It's Nice to Get Up in the Mornin' When You've Got a Talking Clock!

1920

There's an epidemic of talking clocks in the country. Chicago and Philadelphia are the first to be afflicted and it's said that the disease may spread.

Vincent Pinto of Philadelphia has what, to all appearances, is a staid old grandfather's clock, but at times it does things that would surprise, if not shock, all of the younger clocks.

During the early morning hours, it behaves as other clocks have from the time of the first grandfather's. But at 6 it changes. First it booms out the hours — Bong — bong — bong — bong — bong — bong — then it shouts, being heard thruout the house:

"Six o'clock and time to get up."

Mrs. Vincent and her daughter Rose obey and an hour later the clock shouts up the stairs to Pinto and his son: "Breakfast is ready. Hurry down."

Warns Men of Their Work.

"Off to work, now it's time," the clock warns the men of the family at 7:30 and at 9 a. m. it informs Mrs. Pinto, "It's time to go to your marketing."

And so it goes, all day long, that nobody in the house may forget any duties. At 11 o'clock at night the clock, imitating Pinto's voice in its deepest and sternest tones, says:

"Time to go home, young man, it's 11 o'clock; time to go home."

Miss Rose's "young man" gets his hat and goes.

Pinto and his son built the clock and installed the talking apparatus after eleven months' work. Pinto made his own records, and he can change the clock's conversation whenever he wishes. It is rumored he sometimes stops the talking apparatus on Sundays and other days when he is at home.

Here's the Chicago Edition.

But Oscar Lindholm of Chicago, a machinist, declares that the Philadelphia clock is an infringement on a patent that he obtained six months ago. Lindholm has patented an alarm clock that yells instead of ringing.

The invention can be adjusted to an ordinary phonograph and the record is made to wake you in the manner that best suits your tastes and nationality.

If you're an ex-service man you may be delighted to hear the old familiar strains of "You gotta get up, you gotta get up, you gotta get up in the morning."

Or if you happen to be Scotch you can have the song that Harry Lauder made famous — "Oh, it's nice to get up in the mor-r-rning, but it's better to lie a-bed!"

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Aug. 7, 1920, p. 5.

The Regulation of Clocks

1902

The remarkable pendulum experiment in the Pantheon at Paris to prove the rotation of the earth, strikingly illustrates the majestic uses of the familiar clock-maker's device.

It seems almost impossible of belief, in an age of well-regulated watches, that the clocks of Galileo's time could not be kept going at a uniform speed. Clocks went by means of a dragging weight, but the pendulum had not been thought of as a regulator. It occurred to Galileo to make a clock with the pendulum only, but of course, the work of turning the wheels stopped it. It was left to Haygens, in 1656, 14 years after the great astronomer's death, to combine the pendulum with the dragging weight and thus solve the problem of reckoning astronomical time with exactitude.

Small Alarm Clock — Ouch!

1903

A novelty in the way of an alarm clock has been perfected by an American jeweler. It is about the size of a hazel nut. It is made to wear on the finger. The alarm is not a bell, but a sharp pin, which pricks the finger at the time the wearer wishes to rise.


Electricity Saves Windmill

In Germany electricity, among other curious results, has rehabilitated the discarded windmill. At Neresheim a windmill applies power for thirty-six incandescent lamps that light a large paint factory. Another in Schleswig-Holstein keeps a steady current of thirty volts. At Dusseldorf a windmill winds up a heavy weight of which the descent works a powerful dynamo.

Mortuary Lore: Curious Epitaphs

1900

Clockmaker Expresses Hopes in Hereafter

Collecting epitaphs is not a particularly cheerful sort of hobby, but a well-known Philadelphia business man has acquired the grewsome fad, and is now thoroughly saturated with all sorts of mortuary lore.

Curious epitaphs find their way into print from time to time, many of which bear small traces of authenticity, and these are eagerly sought after by the collector in question, who inserts them in a book which he keeps for that purpose. His great pride, however, is in the inscriptions which he has seen with his own eyes, and copied from tombstones which have come under his own observation. He has traveled extensively, and it doesn't make any difference where he is, whether in an old English cathedral town or a "boom" city of the far west, his first question is, "Where is your most interesting burying-ground?"

While in England last summer he came across a couple of rather curious epitaphs in the old churchyard at Balsover, in Derbyshire. One read as follows: "Here lies in a horizontal position the outside case of Thomas Hindle, clock and watchmaker, who departed this life wound up in hope of being taken in hand by his Maker, and being thoroughly cleaned, repaired and set a-going in the world to come, on the 15th of August, 1836, in the nineteenth year of his age."

The following, from the same churchyard, is a curious instance of economy such as one seldom encounters — that of a man being buried in the same grave with his three wives, and with but one stone to mark their final and collective resting place. Following is the inscription: "Sacred to the memory of Margaret Armstrong, wife of William Armstrong of Balsover Moor, who departed this life Aug. 2, 1835, aged 33 years. Also William Armstrong, who died Dec. 10, 1862, aged 67 years. Also Ann, second wife of the above, who died Feb. 21, 1838, aged 28 years. Also Charlotte, third wife of the above, who died June 4, 1864, aged 42." — Philadelphia Record.