put watches in metal bracelets. then in gem-studded cases, and currently they are plugging the cocktail watch. In each instance the Swiss set the style and, with some help from Elgin and Waltham, skimmed the heavy cream off the market and moved on before Hamilton could adapt production to the new models. Breathless advertising. plush packaging, and underselling -- high retail markups disguised as local advertising allowances that retailers could pocket -- rounded out the competitors' program. Dealer protests that Hamilton was too tight and backward in styling and advertising, got no response from the company.

During the booming '20s, sales did not reflect the company's drifting, but when the squeeze came the bones stuck out. By 1930, Hamilton was in trouble. The domestic in general, felt the pinch, took the easy way out: it fought for and got from a  Republican Congress an import duty of about 80 percent, which helped erase Swiss cost advantages. This brought small comfort to Hamilton, for foreign competition had never been a serious threat to its high-priced product. The real difficulty lay in the fact that Hamilton's merchandising had finally broken down. The company's adherence to quality still assured it a certain minimum in sales — but not enough. In 1931 sales dropped perilously close to the break-even point of $4 million and, the next year, for the first time, Hamilton moved into the red.

Some Hamilton shareholders, like everyone else, were badly overextended in the stock market in 1929. Forced liquidations brought a shift in ownership and control. At the same time occurred the death of Charles F. Miller, a local banker who had been the company's President since 1910. 

While Luckey was cutting costs, and standardizing the product, Ross Atkinson, Hamilton's slight and dapper sales manager, was working out better ways to sell it. By early 1934, Hamilton's sales outlook was the gloomiest in its history. From 180,000 watches in 1929, sales had plummeted to less than half that four years later -- and they were still dropping. The Great Depression was largely but not entirely to blame. Retailers, according to Atkinson, were just not pushing the Hamilton line, and it required no hacksaw to find out where the trouble lay.

Hamilton had been selling its watches through 105 wholesalers, most of whom also carried diamonds, silverware, and the watches of competitors. The larger houses, operating on a national scale, "high spotted" the market, concentrating on the biggest accounts, where selling costs were lowest, gravy richest. The smaller outfits had to spread out for what was left. The little fellows sought to make up in quantity of retail  outlets what they lacked in quality. Hamiltons were on sale with the borax in barbershops, coal-company commissaries, and a host of fly-by-nights. Legitimate jewelers preferred to deal in prestige items.

Atkinson made an impressive number of changes designed to improve the quality of retail distribution. To start, the company dropped many of the bigger wholesalers, with whom it was just another line; the total was weeded down to forty and these were fenced into clearly defined, well protected zones and assigned stiff, though reasonable, sales quotas. By giving each distributor his own back yard, the company linked his his self-interest with its own. There was now sufficient incentive for cultivating the smaller non-metropolitan retailers who cost more to sell. There were almost instantaneous results. In 1935, the first year, sales jumped 70 per cent, and, except for the recession year of 1938, the have climbed healthily ever since. For 1941, the last normal year, they totaled $9,738,000. Markets previously lightly skimmed were now being fully exploited.

Dealers on the whole were happier. Hamilton's policy of selling only to reputable stores capable of service and repairs meant "legitimate" competition. Though the company spent only 5 per cent of sales for advertising, the Hamilton name largely sold itself. Of course, there were some recurrent gripes. Dealers resented not so much the small size of the advertising budget as the way  it was spent -- too much for space in professional publications rather than magazines of general  interest. Another complaint was that Hamilton's markup allowances to retail jewelers (80 per cent on wholesale cost) were the lowest in the business, about 20 per cent below the American competition, 70 below the nearest nationally advertised imports. But even this had its bright side. The narrow spread kept Hamilton out of the hands of the more raucous credit jewelers.

Reorganization of Hamilton's finances kept pace With improvements in manufacturing and sales. Charles Christian, Vice President in charge of finance, who in 1930 had redesigned and modernized the company's cost-accounting system, also put through a voluntary recapitalization in 1932. This permitted a realistic evaluation of inventories and enabled the company to show a profit by 1934. With plant and production rationalized and distribution tightened, Hamilton soared out of the depression. By 1937, when it grossed $7,500,00o, it had cleaned up arrears on the preferred and was paying $2 a share on the common. The next four years brought mounting sales and steady profits. Stockholders were contented. Hamilton. executives began dreaming of half a million watches a year. Then war came.

Hamilton times the Navy

The war proved Hamilton's claims to quality. The Navy needed chronometers when Switzerland, which had made the 300 or 400 used yearly, was isolated after the fall of France. Hamilton was asked to make them here. In a sense the company had been preparing for the job since its founding or, more concretely, since the beginning of the joint efforts of its three Vice Presidents. In any case, when procurement officers brought them the model and the tangle of technical problems that would go with its manufacture, Hamilton's executive team had the men, the machines, and the approach necessary to find the answers.

  Hand methods such as the Swiss used could not meet the requirements of a rapidly expanding Navy and merchant marine. Hamilton sought to apply the mass-production techniques that worked so well with watches. But it had to start from the base line, making drawings and dies, hiring new and retraining old workers. Over Navy demurrers, the company's engineers began adding improvements to the chronometer. In February, 1942, twelve months after work had begun, Hamilton delivered the first instrument. By the time the first ten were delivered, the company had orders for hundreds more, which, with subsequent Army and Air Forces contracts for other timing instruments, were worth $32 million. By the time all contracts had been terminated the cost per chronometer had been cut to $390 less than what the Swiss had sold them for. The delivery of more than 9,800 instruments before V-J day, says Captain H. T. Chase of the Bureau of Ships, was "nothing short of a miracle."

  One notable feature of Hamilton's war history was the fact that even during the height of the manpower shortage the company hardly felt the pinch. Part of the explanation of this decidedly anomalous situation can be found on the honor rolls conspicuously displayed in the factory corridors. There are over one hundred names in the thirty-year group; twice that number have worked continuously for twenty-five years; the list of youngsters with a mere twenty years of service runs into the scores. Even among women, who make up 60 per cent of the work force, longevity is the rule. Despite withdrawals every year because of marriage or motherhood, their average length of service is seven years. At Hamilton, employe3s of less than five years' standing are looked upon as "floating labor."

  Underlying stability of employment, manifesting itself in low labor turnover, is one of the oldest of Hamilton traditions. It contrasts sharply with early conditions elsewhere in the American industry. At Waltham in 1924 a violent and protracted strike had stopped production for five months. But Lancaster County is agricultural and vaguely anti-union, and for a long time there seemed no pressing need for a union. Hamilton had always paid high wages for high skills—as much as $1.50 an hour to skilled machinists, about $3 an hour to expert assemblers.

The war, however, expanded nearby plants and brought numbers of highly paid workers into the community. It also brought fluent, belligerent, stocky Walter W. Cenerazzo, president of the independent American Watch Workers Union. Cenerazzo, who is a printer by trade, a politician by nature, and an organizer by profession, had set up at Waltham a local of the International Jewelry Workers Union, A.F. of L. Because of dissatisfaction with what he termed the organizing laxity of the national union, Cenerazzo led the local out. From Waltham he turned to Elgin, thence to Hamilton, where in May, 1944, his union won a bargaining election hands down.

Now that it has a union to deal with, the Hamilton management is not finding the experience too unpleasant. Mr. Cenerazzo can, of course, be difficult when it comes to fighting for what he considers the rights of his constituents. In fact, since certification he has won for his membership wage increases of roughly 50 per cent, seniority guarantees, and six paid holidays a year. But this is not the sum of his activities.

The union sets the tempo

Cenerazzo has also joined the battle for protection, browbeating government officials into turning a more sympathetic ear toward the competitive problems of the domestic industry. In context, Mr. Cenerazzo's activities in fighting industry's battles in high places have a certain elemental logic. Swiss competition is still in evidence, stronger perhaps than ever before by virtue of tariff reductions made under the Reciprocal Trade Agreements Acts and a wartime absence of competition from domestic makers. And then, watchmaking is militarily strategic. But the strange fact is that the manufacturers, who theoretically have as much to lose as Cenerazzo's Watch Workers, have been notably in-articulate, by comparison, on the question of a quota.

The explanation —- for Hamilton, at any rate —- is simple. It stems from the company's major preoccupation with quality. Hamilton stands to benefit from any measure that substantially reduces the number of imported watches. But the extent to which the company will profit is severely limited, for the bulk of imported watches sell at prices below those of Hamiltons. By hewing closely to its policy of quality before price —- the Hamilton line currently starts at $50 —- the company assures itself a top-drawer market secure against the inroads of the few high-priced watch movements coming in.

There is even the strong possibility that agitation for a quota on Swiss watches might hurt Hamilton more than it can help. During its five years of concentration on war work the company had to suspend development of new methods and machines. Hamilton had counted on catching up through foreign purchases of up-to-date machinery. The Swiss already have shown reluctance to export watchmaking machinery, and thus their industry, and could conceivably be frightened into irrevocable refusal to sell any at all. Then, too, Hamilton buys its jewels (synthetic, gemlike bearings) in Switzerland at one-third the cost of domestic manufacture.

Last April, after Cenerazzo had made things sufficiently uncomfortable through full-page ads and personal appearances in Washington, the State Department modified the Administration's trade policies and asked the Swiss for an export quota. Cenerazzo wanted to limit imports to three million movements a year, 50 per cent of estimated "normal" demand. But what the agreement actually provided was a quota of 7,700,000 movements, a ban on indirect exports to the U.S. via other countries, and a promise of expedited machine deliveries. The importers, who have some 20,000 employees, would rather die than admit it publicly, but they found the quota less painful than anticipated: it was only a million below peak imports (1945), and it has the added charm of expiring on March 1. If this was a victory for the domestic industry it was only nominal; Cenerazzo and, in all likelihood, the 8,000 watch workers he represents call it a "disastrous defeat."

For the present, Hamilton regards the quota question as pretty academic. Its short-term prospects are excellent by virtue of present demand. True, certain high-priced items are not selling now and company executives know well how sensitive jewelry can be to the slightest change in the economic climate. Against the time when the market falls off, there is ample evidence that Hamilton has adapted the best from the selling chapters in the importers' book: 1947 Hamiltons are attractively styled in most current popular models, advertising budgets are getting bigger, copy better. For about a year Elgin and Waltham have been selling straight to retailers, raising selling expenses but absorbing the middleman's profit. But Hamilton, while escaping the costs of an expensive sales force, has been getting the undivided attention of its hand-picked crew of wholesalers.

Behind all this stands the watch itself, the company's prime hedge against the threats of Swiss salesmanship and uncertain future demand. Accuracy and dependability made the first Hamilton a success and for fifty-four years have continued to bring in sales. The quiet revolution in Hamilton ticks on. As in the past there may be occasional lapses in selling. But the company's way of doing business with its own brand of conservatism will probably bring it through. It might even make profits bigger.

Photos from the article:

HAMILTON'S MANAGEMENT TEAM and makers of the company's revolution of the early thirties. Left to right: Ross Atkinson, Vice President in charge of sales, who removed Hamilton from the cheap jewelry counters; President and treasurer Calvin M. Kendid; scientist and engineer George P. Luckey, Vice President in charge of manufacturing; and Charles C. Smith, Voce President and secretary.

THE BRIGHT RED BEADS ARE JEWELS (bearings) here being inserted at the friction points of an escapement lever with the aid of a magnifying glass. It is a delicate operation because of the size of the parts involved. Hamilton buys its jewels from Switzerland where they are made synthetically. Normally, jewels are colorless; color is added for the convenience of the operator. 

Notes From the 2014 Mid-Winter NAWCC Regional in Florida

Greetings from new digs at the Comfort Inn, just a block north of the Plaza. The Plaza crossed the line and I finally had to call them on it. 

I relaxed yesterday afternoon, part napping, part commiserating with fellow watch collectors in the lobby outside the show room. I talked with one fellow (David Grace from Madison) who has been to Baselworld, and gave me some excellent tips and some general ideas of what to expect. I spent part of the afternoon composing a "boiler plate" letter that I will email to the 14 companies that I wish to see the most. The letter asks for an appointment for an interview with a company spokesman in the "private area" of their display booth to talk about the company's heritage/history for a possible article. I hit upon this idea because I am receiving a number of unsolicited emails from companies exhibiting at Baselworld asking if they could set up an appointment with me! So I figured, why not turn that around and hopefully get some private time with the companies that interest me the most. (The companies that are contacting me are "new starts" that are desperate for any kind of publicity.)

Dinner last night was with Fred Friedburg and his wife, Joy (photo below). 

Our meal at Anna's Trattoria was fabulous, so much in fact that I am going to write a review on Tripadvisor. I had one of their evening specials, which I can't remember the name of, but it was a piece of sirloin pounded flat, and then rolled into a roulade containing raisins, pine nuts, bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, and a little olive oil. This "loaf" is then slow roasted until fork tender, and plated with a generous dollop of your choice of marina or a red/white sauce. I picked the classic marina. We shared a bottle of Chianti, and Joy and I each had a dessert and coffee (I had a cannoli). 

The conversation was wonderful, and wide ranging, turning much of the time to Fred's new book that is coming out Summer 2015 on the Illinois Watch Co., of Springfield. Thankfully, Joy is also very interested in Fred's work and she brought an added dimension/perspective to the conversation as well.

I told them about my upcoming trip to Switzerland/Germany. They told me that if I had any interest and the time available, I was welcome to use their flat in Edinburgh, Scotland for a week (or more if I wanted; but they said to take at least a week) after my visit is over in Germany. I was, as the British say, completely gobsmacked. The flat is right in the heart of town, easy walk to restaurants, markets, castles, museums, etc. Fred works as legal counsel for the medical products division of Toshiba. His company maintains the flat for his exclusive use during his travels there.   I would have to pull some strings with my return flight, but it's not anything that could not be accomplished. A flight change penalty fee would be a very small price to pay for the chance to experience this!

Today is completely overcast, and we are supposed to get some showers in the afternoon. But it is still warm (in the 70s) and it's surely better than what folks just north of here are experiencing with Winter Storm Pax.

Hope everyone is well.

Love,

Bruce

Early (1910s) Op-Eds on the Pros/Cons of Wrist Watches

 Pro:

Con:

Europa Star magazine

 By Bruce Shawkey

 

Driva

 By Bruce Shawkey

Driva was founded in 1924 in La Chaux de Fonds, a famous location in the history of watchmaking. The founder was one of the members of the Hirsch family, an important family in the horological world. The original company went bankrupt after just five years but was resurrected in Geneva in 1938. Driva became very successful, supplying many private label watches with a large market in the United States. Unfortunately, as with so many manufacturers of mechanical watches, they did not survive the quartz revolution of the 1970s.

Here are some watches and advertisements of Driva watches:

Time Telling - Past, Present and Future

Reported from Readers Digest, Condensed from The House Beautiful magazine 1927

It is hard to believe, when we look back, how times have changed in the matter of time itself. A hundred or two hundred years ago a watch was a rich man's bauble, and clocks were not only few and far between, but not over accurate, and often set by the sun according to the owner's guess. The people of the world sighted the sun by some traditional land mark and determined when it was noon. On the big estates there were sundials, and when the day was cloudy or the rain came down, everybody hearkened to his appetite, or, at home, took the word of the old-time clock with its wooden works.

The use, the need, and the dependence upon correct time is essentially a modern condition. In the old days, there were no trains to meet. Men rode or drove their horses and arrived when weather and travel permitted. There was no rush from place to place, as in the present day. If our ancestors could see hew the present generation wears itself out in service to the clock, surely they would wag their heads in wonderment and derision. But the funny part of it is that with all our dependence upon time, we have never, until just now, devised a way to keep everyone's time alike. We all know how, whenever three or four persons compare the time, it is rare if there is not a divergence of at least ten or fifteen minutes in their watches. Before the (World War 1), the telephone companies were so burdened with calls asking central for the time that this courtesy had to be discontinued.

Everywhere in the Republic of Uruguay there is a winking of the electric lights at eight o'clock each evening —- an official time flash to signal the correct time to the public. It is universal because electric lighting is a government monopoly. It is a wonderful convenience. No one appreciates the annoyance that it saves until he has experienced the novel comfort of knowing that his watch is right and in agreement with the rest. Standard time has for many years been indicated by governments by an official time-ball, which is hoisted to the top of a staff and released to drop at noon. It happens each day in Washington, and has long been telegraphed throughout the country as standard time. More recently, time has been sent out broadcast from the United States Naval Observatory in Washington by wireless. The idea of flashing standard time to every home over the electric service has already been instituted in Schenectady, New York. I believe that ultimately it will become a universal custom; a little thoughtful, friendly service by the company. It is not as simple as it sounds, however, for a modern generating station and its distributing system is a complicated affair. 

The electric clock is an interesting innovation for it means virtually taking our clocks and throwing away the works, and, by installing a tiny electric motor inside, to turn the hands around the dial, put an end to all the winding, with assurance of what practically amounts to perpetual accuracy. This system is already operating in some thirty-odd cities in the United States. It is simplicity itself and made possible by the fact that, in most of our chits, electricity is delivered to the consumer in the form of alternating current, with sixty cycles as the standard. Just a word of explanation will make this clear. There are two kinds of electricity used in electric lighting: direct current and alternating current. The direct current flows along the wire in a continuous stream just as water flows through a pipe. Ninety percent of the electricity that is generated for light and power service, however, is alternating current, which flows first in one direction and then in the other, reversing its direction with great rapidity, usually one hundred and twenty times to the second, or making sixty cycles, as it is expressed. 

It is to the interest of the power company to regulate these alternations as accurately as possible, for their own benefit in the effect on reading instruments and for the benefit of large consumers of certain classes, and in the past there has been a variance of only, say, two cycles. A device now makes it possible to regulate these alternations absolutely, so that there will be exactly sixty cycles. A little motor may be used that will turn in exact accord with the alternations of the current and turning to that scale it needs only a dial and a pair of hands to become a clock. Wherever there is a lamp socket or plug receptacle, an electric clock may be connected and will keep time to the pulsing of electricity. It need never be wound. It requires no regulation. It is an interesting prospect -- a public service of correct time flashed to all the people wherever they may be at eight o'clock each evening, by the winking of all the electric lights, plus a private service of correct time provided by electric clocks which anyone may purchase at no more cost than for a good clock that we buy today, but which will maintain accurate time for your household perpetually. 

The First Wristwatches For Men

 Article in 1939 Jewelers Circular Keystone Issue 109 No. 11 August 1939, and No. 12, by Charles A Mealy

            A recent photograph of Maj. W. W.
         Crosby, now living in Coronado,
        Cal., who in 1910-11 wore the first
metal wrist watch attachment.

Who was the first person in the United States to wear a, wrist watch? This question perhaps will never be answered accurately, but it is a safe bet that it was someone from Europe who landed here with nerve enough to chance our derision and snickers upon seeing such a silly idea. The first person in America to wear a watch on the wrist for utilitarian purposes probably was a nurse. Hers was not a complete wrist watch, but an ordinary "O"-size watch made for wear on a chatelaine pin, sautoir chain or guard chain, which was worn in the first wrist watch attachment. This attachment was the all-leather "cup" or pouch, with a strap on opposite sides for securing the watch to the wrist. Only the dial, stem and bow of the watch were visible. According to available information, the first American-made watch to be worn on the wrist in other than the original all-leather "cup strap" was owned by Maj. W. W. Crosby (right), a former city engineer of Baltimore, Md., and an officer in the National Guard. It was in the winter of 1910-1911 that Major Crosby, wearing a 12-size pocket watch in an all-leather cup-style wrist strap, visited the retail jewelry store of John W. Mealy & Sons Co. in Baltimore. 

To J. S. Murphy, watchmaker, he said, "Why doesn't someone invent something other than this clumsy leather cup strap (above) for holding a watch to the wrist?" Watchmaker Murphy answered, "Come back in two days. I'll have something," without the slightest notion of what that "something" would be. In two days, made by hand, the first metal watch attachment resulted (above), and soon thereafter a basic patent for it was obtained. This was the "Duo" watch holder, which, when afterward improved, was sold as the "Victor" watch holder by the Mealy Mfg. Co.. of Baltimore, Md. When this watch holder originally was offered to wholesale jewelers they laughed and said no one ever asked for anything of the kind and, therefore, they would not buy. Retail jewelers everywhere purchased these holders, but not without first voicing their opinion that the idea of even a woman wearing a watch on the wrist was absurd. In some cases the new watch holder could only be sold to the retailer by the salesman's acceptance of the dealer's bet that even should the wrist watch become a fad among women, the fad would die in six months. The idea of a man wearing a watch on the wrist did not exist. 

The first wholesaler to buy the “Duo” watch holder was D. C. Percival & Co. of Boston. On the occasion of the first showing on Maiden Lane of this watch attachment by Charles A. Mealy there was much curiosity, and the device was the subject of so much gossip “on the Lane” that Mr. Mealy was approached by a stranger who stated that Charles W. Harman, of Joseph Fahys Watch Case Co., wanted to see this much talked of attachment. Upon seeing it, Mr. Harmon stated, “its sale will prove the outstanding influence toward the adoption of the complete wrist watch by American women.” Those who are familiar with the rapid acceptance and large sales of the improved Victor watch holder and bracelet attached will, no doubt, concede the correctness of Mr. Harmon’s prediction.

At that time no cases for wrist watches were made in the United States. The vogue was for wear on a chatelaine pin, a guard chain reaching to the shirtwaist belt, and later for wear on a sautoir chain. There were no metal watch bracelets, and even the first metal watch holders were secured to the wrist by straps made by C. J. Rumpp & Sons.

Almost simultaneously with the introduction of the metal watch holder, a few imported diamond wrist watches were to be seen, but only in the ultra retail stores of America’s largest cities. Only the rich faddists could afford these first wrist watches, and there were few takers. Even these retailers were skeptical.

The first wrist watch advertisement to appear in The Jewelers’ Circular was in November, 1911, by the New England Watch Co., of Waterbury, Conn. It was fitted into a strap and was described as “suitable for soldiers and sailors.” (below)

In the Spring of 1912 the first metal bracelets for wrist watches were released. In quick succession advertisements of American and Swiss wrist watches appeared. These were “for ladies only.” They were round and large, compared to present day sizes. The metal expanding bracelet was riveted to opposite sides of the case. The bracelet had six or more links. Inside each link was a coiled spring.

The first all metal watch bracelets were made by John T. Mauran Mfg. Co. of Providence and Untermeyer Robbins Co. of New York. These were quickly followed by similar bracelets made by Ostby & Barton Co. of Providence. D. F. Briggs Co. adapted its “Carmen” expanding bracelet for watch use, and S. O. Bigney Co. introduced a wide expanding chain watch bracelet.

Imports of smaller round Swiss wrist watches and the production of smaller American movements became popular. Narrow expanding watch bracelets were needed for these smaller watches and the prospective great demand made it feasible for factories to make substantial expenditures for the production of larger quantities of narrow bracelets at lower prices. Among the pioneers dominating the narrow expanding watch bracelet business were R. F. Simmons Co., Bugbee & Niles Co. and J. F. Sturdy’s Sons Co. All wrist watch cases and bracelets were natural karat gold or gold filled.

The Hadley Co. made the first expanding link watch bracelet entirely by mechanical means, without the use of solder. Although among the pioneers in making watch bracelets, the Hadley product originally was sold only to other jewelry manufacturers and therefore was not known as a Hadley product until 1921, when the Hadley Co. started to sell directly to the wholesale trade.

Narrow bracelets with hook ends also became standard equipment for Victor watch holders, which enjoyed popularity because a woman could still wear her old watch on a chain or snap it into the holder for wrist wear.

In 1912 the Waltham Watch Co., in order to cater to both the wrist watch and the chatelaine watch demand, introduced the “convertible” style. The case had a small “club” —(card term) shaped bow straddling the crown. At the opposite side of the case was a disappearing lug or eyelet which, if the watch was to be worn on a pin or chain, could be folded into a recess in the case, or, if opened, it provided the means for snapping on one hook end of the narrow expanding bracelet. The other hook end of the bracelet was snapped onto the bow of the watch. This is the origin of the term “convertible,” still used to describe a certain kind of bracelet end, although “convertible” watch cases have not been in production since about 1917, owing to the popularity of the watch ribbon which required wide lugs or hangers on watch cases.

The Wadsworth Watch Case Co. advertised a wrist watch case fitted with an expansion bracelet — but still the wrist watch was “only a fad,” as is attested by the following excerpt from a Wadsworth advertisement in a May 1912 issue of The Jewelers’ Circular:

“Bracelet watches a fad of the period. There is a swing just now toward bracelet watches. It promises to be an exceptionally good bracelet watch year. Probably the most convenient of all watches for women who are minus pockets.”

With the advent of the watch ribbon and the proof, by sales, that the wrist watch was not a fad, the original metal watch holder died a natural death.

The styling and casing by Jacques Depollier & Son of American watches and their distribution of the completed product was outstanding in the early era of the American-made wrist watch.

What about the man’s wrist watch?

Except for a few rarely seen male ultra faddists who dared to wear a wrist watch purchased abroad, there were no wrist watches of genteel appearance or quality worn by men in this country until 1917. Prior to this a few large low-priced strap watches were worn by sportsmen, but for the most part these originally were sold by hardware or sporting goods dealers.

In 1913 probably not one jeweler in the United States would have wagered 1 to 25 that American men would ever become so “‘sissified’’ as to adopt the wrist watch for daily wear.

The first advertisement of a complete wrist watch in The Jewelers’ Circular was in the issue of Sept. 6, 1911, and, contrary to popular belief, it was a strap watch and was advertised for men only. The advertisement was directed specifically “for soldiers and sailors,” although it appeared three years before the outbreak of the World War and six years before our entry into it.

A further point of interest is that when the ladies’ wrist watch became the most talked of fad in 1912, the same watch that had been advertised for soldiers and sailors was fitted with a metal expansion bracelet for women’s use. It went over for women, though it failed to win popularity among men.

This country’s entrance into the World War immediately created a demand for good wrist watches for the Army officers, because officers of foreign armies were thus equipped. The rank and file soon followed suit, and suddenly several million men became potential customers for a wrist watch. This fact, later, accounted for a two- to three-year retarding of the acceptance of the wrist watch by the man in the street, because production to meet the tremendous demand from the armed forces had been so hurried that in the main wrist watches sold to men in the American army were discarded as unsatisfactory and impractical.

The wrist watch would surely, but slowly, have been generally accepted by men in the United States regardless of the War, but the impetus to sales of men’s wrist watches because of the War proved a temporary boomerang, when several hundred thousand dissatisfied users of the inferior timepieces returned to civil life from military service. This resulted in lean sales of men’s wrist watches between 1918 and 1925, but after that time confidence was restored due to the superior merit and performance of better-made strap watches.

To the question “What creates and maintains maximum sales of wrist watch attachments?” the abstract answer is, “The same methods by which generally increasing volume has been obtained in the sale of automobiles, radios, cash registers, and business machines.”

The actual answer is, “Constant improvements and major style changes at sufficiently frequent intervals to create consumer demand for something new, long before the prior model has been worn for the duration of its normal life.”

The manufacturers of wrist watch attachments have constantly improved them, but until the beginning of 1938 not one major style change had been introduced or attempted during the previous seven years; whereas, prior to 1931 a distinctly new style was introduced at intervals averaging every two to two and a half years since 1910. 

Why is it that metal wrist watch attachment sales, although of interesting proportions since 1931, have not since then enjoyed the increase in volume or consumer interest such as prevailed prior to 1931? Some will answer: (a) “Depression”; others, (b) “Cords and straps are selling,” or (c) “So many new watches now come complete with metal attachments.” But these are neither individually nor collectively the reason.

Re answer (a), “Depression.”—-The automobile industry, by introducing new designs and features, reached its greatest production volume during depression. The watch attachment makers waited “seven long years” before introducing a major style change.

Re answer (b), “Cords and straps are selling.”—The metal expansible watch bracelet preceded the silk watch ribbon. Yet within one year after the watch companies adopted ribbons as standard equipment, the all-metal mesh watch attachment was popularly accepted and sold by jewelers everywhere to displace the ribbon that “came with the watch” as sold by factories or importers. Result—an extra sale.

The same opportunity is now at hand; namely, re place cords with metal bracelets of design or style radically different from those in use prior to the introduction of the silk cord. Don’t expect to revive consumer interest in metal bracelets by offering the same types of bracelets which the public forsook for the silk cord.

The present populari for men’s wrist watches has given the jeweler a unit sale of from 50 cents to $1.50, instead of the higher unit sale of a metal band. This has materially reduced the total sales of metal attachments for manufacturers, wholesalers and retailers. The leather strap, you will remember, was the original and only attachment for a man’s wrist watch—and was superseded by the metal band, starting in 1929.

The revival of the strap, however, was not due to a style cycle, but rather to the unsatisfactory service rendered by gold filled men’s bands prior to the perfection of the now-available “non-corrosive base.”

Had a distinct style change in men’s wrist bands been introduced simultaneously with the “non-corrosive base,” the popular return to the leather strap would not have occurred. The male public and better jewelers, having been dissatisfied due to the unpreventable corrosion of even the finest grades of gold filled metal bands with the corrosive base, were offered exactly the same style metal attachments when the “non-corrosive base” was introduced about five years ago.

As performance in actual use was the only proof that the new metal band would not corrode. there was natural skepticism. The more affluent males would not buy the new bands regardless of the manufacturers’ “non-corrosive” claim. The better retailers, rather than chance the loss of a customer by furnishing exactly the same style band as had given little satisfaction prior to the introduction of the non-corrosive base. started to push leather straps.

Re answer (c), “So many new watches now come complete with metal bands.’—True. Since 1931 many new watches have been and are equipped with metal attachments as a complete unit for dealer purchase, but since the advance in the price of gold, the tendency has been more toward the use of cords and straps especially by the makers and importers of the better grades of watches; hence the opportunity for selling better all-metal bands as replacements.

The makers and importers of better watches have influenced the trend toward leather straps by either discontinuing or diminishing the use of the metal band as standard equipment for men’s wrist watches. This fact creates an ideal condition to be capitalized by the retail jeweler for the sale of fine gold-filled men’s bands, because the “non-corrosive base” is now not only a feature of most all makes of wrist watch attachments but also because these are available in radically different styles than those that did not give satisfaction. Among these is the new flexible watch strap.

The present sale of separate high or low grade metal attachments is trivial compared to the potential sales possibilities and will so continue until the jewelers’ stock of separate all-metal attachments predominates in styles that are not in general use by watch factories or by importers in assembling their own complete boxed units.

Why should the consumer throw away a perfectly good watch bracelet that came on the new watch and buy another bracelet merely because the links of those in the jeweler’s stock happen to be a different shape from the links on the bracelet that came with the watch? There is no sane reason why the jeweler should expect to sell another “same style” bracelet for the same watch until the one that came on the watch has worn out. On the other hand, the jeweler can reasonably expect to displace many of the original bracelets before they have worn out provided he features watch attachments radically different in style from those he purchases assembled to new watches. Anything new with merit in style or structure is something that appeals to the consumer. Anything old is usually sold only when it is asked for, and automatically becomes classed as a staple. Staple items rarely interest either the dealer or his sales personnel sufficiently to arouse the enthusiasm that is so essential to the creation of sales; that is, something sold that the consumer had no idea of purchasing or sense of needing.

Any really new idea in watch attachments can always be shown without offense to any consumer even though the same customer purchased a watch with bracelet attached only a short time previous; or a new style band can be sold when a new watch is purchased regardless of what older style of attachment the factory or importer furnished with the watch.

The sale of the first metal wrist watch attachment was accomplished solely by suggestion at the watch repair counter of John W. Mealy & Sons Co. in Baltimore, Md. This attachment was not asked for, because not only had the public never seen such a device but were not even aware that a watch could or would be worn on the wrist. The watchmaker in this small jewelry store sold $3,500 worth of this original metal attachment in the first six months. He suggested same for every woman’s bracelet brought for repair or setting.

The watch repair department is still the ideal spot for the constant showing of new style attachments and every customer contacting this department, even if only for the setting of a wrist watch, should not be allowed to depart without having been shown the very latest style attachments without consideration as to the kind or condition of the attachment already on the watch. The stores that sell the most wrist watch attachments constantly pursue this method of suggestion. The vast majority of jewelers, however, have allowed the sameness of watch bracelet styles since 1931 to influence them to treat this item as just another to be sold when asked for or when apparent that the consumer really needs a new one.

Styles will come and go, but only by sensing when the “new” is really a basic change rather than a passing novelty, and by quickly featuring the really “new” in the manner suggested, can a jeweler expect to reap the reward of created sales and avoid the lethargic and costly selling habit that so often accounts for too much out-of-date or dead stock.

It is easy to sense when a style change is really at hand. If one manufacturer introduces it and no other follows suit, the style is either ahead of its time or is a ripple soon to disappear. If other manufacturers follow quickly with copies or adaptations of the same style or features, then the style change is real and every jeweler should promptly feature the new.

One of the best known eastern jewelry firms always has sold more wrist watch attachments than other stores. Their employees constantly suggest new attachments for the watches brought for repair. Should it happen that circumstance prevents the verbal suggestion, the customer receives by mail a form letter acknowledging the repair. Accompanying are priced illustrations of the latest wrist watch attachments. One or more of these are checked as suitable for the customer’s watch, with the suggestion that it can be attached to the watch for delivery when the repair is completed. A prepaid postal card provides convenient means for the customer’s reply. This method is effective provided the suggested attachments are really new and in stock, ready for delivery as promised.

We must focus our attention to the present and future but also be alert to profit by experiences or lessons of the past.

The history of wrist watch attachments is too lengthy to permit covering all details, but to emphasize the cumulative value of their repeatedly created sales due to successive basic style changes, consider the accompanying illustrated sequence of these changes since the days when a watch ribbon was the vogue for women,

Note how often in the past dealers have been able to sell one style band after the other—to the same customer—for the same watch.

Nothing has or will happen to prevent a continuance of these pyramided sales unless it be the manufacturers’ failure to introduce really new styles at sane intervals and the retailers’ failure to sense when an important style change is at hand. Retailers should be alert to enthusiastically feature “the new’’ to replace “the old,” even if the old attachment is still good except for style.

For example, the so-called “convertible” style wrist watch which preceded watches with ribbon lugs. “Convertible” cases were introduced in 1912 and their production was discontinued about 1917, yet so many of these cases have continued in use that practically’ every popular new style band (including even the silk cord) made since 1912 has been made with “convertible ends” to meet a definite and sizeable demand.

The wearers of these discontinued ‘‘convertible” wrist watches have repeatedly adopted every popular new style wrist watch attachment. Even in 1939 (22 years after the manufacture of “convertible” watch cases was discontinued) watch bracelets with “convertible ends” are still demanded in a few sections of the country.

The dates of introduction and duration of respective styles, shown in the accompanying illustrated sequence of basic style changes in wrist watch attachments, are approximate, but the sequence is correct. Note the shorter intervals between style changes before 1930, as compared to the fact that the open link and chain styles prevailed almost without interruption until 1938.

Images that went with the story

WATCH BANDS OF TODAY

How the cumbersome makeshift devices with which wearing the watch on the wrist originated have developed into designs that are both practical and beautiful is clearly shown in the photo to the left, picturing some of the popular items offered for this season by leading manufacturers.

Numbers 1 to 17 are expressions of the all metal band with many and ingenious means for locking and adjusting. Items 22 to 26 are based on the expanding bracelet idea, while 18 to 21 and 27 to 29 show current developments of the leather strap. Number 30 is a modern example of the black silk cord which is always popular. The makers of the bands shown are as follows:

1, 2, 3. Jacques Kreisler Mfg. Co., New York

4. Jacoby-Bender, Inc., New York.

5. Louis Stern Co., Providence, R.I.

6. R. F. Simmons Co., Attleboro, Mass

7. Bruner-Ritter, Inc., New York.

8. Kestenman Bros. Mfg. Co., Providence, R.I.

9. Jacques Kreisler Mfg. Co., New York.

10. Forstner Chain Corp., Irvington, N. J.

11. Kestenman Bros. Mfg. Co., Providence, R.I.

12. Bruner-Ritter, Inc., New York.

13. Jacoby-Bender, Inc., New York.

14. Forstner Chain Corp., Irvington, N. J.

15, 16. Louis Stern Co., Providence, R. I.

17. R. F. Simmons Co., Attleboro, Mass.

18. Leo Heilbrun, New York.

19. Cowen Bros., New York.

20. Lasko Strap Co., New York.

21. A. Sauer & Co., Cincinnati, Ohio.

22. D. F. Briggs Co., Attleboro, Mass.

23. Pitman & Keeler, Attleboro, Mass.

24. D. F. Briggs Co., Attleboro. Mass.

25. Pitman & Keeler, Attleboro, Mass.

26. Gemex Co., Newark, N. J.

27. A. Sauer & Co., Cincinnati, Ohio.

28. Lasko Strap Co., New York.

29. Leo Heilbrun, New York.

30. Gemex Co., Newark, N. J.

More watch band ads

JCK 1956