IT'S A DUNHILL - SORT OF

Dunhill began in the late 19th century as a maker of luxury horse tack, quite literally for the carriage trade. But the advent of the automobile rightly caused Alfred to rethink things, and today Dunhill is widely known as a purveyor of luxury goods for "sophisticated" men, for their excellent cigars, and for their distinctive silver-plated, lacquered, and gold cigar lighters. Although Dunhill has marketed wristwatches since 1906--some of them in cigar lighters--they are not as well known for this sometimes interesting horological contribution.

In 1993, Dunhill released a collection of "Centenary" watches for the one hundredth anniversary of the company. They were all steel and all reproductions of earlier Dunhill models. They were also all provided with mechanical movements, though I had to have my doubts about the quality. Dropping into the San Francisco shop, I found that the watches had surprisingly well-finished cases and dials, and complex sapphire crystals. They were about $900. The elegantly dressed Dunhill salesman responded to my questions by asserting that they were Dunhill movements and that the company "has been manufacturing it's own watches since 1906." I didn't believe him, of course, but I thought the case of one of the simpler ones--the large Rectangular Centenary Watch--had some possibilities. With a 26 mm width, 36mm length, and 10 mm thickness, it was an impressive piece of work.

Once home with the Rectangular, a 1.5 millimeter screw driver relieved the case of the four polished stainless steel screws holding the back and revealed the movement inside. Well, it did say Dunhill on the wheel train bridge. But it also said ETA on the mainplate, and I quickly identified the movement as a caliber 2660. Although ETA's are typically well finished, this rendition of the 2660 carried a "luxury finish" with Geneva stripes on rhodium plate, and an escapement with Glucydur balance. Everything, down to the last edge, was nicely done. Nothing terrible here, but nothing very interesting either. What bothered me most was the diminutive round, 8 ligne (18 by 3.8 mm) movement that looked dwarfed in the over-sized case. And the nylon "movement ring," used to support this small movement, lacked more than a bit of elegance. I already knew that I would never be able to look at the watch without seeing the tiny round movement and the white nylon ring and I never even tried it on. Such a movement makes the case a pretense and a conceit--all show and no go in the parlance of street racers. A 4,000 pound Jaguar with 88 horsepower. So, it sat ignored for several years. Waiting. But waiting for what? The case, I thought, when on occasion I noticed the watch, is a good piece of work. Nicely shaped, well finished, and very well constructed. The brushed silvered dial is very good too. The stenciled, distressed Arabic markers are extremely well done. The big curved sapphire is very well done. Almost everything is very well done. Everything but the insides that simply don't belong there. Those insides that shine through the dial like a nagging apparition every time I look at the watch.

Several years later, the Dunhill still unworn, I finally saw what I'd been looking for without even knowing it. It was in the window of a San Francisco estate jeweler, a store with more over-priced, beat up watches than the Geneva city dump. Watches that, on a gloomy day, would make you cry. In the window sat a pathetic Le Coultre--one of the gold-filled watches made for the American market and signed on the dial with the abbreviated company name. Did I say dial? It was a mess. At least a fourth generation redial, and distant cousin to a natural disaster. The hollow gold-filled case was dented, over-polished, malformed, and appeared to have been touched up with a Rhodinette plating pen. The crown was steel. The buckle was pot metal. The fake brown lizard strap looked like it might actually be worth more than the watch. But it was a fairly large rectangular watch. And it was almost certainly made sometime in the early 1940's when watches had movementsthat actually fit their cases. Alarge rectangular movement, I kept thinking to myself. What did they want for this wreck? They wanted $700, an insult, an outrage. Probably a felony. They took $200 and I relieved them of their treasure. I had peeked at the movement, unobserved, during a busy moment in the shop, and I was fairly certain this would actually work.

The movement inside, a 17 jewel, unadjusted, JLC caliber 438/VXN was in fairly decent shape. It needed a new balance shaft (broken pivot), an hour wheel (damaged teeth), a stem (worn), a new and larger crown (the original was too small, and hard to grip), and a long-overdue cleaning (filthy). The Dunhill dial needed new feet to attach to the Le Coultre movement, and cold-soldering (which does not damage the surface of the dial) worked fine. And I made a solid, two millimeter thick brass ring, brushed to the standards of a fine gold case, to hold the "form" movement firmly in the case. I finally had the watch I had always hoped it would be.

The Dunhill is now really a sort-of-Dunhill. Dunhill, in truth, has never made its own movements, and it might as well have a Le Coultre as an ETA. Particularly a Le Coultre that fits. It is now a wonderful watch for $1,200: $942 for the case, dial, and hands; $200 for the movement (and the now discarded corpse it arrived in); and about $60 (and 15 hours of labor) for the rest of the bits and pieces. I can now look at the watch and what looks back is an honest watch of quality and one that I like unreservedly.

The sort-of-Dunhill is, of course, not a watch for everyone. It's not a watch for hiking and camping, a subtle watch, or a watch you would wear to the funeral of someone you cared about. It's a frivolous watch, a fun watch, a party watch, or perhaps just a dinner watch. It's a watch for a certain kind of date. It's definitely a watch for the symphony or opera. It's an excellent watch to put on when you want to smoke a cigar or have a cognac. And it's a pretty good watch to take off when you want to make your nightstand look elegant. It's a, you know, sort of Dunhill watch.