What makes him tick?
Timepieces have stories, and this clock repairman has heard a lot of them through the years
You’d think a clock repairman would have time on his hands but James Dunbrook is a busy guy. He plies his trade at The Clock Works, where business is always ticking along.
The red brick store is located in Schenectady on an otherwise unremarkable block of State Street. Automobile traffic zooms by, everyone in a rush to be somewhere else. Inside the hushed front showroom grandfather clocks are plentiful and there’s a selection of wall clocks in sundry styles plus the random cuckoo. It feels like an antique dealership with a pulse, but the heart of the business is in the repairs that take place in the rear workrooms.
“We’re drowning in work, it’s constantly flowing in the door,” says Dunbrook. “I feel like a one-armed paperhanger swinging in a bucket of paste.”
At an oversized counter where walkins rest their troubled devices, Dunbrook applies his skills as a technician
and counselor. “We assess what they’ve got and give them options,” he says.
Whether the job is a quick fix or a more lengthy endeavor, emotions are usually involved in the transaction. That’s because clocks aren’t just about staying up to the minute. They’re also a way to hold onto the past.
“A timepiece often has great meaning,” explains Dunbrook. “It’s an important part of life involving family ties, complications and relations with numerous people who are connected with the artifact.”
Not much prompting is usually needed for customers to tell their stories. More than a catharsis, such exchanges help Dunbrook assess the deeper value placed in the clock. “What it means to them is what means to me. I want my motivations to be framed right,” he says.
Once in a while, he’s had to deliver some brutal honesty, informing a potential client that what they’ve got is beyond repair or just not worthy of the cost. “One woman brought in a case that was warped and ruined and not worth the repair,” he recalls. “After a long and indepth conversation, I said what you have is a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. She went ballistic.”
More common is the person who’s come to believe that their clock needs more frequent professional tending than is necessary. According to Dunbrook, a clock should receive service only after eight to 10 years of use.
Not everyone who walks in the door of The Clock Works is an aficionado. Others are only there to rid themselves of a clock that holds little interest. “Up to a dozen times a year, we get battered or abandoned clocks. Some inventory wanders in. The possibilities are endless,” says Dunbrook.
Since some clocks can’t be easily toted into the shop, Dunbrook makes house calls. Shortly after the beginning of the year, he was summoned for a job at the governor’s mansion. The patient in need of care was an English floor clock dating from the early 1800s. It was a gift from Mario Cuomo to his son Andrew in 1997 upon his becoming secretary of Housing and Urban Development during the Clinton administration.
The day after he visited the mansion, Dunbrook received a call from the governor who wanted to know all the details. He also asked, “How much is it worth?”
“How do you answer that? How do you put a price on something in your heart? I told him I was guessing but it was between this and this,” recalls Dunbrook.
Next, the governor brought
A timepiece often has great meaning. It’s an important part of life involving family ties, complications and relations with numerous people who are connected with the artifact.” — James Dunbrook
up a crack in the front of the case. On that, Dunbrook was more expansive, saying: “That’s what gives it charm. Do you want to cover that up? If you want perfection go get something new, but this has warmth and character.”
Dunbrook, 66, is a native of Watertown who now lives with his wife in Albany. He admits to having been “a C-minus student,” and holding a series of “dead end jobs” early in his career. These included being an airline baggage handler, an assistant cook at a senior center in Valatie, and a groundskeeper for Rupert Murdoch when the mogul had an estate in Old Chatham.
A change of direction came when Dunbrook enrolled in a two-year course of study of auto mechanics at Hudson Valley Community College. He found it to be a good fit and made the dean’s list. After completing the program, he reupped and devoted two more years to learning refrigeration mechanics.
In 1987 Dunbrook and his younger brother George with their parents bought the Mobil service station located near the corner of Madison Avenue and Lark Street in Albany. Hitting their stride with that endeavor, the two brothers became regular commentators on auto-related matters for WAMC-FM and WNYT Channel 13 during much of the 1990s.
In 2003, it was time for another change. While remaining a partner in the family business, Dunbrook began a long term apprenticeship with Paul Major, the sole proprietor of The Clock Works. His workload in the shop grew annually until 2007 when he went full time. These days, Dunbrook repairs all of the windup clocks that come in, while Major handles the battery operated ones.
Asked to compare automotive repair and clock repair, Dunbrook speaks first of the service aspect. Both fields demand a level of trust and expertise. “They’re entrusting me to do the right job,” he says.
Then there’s the matter of turn-around time. “When I came to work on clocks, I thought it would be a slower pace allowing me to focus my time and do things right and not deal with parents who have to go pick up junior,” he says. “But people have an emotional connection to their clock, so you see separation anxiety.”
Whether it’s a vintage car or an analog clock, each consists of numerous moving parts that must function together in harmony.
A car can get you where you need to go. An heirloom clock might get you somewhere deeper.
“I have old New England attitude, I like to fix things that are broken and bring them back,” says Dunbrook. “I restore memories and that’s an awesome thing. Bringing back someone’s cherished memory means I’ve contributed something to this other person’s journey. That makes me feel like I matter.”