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Photo - NASA

THE SPEEDY PRO CAL. 321 (CONTINUED - PAGE 2 OF 4) Introduction IT NEVER FAILS to amaze me how much we watch collectors take for granted. Take, for example, the instant recognisability of a Speedmaster Professional. Unmistakable, classic design. You can spot it through the gloom of a winter's afternoon in Chicago, Glasgow or Novgorod, half-hidden beneath the cuff of a duffle coat 50 metres distant, and know straight away what it is. Not so the remaining 99.9999% of the population.      I was having lunch with some work colleagues when I couldn't resist displaying my latest acquisition—a 1968 Speedy. There were some polite murmurings of appreciation around the table. Then one of them said, "That's nice—what make is it?" I was speechless. How could they not know it was an Omega? I eventually recovered my power of speech, told them what it was, and then said, "This is a piece of history, you know. This is identical to the first watch worn on the Moon. In fact, the actual watch first worn on the Moon probably came from the same batch as this one." I was stretching it, I knew, but I had them hooked and I wasn't about to let 'em go. They asked to see the watch again and I passed it around, watching their faces as they gazed upon the dial. I could see them imagining themselves as astronauts, hopping across the virginal grey-white dust of that barren sphere, or perhaps tumbling slowly and gracefully in the weightlessness of space. I held forth on the Speedmaster's history and virtues for about five minutes until I saw their eyes glaze over, the interest waning. The table talk returned, as usual, to Aussie-rules football. There's a limit to how much watch-talk non-WIS's can endure. But for those five minutes they too had become absorbed in the extraordinary story of a remarkable watch, a watch that has achieved a unique place in the history of horology. It all started, as usual, with a visit to John, my watchmaker. I was just passing and thought I'd pay him a visit, to see how he was progressing with repairing my wife's vintage Oris. He shook his head apologetically. "Haven't managed to get round to it yet, Les" he said sadly. "I've had staff off sick and a sudden rush of urgent work..." His voice trailed off.      "Not to worry," I said, thankful it wasn't my watch I was waiting for. "Anything new come in lately?" I wasn't intending to buy anything, I was just curious. A gleam came into his eye.      "Funny you should say that," he said, suddenly animated, "I bought these from a chap only the other day." He reached into the "pre-loved" display case and withdrew a huge 1970s Breitling Chronomat in near-mint condition, and a vintage Omega Speedy Pro which was slightly the worse for wear. Not beaten up you understand, but not mint either.      "He said he used to travel a lot around the Arab countries," John continued, "so he probably picked them up duty-free."      I held the massive Breitling in my hand, tried it on, admired it, and returned it to the counter. I already had a vintage Navitimer, which I preferred to the Chronomat, so that was a non-starter. I turned my attention to the Speedy. As I slipped it onto my wrist I was suddenly taken back 30-odd years, to where the story really begins for me. When I turned 21, my parents naturally enough asked me what I would like for a 21st present. I had seen pictures of the Breitling Navitimer in a magazine and instantly fallen in love with it. At the same time Omega was heavily advertising the Speedy Pro as the watch chosen to go to the Moon (they hadn't got there yet), and I was strongly attracted to that, too. However, at the time the Omega was more expensive than the Breitling (how things change!), and I did fancy that Navitimer slide rule...and so I went for the Breitling. I've continued to be delighted by the Breitling ever since, but I always wondered whether I made the right choice. And now here I was, 35 years later, with the chance to find out!

The cal. 321 movement

I knew a little about the innards of the Speedy series because I had had the foresight to get hold of a copy of that wonderful book "A Time Capsule - Omega Speedmaster" by Kesaharu Imai when they were available. (By the way, if you have a copy of this book you'll know that the printers used the most ineffectual glue known to Man on the spine, and the pages fall out as soon as you look at them. I went to a bookbinder and got mine re-bound in hard cover, and the difference is amazing. Well worth the money—which wasn't that much anyway.)      I was aware Omega had basically used two movements in the Speedy: the column wheel cal. 321 until about 1968, and the cam and shuttle cal. 861 thereafter. Both were good movements, but the 321 apparently was the more collectible of the two. John obligingly removed the caseback and the dust cover/magnetic shield for me, to reveal....one of those collectible 321 movements, finished off in the familiar Omega copper colour. Now the pressure was really on.

Note water stains on dust cover Original non-original dial

I knew the watches with the 321's all had an applied metal Omega logo on the dial. This one didn't; the logo was painted on. Hmmm. Either my information was wrong or the dial had been replaced. Then John pointed out a couple of light stain marks on the dust cover. "I reckon there's been some water in here at some time," he said. That would explain why the dial had been replaced—it was probably water damaged. Still, the hands looked in great shape, and the large sweep second hand was the rarer, earlier type, with a shorter needle-nose and more rounded counter-balance than the later version. The aftermarket, non-genuine steel bracelet would have to go though—especially as several of the outer links had cracks in them. The case was in good condition overall—a few tiny nicks here and there, nothing major. The screwback even had the original Seahorse engraving still clearly visible—something that was missing on my Speedsonic. I tried the top pusher. The large sweep second hand started smoothly and at 1 minute and 1 second precisely, the minute counter ticked over. I let it run for a bit, then stopped it and pushed the reset button. Everything snapped back exactly to zero. Hmmm. The damn thing was getting more attractive all the time. I normally hum and haw a lot before buying a watch, carefully weighing up all the pros and cons. This time I didn't hesitate. It was a watch I'd always fancied, it ran well, it didn't look too bad and it had the more collectible early movement. I had seen hardly any of the vintage variety for sale in my home town of Adelaide, and I was sure it would sell quickly. John and I agreed on a fair price considering its obviously chequered past, and the deal was done. He graciously included an overhaul as part of the deal.

History MUCH HAS ALREADY been written on the web about the history of the Speedmaster line, so I'll just do a brief recap here for those too lazy to do their own research. :) A good place to start is in the Lemania factory, Switzerland in 1942, where renowned master watchmaker Albert Piguet conceived the design of the smallest chronograph movement of the time, the 27 CHRO C12. [The designation arose from the movement being 27mm in diameter, a chronograph (CHRO), and having a 12-hr counter (C12).] This movement was actually the latest in a line of chronograph movements, beginning with the 39 CHRO in 1929, the 28.9 CHRO in 1932, and the 33 CHRO in 1933. (Note that these earlier movements did not have a 12-hr counter.) Omega, being part of the same group as, and working collaboratively with, Lemania, adopted the 27 CHRO C12 (or cal. 321 as it became known) as its premier chronograph movement.      In 1945 shock-resistance and anti-magnetic properties were added, and 12 years later in 1957 it was adopted as the basis of a new, tough sports model, the Speedmaster, complementing the existing Seamaster, Railmaster and Landmaster ranges. The Speedmaster was promoted as the watch "for men who reckon time in seconds", such as sports car drivers, engineers, pilots, etc. Unbeknownst to Omega, NASA had bought five different makes of chronographs off-the-shelf for testing in 1964, to select those suitable for the astronauts to use in the harsh environmental conditions of outer space. After a battery of exhaustive and punishing tests there was only one watch still running (albeit erractically at times)—the Speedy, which NASA then adopted as standard issue for all EVAs or extra-vehicular activities. Even the astronauts themselves unanimously preferred the Speedy over the other brands "because of better accuracy, reliability, readability and ease of operation."      When in 1966 the penny dropped with Omega that their watches were being used in space, they proudly emblazoned "Professional" on the dial. And in spite of detailed changes being made in the ensuing years to the movement, case, bracelet, hands and dial markings, it's been there ever since.

No-nonsense legibility Note lugs and asymmetric case Faded beauty

First Impressions THE FIRST THINGS which come to mind when looking at the Speedy Pro are size, legibility and purposefulness. This is a no-nonsense timepiece. Although the watch is not overly large (by today's standards) at 40mm across the tachymetre bezel, the black bezel surrounding the black dial makes the dial look bigger than it really is. The lack of a date window and also numbers at the hour indices reinforces this, and makes the sub-dials stand out more. The use of stark white hands and clear white markings on a matte black background provides excellent contrast, giving outstanding legibility under all lighting conditions. The only watch in my collection which would be better than the Speedy in this regard is the Revue Thommen Airspeed. The stainless steel case has unusual 'twisted' integral lugs featuring both polished and brushed surfaces. The case is also asymmetrical, being wider on the right hand side to provide some protection for the crown and pushers. This feature was adopted in 1965.      When viewed from the side the profile of the case is somewhat unusual, because of the raised bezel surround and shape of the hesalite (acrylic) crystal. Together they remind me of a squashed bowler hat. Luckily you don't see this view very often when wearing the watch, unless you're a masochist. The case back screws onto the case, and compresses a large rubber or neoprene O-ring which sits in a groove in the rear of the case. (This is opposite to some early Seamasters I've seen, where the O-ring is fitted to the case back first.) There are also seals around the pushers and the crown. Omega claim the water resistance is 30 metres, but I don't intend to test it out—especially considering the previous suspected water damage.      Lightly engraved on the outside of the case back is the word SPEEDMASTER, a seahorse (hippocampus) and the Omega symbol. This is correct for a pre-1969 model, for it was only after the Apollo 11 moon landing that Omega added all the verbiage about "The first watch worn on the moon" and later still "Flight-qualified by NASA for all manned space missions", plus a raised seahorse. On the inside of the case back the numbers and letters "145.012-1967 SP" are stamped. 145.012 is the model number, 1967 is the year the case was made, and SP stands for...? I'm guessing when I say Speedmaster. The more usual letters are ST, denoting a stainless steel case, but SP is often seen too. There is no individual serial number under a lug. That came much later. The crown is signed with the Omega logo, is easy to grasp and smooth to wind, although I can feel the resistance of the new seal. The milled flutes on the crown are still amazingly clean and sharp after all these years, and contribute to the easy winding. This is just as well, because it takes an awful lot of winding (~50 'twirls') to fully tension the mainspring from the stopped condition. By contrast, ordinary daily winding only takes about 16-18 twirls. I think the crown is original and not a replacement. The dial that came with the watch was in good condition but the tritium on the hour markers had faded to a light brown colour. Normally this wouldn't worry me as it contributes to the authentic "vintage look", but as everything else on the dial (including the hands) was still stark white and pristine, it looked odd. Also, as stated earlier, this is not the original 1967/68 dial. Two things told me that: the Omega symbol is painted and not applied metal, and the letter "r" in the word Speedmaster reaches down and almost touches the word PROFESSIONAL. Referring to the very handy photo guide in "A Time Capsule", it is evident that the dial was made between 1978 and 1989—and judging by the amount of discolouration of the tritium markers, probably earlier rather than later. Given the foregoing, I decided the watch would look better overall with a brand new dial, and since the new dials use Super Luminova and not tritium, it wouldn't discolour like the old one. (New dials to suit the 321 with the applied metal logo are not available from Omega.) I was pleased to see the new dials still feature concentric grooves on the sub-dials, just like the earlier ones.      Getting a new dial was one thing. Fitting it was a completely different matter altogether.      The difficulty arose because of long feet. The old dial has them; the new one doesn't, being designed for a different movement. Apparently there was much muttering and cursing under the breath at the watchmaker's bench for a couple of days as a 'fixit' solution was worked out.

The cal. 321 - photo by FrankN. The cal. 861 - complete with plastic (nylon) brake

The cal. 321 movement has a beauty all its own. No wonder so many owners are retro-fitting display backs! And being a manual wind, there's no rotor to spoil the view. Click to enlarge this picture. The blue arrows point to the line of the Breguet overcoil; the blue square outlines the castle (column) wheel The first thing that strikes the eye is the large, monometal (uncut) screwed balance complete with Breguet overcoil hairspring (ahh! Now you see where good old A-L Breguet fits into the story!). Sitting on top of the balance is a standard regulating index and Incabloc shock absorber. The advantage of an overcoil hairspring compared to a flat one is that it provides better isochronism (constant timekeeping) when the mainspring power is running low, which is why Rolex uses them. The disadvantage is that they are more costly to produce. Similarly, a balance with timing screws is more costly to produce and set up than one without, but the advantages of such a balance are not so apparent. In theory, the use of timing screws should allow more precise adjustment, but in practice the modern computer-poised monometal balance with an appropriate Nivarox (beryllium alloy) hairspring can produce just as good results. It doesn't look as good, though. The next thing to catch the eye is the large copper-coloured Y-shaped bridge, typical of many chronograph designs of the 40s and 50s. A little further northwards the castle (from castellated) or column wheel can be seen. This device controls the action of the chronograph mechanism when the pushbuttons are pressed. Debate rages (especially among Speedy owners) as to which is the better system: the castle wheel of the cal. 321, or the cam and shuttle of the cal. 861 which superseded it. Some of the world's best chronograph designs (e.g. the Valjoux cal. 72) use the castle wheel and people swear by its reliability and smoothness; on the other hand, there are those who say there is no detectable difference. Again, the cam and shuttle system is cheaper to produce as it has fewer parts. All I can say is that on my Speedy, the castle wheel operation is smooth and positive, requiring only a light pressure on the pushers which engage with a definite 'click'. The cal. 321 has 17 jewels and beats at 18,000 vph. This, to me, is God's own natural frequency for a watch. Its sound is soothing, unlike the high-beat 28,800 vph and 36,000 vph movements which sound like a machine gun. The slower beat means less wear and tear and greater service intervals. And, importantly for a chronograph, the sweep second hand moves in 1/5 second intervals, thus lining up neatly with the dial markings and allowing accurate time measurement down to 0.2 of a second (if your eyesight and reaction time are good enough). OK, so I'll grant you it's not that critical in the overall scheme of things, but don't you see there's a pattern emerging here...a sign, saying "Don't mess with the natural order of things..." As Einstein said, "God doesn't play dice with the Universe." However, whilst God may not play dice, the Omega Watch Company certainly does. In 1968 it phased out the cal. 321 and replaced it with the cal. 861, another Lemania design. Referring to the picture (left), some of the changes are obvious. Gone is the column wheel, replaced by a cam and shuttle. Gone are the balance screws and Breguet overcoil, replaced by no screws and a flat hairspring. (Omega claimed this enabled the beat frequency to be raised to 21,600, giving better accuracy. Better theoretical resistance to perturbations of the balance maybe, but I'm yet to be convinced about the better "accuracy"...) Gone is the Y-shaped bridge, replaced by one which if you squint at it in the right orientation and use a lot of imagination, looks like a map of Australia. (On second thoughts, that could be a good thing). Gone is the standard index, replaced by a micrometer screw adjuster — actually, that is an improvement. And gone is the neat 1/5 second movement of the sweep second hand — now it's 1/6 second which doesn't fit in with anything. Not so obvious is the extra two jewels added, bringing the total up to 19. If you look closely at the photo, you will see a white nylon part (the brake) just above the centre chrono wheel. This part was introduced on later 861s and only comes into play when the chrono is stopped after timing an event. It prevents the sweep second hand moving from its stopped position, and releases it when the reset button is pushed. Some pundits have criticised the use of a "plastic" part as a lowering of quality standards by Omega, but in fact it is as good as or even better than the corresponding metal brake, as it is self-lubricating. However, when Omega started fitting a display back to certain models it not only tarted up the finish of the movement with rhodium plating but it also reverted to fitting the metal brake, to overcome any perceptions of 'doing things on the cheap'. In truth, Omega brought in the 861 because it had fewer parts than the 321 and it was cheaper to produce and service, whilst still providing rugged and reliable timekeeping. In spite of my rant above, it's a good movement (with a few idiosyncrasies). But it's lost that 'vintage' look, and that's what collectors are after.

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