We begin this third instalment with the intake photographs showing the front and rear of the second of our two first generation King Seikos, this one an earlier J14102E dating from May 1962. As described in the introduction, this original first issue version was released exclusively as a 100 micron gold-filled model, the steel-cased variant not arriving until mid 1962.
The relative merits of this example compared to the previous, described in Part 2, lie, on the credit side, in it being an example of the first variant of the model, with its thicker gold cap, but on the deficit side, with its incorrect crown and missing case back medallion.
The dial on this watch is in good condition, perhaps marginally less good than the dial fitted to the other watch. Interestingly, this is also an AD dial which is apparently considerably less common in the J14102E than in the later J14102.1
As with the other example, the setting lever spring on this one is also broken.
I have a theory about why the failure of this part is so common in this and the Cronos/Champion models. In order to release the stem, you must first turn the setting lever screw by one full turn anti-clockwise. This winds the screw out of the threaded hole in the setting lever and because the screw itself is captured by the barrel bridge, the consequent reaction to this is that the setting lever moves upwards away from the stem, allowing the stem to be withdrawn. This action should ideally be undertaken with the crown pushed into its winding position. If you withdraw the stem with the crown in the setting position then the setting lever will be out of its resting position when the crown is re-inserted and there is a good chance that the nub on the bottom of the setting lever will be unable to re-engage with the groove in the stem, causing the setting lever to be jammed in its raised position. A natural reaction to this on the part of the person working on the watch might be to unscrew the setting lever screw some more in the vain hope of assisting the stem to re-engage but all this does is to further raise the setting lever, placing a huge upwards force on the arm of the setting lever spring. A natural consequence of that, certainly if this is a repeated action, will be to fatigue the arm with its failure the eventual result.
A reasonable question, when faced with a broken setting lever spring, is where is the detached part? In this case, I located it when inverting the dial to inspect its rear.
The cap jewels amount to a total of eight, including both Diashock settings.
Dismantling the movement from this point proceeded without incident in essentially the same fashion as with the previous example, but without encountering any obstructing foreign bodies.
The mainspring on this one looked to be in at least as good condition as the other but perhaps caked in a little less molybdenum grease.
While the bits and bobs percolate, I turn my attention to the crown of this one, which needless to say, is also in possession of a rock hard gasket. This crown is incorrect and oversized and so I had slightly less reservation in taking the same brutalistic approach to liberating the gasket.
In contrast to the smaller crown, this one has a brass spacer sitting at the base. With everything cleaned and partially reassembled, I slathered the new gasket in silicone grease and installed it into the crown.
The domed retaining washer is then tapped back into place, in the process of which it flattens and bridges the gap to the inner circumference of the crown.
As an extra security measure, I sealed the edges with some Loctite retaining compound. The movement parts are clean and dry and ready for reassembly at this point. No need I think to document every step but we can pause to survey the cap jewels on the dial side.
And a few snapshots of the train side coming together.
The bottom-left-most photograph above shows the movement running with a full wind of power but there’s a snag.
The amplitude is excellent, the timing curves clean but the beat error cannot be adjusted below 0.7 ms. The reason for this is that the stud holder is at its end stop and there is no adjustment headroom left.
The only solution is to remove the balance wheel and adjust the position of the hairspring on the balance staff to re-establish enough room for manoeuvre.
It doesn’t need much of a tweak to create the required adjustability.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
At this point, we can call into service the second of our recently arrived new setting lever springs.
With it in position and with appropriate nooks and crannies lubricated, all of the setting functionality is restored.
You may have noticed that I have been putting to good use one of the movement holders I recently bagged from Yahoo Japan. One particularly useful feature of these dedicted holders is the placement of correctly positioned cutouts to allow for the tightening of dial feet screws with the dial in place and the movement safely secured.
The dial and hands are fitted next and the movement secured into the case as described in the previous post.
Next up, the crystal is fitted to the bezel.
The result this time is no less gratifying than with the previous example.
At this point, the case back had not yet been fitted.
I had entertained replacing the caseback with one still in possession of its medallion but I have been rather taken by the nuances of the historical evolutions of this first edition King Seiko and I think it only right and proper that the watch keeps its original back, even if that slightly diminishes its potential future appeal as a complete watch.
I decided a more appropriate strap for this one would be a well-worn crocodile, in keeping with the slightly more lived-in appearance of this watch compared to the other.
This photo provides a nice view of the box acrylic crystal and the (incorrectly) over-sized crown. I love the look of the former and find in use the latter to work rather better than the slighter crown fitted to the other watch. In particular, the greater torque you can generate with this grippier crown makes winding the watch a doddle.
Working on these two watches in tandem has been a lot of fun and provided a few challenges along the way. Most of all though, the project has allowed me to educate myself better about the early history of the King Seiko.
These watches marked the start of a 14 year run spanning a wide range of hand-wind and automatic, low and high-beat, elegant and garish watches that would last until the quartz revolution of the 1970s eventually snuffed out the higher-end mechanical watch. But between 1961 and 1975, a multitude of wonderful output was to come, all of which owing at least a little bit of DNA to this, the original article.
1http://www.egalizer.hu/targyak/orak/king1.htm