Pierpoint Saphir

Disclaimer...

I am not a watchmaker.
I am not a watchmaker.
I am not a watchmaker.

I’m just a hobbyist who has read a few books, watched a bunch of videos, taken apart a couple of watches, and works with a very limited budget for tools and supplies. I’m not saying that what I do is the right way—I’m simply sharing what I did, how I did it, and what results I got. Maybe this can serve as a guide, but honestly, I write these articles mostly for entertainment.

Now, a quick word of caution: this watch has some tiny, springy parts that could fly across the room—or worse, into your eyes. Please know what you’re doing and don’t get hurt.

Be safe—and enjoy the read!

Danger! Radiation! Yes. This Tissot, with a "T SWISS MADE T" contains Tritium.

Radiation is a concern with this particular model, some older watches contain even more harmful stuff like Radium, or other radioactive elements. Radium, in particular, is extremely toxic. The body mistakes it for calcium and stores it in the bones, which led to the heartbreaking tragedy of the Radium Girls. If you haven’t heard about them, look it up—it’s sobering.

So before you crack open a watch, make sure you know exactly what you’re dealing with. Take proper safety measures, and when in doubt, use a Geiger counter to check how “hot” a watch might be.

Once I opened this Pierpoint I had a "sniff" with the Geiger counter and the max I could get the meter to climb was to 0.27µSv/h, which is neglectable actually. This is how the math goes:

The allowable annual dose of radiation for the general public is 1 mSv (millisievert) per year, or 1000µSv (microsievert) per year, therefore: 1000µSV / 0,27µSv/h = ~3704hours
1 mSv is reached after about 3,704 hours or 154 days of continuous exposure at this rate. I don't plan to work on this watches dial for that long. And once the dial is enclosed in the watch case, there is no more measurable radiation coming from it. But if someone (a baby) eats the dial or inhales the Tritium dust, then this becomes a whole other story! Be careful especially with the inhaling part!

The owner and his tool

This watch is special. It’s one of those timepieces that has truly seen “combat.” It belongs to someone very dear to me—a carpenter (not a car painter!), 3D printer, and designer who spends his life creating things, helping people, working hard, and yes, drinking beer.

And through all of that, this watch has been there—on his wrist, taking every scratch, dent, and layer of grime like a badge of honour. Just look at the gallery below: it’s amazing to see a tool being used for exactly what it was made for—not as a fashion statement, but as a reliable everyday companion that tells the time under the harshest conditions, without complaint. One sign of the hard life this watch had is the bent wristpin (the other pin was missing), I image this watch got caught in some door or furniture or tool and the force of his arm tugging on the watch was enough to "bananize" the little pin. By the way, this is one of the ways watches fall from wrists.

Honestly, I’m sure it would still tick for another decade if I had simply put in a new battery, as I did to test if it was running and sure it was. But in recent years, it’s been left behind. Since the smartphone era began, its owner mostly checks the time on his phone—he even joked with me, “Look, this is the watch I wear now,” pointing at his iPhone.

Still, I decided this watch deserved better. So I gave it a full service, a proper clean-up, and a light polish—keeping the patina, but freshening it up just enough. Now it can proudly say to all those safe-box Rolexes out there: “Guys, I’ve seen the world. I’ve scratched more walls, tables, roofs, and beer cans than you fancy watches will ever see in your lives.”

And yes, for sure the battery had leaked a bit inside the movement, but this movement simply doesn't care and the damage, if one can even call it that, was minimal.

These ETA quartz movements are simply among the best of the best. I’ve never had one refuse to run after a service—many, like this one, would even run while filthy and grimy before servicing! The only gripe I have is that so many come with a non-replaceable coil. Slip up with a screwdriver and damage the coil on a budget-friendly Miyota movement? No problem—pop in a new part and keep going. But with the pricier ETAs? You’re basically stuck spending 50 bucks or more on a whole new electronic module (part 4000)—coil and all. That’s exactly what I had to do when repairing a Tissot. Apparently, the last “watchmaker” while replacing the battery, tried to press the caseback on and, slipped and damaged the coil, effectively turning a perfectly functioning watch into a hunk of trash.

Beer Point? Pier? Point? What? Ah you mean, a Tissot?

Pierpoint is one of those Swiss watch names that came up around the turn of the 20th century, founded by Sauter Frères & Cie in Biel/Bienne. The trademark was officially registered in 1918, and from then on Pierpoint quietly built its reputation with solid watches for both men and women.

Their main years were from the mid-1910s through the 60s and into the 70s, and depending on where you lived, you’d see the brand under a different name: “Pierpoint” in the UK and Europe, “Geneve” in the US — I guess Pier Point does not really sound like just one think in English. Either way, the watches had the same thing going for them — straightforward, well-made, dependable. Some of them are even considered rare and collectible today, for it being a lesser-known Swiss brand.

Like many other brands, Pierpoint hit a wall with the quartz revolution. By the early 2000s the name had disappeared, leaving behind only the watches themselves as reminders of a time when Swiss makers were everywhere, each with their own story and their own take on how to build a good watch.

This particular Pierpoint doesn’t really seem to belong to any official collection, at least as far as I can tell it was produced in the 1970s or 1980s. What it does remind me of, though, is a Tissot PRX — not just in the overall look, but in the way the case is put together. It’s a three-parter: removable back, removable top glass plate, and the middle case in between. Solid, straightforward engineering.

And here’s the part that really impressed me: after all the years of use (and let’s be honest, abuse), the glass is still spotless. No scratches at all. The only thing I could find, and only under a magnifying glass, is a tiny dot — most likely from the watch slamming into something sharp and hard with some real force. That’s Sapphire for you. Tough as nails. A true warrior of a watch.

Restoration goals. Not much really...

I’m a sucker for patina. I get the NOS crowd—New Old Stock has its own appeal, I can understand that. But to me, it usually means something went wrong. When I see a watch, a camera, or even an old TV that’s 30, 40, 50 years old and it looks untouched—no scratches, no dents, no stories written into its skin—I can’t help but wonder: why not? Why wasn’t it used for what it was built for? Because the way I see it, the more an object gets used (and sometimes abused), the more life it has lived, the more memories it has helped create. Take a camera: if it’s flawless, chances are it didn’t see the beach, the mountains, the family holidays—it probably spent its decades shut away in a closet, alone in the dark. Nobody (no thing) wants that fate.

That’s why I wanted to keep the feel and the vibe of this Pierpoint alive. I didn’t want to “polish away” its history and make it look like just another, albeit rare, blue-dial Pierpoint with sapphire glass. So I went for a softer approach: a light polish to "clean" the steel, leaving the scratches and scuffs exactly where they belong—like wrinkles on a wise old face.

As for the dial… that’s where things got tricky. The minute hand tells its own "story" of moisture sneaking inside the watch case (probably while fixing someone's roof under heavy rain). The lume basically dissolved, and the residue (with thorium in it) ended up scattered all over the dial and movement, leaving the minute hand with a big Hole in its middle. And that, to me, really ruined the look of the watch.

So I had to do something. I ordered a re-lume kit and gave the old Pierpoint a bit of a facial surgery.

Disassembly

ETA quartz calibers are a dream to take apart! Generally in these calibers there are only three things that are tricky and require a bit more attention.

1. They keyless works, and especially the retaining spring that goes on the other side of the dial as it really likes to fly away.

The gallery below shows the parts in the order I took them apart. If I don’t highlight or comment on something, it simply means there’s nothing tricky going on—just basic watchmaking common sense (watch out for those springy parts that love to fly).

Whenever there’s something worth noting, I’ll pick a picture and point it out clearly(or make a comment in the picture)—so you know exactly what to look for.

For the ETA Calibers you can find a lot of repair information online I like to use Esslinger as a source of information but I could not find this exact caliber there. Since most eta calibers are very similar I used the manual from the ETA caliber 956.111

For this watch in particular, or for watches with this kind of spacers, I always find it easier to remove both screws that fasten the Spacer to the caliber with the caliber still installed in the watch case. That way I feel less inclined to do damage to the Dial or Hands. But That is probably just me not being a watchmaker.

2. The Date wheel spring if the movement you are working on has one. This one is also a flyer

3. the geartrain plate can sometimes be a pain to assemble, especially if the rotor keeps flying out of its bottom jewel.

Cleaning

I clean my watches with a water-free watch cleaning solution and ultra-sonic, using multiple steps (except the rotor):
Pre-Pre-Clean for 3 minutes; Pre-Clean for 3 minutes;
Clean for 3 minutes; Rinse 1 for 30 seconds;
Rinse 2 for 90 seconds; Rinse 3 for 3 minutes;
Rinse 4 for 3 minutes

Yeah, it’s probably overkill, I know. But I figure I can extend the life of the cleaning solutions if I add extra cycles. This way, most of the dirt stays in the Pre-Pre-Clean, and the first couple of rinses are only slightly diluted with cleaning solution.Look at how yellow the Rinse 1 (W1) container already is, and how dark the PPC container looks. If I followed the instructions of the manufacturer to the letter, I’d have to throw out the cleaning solution after every single watch—and that just seems wasteful (or more profitable for the cleaning solution making business).

I then use these little containers I got from ebay here (no affiliate link), which let me sort the parts without having to use a sieve, or any other filter to separate them from the cleaning fluids later and really speeds up the process. Ask me how I know? For this little watch, although tiny, the movement is relatively simply, so two containers were enough to get the parts sorted in a way I was confident to be able to put it all back together later. One container would have been enough, actually....

Before using any cleaning fluid, please take proper precautions. The solutions I use are pretty toxic—not as bad as gasoline, which I used a lot back in my previous life, but still harmful enough to cause all sorts of nasty effects, from brain, liver, and kidney damage to cancer.

To protect myself, I wear a Moldox mask with an A2 filter filter whenever I open any container of cleaning solution or do the drying. I also leave at least one window open to ventilate the space. That way, I minimize exposure as much as possible. I strongly recommend doing the same.

So, I basically put the baskets, crown, and main plate into the first cleaning container and then pop the container into the ultrasonic machine. Important: leave the rotor out of the cleaning!

The rotor is magnetic, and putting it in the ultrasonic cleaner can cause a few problems. First, it can lose some of its magnetism. Second, it will attract all magnetic debris, making it look like a tiny porcupine. On top of that, some rotors have glued magnets that can loosen if exposed to solvents, which could ruin the rotor. Instead, I clean the rotor gently using fresh Rodico. Yes, it’s not a perfect clean for the pivots or for preparing the surface for oil, but I don’t risk it. Rodico lifts dirt safely without damaging the delicate rotor or its magnetic parts.

For drying… well, I have long, curly hair, and I’m firmly opposed to using hair dryers on my head in this context (curls, end up looking like... well ever seen a groomed poodle? yeah...). I grew up in Brazil, where power is expensive. If I had used a hair dryer back then, my mom would probably have made me pay the electricity bill in very creative ways.... Anyway, I do use a hair dryer to evaporate the last bits of cleaning solution from the watch parts. I leave them in the freshly cleaned ultrasonic basket and blow moderately hot air (around 40–50°C 60C is when it hurts, it if hurst its too hot I don't want to bend or warp the parts) over them for 3–5 minutes.

Once that’s done, I carefully open all the containers and put the parts into my parts tray—leaving the containers in there with the parts. Believe me, for this watch alone, I “missed” one part that had hidden itself inside the container. Had I not left the open-end container in the tray (I usually clean two watches in parallel), I would have spent ages hunting for that tiny part.

Following that comes inspection. Inspect every wheel, pivot, jewel, etc. This part I really often skip, unless I know the watch does not run. So I usually put the thing together and if It does not run I will then start inspecting stuff, because at this point chances are if you find something wrong with a watch like this, you will need a doner as its hard to find just that tiny little gear that has a teeth missing or that broken pivot etc... And when the damage is really obvious, you will see it, trust me.

Assembly

Same thing here, the gallery below shows the parts in the order I put them back together. If I don’t highlight or comment on something, it simply means there’s nothing tricky going on—just basic watchmaking common sense (watch out for those springy parts that love to fly).

Whenever there’s something worth noting, I’ll pick a picture and point it out clearly(or make a comment in the picture)—so you know exactly what to look for.

in this case beware of which way the tiniest little gear of all goes in, you can thank me later, or leave a donation.

And here is another view of the tiniest gear of all, installed in the movement so you can see which way it goes.

Here you can see the slot for a 0.8 mm screwdriver to lift part of the keyless works and pull the crown out of the caliber. This step is tricky, I had to use a second screwdriver by the crown to get enough clearance. Honestly, I’d almost recommend leaving the crown (with its sealing ring) in the movement when assembling the keyless works and never removing it later during assembly.

I then put the movement together but left the oiling of the pivots for later. That way, if I had to take anything apart again— and as a matter of fact I did had to take everything apart in this case because the tiniest gear was installed backwards—I wouldn’t have oil on the parts. No oil means no extra cleaning before reassembling, which saves time and headaches.

A quick note on oiling: if a pivot or jewel is oiled and the movement is then disassembled, that oil can spread to places it shouldn’t be. Reassembling a “contaminated” movement can leave oil on gear teeth, metal plates, or other parts, which can cause drag, attract dust, and dirt, and either make the movement stop running or shorten its service-life. If oil has already been applied and you need to take the movement apart, all pivots and jewels must be cleaned and rinsed. Rodico it’s not good for jewels—it doesn’t remove 100% of the oil and can leave a thin film, which will cause fresh oil to spread to the wrong places. The proper method is a full cleaning and rinsing with the appropriate watch cleaning solutions.

I usually assemble and test movements dry as much as possible to avoid this situation. Some movements, however—like ETA calibers—require extra caution. Certain components can block access to pivots later in the assembly, making proper lubrication impossible afterward. Personally, I’ve never had a problem with an ETA caliber; they’ve always run reliably, but maybe I am just lucky.

Watch out for this plastic part here, I think you cannot put it in the wrong way, but if you forget it, it will most likely short the battery over the dial to the main plate.

Troubleshooting...

Why you no wööööörk???!??!???

Seriously, why? After all this work?

This is the “fun” in watchmaking. It can be incredibly rewarding—but only because the potential for frustration is immense. By this point, I must have spent somewhere around 5–6 hours on this little watch. Oh, and did I mention that I’m not a watchmaker?

Anyway, I had to swallow the disappointment when I realized it still wasn’t working... But the basic troubleshooting routine goes like this:

• Test battery (I always test the news batteries before putting them in the movement). Fine.

• Test battery when installed in the movement. Still fine.

• Test a connection point. I had battery voltage with a little drop on the output of the IC, so I concluded this was fine too.

• Test for pulses on the coil. I had no pulses on the coil, strangely enough, which meant either bad IC or bad connection.

• And for curiosity's sake, and for you people out there, the coil resistance on this one is 3.3K ohm

After all that frustration, I decided to call it a night and brainstorm ways to troubleshoot the IC or whatever else could be wrong. I even had the fleeting thought that maybe this watch was so unique it required a special connection to one of the IC pins after a battery swap, like a secret handshake to ensure only certified RW watchmakers could restart it. Of course, the internet was no help, and I hadn’t found any guidance on further troubleshooting.

The next day, I double-checked all connections and made sure the insulation plate was properly in place. Once everything was installed correctly, I decided to experiment a bit. I pressed on a spot of the IC while watching the rotor—and guess what? Sometimes the rotor would actually move!

This watch is tricky, because the motor only ticks every 10 seconds, meaning you have to keep an eye on it for a while to see any motion.

After that little breakthrough, I removed all the electronic components from the main plate and cleaned the contacts of the coil, electronic module, and battery connection with a glass fiber brush. Voilà—after putting everything back together, the watch was working!

You can see in the pictures below, taken with a 30-second exposure, that the minute hand has moved three times, success! What a fantastic little movement!

The Strap and the ??

Note: Clean with leather cleaning products, no water, some people used Nivea creams with success.

Final Thoughts

AAA