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I know that this is a little bit off topic, but in collecting things that someone from this era might have carried, I found myself on a side journey; I think it noteworthy to share here.  This has been an intriguing project and I know that while I’ve hit a few walls in the research, only to uncover a key to a door I was stuck at, there might be more focused genealogists who will take what I have here and expand it (and maybe even correct some of it).  At least I will have answered some questions and then provided a launching pad for someone’s greater project. I live in Connecticut, USA, and as I commonly travel to the locations regarding my research – when I am able – not having Basingstoke within a couple of hours drive leaves me with doing my research entirely by the internet and by tapping into the help provided by others.  I accept full responsibility for my conclusions below; should you have questions, anything to add, or to critique, feel free to reach out either as a question posted on this webpage or directly to my email address: JosMorn@aol.com

Joseph Morneault – March 2026

 

 

My Motivation

When I was about 8, I was staying over at my grandparents’ place then in Meriden, CT (before they returned to New Brunswick, Canada).  Although it was in a warm month, somehow the topic came up about Père Noël and I asked mon pepère “How can he visit EVERY house to deliver presents around the world and get it done in one night?”  Pepère went into the other room and returned carrying a pocket watch (from his retirement, perhaps?) and showed it to me, having me listen to the ticking as he held it to my ear.  “Père Noël has a pocket watch that can stop time.  Right at minuit, he stops time, then goes all over the world to deliver the presents.  When he is done, he starts time again for everyone.  This is why you never see him placing the presents under the tree!”

Although I was nigh on putting such lovely children’s myths behind me, I held that tale close to my heart.  This caused a fascination with pocket watches for me ever since.  Then, right about when I turned 13, the movie came out with Pam Dawber and Robert Hays entitled “The Girl, The Gold Watch, and Everything“.  This reignited the myth in my mind, and I really wanted a pocket watch of my own!  A few elders along my street had their own and has shown me theirs, but it was this movie that added the necessary fuel.

As a budding historian in my teens, I did purchase a 50$ pocket watch from a local jeweler, but it died in a couple of months; even changing the battery did not help.  I found that pretty much anywhere one would go to pick up a watch would sell high end wrist watches but cheap pocket watches with some sort of non-descript metal or chromed plastic or maybe even aluminum, with a gold wash that rubbed off while in the pocket and didn’t even have the reliability of a Timex.  “You want a GOOD pocket watch?  Go into the city but be prepared to spend a lot of money, kid!”

When I was 19, I purchased a 200$ Aero pocket watch while on a visit to Basel, Switzerland; a “hunter style”, with the hinged cover. I still have that one and I consider it to be my “first” real pocket watch for it was the very first one I owned of more quality than something one might win from a claw game machine.  Not high-end by any means, but reasonably reliable.  As I got involved with late 18th century ceremonial and reenactment groups, the urge to have an original watch from the era that works became the evolution of that desire.  I would find older friends “in the hobby” sporting their 18th century original watches or “faithful” replicas, and when I asked where they obtained it, the answer was almost always “I picked it up on my trip to London” or some variation.  A key-wound watch I purchased from an antique store didn’t work beyond 5 minutes… nickel case.  I brought it to a watch repairman here in Connecticut who refused to work on it as he declared that it is a “Swiss Fake”; working on it would “ruin his reputation”.  By this time I had been a craftsman of flutes, fife, flageolets for some 30 years, and I explained that copies of historical flutes are still flutes; we still service them, with the scandal of supporting makers that replicate being long gone with their deaths some 100 years ago.  Nevertheless… So, commenting about this to my elderly employer, he shared with me that his brother John had gone to school specifically to make watches from scratch, and not merely service them!

Off to see “Uncle John”, he brought me up into his upper floor workshop.  Lots of watches and cylinder records, which he also collected.  He told me that a particular balance stem was broken and that he would have to make a new one; one cannot simply call for replacement parts on this 1879 watch!  Yes, made by someone in Switzerland to resemble a Waltham watch, but still a decent watch!

A ‘phone call a week later and he said to bring 50$ and pick up my watch!  We discussed my “bucket list wish”, he offered to give me a good deal if an appropriate watch came into his hands… and then he said that he had a watch to show me!  It had belonged to his great grandfather (or perhaps the father before – I forget) and that he inherited it… I told John that I was reluctant to see it for I might want it!  He smiled, whistled a little tune, and pulled a shoe box out of his closet.  Despite my continued protestations, he opened the lid, parted the jeweler’s wool, and produced this absolutely lovely silver watch!  Paired, and when the outer case removed, a pastoral scene with nude sprites were painted on some material and tucked into the back of this outer case.  The watch ticked happily when John wound it, and I think that I might have actually salivated!  “I’m pretty old, and there’s no one in the family who cares about this or any of my watches.  Remind me about this in a few years and if nothing changes, I’ll give you this watch”.  Wow!  What a promise!

Some years later, John was slipping into early dementia.  I had visited him again many times over the years and he did all the servicing to my growing watch collection – I had picked up another from 1886.  I gave him my 1879 as he actually wanted it.  But this time, it was strictly a social call.  Sitting at the kitchen table, his wife on the other end, John said that he knew that he was “slipping”, and would like to give me something to remember him by.  I felt a little odd asking, but I mentioned the watch.  He genuinely looked puzzled, seemed to rack his brain, but couldn’t recall such a watch.  His wife could recall and said as much but couldn’t go up the stairs anymore.  I simply dropped the topic… It felt too much like taking advantage.  But now I was determined to find my own watch from “my era”.

The Purchase

In February 2025, I made the purchase of an antique verge fuzee watch; a “paired” one, from a seller in the UK.  To have a working pocket watch from “my” era (1790 – 1810) has been on the top of my “bucket list” since about 1990, and this was most exciting for me!  I tried for one dated ostensibly to 1805, but while I “won” that auction, it didn’t meet the seller’s reserve price, whatever that was supposed to be.  I played the game a second time, won again, and still didn’t meet the hidden reserve price.  I made a direct offer which was turned down, and so I moved on to another lovely, silver pocket watch that was dated to 1816.  Of course, this is a bit later than “my era” of the 1790s-18-aughts range, but this seller stated that it was working although in need of some TLC.  I won this auction and the seller sent it along.

It is rather irrational, I suppose, to hold something in your hand for the first time (newborn children and the new pets exempted) and feel an immediate connection.  Yet there I was, in love with a watch and was glad for it!  It seemed in that first moment of holding it that this was the longed-for moment of everything leading up, per my back story above. It did not come with a key (for these are key-wound), but I have a set of watch keys of different gauges, and I quickly found that it wound (anti-clockwise) and worked; that said, it could lose 10 minutes, or gain an hour, seemingly at random.  I have a contact in Maine who did, to my mind, miracles in restoring my step-father’s family tall case clock (believed by family tradition to date to 1782/4), and did wonderous restoration to another of my pocket watch collection (post-Uncle John).  So, I shipped this, reluctant to send it away, in the post.  A few weeks later, I was going up to the family farmhouse, and I reached out… We met and my man placed it back in my hand, telling me that this type of works for a pocket watch is out of his area of comfort and would rather I take it to someone keenly focused on this style.  (A verge fusee requires more of an artist watch repairman and he is more of a later-works technician) I honour him for his honesty, and I brought it away with me. An internet research for who might be a good candidate turned up someone in New Hampshire, but with a waiting list.  A recommendation was passed along to reach out to Nathan Das of Hallicra’s Works in Canada.  I sent it along to Nathan and he did a fantastic job with it!  I highly recommend him!

 

Questions and the Search Begins

Meanwhile, I joined a couple of Facebook groups related to antique pocket watches.  I had a lot to learn and while my dear ol’ friend Steven (began his work life studying with a clock repairman) could answer many for me, there were more still to understand.  Being a research-historian, I simply had to learn as much as I could about the maker.  I posted photos of my watch and told a thumbnail of the story, and one of the members explained to me about dating by hallmarks, and that the date of the hallmark is not necessarily the date of the watch; at this time, it was more common that a dedicated silversmith would be the maker of the case for the watch works made by the watch maker.  So, as I do, I began a concerted search online for data to understand watches of the era and of hallmarks.  The name of the watch maker is engraved on the back of the works – Jas. Gregory.  I know of a few people from the 18^th century whose names were Jason and used “Jas.”, but this turned up nothing of use.  Quickly learning that it was more common for “James” to use that, my search opened up.  James Gregory in Basingstoke, presumably England.  What could I discover about him?  Had I turned up someone else’s bio on the man, that would have been enough, and I would have moved on.  But there’s scant little, and now my curiosity was piqued.  I dug here and there, gleaning some very brief references to the man and his shop on Winchester St in Basingstoke, and that he also made case clocks and sold (or made?) musical instruments… this sounds familiar to the son-in-law to surgeon’s mate Dr. Nathan Tisdale…  And Basingstoke immediately came to the mind of another friend who is a Jane Austen fan.  For context, see this flyer from the Basingstoke Heritage Society. -> Jane Austen Leaflet

Some details of my watch…

 

‘Round about this time, Karen reached out to me via Facebook Messenger; she, also, had a Jas. Gregory watch by way of her grandfather, and asked if I had any information on the maker… See the following gallery.

 

This was fuel to my fire, and while I shared with her what I had thus far collected, I needed to know more.  I found a copy of Bradbury’s Book of Hallmarks (for a reasonable price… some of the ones I saw listed had insane price tags on them) and followed the “rabbit hole”…

 

21 March 2026 – I purchased another James Gregory watch, serial #1125, this from Ian in Colne, Lancashire, England.  It had been in his family for some generations.  Based upon the extreme wear on the outer case, including where it broke through along the ridge on one side, I’d say that this was well-love and utilized!  Given the year that James Gregory died, it is likely that the works had been inserted into a new case in 1850.  Alternatively, the Gregory’s establishment might have continued using James Gregory as a business inscription, regardless of who was running the store in whatever year; I have no proof of this, so it is merely putting forth a passing thought.

 

Some of the Evidence

The hallmarks on the silver outer and inner cases for my watch have specific hallmarks.  There’s a lion, a lion’s face with a crown on it, the letter “a” in lowercase (not the “g” an online friend thought that he could distinguish), the initials IR, and a small crescent.  Looking at the Bradbury book, it would seem that the silver was brought to London to be assessed.  The marks indicate that it was done by the London Silversmiths Office, given the lion and the lion’s face wearing a crown. Per the [a] it would seem that my watch had been made in 1816; yet shouldn’t it have an additional “duty mark”? I was to learn that this was not reliable, and more likely for watches expected to be exported. The letter is the indicator of date: they would start with a lowercase “a” and go up the alphabet until “u”, then move on to uppercase “A” until the end and start again… to this point, “a” would be 1776, “u” would be 1795, then “A” 1796, “U” 1815, then “a” again would be 1816.   The initials are “IR” and there’s a journeyman’s mark in the form of a tiny crescent.  Online I found a listing of known silversmiths and dates of the surviving examples, and my “IR” doesn’t fit any of those listed (The I is for J, thus it is really JR, and the only examples are variations of the initials in a rectangle and the dates don’t pin any of them to my watch).  So, that’s another angle of research…

So, in order to learn fully about my watch, I need to track down Jas. Gregory AND whoever the silversmith “IR” stands for…

 

Here is another authoritative source for this work.  Mr. Fallon is in agreement with the Bradbury book cited above.  I’ll address this more in the Silversmith – Watch Case Maker section, but do look at the notes I’ve put with the images just below here.

 

I entered into conversation with Nathan Das of Hallicra’s Works in Ontario.  He explained a few things to me that cleared up so many of my questions and put aside some speculation about the case works.  “Just by looking at the movement and containing a slide regulator rather than a tompion regulator we are likely in the early part of the 19th century. There are other indicators too which will coincide with the later date. Sadly using the export duty mark (or lack there of) as an indicator of year isn’t enough as this is lacking on many watches especially if they were first sold inside of English territory.”  So, despite the lack of duty mark AND the indication that the duty mark commences in 1784, it would appear that it wasn’t used for domestic sales of the watch (so, within Great Britain, and possibly the various colonies?). Understanding this alone is enough to slide all other indicators to the next time the lower case {a} is used, which is 1816.  A surviving photo of Gregory’s Shop in Basingstoke proclaims an establishment years of 1790; with the comparatively higher serial number engraved on the works and a few comments by other collectors of the appearance being in line with a turn of the 19th century watch, I think that Nathan’s input has been the final convincing piece for me.  What’s more is that Nathan went on to say about the silver case… “Cases and movements are actually paired together. No surplus case would be made for a future date as the diameter of the movement would be unknown. In fact the movement, case, and sometimes back of the dial will all have the same serial number to keep together when watch portions were sent to silver smiths and dial makers. Each one custom fit together. No dial from one watch or case from one movement will fit another.”  That would mean that the a theory I had about making cases en masse does not hold water!  I am happy to have gained more light into this and am comfortable with how things are settling into place.

A very interesting and enlightening ‘phone conversation with Richard Newman really helped to settle much of what I am writing here.  Among SO much else that he helped me wrap my mind around, Rich explained that over the years some people had removed the case of silver or gold and “liquidated” them for the cash value.  Or if the watch works were valued in a time of a stylistic change, an owner might pay to have the watch works placed in a new case.  To illustrate this, I have since purchased such a watch that had been made in 1785 and had originally been in a gold case but later fitted into a silver case in 1850.  This may have been to cash in the gold, or to have a more “fashionable” case at the time.  Also, my second James Gregory watch #1125 shown above.  Ah, if only things would stay simple!

You can see Nathan and his shop in the following vid:

If you are at all interested in seeing the works of a verge fusee watch, you might clink on THIS link to “The Naked Watchmaker“.

 

Here is Rich Newman discussing early watches in America:

 

A subsequent email exchange with the very helpful Mr. David Penny, antiquarian horologist in the UK, brought more of this to light.  Paraphrasing our email conversation, Mr. Penny said that by looking at my watch photos, he would classify my watch as a “workman’s watch”, and not something expected to last for many years like the higher end watches.  Comparing Karen’s watch to mine in the above photos, he pointed out that mine has a jewel in the center pinion as a bearing.  This would have been added later during a servicing and would suggest that this watch was loved and cared for by someone long after the life-expectancy; bearing of only metal would wear down with use, rendering the watch problematic, unreliable, and then useless.

 

What is a “watchmaker”?

HERE was the source of confusion, for me and most everyone I spoke to before the interviews I mention above.  It took a lot of reading and asking of questions to come to a degree of clarity, but communicating with Richard, Nathan, David, and Mr. David Boettcher really gave me a schooling that would melt my preconceptions.   As I collected data on the Gregorys being watchmakers, I naturally assumed that the information was clear on the face of it; if you are a “watchmaker”, do you not make watches?  I work in artisanal business, making antique woodwinds.  While I do not grow the trees or harvest them, and the metal I use is made elsewhere but sold to me, I do the actual handcrafting of my instruments, albeit with the help of machinery.  Naturally I was coming from the viewpoint that a watchmaker was actually making the watches sold up until the days of factories. Subsequent exchanges of Q&A with these very knowledgeable persons brought me into a different viewpoint; while I am slowly coming to conceptually “see” what they have taught me, I confess that part of me still holding on to the “romantic” notion of one, maybe two persons sitting their shop and making the pocket watch by hand, albeit with parts made elsewhere and then purchased for the project. I mean a glass blower for the crystal, a silversmith for the case, someone to sell the brass plate which the watchmaker subsequently cuts and files, someone to kae the steel that becomes the springs, &c…  What follows is how I now understand it to have been.

It would seem that in the 17th century, a watchmaker literally made watches.  He would assemble the parts and fabricate the watch… Perhaps he made all the parts, but it might have been more likely that he had craftsmen made the glass, cast and make the case, cut and temper the springs, as I suggested above.  By the early mid-18th century, this seems to have made a huge shift; demand for pocket watches had grown, no longer exclusive to the rich, and the artisanal maker had to give way to a more efficient means of providing product and making money; it was a business, after all.  Some very high-end artisanal makers were still practicing their trade, selling their high-end watches for a mint, but in most cases, some organizing came into being.  Cottage industry began wherein there were makers of specific parts, before the days that a single factory would bring all of these skilled labourers under one roof… There would be a maker of the frame of the works, and then a wheel maker, and a gear maker, and a balance maker, and so on.  These would be collected by a contractor, or “movement maker”, who would then sell these parts down the line to the next stage; the “watchmaker” or watch assembler.  These were not a single person but another series of specific specialists; a jeweler who places jewels in the pivot points, a motion-maker who cuts the brass edge, joints and locks the watch parts into place, a dial plate maker who makes the dial, and a dial painter who does that part.  There would be the case maker and the escapement maker and the chain maker (internal chain for the movement, not the fob chain), the fusee cutter and the glass maker and the engraver, &c.  Any and all of these people might be called a “watchmaker” in general terms but would more likely refer to themselves by the specific job they did.  Then they’d be handled by this new contractor, or finisher, or “watchmaker” who would then set to it that the completed watches were delivered to the customers… this would be the retailers who would be called… “watchmakers”.  In the same idea of today’s “jewelers” where one would take their watch for some servicing, these 18th and 19th century “watchmakers” were, in effect, trained to service and perhaps replace parts on watches, but did not actually “make” the watches.  Sometimes the retailer would have hired journeymen “watchmakers” on staff to do this work, but other times it was the shop owner himself.  What adds to the confusion is that documents (such as census records) of the period seem to use “watchmaker”, “jeweler” and “silversmith” interchangeably, often for the very same person…

Thus, recapping what I just wrote, much like a company having all the employees making that brand of watch with the company name/logo inscribed upon it, here we’d have a series of cottage industry craftsmen and tradesmen making the components of the watch, more-or-less organized by a contractor of sorts, seemingly in stages, all to fill orders by retailers, and it appears that everyone on this chain could (or would) be called a watchmaker… Or at least those not only job-specific such as a screw-maker or glass-maker.  It was described to me as something of a messy explanation, and indeed it seems to be true.  The name inscribed on the watch works would be the “watchmaker” at the end of the line; the retailer who would also provide the services needed for the watch owner.  There were also “toy shops” which sold things associated to the needs of a gentleman (not that way): chains and fobs for watches, cuff links, snuff boxes, pics for cravats, spectacles… But just as often, the “watchmaker” retailer would also sell these things.

This all is from many sources, once I had a better grasp of what to ask and of whom.  I include a list of these below:

• Email and text exchanges with Nathan Daas of Hallicra’s Works in Paris, Ontario, Canada.
• Telephone “interview” with Richard Newsome; Chair Emeritus and a Star Fellow of the National Association of Watch and Clock Collectors (NAWCC).
• “Watches” by Cecil Clutton and George Daniels.  1965: The Viking Press, NY, NY.
• Email exchange with David Penny: Antiquarian horologist and consultant.
• Rees’ Cyclopaedia. Vol. XXXVII, pp. 760-761.
• “Watchmaker” on Wikipedia. 
• “Watchmaking in England 1760-1820.” Leonard Weiss. Publication in the US in 1982.
• The various videos within this page.

Leonard Weiss in Watchmaking in England 1760-1820, Mr. Weiss cites Campbell, R. The London Tradesman (London 1747), illustrating what Mr. Newsome explained to me a great detail:

The Watch-Maker’s Business is but of modern Invention, and of late improved in England to the highest Perfection; we beat all Europe in clocks and Watches of all sorts, and export those useful Engines to all the Parts of the known World.

At the first Appearance of Watches they were but rude to what they are now; they were began and ended by one man, who was called a Watch-Maker; but of late Years the Watch-Maker, properly so called, scarce makes anything belonging to a Watch; he only employs the different tradesmen among whom the Art is divided, and puts the several pieces of the Movement together, and adjusts and finishes it…

The next Improvement Watches and Clocks received, was the Invention of Engines for cutting the Teeth in the several Parts of the Movement, which were formerly cut by Hand.  This has reduced the Expence of Workmanship and Time to a Trifle, in Comparison to what it was before, and brought the Work to such an Exactness that no Hand can imitate it. 

The Movement-Maker forges his Wheels of Brass to the just Dimensions; sends them to the Cutter, and has them cut at a trifling Expence: He has nothing to do when he takes them from the Cutter but to finish them and turn the Corners of the Teeth.  The Pinions made of Steel are drawn at the Mill, so that the Watch-Makers has only to file down the Pivots, and fix them to their proper Wheels.

The Springs are made by a Tradesman who does nothing else, and the chains by another…

There are Workmen who make nothing else but the Caps and Studs for Watches, and Silver Smiths who only make Cases, and Workmen who cuts the Dial-Plates, or enamel them, which is of late become much the Fashion.

When the Watch-Maker has got home all the Movements of the Watch, and the other different Parts of which it consists, he gives the whole to a Finisher, who puts the whole Machine together, having first had the Brass-Wheels gilded by the Gilder, and adjusts it to proper Time.  The Watch-Maker puts his Name upon the Plate, and is esteemed the Maker, though he has not made in his Shop the smallest Wheel belonging to it.  It is supposed, however, that he can make all the Movements, and Apprentices are learned still to cut them by Hand: He must be a Judge of the Goodness of Work at first Sight, and put his Name to nothing but will stand the severest Trial; for the Price of a Watch depends upon the Reputation of the Maker only…

I, therefore, must amend my theory of the Gregorys of having made their watches, although they were indeed “watchmakers” in the sense that they ran a shop selling watches and then also repairing and servicing them.  Along with this is the presumption that each trained in this work and, lacking any record of some journeyman “watchmakers” in the shop but for a few years under one owner, (see the family bio document), each had apprenticed within the family, learning the trade and working not unlike a jeweler of today but for more “in house” work; most jewelers I have known today will farm out watch work for anything more than changing a battery or wrist band.

 

The Search for James Gregory.

– When I first made this page, it was a muddy step-by-step blog of my research and findings on James Gregory.  Since then, I had made some changes, moved a few things around, and have finally come to the point of dividing this all into three sections: Information on the watch, watch making, and general introduction to the maker of my watch; a history of the Gregory Family of watchmakers; and a genealogy of the Gregory Family, Basingstoke.  I consider these all to be still under construction as I uncover more information and edit the sections I have posted here.  Please feel encouraged to return and see what changes I have made, and to pose questions, or to offer additional data.     Joseph Morneault – JosMorn@aol.com – July 2026

Part 2: The Gregory Family of Basingstoke

Part 3: Genealogy of the Gregory Family

As I have said earlier, an internet search yielded some clues, thankfully, for Jas. Gregory.  The late Arthur Attwood, historian and publisher of “The Illustrated History of Basingstoke” was a good launch for me.  By way of him and some odd documents I was able to glean off of Ancestry.com, I learned that James Gregory was indeed a watch maker, clock maker, and seller of musical instruments in Basingstoke, Hampshire, England.  There’s a photograph of the family shop, taken in 1887, that shows an establishment date of 1790; see below.  He does first appear in what local records I could find by the internet in 1790.  He is cited as having worked as late as 1819 or so.  I have not yet had any luck identifying who James would have apprenticed under.  James’ shop appears to have been always on Winchester St… “one where the Johnson’s dry cleaners were until recently and before that on the other side of the street (north side) next to the entrance to Joice’s Yard.”  So, the second location was on the south side, and Attwood indicates that Gregory “was certainly at this 2d spot by 1819“.

 

In communication with Debbie Reavell of the Basingstoke Heritage Society, the north side of Winchester St location was The Crown Inn entrance surviving as Joice’s Yard.  The current business there is The Money Shop. There is a photo of the Gregory shop taken for the 1887 Golden Jubilee. See the images old and recent below…

 

Part 2: The Gregory Family of Basingstoke

Part 3: Genealogy of the Gregory Family

According to the 1790 “Universal British Directory of Trade, Commerce, and Manufacture“, vol. 2, p.317 (Hampshire extracts), available via Ancestry.com, James Gregory is listed as “watch maker” in Basingstoke, Hampshire, England: This is the earliest I can find of the man as a watchmaker.  Elsewhere he is also listed as a “clock maker, and (seller of) musical instruments”.  The 1792 edition of this directory also lists him as a “watchmaker”. Still another source claims that he was working from 1790 through 1813, and another that he was still in business in 1819.

It is important to note that in Hampshire County and not too far afield, there are A LOT of Gregorys… John, James, Mary, William… There seems to have been little imagination or inclination for greater variation beyond tradition, and this makes genealogy in general a migraine in the making!  Most of the genealogies I’ve seen to date are patchwork, incomplete, and only serve to throw more mud in the water, albeit with the best of intentions.  In an effort to parse out a family line, I, too, started a tree on that site to take advantage of their search engine.  The result has been that far too many of the suggestions for one person or another are pushed for the wrong person; something more likely for a father is being suggested for the son, but it won’t allow for reassigning to the father.  Or a long line of baptismal records for the name and in far away counties, but when you toggle the location bar to Hampshire, it gives the result of “no result”… yet I found the baptismal record for James and siblings in Hampshire, so this is clearly a “researcher beware and be diligent” project.  With a great deal of time and effort, and the internet along with joining myriad UK entities for access to records, I have made a family tree document separate from this blog entry.  Some of the records available via Ancestry or Family Search here in the US are bad copies (muddy or dark or faint), or tantalizing in that they cite the existence of the document, but one must either travel to an official LDS site to view what is otherwise public domain documentation, or it is cited as being “in the vault” and not accessible for the public.  These are cases that I fully believe are either meant to wring a little more money out of the inquiring scholar or simply held to create a sense of a power-structure… “Need to know basis and you don’t need to know”.  So, I’m doing my best to leave something for Gregory descendants and Basingstoke historians to use as a viable launching pad.

There are other James and William Gregorys in Basingstoke and the surrounding area… a lawyer, a farmer, a policeman, a common labourer… Again, be careful with what Ancestry search results you are handed!  I will note that I wholly agree with Ms. Reavell that our James Gregory had not married, given James’ will and how the business moved in the family.

 

The above image is of a watch paper from James Gregory, held in the collection of watch papers at Upton Hall, Nottinghamshire, UK, home of the British Horological Institute.  The collection was photographed by David Penny, and he very kindly sent me this image file. Around the perimeter, it reads: “GREGORY – BASINGSTOKE”.  Then: “Watch and Clock Maker”.  And “Wedding Rings & all kinds of Jewellery” (sic).  Within the circle is a man playing a flute, a woman playing a keyboard, and the additional announcement of “Music & Musical Instruments Sold”.  A watch paper would be inserted into the back portion of a paired watch either when sold or serviced as an advertisement… Think business card tucked into your parcel.  Many were simply tossed by the owner, presumably, so that so many of these examples surviving to this day is remarkable, and there are collectors.

 

A thought regarding the shop of James Gregory selling more than only his watches and clocks – ie: musical instruments and lottery tickets.  We tend to think of early tradesmen (particularly those not immediately affected by the industrial revolution) only doing that specific trade, while today we see storefronts of craftsmen also dealing in seemingly unrelated retail items.  I put this thought to a couple of historian friends here in Connecticut and in New York, and the response was interesting.  It would seem that there are myriad examples of watch and clockmakers here in the US during the late 18th and early 19th centuries, where musical instruments were also for sale. For example, If one were to look at the son-in-law to Nathan Tisdale, Roswell Walstein Roath watchmaker and jeweler in Norwich, Connecticut, for instance, that is exactly the business model he engaged in, (made watches, cast silver into spoons and jewelry, set stones in his jewelry, sold musical instruments, and even tickets for local lotteries, likely cast and made his own watch cases), and continued to do so when he removed his family to Denver.  It was almost considered a standard in New York City for clockmakers and watchmakers to have a storefront that ALSO offered musical instruments and sometimes other items to sell as supplemental revenue, such as the aforementioned lottery tickets.  So, Gregory selling musical instruments would not be a singular circumstance.

 

To further the point on James making clocks, The Hampshire Cultural Trust has a tall case clock listed as having been made by James Gregory.  And there are a few more examples of his clocks that I have found photos of…

 

 

Maps below to indicate where in England one would find Basingstoke, for those who are not local to South Central England.

Without going into a long family history in this section, I will keep it short by telling you that James had taken in his nephew William, son of older brother John, and raised him to be a watchmaker/clock maker.  When James would die in 1826, nephew William received the house and business, per the final will of James.  All this can be found in the second section: The Gregory Watchmakers in Basingstoke, Hampshire, England.  Below is a photo of a watch from William and a newspaper ad regarding William taking over the business.

 

 

Silversmith – Watch Case Maker

Now to find out who the silversmith was who made the watch case…

The first image is a closeup of my Gregory watch’s stem and the second image being Priestly’s examples of stem and loop of watches in their eras.  My watch would appear to have the loop not unlike one associated with the 18th century while the stem is more like what is seen in the 19th century.  I may have stated that fashions never seem to shut off and on like a switch, but evolve, morph, develop… James and his watch case maker likely were slow in developing their style as trends came along, and seeing this as a link in the chain of development is interesting in of itself.

 

The hallmarks indicate that the silver case was assessed in London in 1816. Richard Arnold, a friend and a watch repairman living just outside of Basingstoke, has corresponded with me on some of my questions.  He sent me the following info and is fairly certain that my silversmith was James Richards.  Given the “apprentice marks” on the inner and outer cases, the pieces were probably made by people working for Mr. Richards, under his watchful eye.

 

Conclusions

James Gregory ran a business in Basingstoke on Wincester St.  He worked as a watch and clock maker, or rather a watch retailer and serviceman, between 1790 and his death in 1826.  He likely had training in this field, and he might have actually made some watches and clocks; I don’t have any evidence to prove that he actually made them beyond his occupational description.  I am inclined to believe that he made some of his clocks, but I have been informed that it was more likely that these were made for him by order.  He had taken in his nephew William as an apprentice, training him, and who would inherit the business and house upon James’ death in 1826.  William married and among their children was William Jr, who also learned the trade and would inherit the business.  William Jr married Sarah Ann Penton who also trained in “watch making”; When William Jr passed, Sarah Ann continued the business, training their son and daughter William Skinner Gregory and Sarah “Annie” Ann.  William S and Annie ran the business until they retired and Gregory’s shut down.

I had begun this with the belief that James Gregory, and then his nephew and family, had actually worked as makers of their watches.  I had not envisioned that they made the components, per se, but would order “shipments” of springs, brass, gears… and then do some of the millwork themselves and make the watches.  I have been assured that while this is the natural conclusion, given the era we are speaking of and of other trade practices, this did not apply to watch making.  Or at least, not to, say, 95% or so of watch making; there were indeed high-end artisanal makers who would either make all their own parts or obtain partially worked materials from which they would finish work and then assemble their pieces.  In this case, these specially made watches might take months or even years to complete, thus the final value.  Not a sound business practice for anyone wishing to earn a living.  One might imagine that these high-end artisans also had people working for them who made the “standard” watches for general sale, which brought in the capital to remain in business, all the while working at their own bench to craft the specialty piece under commission.

MY watch: brass works, serial number 1010, with the indicated hallmarks on the silver cases, was made for James Gregory in Basingstoke in 1816/17. It’s entirely possible that the watch could have been made in 1815/1816, and by the time it made it to London to be cased, we’re in the 1816/17 dates. The double dates are based upon the practice of the essayer’s office using the date stamp for the latter half of a year into the first half of the second, or close to.  That said, I am of the opinion that #1010 dates to 1816: while “after my era”, and I have since collected some earlier watches, this James Gregory watch has become my prized piece, my favourite.  I know that this is romantic, thinking that I am holding of a heartbeat made by a man across the ocean and two hundred ten years before me.  But now I have come to understand that it was more like a series of tradesmen putting together the whole to fill an order for a retailer who certainly would have handled my watch and most likely serviced it early on but is not the product of a single man’s craft.  So much the pity, but the watch and my research is no less precious.  Having since adopted another Jas. Gregory, Basingstoke #1125, I regard that one as likely from about 1818; it had been “re-cased” in 1850 and therefore the case hallmarks cannot be reliable.  Going forward, an educated guess based on hallmarks, design and style of the works and the case, and a knowledge of the “maker” helps to settle on a date, unless you’re lucky enough to have a watch with its date inscribed on it; I’ve seen a few.

 

Regarding the English Pocketwatch

THIS vid is worth the watching for the relevant history of watch making and this era.

 

 

 

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