"On a secluded corner of Indiana Avenue, the owners of two adjacent stores can be found toiling to restore and keep alive collectibles often associated with a time gone by. For Terry Layman and Judah Lowell, however, old-time radios and clocks are too great to be forgotten.
Layman's store is wall to wall with radios, some nearly a century old. He figures he has "a few thousand" more at home, and while he spends most every day and night tinkering with radios from all eras, one thing you will rarely find Layman doing is listening to one.
What's on today's AM and FM dial doesn't appeal to Layman, who makes a living bringing sets from the golden age of radio back to life, though as night falls he may switch one of his sets over to the shortwave band and listen to broadcasts from half a world away.
Layman, a former director of the Air Force Band, talks with wonder of how the original owners of his restoration projects, including those he owns, could have listened to history in the making, including speeches by foreign leaders such as Winston Churchill or Adolph Hitler.
A radio lover through and through, Layman spends much of his time scouring the Web, antique shows and swap meets to find yet another set to refurbish or display. But on the other side of the wall, Corner Clocks owner Lowell has a much different approach to his profession, as only two high-quality clocks grace his home: a contemporary grandfather clock for its relatively quiet ticking compared to antiques and a rarely run cuckoo clock.
"Those are ones I like," said Lowell, looking at a cheap store-bought clock hanging behind his counter. "I don't have any antiques at the house; I get too worried having stuff like that of value at the house. A lot of people think that I collect because I repair. I do enough work at the shop on these things. I don't want them at home and have to pull up the chains and wind the thing. My arm's killing me by the time I get home; just put in a battery and it's good for a year."
It is an admittedly odd trait for people who repair niche items such as antique clocks not to actually be collectors, Lowell said, but it is one of two pervasive traits in his field that he doesn't exhibit.
"Most people in the clock business are grumpy and rotten, really that's the standard," he said. "When you repair things you get violent, so most of the guys, they're not too customer friendly."
Lowell said he's been able to avoid the shortfall of many people in his chosen profession because he was a salesman first and still is, as can be seen in his descriptions of the intricacies and origins of clocks for sale in his hometown store. Lowell also previously owned clock shops in Chicago, Virginia Beach and St. Paul.
A keen knowledge of their work and the ability to describe unique features of clocks and radios dating back to well before either of their lifetimes bind these two businesses together, as does the way they got into their businesses.
"I always liked to watch the tubes glow," Layman said. "Something about that was kind of magic. I enjoyed the old technology. I guess I was kind of captivated by it."
But the novelty of childhood has worn off, he said. "I've long since gotten so accustomed to it. I don't even think about it now, which is sad, very unfortunate. I'm around it all the time and don't even give it much of a thought."
Though no longer as mesmerized by the inner workings of old-time radios, he knows them inside and out and easily goes into great detail of the condition of radios on his work bench and their maintenance history. He's seen and worked on enough sets to know the ones that did not have a McGyver-esque owner trying to forge makeshift repairs will be easier for him to bring back to their original majesty; others will take a while longer.
An inquisitive nature at a young age also sparked Lowell's interest in clockwork, as the father of a childhood friend, fellow Lexington clock doc Edgar Hume, gave him puzzles to solve and later introduced him to clock repair. "I come from a problem-solving area. That's how I first got interested in it, just finding why things that were supposed to work don't," Lowell said.
Though similar in nature, Lowell said he isn't hesitant to part with items or grab them in the first place, a vast contrast to Layman, who keeps just about everything he thinks he could find a use for down the road.
Layman's packrat nature often pays off for him with spare parts that can be siphoned from other radios. Once he managed to fashion new idler-wheels for record players out of rubber from the old lining to his backyard pond, saving him from ordering costly replacement wheels, an expense he would have to pass on to the customers.
This ongoing battle with ever-hardening rubber on '60s and '70s idler-wheels has giving credence to Thomas Edison's saying that achieving success is "10 percent inspiration and 90 percent perspiration." Layman said much of what he does with everything from record players to pre-Depression radios has proven to be a series of trial and error to find the most reliable yet least expensive and fastest way to fix a problem.
While allowing the hi-fi-philes of Lexington to continue listening to their vinyl helps pays the bills and takes up about half of his time, Layman says his true love is working on radios. Often up to his elbows working on the mechanics on a radio, he too works on what made these icons of a time gone by truly distinctive — their cabinets. Whether it is just touching up a few areas or a complete overhaul of the radio's outer shell by replacing all of its veneer or re-staining those that are solid wood, Layman is up to the challenge. He's seen all kinds of radios come through his door in various states of disrepair, but no matter what shape they're in, he knows, "Pretty much any radio can be made to operate and work again," he said.
Much is the same for Lowell, who said clocks of today just aren't made to last.
"The ones that they made about 100 years ago, the plates are thicker and they were hardened brass, and those would last actually for 200 or 300 years. That's why they're worth a lot more," he said. The clocks of today will only last 25 to 30 years when properly maintained, but those that are neglected are the ones keeping his business ticking.
"Most of the business comes from not oiling (the clocks enough or at all). We sell bottles of oil, tell them we'll do it (for them), and it's inexpensive, every three to four years to do it," he said. So inexpensive, in fact, a bottle with enough oil to keep one clock going for half a millennium runs $15, but that doesn't keep people from neglecting their timepieces.
As far as the clocks, it's really all the same to Lowell, however, who enjoys breaking the monotony with the occasional vintage toy, cash register, piece of scientific equipment or music box to repair.
"The clocks, after a while, (are) like flipping hamburgers," he said.
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