This post is part of a series, Reading Time at HSNY, written by our librarians. Today’s post was written by Miranda Marraccini.

Little kids love to touch things. If you’ve ever been a parent or even just spent time with a toddler, you’ll know that an unattended cup of coffee, a billowing plastic bag on the street, or a dirty toy in the sandbox is a temptation no small child can resist.

But it’s also an amazing quality, because kids are great at hands-on learning, including in the field of horology. In our library collection at the at the Horological Society of New York (HSNY), we’ve got plenty of books that show kids how to tell time. Books, however, can only go so far—and I’m saying that as a librarian. For interactive horological fun, our library boasts a selection of kits, games, puzzles, and toys to handle and assemble.

One of the most charming specimens of children’s education we have is a 1940s–1950s era “junior clockmaker construction set” (image 1). On the lid of the box, a proud-looking papa in a full suit (presumably just returned from his job at a midtown advertising agency) watches over his two delighted children, who are working on their toy clock. The completed clock is shown on the left—a traditional chalet-style Black Forest or cuckoo clock, ornamented with festive boy and girl figures dancing over a 12-hour dial, two twee ducks, and a tulip motif.

The blond boy on the box is staring straight out at the viewer, holding the partially assembled gear train, while his sister oohs and ahs at his progress with both her hands in the air. This colorful kit presents horology as a family activity, perhaps something to work on together in the evening at the dining table (Where is mom? Possibly washing the dishes somewhere). Although the image clearly suggests that boys are the expected audience for clock assembly, girls are invited to participate too, even if passively.

Our kit, inside the box, is still colorful and intact, with a cardboard dial and both metal and plastic parts, and an illustrated instruction sheet (image 2). I’m not going to assemble and test this toy clock, but I’m tempted! I would like to be, as the instructions promise, “rightly proud of [my] achievement.”

It’s interesting to compare this 75ish-year-old kit with a more recent example from our collection (image 3). An import date stamped on the “My First Clock” box indicates it was made in 1997, around half a century after the “Junior Clockmaker.” The front of the box looks pretty familiar: we have a smiling girl and boy, with distinct hair colors, working together on the kit. In this case, the girl’s been promoted from observer to participant, since she’s holding a gear in her hand. The clock is also a different style than the older model, constructed from a rainbow of plastic with a clear exhibition-style dial.

The description on the outside of the box also hints at evolving trends in manufacturing and distribution: this kit was made in China, and the promotional text is printed in five languages to appeal to consumers from different countries. The earlier “Junior Clockmaker” kit was made in the USA, distributed in New York, and included text only in English. At the time of its manufacture, midcentury America was a watch- and clock-producing powerhouse, with lots of adult employees in the industry, and lots of kids exposed to horology at a young age.

Interestingly, the instructions for the 1997 “My First Clock” kit are highly technical. The text includes a full primer on clockwork, including equations to calculate the periodic motion of a pendulum. What the pamphlet does not include are actual instructions. Rather, there’s a cryptic schematic (image 4) that concludes with this helpful vote of confidence: “We believe that you will be successful in assembling ‘My First Clock’ with your mind and hands.” “My First Clock,” rated for ages six and up, expects a lot from its young users!

It’s also possible that these clock kits, though marketed as children’s toys, were actually more popular with adults who liked to tinker. My fellow librarian St John and I, both wizened adults, completed a plastic model of an unbuilt clock designed by Leonardo da Vinci, which contains a rudimentary form of the escapement. It only sort of works, but it does jauntily adorn a desk. Our library collection also contains unassembled cardboard versions of an astrolabe and a nocturnal, both important navigational instruments, especially useful before the invention of the marine chronometer. These kits (image 5) are both souvenirs from the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England (as in Greenwich Mean Time).

So far, the kits I’ve written about are collaborative, but we also enjoy competitive games here at HSNY. During jovial times in the office, we’ve occasionally amused ourselves with Trivial Pursuit: Fine Watchmaking Edition (image 6). This specialized edition of the game, created by the Fondation de la Haute Horlogerie, is still available. In addition to questions about horological history and brands, the game includes incredibly technical stumpers about watchmaking materials and decoration techniques.

So if you stop by our library to play a game or two, be prepared to answer questions like: “Which of the following metals is not part of the alloy known as ‘maillechort’: copper, iron, zinc or nickel?” “What is the lucky number of the Jaquet Droz brand?” “What enameling technique provides a glaze that resembles stained glass?” “How many teeth are on the disk with two images of the moon in a standard moon-phase display?” and “The Hautlence brand is an anagram of which Swiss canton?” No googling is allowed (and no AI), but if you simply must know, the answers to these clues are at the bottom of the article.

If you’re looking for something a little more collaborative (I know firsthand how hostile Trivial Pursuit can get), our collection also holds a few puzzles. A 24-piece puzzle for kids includes a moving piece to display the season, month, date, and day. A 3D puzzle lets you build Big Ben (yes, I know that is not its official name) out of paper.

A 1,000-piece puzzle for adults replicates the Salvador Dalí painting “Soft Watch at the Moment of its First Explosion” (also known as “Soft Watch Exploding in 888 Particles after Twenty Years of Total Immobility”). I’m no puzzler, but this seems like the easiest option in our modest puzzle collection. The other two adult puzzles depict an overflowing clock shop and a chaotic pile of nearly identical pocket watches (for the latter, see header image).

When you’ve finally had enough play, you can buckle down with the Do it Now! Book and Clock Set, another treasure of our library (image 7). It consists of a quartz clock where the numbers on the dial all read NOW, presumably so you realize that whatever time it is, the time is NOW. This gift says to the receiver, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, “It’s time to seize the moment.”

At the end of the day, if you’ve failed to heed the clock’s warning, comfort yourself with this Ralph Waldo Emerson quotation that is printed in the associated book, and originates from a letter to his daughter: “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” It’s not exactly a groundbreaking sentiment, but one we need to hear sometimes. We could all use a little nonsense for today, and a lot of serenity for tomorrow.

Trivial Pursuit Answers:
Iron
8 (infinity symbol)
Plique-a-jour enamel
59 (2 times 29.5 days)
Neuchâtel

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