In looking back over my blog, it kind of shocks me that in eight years almost, of writing this crazy thing, I have not once, ever made a blog-posting about one of my favourite and most prized possessions – which I think is pretty ridiculous, considering it’s one that I carry almost every single day, and have done for the past seven years.
I have mentioned it in passing in one or two of my other blog posts, probably, but I never went into detail about it, so that’s what I’m going to do now.
My Swiss-made Ball Railroad Pocketwatch
One of my most prized possessions for nearly 10 years is this pocketwatch, manufactured in Switzerland by the Record Watch Company, for the famous Ball Watch Company of Cleveland, Ohio, in the United States. In this posting, I’ll be going into detail about what this watch is, and what makes it unique, or different. So, let’s get started.
It’s Swiss but it’s American but it’s…wah…??
Yeah it can get pretty confusing, I know! The lettering on the dial quite clearly says “BALL OFFICIAL RR STANDARD / CLEVELAND”. This was the decal used by the Ball Watch Company of Cleveland, Ohio, a company which distributed watches to various American and Canadian railroad companies from the 1890s up to the end of about the 1950s. While the Ball name became famous for accuracy, ruggedness and high quality, one thing that Ball was not famous for was…making watches!
I know, crazy isn’t it? One of the most important watch companies in the world made no watches! Nope! In fact, the vast majority of Ball-branded watches were actually made by other companies, sold to Ball, and were then re-branded as Ball watches and then sold to the public (or to people working on the railroads). Companies included Elgin, Illinois, and Waltham, to name just a few.
…So why was this made in Switzerland?
Well after the Second World War, the American watchmaking industry really started to fall apart. It wasn’t able to effectively compete against European watchmakers and bad management and marketing decisions made by various company executives meant that the output and quality of watches made in the United States in the 50s and 60s started to falter. By the 1970s, almost none of the traditional American watchmaking firms was still in operation. More and more work, and eventually, whole companies, were sent out to Europe to fulfill orders and keep up with manufacturing, rather than do it in America.
That is why an American watch ended up being made in Switzerland.
What is this Watch?
This watch is a Swiss-made Ball-Record Model 435c. In terms of the railroad pocketwatch – a specially designed pocketwatch used by people who worked on railroads between about 1890-1960, this watch represented not only the pinnacle of the style, but also the end of it. It was one of the last major-production railroad pocketwatches still produced in the 1940s and 50s after the Second World War.
Who Used This Watch?
The Ball-Record 435-series of Swiss-made pocketwatches were manufactured as railroad-standard, meaning that they could be used, theoretically, on any railroad operating on the North American continent. This particular watch, however, was likely used in Canada, and specifically, on the Canadian Pacific Railroad. I think this for two reasons:
1). The watch has a 24-hour dial. This was a feature which was only mandatory on Canadian-use railroad pocketwatches. America, for whatever reason, never had this as part of their railroad watch regulations.
2). The Ball-Record 435-series is actually listed in Canadian Pacific Railroad documentation as being an officially-approved timepiece. In the 1957 listings of approved CPR timepieces, it’s entered as: “BALL – 16s [16-size], 435C, 21j [21 jewels]”. And that’s how I know!
What is a Railroad Pocketwatch?
Alright, so that’s the watch. What is a railroad pocketwatch, and what makes such a watch what it is?
I covered this in much greater detail in the blog posting I did years and years ago, which is also the first, last and until now, only time I’d ever mentioned the watch which is the focus of this article. If you want to read that posting, it’s here.
But to sum up really fast:
The railroad chronometer, or railroad-standard pocketwatch was a specialised timepiece developed in the late 1800s to combat the very serious issue at the time, of railroad punctuality, and by extension – safety. Remember that this was a time before radio, before telephones, before GPS tracking and electronic sensors. The only way to know where a train was, at least in theory, supposed to be, was to know what time it was. And the only way you could do that was if everyone had the same time. And the only way you could do THAT was to ensure that everybody working on the railroads had the most accurate watches available.
After a series of disastrous train-wrecks in the United States in the second half of the 1800s, safety was ramped up, and in 1891, Webster C. Ball was made the Time Inspector for railroads in the United States. A jeweler and watchmaker of renown, Ball established the watch company which now bears his name, and was the first person to try and set nationally-recognised standards for railroad watches. Every watch had to have these features in it. They were updated and changed throughout time, but by the early 1900s, they were pretty much standardised. These criteria were numerous, but they were:
A large watch. 16 or 18 size. (18 size was later considered too large, and railroaders could trade them in for a smaller, more comfortable 16, if they wanted to. 18s were jokingly called ‘woodburners’ since only the old-timer railroad men, who operated wood-burning locomotives held onto them!)
Open-faced. No hunter-case lid to cover the dial.
Crown-wind, lever set. For ease of maintenance and safety in time-setting.
At least 17 jewels. This was raised to 19, 21 and 23 jewels as time went by. But basically, 17-23 was considered RR-grade.
Bimetallic balance-wheel for coping with temperature-extremes.
Six position adjustments so that the watch kept time in all possible orientations.
Temperature-variance adjustments, so that the watch kept time no matter how hot or cold it was (34-100’F, in case you’re wondering).
Isochronism (mainspring-tension variance and the ability of the watch to keep time regardless thereof).
Bold, easily read numbers, and easily-read minute-markers.
Bold, easily read hands.
Micro-regulator for precise calibration.
American-made watches ONLY (some leeway was given for European-made watches, so long as parts were commonly available).
That is the list of basic regulations. As time went by, more were added, but those were the starter-points. Along with all the regulations about the watches, there were loads of regulations about how they were to be used, and how they were to be serviced! Among other things…
The owner, a railroad employee, could not set the time himself. He was responsible for winding his watch and nothing else. Time-setting in the event of letting the watch run down, or from inaccuracy, was only done by the time-inspector for that railroad.
The watch had to keep time to +/-30sec a week, or about +/-4sec a day.
The owner was not allowed to tinker, repair, adjust or regulate the watch in any way whatsoever.
As you can imagine, with all these regulations, railroads, and the men who operated them, became famous for their punctuality and accuracy of timekeeping. From the late 1800s up to the 1950s, if you needed to know THE time, you asked an engineer, a station-master, or a railroad conductor. Almost certainly, he’d have the right time in his pocket, down to the minute, perhaps even the second!
Railroad watches died out after the Second World War. Improved wristwatches and improved signaling systems meant that railroad pocketwatches were no longer needed as much as before. By the 1960s, they had almost all gone.
Do you use this watch every day?
Um…Yeah, most days, yes! When I’m not using it, it hangs on a little brass stand on my desk. When I do use it, it’s on the end of a chain in my waistcoat pocket or inside the watch-pocket on my jeans or trousers. It’s big, it’s easy to read, and it’s also a great conversation-piece! I don’t think I’d ever trade it for anything else in the world…except for a nicer railroad watch! But I don’t think that’d be happening anytime soon.
As far as functional telescopes go, this is probably the oldest one that I’m ever likely to get my grubby little mitts on! I have no idea how old this thing is – it was sold as being early Victorian (1840s). However, research suggests anywhere from 1800-1850, with the style becoming increasingly uncommon from the 1850s onwards. What I do know is that this telescope is definitely of a much, much older style than I’m used to, and which hasn’t been seen in at least a hundred and forty years.
The way it’s constructed, the way it operates, and its various component pieces, and features, screams just how different it is from any other telescope which I’ve ever had the privilege of handling.
So, what do I know about it?
This particular type of telescope is pretty freakin’ old. That much I do know. In some respects it’s not too different from the others I have, in other respects, it is very different!
It’s a two-draw wooden-barreled naval telescope with brass fittings, with an eyepiece cartridge, erector cartridge, and two-piece objective lens, which were all common features of antique telescopes of the 1800s. Where it differs is in how these pieces are assembled and fitted.
For a start, let’s look at the eyepiece mount. It’s much larger and more elaborate than most such mounts, and the eyepiece lens which it protects is also fitted differently into the cartridge which holds it.
The eyepiece cartridge has two lenses which magnify the image seen by the big objective lens at the front of the telescope. On later telescopes, both these eyepiece lenses are fitted into rims of roughly the same shape and size, and are screwed into either side of the cartridge which holds them.
On this telescope, the eyepiece lenses are not only of dramatically different sizes, but how they’re mounted into the cartridge is also markedly different. This style of fixture is something you just don’t see in telescopes which come from the second half of the 1800s.
The second major difference between this telescope and others which I’ve handled, and which points it out as being an older style, is how the lens-caps are mounted and operate on the telescope.
Most telescopes have one big round objective lens-cap, which just covers the front of the telescope, to stop the big, light-catching lens from getting dirty, gritty, scratched or damaged, and a smaller cap at the other end, for the same purpose. To use the telescope, it’s necessary to remove the lens-cap at the front, and to slide the lens-cap built into the eyepiece mount, to one side. The cap or shutter pivots on a screw-post into the side of the telescope’s eyepiece and is hidden neatly away.
By comparison, this telescope has rectangular, sliding lens-shutters on both the front, and back end. They slide open and shut and they stick out the sides of the telescope instead of tucking neatly away. I’ve seen some people call these ‘guillotine-style’ shutters, on account of how their operation resembles that of everyone’s favourite full-sized vegetable-chopper – so, I’ll call them guillotine-style shutters too!
They really are a very whimsical piece of telescopic history. They’re a feature that you simply do not see on modern telescopes – and not on many antique ones, unless they’re really old, like this one! I’m pretty sure I’ll never find another one like this – at least not at any price which I could comfortably afford!
Another feature which I like about this telescope is the fact that the lens-cap that protects the objective lens at the front of the wooden barrel has two purposes. First, it acts as a lens-cap, to keep the lens free from dust, scratches and breakage – second, it acts as a rain and glare-shield! It’s not actually necessary to remove the lens-cap from the front of the telescope, in order to use it. You simply slide up the shutter on the front of it!
This feature would’ve been common on telescopes designed for naval use at sea, where sea-spray or rain could easily have obscured the view of the telescope’s user. Protecting the telescope’s lens from the full force of the rain or sea would’ve allowed for clear vision even during inclement weather.
Given all these factors, how old is it?
I honestly don’t know. My guess is the 1820s or 1830s. I have no evidence to back this up beyond what I’ve seen from similar telescopes which were dated to this era, and which match the design elements which I’ve seen here. But that said, that would make this about 180 years old…which is impressive, any way that you slice it!
This has certainly been a fascinating piece to tinker with and pull apart, fix and clean. Hopefully I’ll have a video about this coming soon on my YouTube channel, so watch out for that! 🙂
This weekend just gone, I went to the Kyneton Lost Trades Fair in Kyneton, country Victoria, where I got the chance to see all kinds of ‘lost trades’. Blacksmiths, cobblers, bell-makers, potters, glass-blowers, knife-makers, carvers, carpenters, chandlers, weavers, spinners…the list goes on and on and on.
Anyway, while I was there I ran into some friends and got the chance to film them. This is the result!
I love antique telescopes, I just think they’re so cool. Their construction, their beauty, their intricacy, and the levels of embellishment put into their design. I’ve always had an interest in all antique optical equipment because of my poor eyesight, but there’s a romance about telescopes that you just don’t get with binoculars. They make you think of ships at sea, people on clifftops looking out over the coast, of trekking across the countryside, and the mysterious, far-off places which they’ve seen.
In this posting, I’m looking in detail at antique telescopes. A bit about their history, their construction, repair, refurbishment, etc. So polish your eyepieces and hold onto your lens-caps…
Antique Telescopes: The Basics
There are two basic types of telescopes which most people will be familiar with: The refracting telescope, and the reflecting telescope. The refracting telescope uses lenses of glass, whereas the reflecting telescope uses finely-polished mirrors. In this issue of TAT Antiques, I’ll be covering the more common refracting telescope, as this is the kind that you’re most likely to come across in antiques shops and flea-markets.
So, what do you need to know about antique telescopes?
Antique Telescopes – Context and History.
In an age before aircraft of any kind beyond a hot-air balloon, all travel beyond shore, and all delivery of cargo beyond shore relied on sailing ships and steamships. Before GPS, RADAR, satellites and transponders, mariners relied on maps, compasses, chronometers and sextants to find their way around the world. However accurate these aids might’ve been, arguably the most important maritime aid was the refracting telescope. Knowing where you were supposed to be, or where you had to go, or simply identifying where you were at all, was almost impossible without a telescope. Mariners needed powerful, long-distance vision-aids to help them scan everything from far-off flags, cliffs, hills, buildings, and other ships as they sailed around the world.
For all these reasons, from the 1600s up to the mid-20th century, telescopes were actually pretty important, and they were made by a wide range of manufacturers. Telescopes could see things great distances away, and with impressive clarity, important when you’ve sailed halfway around the world, and you’re trying to identify the harbour that you’re meant to dock at, which might be several dozen meters away. Mariners prized the telescopes, and on any given ship, they would’ve been among the most important and treasured possessions owned by the common sailor.
Telescopes were seen as the badge of office for sea-captains, admirals and naval officers, and such officers and captains might even receive telescopes from their colleagues as rewards for heroic deeds, tokens of good esteem, or presents to mark important events. In such instances, details of the deed or event which warranted the presentation of a telescope (which would’ve been an expensive item in its day!) would’ve been handsomely engraved on the barrel or draw-tubes of the telescope, as a form of commemoration.
The invention of the refracting telescope is generally attributed to famous Italian astronomer and engineer, Galileo Galilei, in the early 1600s. Whether or not this is true is up for some debate – chances are he probably invented the first one which was any good – as is often the case with great inventions – like the telephone, automobile and telegraph – great inventions can rarely be attributed to just one person.
At any rate, throughout the 1600s, from the time of Galileo, other inventors took his basic design and improved on it. Early telescopes were far from perfect – the images were often blurry, or even flipped upside down by the lenses! Knowing what type of lenses to use, and in what sequence they had to be placed would be worked out over the next century or so, until quality telescopes capable of clear views were developed.
Really early telescopes, such as those from the later 17th and early 18th century differed greatly from those of later decades in that they were much, much, much larger! The manufacturing limitations of the time meant that they could be several feet long, and quite heavy! It wasn’t until the later 1700s that collapsible telescopes which were more compact and also more powerful, were possible.
Although they were primarily used at sea for navigation, spotting landmarks, reading signals and sighting far-off, potential dangers to the ship, telescopes were also used on land, both in warfare, and for recreation. Field commanders used them in battle to watch the progress and direction of combat and to direct troops, and people used them for sightseeing, birdwatching and other leisure activities. How these telescopes all differ will be covered later on.
Antique Telescopes – Materials and Construction
From their earliest days, right into the second half of the 20th century, the vast majority of telescopes – almost all of them – were made of brass. Brass tubing, brass coupling-rings, brass rims for the lenses, brass screws and fixtures and brass lens-shutters and caps. The decision to use brass was twofold – for one thing, brass was relatively cheap. For another, brass did not corrode or rust like other metals might. This made it ideal as the metal from which to make telescopes, which might spend years and decades at sea, surrounded by moisture, humidity and saltwater.
The barrels, rims, coupling-rings, draw-tubes and other components of a telescope were all made of brass and the lenses were made of glass. But antique telescopes often had another component in their construction, and that was the barrel-cladding.
The barrel is the main body of the telescope. To make it easier and more comfortable to hold for long periods of time, the brass tubing was often clad in another material. This would stop the hand from slipping on smooth metal and provide better grip, and would also stop your fingers freezing to the brass if the weather was particularly cold. Popular coverings included thin sheets of Morocco leather, and various types of wood. Wooden blocks were spun on a lathe and rounded off, then bored out into a tube and slipped onto the brass barrel before being either screwed, riveted or glued into place. Mahogany and rosewood were popular.
One reason why telescopes were more popular than more compact binoculars was because telescopes were much more powerful. Most telescopes had up to half a dozen different lenses inside them, which magnified and clarified the image, as well as kept it steady, with minimal distortion from light. These series of lenses were screwed into double-ended cartridges or rims which could then be slotted and screwed into the telescope.
To clean the lenses, one simply unscrewed the telescope, unscrewed or slid out the cartridges, unscrewed the lenses, cleaned them, and then screwed and slotted everything back together. Since everything could only go back together in one very specific way, the chances of accidentally mixing up the lenses was minimal. Telescopes were expensive and were expected to last for many years. For this reason, they were really designed to be user-friendly, and easily maintained.
Many antique telescopes came with friction-fitted lens-caps over the large objective lenses, and usually – sliding lens-shields over the eyepiece. Older telescopes had sliding lens-shutters over both the front and back lenses, similar to guillotine blades, whereas more modern ones had detachable lens-caps on the fronts, and sliding lens-shutters on the back. This is one way to guess roughly how old a telescope is, as sliding shutters front-and-back became less common as time went on.
From the late 1700s right up to the middle part of the 1900s, how refracting telescopes were made (and indeed, how they’re still made today) hardly changed at all. The materials and finishes might have come and gone and changed with the times, but in essence, a telescope was made of drawn out brass tubes with threaded coupling rings, a barrel, glass lenses and brass lens-caps and shutters to protect the glass.
Because of this, it can actually be surprisingly difficult (and in many cases, impossible) to tell how old an antique telescope is. One made in 1770 would in all likelihood, be indistinguishable from one made in 1880, which would look very similar to one made in 1920 or 1930. There are subtle ways of guessing how old a telescope is, and I’ll cover that later on.
Different Types of Antique Telescopes
Antique refracting telescopes came with a surprising array of features and design-variations. The most basic ones simply slid out and back and had lens-shutters or caps at each end. However, there were differences and nuances.
Smaller telescopes (approx. 6-8in closed lengths) were typically sold as pocket telescopes. They were designed to fit into a jacket or trouser pocket for someone who might ride on horseback, who went hiking, or for someone who simply wanted a smaller, more compact spyglass.
Some telescopes were sold with sliding shields that extended beyond the end of the barrel, over and around the large objective lens at the front of the telescope. Such shields were typically three or four inches long, and were meant as sun-shields or rain-shields. Their purpose was to keep sun-glare off the lens, and to keep rainwater off the glass in instances where the telescope might be used in inclement weather.
Maritime or naval telescopes were much larger than pocket telescopes. A pocket telescope was typically 6-8 inches closed, stretching out to about 15-20 inches at its fullest extension. By comparison, a larger naval telescopes, which had to see much further distances, had larger, more powerful lenses installed in them. They would measure up to 10 or 12 inches closed, and might extend to over a meter when fully opened!
Occasionally, you’ll see a telescope on a tripod or stand. These can range from small tabletop ones, to much larger floor-models. What are they?
These are called library telescopes. Their design dates back to the days when gentlemen astronomers in country houses pursued stargazing as a hobby. They were designed to stand on a table, or on the floor near a large window in your library or study (hence the name). The tripod held the telescope absolutely steady so that the viewer could scan and track the heavens, looking for stars, constellations, the phases of the moon, or distant planets in the far distance.
They’re impressive, but beyond these applications (or scanning the bounds of one’s vast country estate, or looking out to sea from your lighthouse or seaside home), they’re not especially practical these days.
One device which most people probably don’t think about when they think of telescopes is the sextant – and yes, I do mean that curved navigational instrument – but yes, even that has a telescope built into it. Granted, sextant telescopes were not especially strong (they’re only meant for looking for the sun, after all), but they are telescopes nonetheless.
The sextant was invented in the 1700s as an instrument for determining latitude (north-south position), and in this, they work pretty effectively. To operate a sextant at sea, you waited for the noonday sun to be high in the sky. You sighted the sun through the telescope, and then pulled a lever on the side of the sextant. The lever adjusted the position of a mirror built into the frame of the sextant.
You pulled on the lever until the reflected sun was level with the horizon. When this was achieved, it meant that the angle between the sun and the horizon had been calculated. Then, you simply checked the lever to see what angle it had stopped at, and this gave you the angle of the sun above the horizon. From this, you could calculate where you were.
Sextants became extremely popular in the 1800s and 1900s. Provided that the sea was calm and the sky clear, they were relatively easy to use. Their use lasted for so long because they were basically failsafe. Even today, they’re still one of the most reliable navigation devices to use at sea, two hundred years after they were invented.
Last but not least, we have day/night telescopes, and their name directly reflects their function – they’re designed to be used both day, and night! Now all telescopes can be used during the day, but what makes a night telescope?
As I said earlier – everything we see is a result of rays of light reflecting off of an object. The more light we see, the more reflection, the more object. To this end, a night-time telescope (for example, those used in stargazing) differs from a daytime telescope in that it is usually much larger, both in length and lens-size. The larger the lens, the more light you can capture, the more stuff you can see. This is why those astronomical telescopes at observatories are so massive!
The Anatomy of a Telescope
Your basic antique refracting telescope, of the kind that you’re likely to find at most flea-markets and antiques shops has a surprising number of parts! Knowing what they are and how they operate is important to knowing how to clean, fix and use your telescope. So, what are they?
The barrel is the main body of the telescope. Depending on age, it will be clad in either leather, or wood. Most antique telescopes will have a ridge at the front of the barrel. This ridge or lip is there to catch the lens-cap when you slide it on to protect the objective lens from dust, chips, cracks, and scratches.
Extending out from the barrel are the draw tubes. Most antique telescopes will have three draw tubes, some will have two, some will have four, some will have half a dozen or more! The number of tubes is how you describe what the telescope is. So if your telescope has four draw tubes, you’d describe it as a four-draw refracting telescope.
Between each draw tube, and between the main draw tube and the barrel, you will have couplers or coupling rings. These couplings are what hold the draw tubes together. They screw in and out and stop the tubes from sliding apart. You unscrew these to pull the telescope apart for cleaning.
At the back of the telescope is the eyepiece cover. This is usually just a threaded lens-cap screwed over the eyepiece lens, usually with a small, sliding shutter built into it. This is to keep dust and grit out of the eyepiece lens.
Immediately in front of the eyepiece cover is the eyepiece cartridge. This is a tight-fitting tube inside the smallest draw tube of the telescope. You should be able to just pull it right out (some telescopes might have you unscrew this to get it out). The tube will have two lenses in it that will magnify the image coming down the tubes.
At the other end of the smallest draw tube, opposite to the eyepiece cartridge is the erector cartridge. Now this one DOES screw into the tube (because the lens-rim also doubles as an end-stop for the first coupler) so be careful when you try and pull it out for cleaning! Again, it’s a brass tube with two lenses in it. These two lenses are the erector lenses, meaning that they flip the image seen through the objective lens, the right way up.
Right at the front of the telescope, you have the objective lens. This is the one that captures all the sunlight. On all but the earliest telescopes, the objective lens will almost always be what’s called an achromatic lens – that is, one lens made out of two parts. The reason for this is to sharpen clarity and improve focusing, and also to prevent what’s called ‘chromatic aberration’. Basically, two lenses help to sharpen the focus, and bring all the rays of light to a single point. If you only had one lens, the rays of light would all focus at different points inside the telescope, and you’d end up with a blurry image.
The finder scope is something that you occasionally get on larger, tripod-mounted library telescopes. It’s the little baby telescope that’s sitting on the top of the main telescope. These little fellows are low-powered telescopes with wide fields of view. They’re used to search for an object in the far distance (to find them, as the name suggests), and the object, once being found, could then be viewed more easily through the main telescope (which is mounted directly underneath).
Telescopes: Care and Cleaning
You just bought your first antique telescope! Oh boy! You can finally live out your pirate fantasies, or go to sea on your rich friend’s yacht, or go birdwatching or stargazing after sundown. But, being a newbie at this, you perhaps bought your telescope without really thinking about how to look after it…woops! Now what?
Don’t worry, this chapter is all about how to clean and maintain your beautiful new antique telescope.
The good thing about antique telescopes from the 1700s and 1800s is that they were really designed to be user-friendly. For the most part, lenses, barrels, couplings and other parts can all be unscrewed, cleaned, polished and reassembled relatively easy. But there are some things which aren’t covered in the care-and-feeding manuals!
To service and clean your antique telescope, you will need:
One bottle of sewing machine oil, or a can of WD-40
Tissue-paper, toilet-paper or paper-towels
Brasso metal polish.
Rubber gloves (optional).
Small, flathead screwdriver (optional).
Masking tape (optional).
These things should be all you need to get your telescope working great again, provided of course, that there is no damage to the body, the barrel, tubes or lenses. So, how does this work?
Step One: Cleaning the Lenses
To begin at the beginning – you should first clean all the lenses. On the vast majority of telescopes, these will simply unscrew from their housings, and you can simply pop them out and clean them with a damp tissue to remove any grit and dust. Make sure you clean the lenses inside and out, and be really thorough – all it takes is one tiny speck of dust to interfere with the optics of your telescope, so you want to blow out or wipe off any grit and grime that you see. Once this is done, carefully screw the lenses and their housings back into the telescope.
Step Two: Cleaning the Draw Tubes
This is one of the most important cleaning jobs that you can do on your antique telescope – cleaning the draw tubes. I will warn you now that it will take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and that if you don’t do this thoroughly, you can seriously damage your telescope.
Antique telescopes are made of brass. Brass rims, brass bodies, brass tubes, brass coupling-rings. Brass is everywhere. Brass was used because brass did not rust or corrode easily and it was easy to clean. But the problem was, brass is shiny, and manufacturers didn’t want light bouncing around inside shiny brass tubes in their telescopes. The reflections would drive you nuts! To stop this, they painted the insides of the draw tubes with a cheap paint made from lamp-black – basically, the soot that builds up inside the glass chimneys of old-fashioned oil-lamps.
Now over time, this sooty coating crumbles away. It’s caused by constantly opening and closing the telescope, as well as just by time and wear. Combine this with the fact that telescopes are not air-tight, and the tubes of your telescope will pretty quickly fill up with gunk and dust. This acts as an abrasive and creates friction. If you do not clean out all this gunk, then the dust will cause your telescope to jam when you try and focus it. And if you try and force the telescope to move, you stand a very good chance of breaking the coupling ring and ripping the telescope in half – and this would be nigh impossible to repair.
To prevent this, and to make the telescope easier to use, you need to clean out all this gunk. The easiest way to do this is to simply open the telescope to its fullest extent, and then drip or spray oil up and down the draw tubes. Then close the telescope, twisting and turning as you go, to distribute the oil all around the tubes. Then pull the telescope open, twisting and turning as you go. Repeat this several times and then using a tissue or paper towel, wipe off the oil. And then stare in shock and disgust and the black, oily grime that comes away in your hands. This is the gunk that is jamming your telescope. You must repeat this process until all the grime is gone, and the paper comes out clean.
In some cases, this may involve completely disassembling the telescope right down to its component parts to clean out the grime. This is not a process that you can rush, and it is not one that you can skip – because if the telescope jams and you try and unjam it with an overenthusiastic tug, you could very well damage it irreparably.
Once the tubes have been thoroughly cleaned and wiped down, the telescope should open and close fast and smooth – You should hear a sharp, smooth clicking sound as the tubes extend and collapse. This is the sound of the coupling rings snapping into place against the end-stops of each draw tube.
Step Three: Fixing Worn-Out Couplers
Some telescopes – not all, but some – suffer from worn out coupling rings. Every draw tube comes with a coupling-ring and an end-stop. The coupling ring slides over the tube and down to the end-stop. The ring has corrugations on it to help unscrew it, and it has threads on it, which connect it to the next draw tube in the sequence. On some telescopes, these threads can get worn out from years of screwing and unscrewing for cleaning and maintenance.
One way of repairing this is to unscrew the worn out coupling ring and wrap masking tape around the threads. This builds up a very thin layer of paper over the threads, which will provide the friction and grip necessary for the thread to bite, and hold, and stop coming apart! Now masking tape is the cheap solution – if it doesn’t work, you can go to your local hardware shop and buy threading tape which is specifically designed for sealing loose threads (they use it in plumbing to stop leaks). Whether you use painter’s masking tape, or plumber’s threading tape, the important thing to remember is to apply the tape smoothly over the threads. Any folds, kinks or twists in the tape will cause the threading to jam, and then you’ll be in real trouble!
Step Four: Fixing Jammed Couplers
Just as how coupling rings can get worn out, they can also get stuck! It isn’t uncommon on antique telescopes for coupling rings, lens-housings and other threaded components to get stuck and jammed on. This is usually because nobody cleaned it for decades, and the dust and grime got into the threads and the friction is so bad that you simply can’t unscrew it!
To get over this, simply drip in a couple of drops of sewing machine oil. Let the oil seep into the threads – put in a couple of drops all the way around and let it dribble inside. Then, with a firm grip, simply twist the threads open. If you’re still having trouble, use rubber gloves to provide extra grip.
Having opened the threads, make sure that you add more oil, to the threads and then wipe it clean with tissue-paper! Again, you’ll get the same, black, oily gunk that came out with the draw tubes. Once you’ve unjammed all the threads, you should clean out all the grime before screwing them back in, to prevent them jamming in the future.
Step Five: Polishing the Brass
The last step is optional, but it’s the process of polishing the brass on your telescope – which is basically everything that isn’t glass, or leather! Despite what you might think, polishing antique brass is perfectly acceptable, and in some cases, even necessary, although for the most part, it’s largely to do with aesthetics and visual appeal. It is up to you, but most collectors and sellers of antique telescopes that I’ve come across would prefer their telescopes polished, rather than dulled. It just looks that much more awesome.
Antique Telescopes: Storage and Usage
So, you’ve bought yourself a beautiful antique telescope. You’ve pulled it apart, cleaned it and wiped down the lenses. Now how do you use it? And once it’s been used, how do you store it?
To use your telescope, slide off the lens-covers on both ends and then pull it out to its fullest extension. Hold it up to your eye and look through it. Does everything look all blurry in the distance?
Of course it does, that’s because you haven’t focused it! Provided you’ve cleaned out all the gunk inside the telescope, and the tubes are sliding smoothly, focusing your telescope will be really easy. Simply slide the smallest draw tube into the one ahead of it. Eventually, the distance between the lenses will sync up, and the image will come into focus. The other tubes will remain stationary. In most cases, focusing the telescope to view things further and further afield will simply be a matter of sliding the first draw tube back and forth to find the ‘sweet spot’ for each different distance.
Storing Your Telescope
Once you’re done using your telescopes, to protect the lenses, make sure you slide the shutters and caps back on (if the telescope came with them, that is – most will not have their original objective-lens caps). Ideally, you should stand them upright when you’re not using them. This will stop dust getting on the objective lens, and will also stop the telescope from rolling off of any shelves or tables that you decide to display them on.
Researching Your Telescope
So, you just picked up an antique telescope. Maybe it was at auction, maybe at the flea-market, maybe from an antiques shop or from some place on the world wide web! However you got it, you have it now, and you suddenly realise you don’t know the first thing about it…woops! How do you research how old your telescope is, where it was made, and what it was used for?
Well, I’m sorry to say this, but in many cases, this will be next to impossible to find out. The problem is that a lot of companies manufactured telescopes for all manner of customers and markets. Sailors, soldiers, sportsmen, hunters, sightseers, the leisured country gentleman on his estate, ranchers, birdwatchers, stargazers…the list goes on, and on, and on. Because of this, many telescopes were made and sold anonymously. It’s not uncommon at all to buy an antique telescope with absolutely no markings on it whatsoever.
That said, some manufacturers did put their names on their products, and did it loud and proud, too! Names like ‘Dollond’, ‘Broadhurst, Clarkson & Co’, and dozens of other smaller manufacturers would’ve engraved their details proudly onto the barrels or more commonly, the draw tubes of their telescopes.
But even without a name or address to research, is it possible to date a telescope? That really depends. The challenge is that telescopes made from the 1700s to the 1900s really didn’t change that much. Draw tube numbers rose and fell and it wasn’t uncommon for the same basic designs to be used for years, and years, and years! However, there are some small details which can guide you on rough dating of your telescope.
The Size of your Telescope
The earlier a telescope is, the larger it tended to be. Those from the early 1800s and earlier tended to be exceptionally long, and with only one or two draw tubes. The quality of manufacturing available at the time limited the size and complexity of telescopes and how compact they could be made. As manufacturing techniques became more advanced and refined, smaller and more intricate telescopes with improved optics became possible.
Engravings and Inscriptions
One of the most reliable ways to research the history of a telescope is if it has an engraving or inscription on the draw-tubes. As mentioned earlier, telescopes were popular as gifts in maritime circles, to commemorate promotions, milestones, long service, or were given as rewards for great deeds done at sea. Such inscriptions often included the date, the recipient’s name, the name of the party presenting the telescope, and the reasons for the presentation. Depending on the amount of detail given, there might be enough information provided to research the backstory of the telescope, as well as give us a rough date as to the telescope’s era of manufacture.
The position of a manufacturer’s engraving is also one way to determine a telescope’s age. Up to the end of the 18th century, manufacturer’s engravings tended to be on the ‘right’ side of the telescope, and after the start of the 19th century, manufacturer’s engravings tended to be on the ‘left’ side of the telescope.
“Uh, Brainiac – telescopes are ROUND. They don’t have sides”, I hear you say. And you’re correct – they don’t – but nevertheless, the positioning of an engraving on a manufacturer-marked telescope is one way of telling how old it is. From the 1790s and back, maker’s names and their details (addresses, etc) were engraved on the ‘right’ side, meaning that the first letter of the first word in each line of the engraving was closest to the eyepiece.
After the 1790s, for reasons unknown, telescopes tended to have their maker’s details engraved on the ‘left’ side, meaning that the last letter of the last word on each line of the engraving was closest to the eyepiece.
It’s a crude dating mechanism at best, but seems to hold up, in all the examples I’ve seen, both online and in antiques shops.
This excerpt was originally published in the February, 2017 edition of the TAT Antiques Magazine, and was reproduced here by the permission of its author…me! 🙂
When I was attending university a few years ago, for the first time in my life, I found myself doing a lot of travelling and walking around every day. Going to the campus, going to lecture halls, going to classes, the library, the store, the cafeteria for lunch, all kinds of places. And it was during this time in my life that I started to realise just how many things I needed to cut open. Lunch packets, sauce packets, that super-annoying skin-tight plastic wrap that adorns almost every single type of manufactured product these days, from POST-IT notes to writing supplies, and I began to wish more and more that I had some sort of pocketknife on me.
I never had a pocketknife as a child. I never saw the point, I never saw the need, and for almost every cutting job around, I used a pair of scissors. But as I got older, and started moving around more, I began to realise just how handy it would be to have a portable blade on me with which I could do things. And so I started hunting.
At first I really didn’t know much about knives, but with my historical bent, I knew that I’d like a pretty, antique one. The good news was that antique pocketknives are really common. The bad news is that finding a decent pocketknife that you like enough to buy, refurbish, maintain and use can be a bit tricky. There are loads of different styles, models or patterns out there, each one suited for different purposes. After a lot of hunting around, I bought a knife at the local flea-market. As I said, vintage pocketknives are really easy to find, the trick is finding one you like. The good thing is that most of them really don’t cost much at all.
What Did I Buy?
I ended up with a neat, medium-sized ‘Barlow’-pattern knife. It’s rounded off at one end of the knife (designed this way so that it’s easy to slip into the pocket), and has a pair of bolsters at the other end. The scales (decorative panels) on the sides of the knife are covered in panels of polished bone. Would be nice if it was ivory, but we can’t all be that lucky!
The Barlow knife is one of the oldest knife-patterns still manufactured today. And I mean really old! The first Barlow knives were invented back in the 1600s and were owned by such people as George Washington, and mentioned in the works of Mark Twain. Although it was actually invented in England, the Barlow became an icon of Americana by the middle-1800s, and was liable to be owned by thousands of people.
The classic Barlow has a handle with a rounded end, and two folding blades which both pop out of the same end. The style of the blades changes from manufacturer to manufacturer, but in the end, they comprise of one larger main blade, for general use, and one smaller blade, about half the size. This smaller blade was originally intended as a pen-knife, used for sharpening, cutting and shaping pens and pencils, in the days when writing was done with either quills, steel dip-pens or pencils (before the widespread availability of pencil-sharpeners).
The reason the Barlow was so popular was because it was effective, simple and cheap. The two blades did just about everything that most people in the 1600s, 1700s and 1800s needed of their knives, and it was also small enough, and cheap enough for most men, boys and probably women too, to own one. It’s qualities like this which have seen it last into the 21st century.
Cleaning the Knife
Any antique pocketknife that you pick up at an antiques shop or at a flea-market is bound to need cleaning. In most cases, the knife won’t have been properly maintained in decades. Cleaning the knife is important for a number of reasons.
First, it makes it easier, and therefore, safer to operate – an essential importance when anything with sharp blades is concerned.
Second, it improves the look of the knife and keeps your clothes clean. Nobody wants to carry a pocketknife in their pocket when it’s full of grime, and liable to transfer that to your jeans or slacks. And for something so small, a pocketknife can come with a whole heap of crap packed into it, and I’m not talking about the blades!
The first thing you’ll want to do, if you can, is to open all the knife-blades and toss it into an ultrasonic bath, ideally with warm water and liquid soap to blast out all the gunk inside the knife. Turn the machine on and watch all the dust and grime and crud come shaking out. You may need to do this two or three times, and change the water in between washes. This should clean out most of the grit inside the knife. Anything extra you can pick or scrape or wipe out with tissues, cotton-buds, or pins (useful for getting into the tiny cracks).
Once you’re removed all the grime, it’s time to remove all the tarnish and rust. This can be done using either hard abrasives like extra-fine sandpaper or steel-wool, or liquid polishes like Brasso, depending on how bad the the tarnishing is. Like the cleaning, polishing and rust-removal may take a few applications to get the look that you’re most comfortable with.
Sharpening Your Pocketknife
Once you’re done cleaning your pocketknife, the last thing to do is to sharpen it. There’s a million ways of sharpening a knife and half a billion ways of testing how sharp it is, so I won’t be going into this in great detail. YouTube is always a great place to find more, if you need it.
But to cover the basics – I sharpen my knives using stones of three different grits – coarse, then fine, then extra-fine, staring with the roughest, and progressing to the finest, with about 20-30 strokes of the blade across each surface on both sides. It’s important to keep the stones lubricated while you sharpen them. If you’re the sort of person who sharpens blades regularly, it might be useful to keep your stones soaking in a bucket of water somewhere, so that they’re always ready for use. If not, you’ll need to soak them for a few hours before you start using them.
Once you’ve given each blade of your pocketknife a thorough sharpening on both sides, now is the time to test it. The classic way is to see how cleanly it slices through a sheet of paper. A well-sharpened knife will produce a clean, straight cut and the paper will have sharp, clean lines either side of it. A knife which hasn’t been sharpened properly will simply tear the paper, or fail to cut it at all. As you cut, make sure that you pull the blade along so that you can test that its entire length has been properly sharpened. If it cuts cleanly, then congratulations, you’ve sharpened your first vintage pocketknife!
As of today, throughouthistory.com will be listing all the antiques which I currently have for sale. If you want to see what’s available for purchase at the moment, please visit the ANTIQUES SALES page here! It may also be accessed through the ‘PAGES’ menu, down the left side of this blog.
Please note that all prices are listed in AUSTRALIAN DOLLARS, and that the final price to be paid on each item is the price of the item itself, plus postage!
Reasonable offers are accepted on all items, and questions are welcome. If you wish to buy an item, make an offer, or ask questions about something which I’ve got for sale, please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Thank you!
All payments for purchases and postage will be carried out through PAYPAL.
All photographs featured in the ANTIQUES SALES page are of the items themselves, and have been taken by me, your friendly blogger!
Just because it’s what they do, doesn’t mean that they know it all! And if you’re patient, you can get your hands on a really nice, and interesting, piece of silver! That’s what happened to me yesterday!
Nobody at my local auction-house knew what this curious little…dish…plate…bowl…thingy…was. As a result, it sold for next to nothing, and I was able to nab it at a great price. I was extremely skeptical of the description of it in the catalogue, which simply said: “Sterling Silver Ash Tray“.
One look at this item told me that it was quite obviously not an ash tray. The shape was all wrong. And there were no grooves to rest cigarettes. I mean you could use it as an ash tray…and you could use a Gucci handbag to tip horse-manure onto the garden…but that doesn’t mean you should! This weird little piece of silver made me wonder exactly what it was and who made it and why.
Unusually, it was a modern piece of silver. It’s from 1997, according to the hallmarks, and it was assayed in Sheffield. Researching the company that made it eventually told me that it was something called an ‘Armada Plate’.
Yeah I’d never heard of it either, and despite a lot of research, all I could find out was that there were loads of these things for sale online in various sizes, some larger than mine, some smaller. But none of them told me what the hell an ‘Armada Plate’ was. So, I went to Wikipedia to find out…
The Amazing Armada Service
In the 1580s and 90s, a thirty-one piece sterling silver dinner service was amassed by Sir Christopher Harris, and his wife Mary. Among other things, Sir Christopher was an MP, and Vice-Admiral for the county of Devon, and was charged with the protection of Devon by attacks from the sea.
The service became known as the ‘Armada Service’ because it was made to commemorate the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588. The date-letters on the silver plates and platters range from the 1580s up to around 1601.
Either way, the famous, 31-piece service was a point of pride for the Harris family – Sir Christopher after all, was familiar with both Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh, so he definitely moved in some pretty impressive circles!
What is known is that the service was passed down through the Harris family until 1645. At the time of the English Civil War, the service was buried to hide it from the Cromwellian puritans, who needed silver for their war-effort. It remained hidden for nearly two centuries, until it was rediscovered in 1827 by farm-laborers who, of all things, were digging a hole to store potatoes!
The service was returned to the Harris family, who took custody of it for over fifty years, until it was sold at auction in 1885…by which time it had dropped from 31 pieces to 26 pieces…exactly what happened to the other five is unknown.
Either way, the pieces were sold at auction in 1885, and again some decades later, in 1910. In 1992, the 26-piece service was acquired by (and remains with) the British Museum.
But what happened to the other pieces?
Funnily enough – some of them have been discovered!
Through means unknown, some of them had ended up in the States! This was only discovered in 2009! This means that there is now a 28-piece Armada service in the world. However, the last three pieces, to make it the complete 31 once more, are still missing…
The Little Silver Plate
Alright, that was really interesting…but what’s that got to do with a little silver plate?
Well actually, the Armada Service is so famous, not just for its size, age and the fact that part of it is still missing, but because it represented a high-point of late-Elizabethan silversmithing. Its simple style and beauty, and the fact that it’s survived this long largely intact, have made it an object of fascination, and therefore, highly desirable.
Modern copies of individual pieces from the Armada Service are actively manufactured today by British silversmiths, and you can buy them online relatively easily, in sizes anywhere from a couple of inches, all the way up to seven inches in diameter! My own little plate is 3.75 inches across. It may not be a piece of 400-year-old Elizabethan silver, but it’s fun to own something that pays homage to one of the most famous silver-collections in the world!
In going back over the hundreds of posts I’ve made in this blog since I started it in 2009, which is coming onto eight years ago (yikes!), I suddenly realised that I’d never done one about one of my most-prized antiques. My teeny little vinaigrette box. So that’s what we’re covering today! Here it is:
This thing is really small. I mean really, really, really small! You could pack four or five of these into a standard matchbox without much trouble at all. That’s how tiny it is! The entire thing is solid sterling silver, and it is indeed, very old. It is the oldest piece of antique silver which I currently own, and almost certainly the smallest. So, what is it?
Vinaigrette-boxes, or simply just vinaigrettes were very popular during the 17-and-1800s, from the early Georgian era up through the end of the Victorian era. They were almost always little silver boxes, with gilt interiors, with pierced grilles and little sponges inside.
The sponges held a mixture of perfume or essential oils mixed with a drop or two of vinegar. This mixture created a sweet-smelling but also pungent aroma, designed to mask the stench of unwashed bodies, horse-manure, coal-smoke and other nasal assaults common during the 18th and 19th centuries. Since vinegar is acidic, vinaigrettes were always gilt (gold-lined or gold-plated) to prevent the acid from burning through the silver with which the boxes were made.
Vinaigrettes came in various sizes, from minuscule ones like this, to much larger ones about the size of a matchbox. They also came in a wide array of shapes, styles and designs. Those with strange, interesting, rare or novel designs are especially collectible.
This particular vinaigrette has the hallmarks of Thomas Spicer, for Birmingham, in 1823, and the duty mark of George IV, who reigned from 1820-1830. It also has its original sponge inside it! It’s a bit dry and crusty, but I didn’t want to throw it out.
Hallmarks on silverware change over time. Not just in style, size and shape, but also in the number of hallmarks. Knowing when different hallmarks were introduced and when they were discontinued is one way of dating a piece. This can be important when the item is particularly old, and the original set of hallmarks might have been polished out or unreadable. The duty mark for British silver was introduced in the 1700s and discontinued in 1890.
And here’s the vinaigrette fully-opened, with the sponge removed. You can see the full set of hallmarks here. Five in total: Maker’s mark of TS (Thomas Spicer), assay mark of an anchor (Birmingham), fineness mark of a Lion Passant (Sterling Silver), the date-letter (Z) for 1823, and finally – a duty mark of a monarch’s head (George IV). The TS maker’s mark has been repeated on both sides of the box.
The Fall of the Vinaigrette
Vinaigrettes died out in the Victorian era. When the soap-tax was repealed in the…1850s, I believe it was…it suddenly became much easier to wash onself, and one’s clothing. This moderate improvement in personal hygiene and laundry meant that for once, people didn’t stink so much. And if they did, cologne, scent of perfume was used to mask the smell. By the end of the century, the vinaigrette had pretty much become a museum piece.
I was at my local auction-house this week just poking around, seeing what was on offer for the first auction of the year, when I stumbled across some items which were being listed for sale, and they struck me as being rather strange.
Strange because they were obviously reproductions, and because this is an auction-house which deals largely in antiques, jewelry, art and furniture. Just looking at them I could tell they weren’t as old as the dates printed across them, but I expected that the chaps at the auction-house knew that when they put them up for sale.
The items, two telescopes, later sold for what I felt were pretty high prices, considering that they were obviously of modern manufacture. And this got me to thinking about antiques collecting, and the risks involved with it – specifically – buying fakes and reproductions, when you’re looking for a genuine antique!
In the antiques world, almost anything and everything can, will, has been, or will be, faked. And I do mean literally anything – you can go online right now, and buy a whistle which someone will swear up and down, was used in the trenches of the First World War. It’ll look old, and it’ll have period markings on it – but it is NOT an antique! (Incidentally – these whistles are reproductions manufactured by the ACME Whistle Co.
Now, to be fair, that’s not to say that the ACME Whistle Company is deliberately trying to cheat the public – they are manufacturing whistles with old-fashioned markings on the barrels, they are aging them and selling them – but they are selling them as modern reproductions of antique whistles. There’s nothing wrong with this. And there’s nothing wrong with you buying them. Just so long as you’re aware of the fact that these whistles are not 100-year-old, First-World-War originals! And so long as you don’t try and sell them as such!
However, there are people out there who will try and sell them as such, and at significantly increased prices. Knowing how to tell the difference between a real whistle from the First World War, and a modern reproduction, is just one example of how collectors need to be able to tell the difference between a real antique, and a reproduction, or a fake!
What is a Fake?
A fake, or fraudulent item, is something manufactured to look like, and be passed off, as an original item, and which will be sold at a price matching the original item. It has absolutely no value as an antique, and if you buy one, you will be stung – hard! Because reselling it will be almost impossible – nobody will willingly purchase a fake.
And just so we’re clear – faking items isn’t a modern phenomenon – people have been faking things for centuries! You can even buy an antique fake, as well as a fake antique! Some antique fakes might actually be worth money, because of the notoriety around them, but again, you need to be careful about what you buy.
What is a Reproduction?
A reproduction is an item which has been manufactured to superficially look like something else that was produced previously. Reproductions are legal, and sometimes even desirable, but they should not be confused with the original article. Reproductions can be useful in the sense that they give an impression of age at a fraction of the price, but one should not expect original-quality manufacturing standards for a reproduction-quality item. You get what you pay for.
What is a Replica?
A replica is generally defined as being an exact copy of an antique. Replicas can vary just in terms of visual appearance, all the way up to being fully-operational, functioning replicas. They differ from a reproduction in that usually, much more detail, time and money has been spent in manufacturing these, since they are meant to be faithful copies of an original item. Replicas are popular choices with historical reenactors, since they can get the ‘real thing’, but not worry about potentially damaging an antique, which could be decades, or even centuries old. Firearms, clothing, historical eyewear, kitchenware and many other items usually have modern replicas of antique originals available online. The quality is not necessarily as good as one might like, but the functionality should at least be on the same level.
The Three-Part Pick-a-Part
When you start collecting, the most important thing to learn is how to differentiate an antique from a replica, reproduction and fake. If you can’t do this, your collection could be filled with loads of fakes!
“So what?” I might hear you ask, “Does that really matter?”
Well, that depends. If you blew hundreds of bucks on something expecting it to be 200 years old, and it was made last week, would you be happy? If you unknowingly sold a fake and your buyer called you out on it, would you be happy? Buying and selling fakes can be a painful business, and not just for your wallet, but also for your reputation, if you do this regularly. People will avoid you, and once your reputation’s shattered, selling anything will be a real hassle!
In spotting fakes, there are some things which the novice can learn and read about to protect themselves, but other things only come with experience and the balance of probabilities.
The Real McCoy or a Fraudulent Ploy?
Even for the novice antiques collector, there are ways to tell reproductions or fakes, from the real thing. How to find these ways, these indicators, is all in the details of what the item is, what it looks like, how it was made and how it’s presented.
In some cases, knowing if something is an antique or a reproduction is pretty obvious, and in other cases, it can be nigh impossible. So what are some things to look for?
Indicators of Age are probably the first thing to check for. Anything which is a real antique will have genuine indicators of age. Wear, fading, paint-loss, chips, dings, dents, tarnishing, loss of colour, etc. Do fakes have these things too? You bet! The trick is knowing the difference between real indicators of age, and fake ones. Some indicators of age cannot be faked, such as stamps or engravings, particular types of decoration, or particular types of wear. Knowing how to differentiate between the two, is the rub. Some can look incredibly convincing!
Fit, Finish and Features are three more indicators of whether an item is an antique, or a reproduction. Antiques are simply everyday items which are very, very old. They were built or made decades, or even centuries ago, to fulfill a specific purpose. And chances are, they will have fulfilled that purpose very well. And they would’ve done that because of how they were made, what they made of, how they were completed, and the features found on these items.
Look at two seemingly identical items. Their shape might be the same, their physical measurements might be the same. Even the colour and patterning might be the same. But if you look closer, you will see differences.
An item made to be used every day, will be manufactured accordingly. It will be heavier, or lighter, as the case might be. It will have various additional features which will aid it in its function. It will be purely operational, without any excessive flourishes or decorations.
Now look at the reproduction, or fake. In many cases, telling the difference between the two will be fairly easy. The reproduction will ‘try too hard’ to look old. It will be excessively aged or patina’d. It will not have any of the extra features which the antique will have. Why? Because unlike the antique, it wasn’t designed as an object of everyday use – it was designed as a reproduction.
Now look at the fit and finish. Notice any wobbling? Any loss of details or decorations? Generally, a fake or reproduction will have fewer decorative details than an antique original, or again, will try too hard to look old-fashioned, and overdo it on the decorations. Modern reproductions or fakes are designed to fool at a distance – they won’t hold up to up-close scrutiny – provided that you know what you’re looking for. Understanding the difference between all these nuances is vital if you’re to differentiate between an antique item and a fake or reproduction.
Weight and Heft is another way to determine an original from a fake. Most people who manufacture fakes or reproductions will not care about this – their item will weigh less, or more than the item that they’re trying to copy. Why? Because they don’t care, and they don’t expect that YOU will care, either.
Knowing how much the genuine article weighs, when compared to a fake is very important when it comes to things like old coins. Antique coins which were made of gold and silver had by law, to weigh a certain amount, since they were made of precious metals, and the value on the coin had to reflect the weight of the coin itself.
A fake coin will not weigh the same as a real one. It will either be significantly heavier, or significantly lighter. In cases like this, the only way to be really sure is to look up the weight of the coin beforehand and keep it handy when you go hunting.
Grit and Grime are yet another way to differentiate an antique from a reproduction. Most antiques will not look perfect. You try looking perfect after 100 years! Most antiques will have some sort of blemish, some sort of tarnish, some grit, grime, dust or other gunk trapped inside its moving parts, or in crevices or cracks or gullies.
A reproduction will always look perfectly clean. A fake will always look perfectly clean. That’s because…it’s new! Duh!…Or, it might look dirty. But the difference is in the kind of dirt or patina, or tarnish. Real tarnish or grime builds up over time, over the course of decades.
This is not something that you can fake with acid or vinegar or by rubbing crud onto an object’s surface. It can only be achieved by years and decades of use and abuse. Grime and gunk get into every tiny little crevice inside an item, and that’s something you won’t find in a reproduction, no matter how superficially it looks like an antique.
Well, there are just a few tips for the novice collector on how to spot a genuine antique, as opposed to a modern reproduction or forgery which someone might try and sell you as the real thing.
Of course, the tips mentioned here will not cover all antiques – they’re intended as general guidelines, but they should be enough to help most people avoid strife while out at flea-markets, auction houses, antiques shops and when surfing online for that next interesting item for their collection.