This a tale of high-stakes adventure, technical challenge, agonising dilemmas and a degree of inevitable misadventure.   It concerns a project that has found me operating at the edge my comfort zone in terms of the potential for jeopardy or flat-out disaster and which consequently inhibited some of my natural freewheeling instincts.  Fortunately, the owner has been spectacularly laid back about the risks, perhaps for reasons that may become apparent as this tale unfolds, and that has taken a little of the pressure off although I can’t help feel that in some respects, his vision at the outset of what might be achieved has not quite aligned with the result.  You can judge for yourselves on that front when we get to the end of this four-part narrative.  The subject of this testing-of-my-mettle is an example of one of the most elusive of Japanese horological curiosities, the very special Seiko 5718-8000 Count Graph chronograph from 1964.

The Seiko 5718-8000 was one of three special models produced by Seiko to celebrate their appointment as the official timekeeper for the 1964 Tokyo Olympic games.  The first two of these, the World Timer 6217-7000 and the one-button Seiko Crown 45899 chronograph, were intended for general production and appeared in contemporary catalogues with the usual parts and technical support afforded to all of their mainstream product lines. 

The extraordinary 5718-8000 was announced a little later as an exclusive and limited release, and initially sold only at Olympic venues during the games.  However, there are also a very small number of examples with sea horse case backs dating from 1965 which suggests that they were subsequently made available for limited general sale.  Its high-end status was reflected in its very high retail price of 35000 Yen, more than four times as much as the Crown chronograph released the same year. 

The 5718-8000 was produced in two colour variants, one with a silver-coloured dial with black print and with a matching tachymeter ring with red print and the other with a black dial and chapter ring with white text and black tachymeter ring printed in blue.  It is very difficult to know how many examples were produced but the very small numbers to have surfaced in this internet age suggests that production numbers were very low.  It is also not known how many of each colour variant made up that number but I see no reason to presume that one colour was produced in greater numbers than the other, given the very small data set from which we have to draw conclusions.

The watch is powered by the 21 jewel 5718A movement, a development of the 5719A calibre used in the 45899 one-button chronograph (described here and here).  However, where the 5719A features a centre second chronograph function, the 5718A adds an elapsed minute sub-dial register, a separate running seconds hand sitting co-axially above the elapsed minute hand and a unique lap-counter function with the unit and ten-lap counters actuated by two additional pushers on the left-hand side of the case.  The lap-count complication is displayed in a central window sitting beneath the 12-marker.  Additionally, the count graph display can be used as a date calendar function, with the number displayed advancing by one, once every two revolutions of the hour hand.

Where the chronograph function on the 5719 (and the date-equipped 5717) watches starts, stops and resets by repeated action of the single-chronograph pusher, the 5718 employs separate start/stop and reset pushers at the 2 and 4-o’clock positions.

The 5718-8000 was defined by Seiko as a ‘manufacturers warrantee product’ which meant that any service and repair could only be provided by return to the manufacturer rather than at the point of sale.  As repair of high-end, specialised watches such as this was handled only by Seiko, the watch never appeared in parts lists nor was a technical repair manual ever published.  Consequently, none of the parts that are unique to this model were ever made available to repair shops or independent watchmakers and consequently, service and repair outside of Seiko is an undertaking fraught with risk.

You may be wondering how such a holier-than-holy watch has found itself the subject of my attentions.  Well, earlier this year, I was contacted by a reader of the blog who told me that a big fish had somewhat unintentionally landed in his lap and he wondered whether I might be interested in reviving it.  He had spotted his prize as part of a lot of 20 watches for sale on the LuxeWholesale auction site.

Nothing in this auction was of special interest other than the watch sitting front row centre.  He has not given me a blow-by-blow account of the process but it is clear that having placed his bid(s) he found himself the winner.  To tantalise me further, he sent a better photo that I think he must have taken once the watch was in his possession.

Clearly this is some way short of pristine.  It looks like it has lived a life, one involving neglect and abuse.  My initial reaction was to raise all sorts of objections, some of which based on logistics, given that he lives in Switzerland and I am in the UK.  He brushed all of these aside and we figured out how to proceed.  Two days later, I had it in hand.

Initial impressions are mixed: this is clearly a very well used example and one that demonstrates amply not only the incorruptibility of time but that the toll taken by its passage is considerably enhanced by the way in which something is treated.  Closer inspection reveals that this watch has been treated poorly, and not just as a passive function of neglect but more actively as the result of inexpert intervention.  On a positive note, the watch appears to be largely original and complete, including the extremely rattly original coffin-link bracelet.  The case itself retains its original lines and is free from significant dents or dings.  The hands set smoothly and the counter trips over nicely as the hour hand passes 12 once every two revolutions.  The movement was not running though, which was not a massive surprise. 

Moving on to the less positive attributes: all four pushers were seized solid; while the condition of the minute, hour and running seconds hands looked ok, the paint on the central chrono seconds hand and, particularly, the elapsed minute hand had yellowed (browned in fact) and was crumbling away (see above).  Of much more serious concern was the presence of large amounts of oil, seemingly contaminating all of the visible surfaces on the dial side of the movement.  You may have noticed the droplets of oil visible on the plated hour markers in the head-on photo of the watch head supplied by the owner and you can see this a little more clearly in the image above.   Notice that some of the print on the tachymeter ring is missing, a victim perhaps of this contamination (take note of this deduction for it augurs for a rather more monochrome future).  The start/stop and reset pushers are of the same design as that used in the one-button 5719 chronograph, and a well-known weakness of these plated pushers is the tendency to lose their plating through reaction with oils and acids in the skin of the user, these being much more regular contact points than almost anywhere else on the watch.  In this case, both pushers show the familiar erosion of the plating:

The final external flaw to highlight is a stress fracture in the press-fit case back.  This too is a common problem with this design of case back in Seiko watches of this vintage.

With the external inspection complete, it’s time to remove the masking tape and take a look at the Olympic flame.

It is good to see that the embossed particulars are still just about visible on the back, particularly the central emblem.  With the tape removed, it becomes clear that the crown is not original or correct:  the original crown would have had a concave contact surface (this one has a large, raised W in its centre) and much finer knurling.  The serial number on the case back dates this watch to June 1964.  In researching this article, I think I’ve unearthed every photograph available online of 5718-8000 case backs fitted to original watches and all of the watches produced in 1964 have serial numbers beginning 47.  That would suggest that this may be the earliest documented example (but happy to be proven wrong, as always). 

In picking up the question of whether these watches were sold exclusively at Olympic Games venues, I have seen two watches online with serial numbers beginning 56, indicating a manufacture date of June 1965.  Both of these had sea horse emblems on their case backs, rather than Olympic flame, which either suggests that this model was made available at a later stage for general sale OR that these were service cases.  The first example was in fact just that, a dead stock complete case without movement advertised for sale on eBay from a seller in Japan.  The second was an auction for a complete black-dialed watch for sale on Yahoo Japan, an auction that was still live at the time of writing.  Either this second watch had been re-cased at service or it was manufactured in 1965 for general sale.  It too has the Sea horse case back.

This marks the end of part 1 of what will turn out to be a bit of an epic, so settle in.  In part 2, we’ll open the lid and discover what makes this thing tick.