Our clock is telling Watford the truth

They have been filming in the theatre for a television serial The Human Jungle.

[From the Watford Observer of March 13, 1964]

Guess how many public clocks there were in Watford town centre in the late 1930s? No, I didn’t have a clue either, but apparently there were about 20, and on March 5, 1937, the editor of the Watford Observer complained that, rather uselessly, they all seemed to tell a different time.

In his leader that week, he wrote: “There are about 20 public clocks in the main streets of Watford and taken in the mass, they remind us of the old Dutch proverb that fools ask what’s o’clock but wise men know their time.

“These clocks exhibit bare-faced independence. If two synchronise, it should be regarded as a case of double duplicity. You may look up to the right and note that you have ample time to catch a train; a glance to the left shows you the train has gone – or should have gone. Another clock which seems to look down with a leering grin as you hurriedly consult your watch, has been left unwound or has decided to strike – against work.

“Cannot the owners of public clocks agree to make the clocks agree? A timepiece, put up to attract attention, is no advertisement if it takes time by the forelock too hard or not hard enough.

“Perhaps when the new Municipal Offices are erected – a case in which, by the way, time appears to be nobody’s concern – we shall have a clock that is above suspicion, a master clock that will call all the others of the unruly crowd to order.”

It’s hard to imagine such a thing these days, now we all have our own watches and many have mobile phones and goodness knows whatever other gadgets that also tell the time. But it was clearly a major issue in those days.

The leading article, which no doubt had many nodding in agreement, also had at least one person who disagreed enough to send a letter to the paper the following week.

“Sir,” it reads. “As owners of one of the public clocks which were the subject of your scathing editorial last week, we must take up the cudgels in his defence.

“We claim for our old friend that he has been ‘looked up to’ as the George Washington of Watford clocks for the last 60 years and is checked now, as always, by Greenwich mean time. He is kept 15 seconds fast for the benefit of the catchers of trains.

“Where his lesser brethren may have their lapses he remains steadfast and incorruptible, proclaiming to all and sundry the one and only, the arch enemy, Time.

“Hale and hearty as the day he was created, Morse’s clock will go on down the years as a shining example to others, and telling Watford the truth.”

The letter is signed: “Yours faithfully, B.S. Morse, 136 High Street, Watford.”

Could this be the same B.S. Morse who began trading as The Observatory in Queens Road in 1876? It certainly seems too big a coincidence to ignore.

The firm eventually became Jacksons Jewellers (still going strong in The Parade) and according to its website, wwwjacksonjewellers.com, “the name [The Observatory] came from the transit machine mounted on the roof. Using this, he [B.S. Morse] could boast ‘Greenwich Mean Time by transit observation’.”

Perhaps this explains the proud boast in that letter to the Watford Observer of his clock being “checked now, as always, by Greenwich mean time.”

The website says Morse had a substantial winding round of 500 clocks and fitted many church clocks including Watford, Pinner, Elstree and Ruislip.

In 1900, the business moved into Watford High Street where the business continued with his son, daughter and granddaughter.

According to the Jackson website, Morse died in 1932, so he couldn’t have been writing letters to the Watford Observer five years later. Maybe ‘B.S. Morse’ was a company name or a close relative.

Whatever, it was around this time that his granddaughter married Dan Jackson and, when the company moved to its present location in 1954, the name changed to Jackson Jewellers, Dan being by then the mainstay of the business. It is now being run by his grandson, also Dan, the fifth generation.

There is, of course, famously still a clock outside the shop but far from being one of 20, there can’t be many more surviving in the town centre these days.

‘Disappointment and pettiness robbed Kim and The Kinetics, Sunday’s heat winners of the £500 ‘Herts Beat’ show, of any pleasure from their success.”

So began a piece headed “Marred by the booing” which appeared in the Watford Observer of March 13, 1964.

Observer music critic Pat Stoddart continued: “Although adjudged the best by five of the six judges, their final number was greeted with boos and catcalls by the large audience. This was a pity, because until then, audience participation had been wholly appreciative and although nearly every group had its own band of partisans, there was very little unfriendly noise until Kim and the Kinetics took their bow.

“The group’s lead guitarist said afterwards that although he was naturally hurt by the reception they received from the audience, they received nothing but sincere congratulations from the other musicians.”

The row didn’t end there. The secretary of the Toledos fan club – The Toledos being another of the bands taking part – wrote to the Watford Observer, saying: “It was obvious from audience reaction our group was most popular by far.”

But the judges had no doubts and were so impressed by Kim and the Kinetics that the William Henshall Theatrical Agency immediately offered them a contract.

As the Watford Observer reported at the time: “A representative of the recording company said this week that in his opinion Kim, the Kinetics’ girl vocalist, ‘had it in her to become one of the greatest rhythm and blues singers of all time.’”

The following week, Kim and the Kinetics announced they were withdrawing from the competition due to all the fuss, “fearing similar repercussions on the finals night”.

But the story doesn’t end there. Unless I’m being misled by an extraordinary coincidence, Kim appears to be Kim Davis, a singer originally from the north-east who went on to make a number of records and toured regularly with various bands. On at least one UK tour she was on the same bill as Roy Orbison, the Walker Brothers and Lulu.

Sadly her career never really took off in the way that had been predicted and in 1980, while still in her early 30s, she suffered a fatal brain haemorrhage.

ONLINE TOMORROW: The curious house with a painless extraction nearby

These stories formed part of the Nostalgia column first published in the Watford Observer on March 28, 2014. The next Nostalgia column – with information about the week Watford became The Hornets, silent hero Neville Griffin and two sporting firsts for women – can be found in tomorrow’s Watford Observer (dated April 4, 2014) or read online here from 4pm next Thursday.

If you have anything to add – or would like to tell us anything you think our readers may enjoy about Watford’s history – we are always pleased to hear from you. Contact Nostalgia, by clicking here watfordnostalgia@london.newsquest.co.uk