My Father’s Rolex

In the summer of 1954, while touring Europe with my brother and me, my father visited Geneva. There he bought a wristwatch. It was a Rolex, an “Oyster Perpetual DATEJUST Officially Certified Chronometer.” As Rolex itself would later remember, the “DATEJUST” was:

Heralding Rolex know-how

The perfect embodiment of the classic Rolex watch, the original Datejust showcased all of the brand’s major accomplishments to that point, with a certified chronometer movement, a self-winding mechanism and a waterproof case, complemented by the date display in a special window on the dial.

That “special window” was the “Cyclops lens”:

… both an aesthetic and technical brand signature…. Its magnifying effect makes the date easier to read.

Like all Rolex wristwatches, my father’s held its Cyclops lens at 3 o’clock on the dial. At 2, 4, 6, 8, and 12 o’clock there were small diamonds precisely set.” And an “Oyster Bracelet” – a “particularly robust metal bracelet with three-piece links” – and an “Oyster clasp” held the watch to my father’s wrist.

It was, for its – or most any other – time an extraordinary instrument. Even when he damaged the “Oyster Bracelet” and replaced it with an incongruous Speidel “Twist-O-Flex™” band, it was a remarkable possession.

A quarter century after purchasing the Rolex my father died and the watch fell into disuse. For a decade it lay in my brother’s drawer. And then, with his consent, I removed it from the drawer. It wasn’t keeping time, of course, and the “Twist-O-Flex™” was a distraction, but I took it back to Europe.

Circuitous route #1. In Vienna, a thousand kilometers east of Geneva, Annemarie knew a former colleague, who was married to a man, who was acquainted with a watchmaker. With skill the acquaintance repaired my father’s Rolex. With luck he found an authentic “Oyster Bracelet” and replaced the “Twist-O-Flex™.” More than a decade had passed since my father’s Rolex had been his daily companion. Now it would be mine. Diplomatic postings in Salzburg and then Oman were separated by a private-sector flirtation back in Salzburg from diplomatic assignments in Africa. And the Rolex marked the time.

Circuitous route #2. Eventually, my father’s chronometer began to fail. … reasonably, I suppose. It was, after all, a mechanism, and a sophisticated one at that. It kept time unreliably. It lost its self-winding capabilities. And then, one sad day, its minute hand fell from its pinion and lay like a broken arrow over the six o’clock diamond. A jeweler friend with whom I’d attended high school sent it to a Rolex service center in Dallas, which declined to help. A jeweler in Vienna who had serviced it on several earlier occasions shook his head and sent me to a Rolex dealer down the street. The Rolex dealer reported that Geneva, too, would not assist. An Uhrmacher in Vienna opened the watch – against a fee of €50 – and learned that the self-winding mechanism was broken and that its replacement part had fallen from production years earlier.

Sadly, my father’s Rolex returned to the drawer. This time, to my own. Its “Cyclops lens” interrogating the date, its diamonds gleaming at 2, 4, 6, 8, and 12 o’clock, its newer but genuine “Oyster Bracelet”at the ready. And the minute hand fallen from its pinion.

And then Kathrin shared the name of an Uhrmacher who might restore my father’s Rolex. Uhrmachermeister Mikl. In Vienna’s 1^st District. There I found Hans Mikl. Herr Mikl had learned the craft at the Höhere Technische Bundeslehranstalt Karlstein. Established in 1873 as the Imperial and Royal School for the Watch and Clockmaking Industry, HTL was its own credential. Herr Mikl offered to open my father’s Rolex, and to share his findings with me.

His conclusions were grim:

The photographs

… a goo of lubricants congealed and dust inhaled.

The diagnosis:

Uhrwerk stark verschmutzt und verharzt. Kein Öl in den Lagern. Uhrwerk zeigt ein schlechtes Gangbild und sehr wenig Schwingungsweite. Spirale nicht zentrisch. Automatik beschädigt. Gewinde in der Rotorachse ausgebrochen und Klinkenfeder gebrochen bzw fehlt komplett. Zeiger lose. Das Gehäuse und das Metallband zeigen normale Gebrauchsspuren. Plexiglas alt und brüchig. Dichtungen verschlissen.

And the prognosis:

Komplette Restauration: Uhrwerk zerlegt, entrostet und gereinigt. Räderwerk überarbeitet und optimiert. Zugfeder und div. Verschleißteile ersetzt. Hemmung eingestellt, Spirale ausgerichtet, Abfall eingestellt und Uhrwerk bestmöglich einreguliert. Automatik repariert und Rotorachse komplett ersetzt. Automatik optimiert. Mehrtägige Funktionskontrolle.

«Movement disassembled, derusted, and cleaned. Gear train overhauled and optimized. Mainspring and various worn parts replaced. Escapement adjusted, balance spring aligned, beat adjusted, and movement regulated to the best possible accuracy. Automatic mechanism repaired and rotor axle completely replaced. Automatic mechanism optimized.»

The project, Herr Mikl predicted, would be eine Baustelle «a building site». It would take him as much as a year to complete. Estimated cost: €1,800 and €2,000. … eine Baustelle? I imagined tiny signs: “No entry to unauthorized persons.” … as much as a year? Seventy had passed since my father had purchased the watch. What did another matter? €1,800-€2,000 is folding money in our household. But I glanced at my father’s photograph, the one in my head, and Annemarie, as usual, was supportive. We said “yes.”

The year passed. I thought occasionally about my father’s Rolex, the one that was out of our family’s hands – or drawers – for the first time since 1954. And then, eight months and €1,950 later, Herr Mikl completed the project and returned his work to me. I had recalled that Herr Mikl’s motto was “Wir sind Uhrmacher aus Leidenschaft!” «watchmaker of passion!» Now I knew why.

A Rolex competitor comments:

You never actually own a Patek Philippe.

You merely look after it for the next generation.

Alas, father’s Rolex is generationally challenged. My brother is fond of wristwatches, but his tend to be complicated if inexpensive. He has a son and two grandsons but all three of them are members of the smartwatch generation. I have two sons but neither wears a wristwatch, nor will either have children. I also have a son-in-law who (optimism) is an aficionado of mechanical wristwatches but (pessimism) will doubtless remain childless.

And anyway, Patek Philippe may have it backwards. It may be that:

You never actually own a Rolex.

You merely look after it for the previous generation.

Which brings us full circle to Geneva, 1954.

The purchase of that Rolex was uncharacteristic of my father. He was not a vain man; “conspicuous consumption” was a phrase unknown to him. Nevertheless he wore his Rolex daily, habitually, as others might wear a Casio or a low-end Swatch. Had he given so little thought to its value? Or had he quietly enjoyed a modest indulgence? It might have been the former, and the Speidel “Twist-O-Flex™” might be the clue. I opt for the latter, though. He had emigrated to America four decades earlier, unlettered and penniless, and had become a successful and respected businessman, a fixture in his community and a pillar in his church. If ever a person deserved a quiet indulgence, it was he.

And so I don’t actually own a Rolex. I’m merely looking after it for him.

Bruce A. L.