Antiques and the Morgan Collection

My dad was a horologist (one who repairs clocks.) Even in the late 70's and early 80's they were hard to come by. If you found one, they were not that good. My dad was good... the best.

He owned the entire west-side of Cincinnati and was best known for making custom gears... and even repairing gears by making new teeth. In fact, people traveled from other states to bring their clocks to him. The house was filled with clocks! It was always tick-tocking, clicking, donging and chirping. Cukoo's mantel's, anniversary, 8-day, wall clocks, you name it, they filled the walls of the house.

Naturally, all the traffic in and out brought big-time antique collectors and my dad could fix it all. He moved some of the most rare things I have ever known. He kept the good stuff. I inherited some and as my interest grew, I continued to collect. I can spot a good find when I see one, in most cases.

When I was little, my dad told me "Son, you're a one-man wrecking machine." Then he also told me that when he was little, his dad told him the same thing.

"Son, you're a one-man wrecking machine." 

So ya see this goes to show that some traits, if not in-born, are genetically passed on.

I wanted to do what dad was doing. That is, tear things apart. Naturally, parts we're laying all over. Once I tore into a clock on the table that was already fixed and I got in a lot of trouble as you can imagine. Hence my label of a "one-man wrecking machine." Finally rules were made that if you weren't sure you could fix it, leave it alone.

I was really an intruder in my dads workspace. I got better and finally started helping instead of hindering. I wouldn't trade any of those childhood memories for anything.