The Lord Matic is a very peculiarly ‘of its era’ Japanese name for a sub-brand, and in the absence of a mapping of its evolution, its inspiration is difficult to deduce.
In 1956 Seiko introduced the Marvel, its first watch with a movement designed in house.  Within two years, the Seiko Marvel had evolved into the Lord Marvel, which at that time, became the pinnacle of the Seiko product tree, the term ‘Lord’ marking out its elevated status. However, the Lord Marvel was quicky usurped, first by Grand Seiko in 1960 and then King Seiko, a year later, relegating Lord Marvel to third place in the pecking order. In spite of that, the Lord Marvel branding continued until as late as 1978, outliving both Grand Seiko and King Seiko in their original incarnations.Â
In 1968, the Lord Marvel sired an automatic offspring in the Lord Matic, powered by the then new 56-series movement, one that would be used to diverse effect in a range of automatic watches from the staple low-beat Lord Matic to high-beat automatic King Seiko and Grand Seiko watches.
The Marvel, Lord Marvel, the first incarnation of the Lord Matic and Grand Seiko were all creations of the Suwa division of the company. The second arm of the Seiko empire lay in the Daini divison, based in Tokyo, and it was this division that created the King Seiko, conceived initially as a challenger to the Grand Seiko. Although Daini seemed destined to live in Suwa’s shadow, much of the truly creative output, particularly in movement design, seems to have come from Daini. This inter-house rivalry acted as a driver for innovation and progress during a wonderful period for the company but it also appeared to create redundancy in parallel product lines, the distinction between which wasn’t always immediately obvious.
One such development strand was a King Seiko Special Chronometer line introduced in 1971 and powered by a Daini-developed competitor calibre to the 56-series automatic. This new calibre was the 52 series, which in chronometer specification appeared as the 5245 and 5246 both of which high-beat and both featuring instant change-over calendar complications. A detuned variation of his movement, the 5216 forewent the instant calendar change but retained its high-beat operation and was used in a line of Lord Matic models that appeared in 1970 and which sustained until about 1975. The 52-series Lord Matics were distinguished from the bread-and-butter LMs in their ‘Special’ branding, presumably aligned with the fact that the Specials were high-beat and the regular LMs, low-beat.
As the 1970’s rolled along, so the Lord Matic offerings became increasingly colourful, aligning with the flamboyant style of that period but by 1976, the LM Specials had withered to just five dial styles across two case designs and by 1977 had vanished altogether. One of the most appealing LM Specials appeared for just one year in 1975. The 5216-8010 featured a wonderful three-dimensional starburst dial/hand combination, enclosed in a beautiful hooded-lug case with convex curves to the upper lug surfaces of the case. This model appeared in two dial colours – blue and brown – as shown in the image below taken from Volume 1 of the 1975 Japanese domestic market catalogue.
It is an example of the blue-coloured 5216-8010 that forms the basis of today’s post. The photographs below (one of the auction photographs and one of mine) suggest a dial colour that aligns nicely with that of the catalogue representation but, as we’ll see later, to describe the dial as just blue misrepresents its chameleon-like qualities.
This example dates from April 1975, came on its original bracelet and displayed no obvious faults on receipt. It exhibits the sort of external wear that you might reasonably expect of a nearly fifty year old watch, particularly to its crystal, but in other respects appeared to be in really excellent condition. Cracking open the rather plain screw-down case back reveals a relatively clean-looking and importantly running movement.
The Seiko automatic movement is synonymous with the ingenious magic lever autowinding mechanism but it is worth noting that the large majority of the higher tier Seiko automatic calibres made between the early 1960s and mid 1970s used integrated autowinding mechanisms that featured reversers and differentials rather than separate autowinder bridges employing magic-lever pawl levers and transmission wheels. The 52-series was no exception and with the winding weight removed, we can see how neatly the autowinding mechanism has been integrated at the same level as the gear train (although you may notice that one of the screws is missing).
Some insight into this particular project may be cleaned from the fact that I undertook my initial scoping forays in April of this year but did not get around to beginning to break down the movement until the end of last month (October). The reason for that had to do with the construction of the case and in particular the crystal assembly. This watch was made at a time when Seiko were starting to favour the integration of the crystal into a separate bezel assembly: sometimes the crystal would be glued into a metal frame (see here for example) and sometimes the crystal was sealed into a frame using combinations of rubber and/or plastic gaskets (here, for example). I wanted to make sure that I would be able to source and fit a replacement crystal before committing to the movement work and so it was on that aspect of the project that I focussed my attention initially.
The first job is to figure out how to remove the crystal assembly from the case. There are no cutouts visible around the external circumference of the bezel and so it seemed clear that the whole unit was designed to be pressed out from inside.
This releases the bezel and crystal assembly as a single unit.
You should be able to see the clear plastic gasket that provides the water proof seal between the crystal assembly and the mid case. The correct part number for the complete assembly is 290G09GA but I was unable to find stock anywhere and so resolved instead to see how I might replace the crystal itself rather than the complete assembly. The first step to achieving that is to press the crystal assembly out from the bezel.
The crystal itself appears to be sealed into its metal frame using a plastic gasket.
My intention at this point was to remove the crystal from its frame and see what options might exist to replace it.
As I had hoped, the crystal was secured using a clear plastic gasket.
In principle, finding a suitable replacement crystal ought to be possible from within the Sternkreuz range of special form mineral glass crystals but I was struggling to find a suitable replacement for the outgoing gasket. At this point, it occurred to me that, although I had failed to find a 290G09GA, I may be able to source a close relative that might provide a self-contained direct drop-in replacement for the crystal assembly itself, if not the complete unit incorporating the bezel. Some determined detective work supplied a potential option and so I ordered a 290G05GNS0 and crossed my fingers.
The profile of the rear side of this new crystal appeared to be identical to the original crystal framework but the bezel surround was clearly incorrect.Â
An emerging strategy presented itself to remove the new interior crystal framework from its bezel and then mate it with the original bezel, thereby circumventing the need to source a replacement crystal gasket.
So that is what I did.
The process of replacing a crystal in a regular watch restoration might typically occupy a few minutes. In this case, this multi-step process took the better part of three weeks but by that point, I was absorbed in other projects and it took a further 5 months before I re-engaged and was able to move on to working on the movement.
Let’s return once more to the movement, at this point liberated from the case. The first order of business is to remove the hands and then the dial. Achieving the latter requires the two eccentric dial feet screws to be turned about 180 degrees anticlockwise to release their grip on the two dial feet.
It is always illuminating to see if a date stamp has been applied to the rear of the dial and in this case the numerals 53 indicate a manufacture date for the dial of March 1975, one month prior to the watch production date as indicated by the serial number on the case back.
I have described the workings of the 5245 in a previous post on the King Seiko Special Chronometer and so won’t go into the same detail here but as this is only the second post on a 52-series movement, we can still take our sweet time in nosing about its inner workings. We begin with the calendar side and note at the outset the absence of the instant date changeover mechanism present in the 5245. In the 5216, the calendar changes gradually between around 11pm and 2.30am (at which point the second day of the dual language day disk clicks over).
You should be able to see the key differences between the two mechanisms in the comparison photo below (King Seiko 5245 on the left, LM Special 5216 on the right).
The features that the two variants of this calibre share include: hand winding, stop seconds (hacking); quickset date (and day); integrated autowinding mechanism; high-beat (28800 bph); fine-control timing regulation. These are very sophisticated and feature-packed calibres but they share a peculiar quirk which is that the hand-winding remains engaged at the quickset position which means rather disconcertingly, that you can feel the resistance from the hand-winding mechanism as you quickset the date (but not the day). Let’s flip over to the train side of the movement and start by removing the two Diafix settings that service the escape wheel and sweep second wheel as well as the balance Diashock setting.
Deconstruction continues from this point and we can pause at the point at which the gear train is exposed, more or less in full. The layout of the going train is somewhat unconventional: the centre wheel transfers power from the mainspring to the sweep second wheel via the third wheel which drives the separate sweep second pinion, secured by its a friction spring. The sweep second wheel transfers power to the escape wheel that drives the balance. Below the barrel we see the five wheels that serve the autowinding mechanism. You can find more detail on how that all works in the post on the 5245 (here).
As we approach the half-way point, and turn back to the dial side, it is impossible to ignore the impression that the yoke appears to be giving us the finger. You should be able to identify the offending part without the aid of further signposting from me.
The remaining tasks on this side are the removal of the Diafix and Diashock settings, the setting lever, spring, yoke, clutch wheel and winding pinion. The mainspring sits in the barrel in a clockwise spiral which means that when it is refitted, it will need to be wound into the drum of the mainspring winder anticlockwise, an operation that in principle requires the use of a left-handed winder.
The cleaning of the movement parts ensues and once thoroughly dry, we can begin to reassemble, starting with the Diafix jewels on the train bridge and main plate.
The presence of mini-Diashock-style springs in these Diafix settings lures the unsuspecting watchsmith into lubricating the cap jewels first before setting and fitting the springs but in my experience this can lead to a fraught process of serial bungling and recleaning cycles. Far better to fit the cap jewels and (very fiddly springs) and lubricate using an automatic oiler from the rear. The reassembly proper begins with the base setting parts.
Over to the train side, and we fit the centre wheel, escape wheel, stop seconds lever and its spring.
That lot is secured in place by the centre wheel bridge.
Next comes the barrel, third wheel and the centre seconds friction spring, the latter requiring some care in locating its fork into the profiled groove at the top of the sweep seconds pinion.
The remaining gear train components and autowinder gears are fitted and then capped off with the barrel and train wheel bridge.
Having located a spare screw to replace the missing automatic framework screw, we can secure and lubricate the autowinding components.
The reconstruction continues with the pallet fork and bridge but we are not yet at the point of being able to wind in power because the ratchet wheel and click spring have not yet been fitted, those parts unusually being located in this calibre on the dial side of the main plate.
Having refitted the dial-side Diashock setting, we can wind in some power, lubricate the pallet stones and refit the balance and its Diashock.
The final step to kicking the movement back into action was impeded initially by the interference of the stop seconds lever with the balance wheel. I needed to pull out the crown to its time-setting position and push it back into the winding position to get it to sit correctly and the problem resolved and the movement sprang into life. A rough initial regulation sees around 280 degrees amplitude in the dial-down position, very low beat error and a noiseless timing curve. I’ll regulate the movement properly once the service is complete and the watch is back together.
The dial side is wrapped up by fitting the remaining calendar components, guards and calendar wheels before refitting the dial and hands.
That final shot showing the dial shows how it appears a lot more green in some lighting than suggested by the opening photo and catalogue image. I would describe the dial as closer to a deep turquoise than blue but it does depend on the lighting and on how the dial is oriented relative to the direction of the light.
The movement is now ready to be housed once again but we have not yet reunited the crystal with the mid-case.Â
Once more unto the crystal press.
We can now refit the movement, securely located by the substantial movement ring.
You will notice that the rotor has not yet been refitted. When removing it at the start, I had to employ a set of flat-nosed pliers to gain purchase on the raised rectangular mesa. Although that inflicted no injury upon the rotor, it is a highly unsatisfactory method to remove and refit the rotor and so I set about conceiving a tool to do the job. To that end, I solicited the assistance of the machine shop at work to fashion a suitable recess in the end of a milled brass rod. This is the result:
In action, it performed its role perfectly.
We have reached the point where the only thing left to do is to fit the caseback but before doing that, let’s take in the serviced movement once more in its place of work.
The watch came fitted to its original bracelet and all this needed was a proper clean. Although the combination of deep green/blue dial and gold LM logo suits the flamboyance of the age, I am struggling to imagine it in situ, perhaps partnered with a pair of brown corduroy flared trousers and a ruffled, open-necked shirt with an extravagantly over-sized collar.
In spite of its colourful flourishes, it retains a reserved edge and its complex curves lend it a sophisticated and rather timeless quality. Here is an LM Special that lives up to its moniker.
