Where the Seiko Marvel might be seen as providing a melodic motif to the Lord Marvel, and the Lord Marvel, the overture to the Grand Seiko, so the Grand Seiko must therefore assume the horological equivalent of a piece of Grand Opera.  The development of the humble Marvel into the very much more refined Lord Marvel was achieved over the course of a two-year period.  It is not clear to me whether, at that point, Seiko imagined that the Lord Marvel would retain its position at the pinnacle of its product tree or whether it was deliberately created as a strategic staging post on a journey to something more aspirational and luxurious.  The speed with which it lost its position suggests the latter, for within two years, in 1960, the Lord Marvel had evolved into the Grand Seiko, the first of a product line of luxurious watches that would survive in its first incarnation until 1975.  Ironically, the Lord Marvel would outlive and outlast Grand Seiko into the late 1970s before succumbing to the irresistible march of quartz technology.

The first Grand Seiko model was identified simply as the Grand Seiko in the marketing material at the time but it is probably most widely referred to now as the 3180 in reference to its movement calibre number.   Its official model number is J14070 but that rather anonymous identifier failed to convey its position within the model hierarchy at the time (and in any case does not appear anywhere in official promotional material or on the watch itself other than on the interior of the case back). 

Photo credit:  Adapted from the March 1961 edition of Seiko News (sourced from https://thegrandseikoguy.substack.com/)

The Grand Seiko used as its basis the Crown 560 movement, itself an upsized evolution of the Marvel.  However, the 3180 combined the larger balance wheel and barrel of the Crown with some of the refinements employed in the smaller Lord Marvel such as a moveable stud-holder, fully capped gear-train jewels and a higher, more refined level of overall finishing.  Additionally, the Grand Seiko movement added fine adjustment regulation, a jewelled barrel lid and floor and replacement of (all but one of) the jewelled end-piece plates used in the Lord Marvel with sprung Diafix settings.  Careful regulation, facilitated by the teardrop fine regulation device, resulted in a chronometer-specified movement accurate to +12 to -3 seconds a day.

Seiko News March 1961 (adapted from thegrandseikoguy.substack.com)

An account of a restoration of an example of the original Grand Seiko has been a long time coming to this blog, not least because of the challenge of finding an honest example in good condition at modest expense.  What defines ‘modest’ depends on your perspective but in my case, although I had not set a budget, I do have a finely-tuned sense of when to bail out from auctions, the result of having lived, serially, in Scotland and then Yorkshire for a combined 33 years.  For those of you whose inner voice has just gone ‘huh?’, both regions have a reputation for instilling a robust instinct for the merits of parsimony. 

The special place that this model holds in Seiko’s history has also meant that values have become inflated by fierce interest from collectors and market speculation and there are plenty of opportunities to stumble into either overpaying for tatty examples (is this perhaps what I have done here?) or buying examples that are not quite what they might appear.  With all of that as the background to my finally dipping my toe into 3180 ownership, nearly two years ago, I won an auction for a ‘Grand Seiko Diashock Chronometer, Working Condition, Crown Operation OK, Crystal Cracks, Verdigris’.  I probably over-paid but I was swayed by the convincing impression that this was what it appeared to be:  an honest, well-used example in the sort of condition that aligned well with my modus operandi.

The auction photos suggest that this is an original, well-used raised logo example with one obvious cosmetic flaw to the dial in the region of the four marker and a crown worn down to the nub.  The lack of interior photos meant that the serial number and hence production date was hidden from view but more importantly, the movement was a completely unknown quantity.  Nevertheless, I went for it, won the auction and a couple of weeks later, had it in my hands.  To my huge relief, cracking it open revealed a tidy-looking example of a Grand Seiko 3180 movement.  The set of four photos below provides three views of the watch as received, with the fourth, a shot of the movement of its immediate predecessor, the Lord Marvel J14039.  The familial relationship is unmistakeable.

Grand Seiko production began in April 1960, a full 8 months before the official launch in December 1960.  The serial number imprinted on the rear of the case back of my watch indicates a production date of January 1963 which marks this a later watch, with production ending in August of the same year.* 

A reference timegrapher reading showed large beat error, and some positional inconsistency.  Other aspects of its performance were consistent with a movement in need of a service.  The position of the fine regulation teardrop adjuster all the way over to the S position suggested past struggles to reign in galloping pace.

Before delving further, we need to extract the movement from the case.  This requires some juggling compared to the more modern experience in that it requires the bezel and crystal to be removed, the crown and stem extracted and the casing screws removed before lifting the movement, complete with dial, from the top of the case.  The first step in that process is removal of the crystal and its retaining bezel.

With the crystal out of the way, it’s convenient to remove the hands to limit the risk that they get snagged while manoeuvring the movement from the case.

This is a lovely, somewhat gently-patinated example of the most common dial variant, the SD raised logo, with its most obvious flaw, the likely water-initiated reaction between the 4-marker and the base metal beneath the dial lacquer.  The print though is in beautiful condition, crisp and complete.  Removing the movement provides a view of the chain of evidence that permits a plausible reconstruction of the cause of the dial issue.

The verdigris growth on the lip of the case in the region of the crown tube indicates historic water entry, most likely the result of the crown gasket hardening with age.  The position of the corrosion in the region of the 2-marker though is inconsistent with the dial issue at 4 but sometimes the point of entry is not always the location at which the most damage is wrought.

Removing the dial presents us with the layout of the dial-side of the movement.  Everything looks present and correct, with the grease around the setting lever clearly showing its age.  Where the Lord Marvel used three jewelled end-piece plates to protect the pallet fork, escape wheel and third wheel pivots from contamination, in the Grand Seiko movement, the latter two are replaced by Diafix settings, with the end-piece preserved only for the pallet fork pivot.

In removing the two Diafix cap jewels, one of the springs came loose, a symptom of it having been removed and refitted a number of times in past services and having lost some of the spring in its step as a result.

With the Diashock and Diafix cap jewels removed, along with the minute and hour wheels and minute wheel plate, we can turn the movement over and begin deconstruction of the train side.  The first order of business is to remove the balance Diashock and then the balance and set it aside out of harm’s way. 

I should observe at this point however, that I’d noticed that the balance hairspring was cock-eyed, sitting at a slant and that filled me with a touch of trepidation.  Dealing with lightly mangled hair springs has not been my favourite job in the past, particularly those involving twisted studs.  More of that later (and the massive headache that will ensue in due course).  Removing the train bridge provides access to the gear train and a view of the seconds stop lever which acts upon the sweep seconds wheel.

We note at this point that the barrel arbor holes in the barrel bridge (and the mainplate) are unjewelled, the designers favouring a fully jewelled barrel.

The extracted mainspring looks to be in excellent condition, sitting flat and with plenty of bounce.

This marks the half-way point, the movement now completely dismantled and all of the parts, barring the mainspring, loaded into the watch cleaning baskets and ready for sonication and then agitation.  Most of the parts had also been subject to a manual pre-clean in n-heptane.

I have been experimenting with the settings on my watch cleaning machine and one thing that I’d wanted to try was installing wave-breaking mesh in the jars to reduce aeration of the solution during the cleaning and rinse cycles.  You can see the effect (perhaps) in these two photos, the jar on the left without mesh and the one on the right with.

Cleaning complete and the parts looking a great deal more presentable, we can begin to put it all back together once more.  My concern over the state of the balance hairspring suggested that this is where I should first direct my attention.  The state of the balance index pin guard provides evidence that the balance wheel had been on and off the balance cock repeatedly.

You may also just about be able to tell that the index pin is bent.  My first task then was to rectify that.

This success however was followed by serial failure.  The hairspring stud was twisted and the hairspring also bent out of plane.  I was able, more or less, to correct the latter but the former proved a bridge too far.  Even the slightest deviation of the stud from perfectly perpendicular to the hairspring plane resulted in the spring sitting at a wonk when the stud screw was tightened down.  My frustration at its resistance to correction precipitated a time-consuming and expensive attempt to source a replacement balance.  The original OEM part (310640) is seemingly extremely difficult to find, this being a part unique to the 3180/430/5722A calibres, but I was able to find what I assumed were third party NOS parts from two sellers on eBay.  The first contender looked promising at first glance.

But a sideways perspective put paid to that.

Both pivots are broken!  How can that be the case with a new part I wonder?  The seller was apologetic and dispatched a replacement.  Here’s that one.

I suppose in some sense this represents progress with one of the two pivots perhaps being serviceable.  But the other ….  A third prospect from a second seller yielded this:

The pivots are sound on this one but the inner coil seems to have been in the wars.  At this point, my options were exhausted (short of replacing the staffs on either or both of the faulty parts) and so I figured a spot of lateral thinking was in order.  As I said at the start of this account, the Grand Seiko 3180 is based on the Crown 560, a subsequent refinement of which was the Crown Special.  I have two of these, one of which bought as a parts donor and its balance wheel looked fit and healthy and free from unsightly distortions, corrosion, or missing pivots.  The only issue was that the part number (310700) is not the same as the 3180 part (310640) which suggests some sort of incompatibility.  Nevertheless, I thought it worth a try, in the absence of any other immediate routes to a resolution.  Here’s the scene of the crime.

We shall see how I get on with this in due course.  What other echos of its history does this movement have waiting for me next?  Why a bent banking pin, of course.  The escapement of this watch seems to have taken some considerable abuse in its past.

The correction is not quite perfect (see the photo on the right, above) but I didn’t want to push my luck.  I do believe we may now be able to progress with reconstruction rather than focussing on rectifications.  As would be my customary way forward, I begin with fitting and lubricating (where appropriate) the Diafix and end-piece settings on both the train bridge and the dial-side of the main plate.

The mainspring comes next, cleaned and refitted to its jewelled barrel, its impressively broad arbor sitting resplendent at its centre.

Let’s proceed step-by-step, steady as she goes, starting with the clutch, winding pinion and setting lever.

You will notice that I’ve temporarily fitted a 55R15NG crown which Google in its f*&kwitterAI mode, purports to be a ‘genuine replacement crown for vintage Grand Seiko 3180’.  That statement may be true in some general sense in that I believe it’s made by Seiko (genuine), and the tap size fits the 3180 stem and the gasket size (in theory) should fit snuggly over a 2mm crown tube (which means that it could be used as a replacement crown for a 3180), but its diameter is too large and both of the examples I bought have rock hard gaskets and therefore are of no use to anyone for any purpose other than that which you see pictured above.  With that out of my system, next we fit the yoke, yoke spring and the setting lever spring.

The centre wheel and its bridge are fitted next, along with the jewelled bearing plate for the sweep second wheel.

Back to the dial side and we fit the cannon pinion.

Things pick up pace with the gear train positioned along with the seconds stop lever and its film washer.

It relieves a bit of the fiddle to be able to fit the barrel bridge separately to the train bridge but it’s important to make sure that the winding pinion and setting lever screw are correctly located before tightening down the bridge screws.

With only three pinions to locate, fitting the train bridge is a bit of a doddle.

This is starting to look like a Grand Seiko movement once more.  Even more so, with the crown wheel (with its left-handed threaded screw), ratchet wheel and click installed.

The pallet fork finds its home, a little more restricted than before with one of the two banking pins standing a more upright, and then secured by its bridge.

The pallet stones are oiled in situ with a little power first wound into the mainspring.  We prepare to receive the restored balance by first fitting the reassembled and oiled dial-side Diashock setting.

The proof of the Crown Special balance wheel substitution is about to be realised or dashed.  The first point to note is that is does fit, and the spring does sit flat, but I needed to adjust the position of the hairspring on the staff to centre the roller jewel between the banking pins.  With that adjustment made, the watch runs freely and happily.

Cosmetically, there is one noticeable difference.  The stud is silver-coloured rather than gold, is longer and has a domed profile at its top.  Its extra length means that it protrudes a little from the top of the stud holder.

My conclusion is that the hairspring, stud, roller and balance wheel may be the same as the Grand Seiko part with the only difference being the stud but it is perhaps more likely that the hairspring used in the Grand Seiko is different and matched to its own balance wheel.  If anyone has information about this, then please do chime in.  For all practical purposes in the context of this old warhorse, the pragmatic approach is to accept the substitution for the moment (and possibly for good) and revisit should fate provides the means to refit the correct part.  In terms of its performance, I have no complaints: a preliminary regulation sees dial-up amplitude of 302 degrees with 0.1 ms beat error and a flat rate. It performs similarly dial down, gains a little crown down and more again, 12 down. I will need to slow the horizontal rates a little to achieve the best timing over the course of a day on the wrist but if I’d achieved this with the original balance, I’d have been just as pleased. With that ordeal behind me, I can push on to the finishing straight (although still a hurdle or two to overcome).

Final preparations on the dial side provide the platform to refit the dial.

The dial is set in position and the two dial foot screws tightened.

With the dial in a secure location, I can spend a little time giving it a clean.

Even with the damage around the 4 marker, it is a beautiful thing indeed.  The hands find their way home next.

The casing parts were liberally encrusted with verdigris and I spent some considerable time eliminating it and thoroughly cleaning the casing parts.  The result of that endeavour is shown below.

The underside of the mid-case looks a great deal more spruce than it did at the start of this process (although weirdly, it feels like something has been lost in the process).

As with extraction, refitting the movement requires a degree of dexterity but we start by laying the movement, now fitted with its dial and hands, into the mid-case.

Next, the new crystal is compression-fitted to the bezel.

And then the combined bezel/crystal assembly is pressed into place onto the case, thereby protecting the dial and hands from accidents while securing the movement into the case using the case screws.  These concluding steps require a functional crown and stem partnership and that brings us to the final, somewhat vexing hurdle.  My sense is that the crown as fitted is an extremely worn, original coarse-knurled crown fitted to the majority of raised logo SD-dialed watches.  In the absence of an affordable, or indeed available alternative, my initial strategy was to try to reuse the original but with a fresh gasket installed. 

As you may see from this grungy photo, the crown features a captured gasket sitting behind a staked washer.  In order to restore the crown therefore, the washer and crown innards needed to be extracted before cleaning and installing a replacement gasket, topped off by the refitted washer.  That process is summarised as follows:

With a nicely greased gasket, the crown and stem can be fitted to the watch and we can survey the movement in situ.

This has not been quite the experience I had hoped for for this watch but I think the end result does do some justice to what a special thing it is.

It has thrown quite a few obstacles my way and I have had to accept some compromises in the interests of keeping the budget in line with what is, after all, not a perfect example of the breed.  However, with all of the minor trauma that it has caused I am so pleased to have one, finally, in my modest collection of salvaged old watches. 

Epilogue

There was one final niggle which needed addressing.  That blasted crown was worn so smooth that winding it to a full state of wind, with its snug gasket fitted, was providing very tricky.  I needed a replacement but I refused to spend £100 sourcing ‘an original’ crown only to find it fitted with a rock hard gasket or, perhaps, find it not to be quite what it purports to be.  So I started casting about for an aftermarket crown that would serve a functional purpose while being in keeping with what one might expect to encounter on the side of a J14070. 

The requirements are:  an external diameter of no more than 4.5mm; compatible with a 2mm crown tube; a 1mm tap size.  This last requirement almost proved to be my undoing.  Some of you may know that the conventional nomenclature for watch crown tap sizes is that as the tap number decreases, so the tap size increases.  Thus, for example, tap 11 is 0.8mm, a tap 10 is 0.9mm and a tap 9 thread is 1mm.  This is undoubtedly potentially confusing without then being confronted by a different nomenclature used, for example, by the main supplier of watch parts in the UK.  Their notation is more logical in that as the tap numbers decreases, so do the thread diameters.  Consequently, in their catalogue, tap 9 corresponds to 0.9mm and tap 8 to 0.8mm and so on.  In placing my order for potential contenders, I ordered a selection with tap 9 stem holes, assuming that the 57-series stems were tap 9 stems (as in fact they are if you use the traditional nomenclature).  However, when I received my selection, the original stem clearly did not fit any of them.  I brushed this latest defeat off and looked again at the selection of options on Cousins’ site only to discover that a 0.9mm thread size was the largest listed for the large majority of potential candidates.  I did consider trying a similarly styled crown from an early King Seiko but those crowns use a 0.9mm tap size and are designed for a 2.5mm crown tube.  So I was left with my short-list of two candidates, pictured below next to the original.

The coarse-knurled crown is a Tap 9 x Ø 4.50mm x 2.00 mm Maserati style from Cousins catalogue; the finer knurled example is a Tap 9 x 4.0mm x 2.00mm round-headed crown.  Either of these would do the trick although the Maserati-style crown is clearly a little too deep to pass off as a facsimile of the original.  Nevertheless, it is that one which I ended up choosing (although I now think perhaps that I should have gone with the one, top left).  For either selection to work however, I would need to make some adjustments to the stem.  To that end, I sourced a replacement stem and carefully reprofiled the business end.

Here’s the outcome of the substitution.  I think it looks fine, if not quite authentic-looking, but importantly, it allows me to wind the watch and wear it and that, after all, was the objective of this marathon exercise.

*For those of you interested in reading about the production history of this landmark watch, I would strongly recommend taking a look at Gerald Donovan’s excellent forensic articles on his Substack here, here and here.