Where time stands still...in a little shop in downtown Bloomfield

Noreen Hyslop photo It seems that everything Edgar Kinser needs is at the tip of his fingers as he busies himself with his watch repair work in his unique shop in downtown Bloomfield. [Click to enlarge]

Little has changed within the walls of Kinser's shop since its doors opened in 1975, except that the proprietor perhaps bears a few more creases on his face and his hair shows more silver than red these days.

There's no computer and bills are calculated in pencil, but what the place lacks in electronics, it makes up for in atmosphere.

Noreen Hyslop photo Pill bottles hold the tiniest of screws and other parts vital to Edgar Kinser's world of watch repair. At left is the magnifying eyeglass lense that Kinser uses daily as he goes about his intricate work. [Click to enlarge]

Kinser claims to be a perpetual 39, but a diploma on the shop wall reflects a graduation date of 1949 from Lane's Watchmaking School in Malden.

"It was an 18-month course," Kinser recalls. "And I'd come out of the service and so the government paid for the schooling."

It was an education that has carried him through a career lasting over half a century, first assisting other jewelers and watchmakers and finally opening his own shop in 1975.

The shop looks much like it did 33 years ago, with most of the same furnishings and the same display case intact, though it now holds decades of accumulated watches and pieces and parts. Old clocks sit here and there and there is an occasional Grandfather's clock brought in for repair.

"I probably have more crystals than anyone around," Kinser says, and he pulls out a cigar box full, having accumulated them over the years.

Cigar boxes come in handy in the watch repair business. There are Dutch Masters and Swishers, Hauptmanns and King Edwards, El Productos and Hunter Imperials. The boxes are perhaps worth more monetarily than the contents!

Those souls who operate under rules of strict organization in the workplace might have a time contending with Kinser's methods, but ask the watch repair veteran if he has the tools or replacement parts for an antique Rolex or Bulova, a Timex, Elgin, Tudor or Omega, and he can readily locate the needed item in seconds among the thousands of minuscule pieces that generate the ticks and the tocks with which he has contended for over half his life. And what the cigar boxes don't hold, the coffee cans do. There are Maxwell House cans that depict their age old, "Good to the last drop" slogan and brands that have not seen grocery shelves since the 70s. Each, though, serves as a useful storage container for the bezels, dials, gaskets, springs, bridges and winding pinions.

Kinser's income does not come solely from the shop. Having spent 31 years in the Missouri National Guard following his stint in the service during World War II, he gets by, comfortably he says, with a reward for those efforts. Combined with a tad bit of social security, he does ok, he says, but sees no reason to slow down and retire from the business.

"I'm still pretty steady," Kinser says, and proves his point by holding out a weathered pair of hands that have intricately served his Stoddard County customers year after year.

He wears an magnifying eyepiece over his left eye while working closely with the tiniest of parts that bring stopped timekeepers back to life.

The business is somewhat "timeless" in that Kinser utilizes many of the same tools as he did in the 1950s.

"The trade hasn't changed much," he attests, "accept they don't make watches like the used to."

And he tells a story of one of the better watches that has come through his doors; a story involving Kinser's late wife, Alma, who was an avid yard-saler.

"She used to love to go around to yard sales," Kinser recalls with a smile at the memory of his wife of over 50 years. "And one day, she found three watches at a yard sale for five dollars."

"She came into the shop and told me she hoped she didn't get robbed, but that she'd bought all three."

"I got to examining the watches and one of them was a Rolex. It was authentic and worth quite a bit. I sold that watch for $550," he says with a wink. "Best profit I ever made."

Kinser still operates his business much in the manner that he always has. A small tag on the end of a string is attached to the pieces that are left in his care, identifying the owner. Completed projects are placed in plain white envelopes, some recycled, and await for their rightful owners to pick up. A handwritten sign written by a man of younger years, warns customers that items not claimed within 30 days are subject to being sold, but in actuality, Edgar Kinser would give anyone more time if he thought they needed it.

Nowadays, more folks stop in to visit than to get their timepieces restored, but still, Edgar Kinser's days are filled with repair work. There are piles of envelopes waiting to be claimed and Dutch Master boxes with pieces waiting to be put into place.

And behind the counter, there is a kind gentleman with a steady hand and a twinkling eye, eager to greet each day and each customer as the gifts that they are.