TIME ON HIS HANDS: WATCHMAKER REPAIRS TIME PIECES FOR NEARLY HALF A CENTURY

Dave Sander has a lot of time on his hands. For two decades, he has put the ticktock back into clocks.

Broken-down, pendulum clocks that had been silent come to life in his hands, ticking and chiming like new.

Crammed into the clock repair shop in the basement of his Cape Girardeau home at 1310 Broadway are the gearwheels, keys and other items that comprise a timepiece. A number of repaired clocks hang on walls or sit on a large shelf in the tiny, two-room shop.

All the clocks are set to the correct time; it is a symphony of ticking sounds.

Even though they are set the same, all the clocks don't chime or strike at once. Each clock keeps time at a slightly different rate, he explains.

Winding all those clocks also takes time. "That's usually a Monday-morning job for me," says Sander.

The Cape Girardeau watchmaker repairs cuckoo, mantle, wall and grandfather clocks. When it comes to the larger clocks, Sander even makes house calls.

"I'm a clock doctor," he observes.

But he generally shuns electrical-powered clocks. He repairs some battery clocks, but his real interest is in repairing old and new spring-wound or weight-driven pendulum clocks.

For nearly half a century, Sander has been involved in repairing timepieces first, watches, and later, clocks.

"I'm just mechanically inclined," says Sander, explaining his involvement in what has been both a business and a hobby since the late 1940s.

At age 20, Sander enrolled in a watchmakers repair school. He started working for others in the repair business before setting up a watch and clock repair business of his own in 1974.

Sander used to repair an average of 60 watches a week. "I had a machine, I could clean 20 watches at a time."

But he no longer repairs watches. "I quit watchmaking three years ago," he recalls. "It was too intricate work for my nerves."

With watches, all the pieces are tiny. A watch can have a hair spring barely larger than a pinhead, he points out. "You've got to have steady nerves."

Sander's business is a one-of-a-kind in this region. He proudly confides that it's the only one between St. Louis and Memphis.

While some of his contem~poraries may be out fishing, the 67-year-old Sander works a few hours daily.

"It's a hobby, I guess. It's a part-time job. I'm retired, so it's something to kind of keep me out of trouble," says Sander.

Some weeks, six or eight clocks are brought in for repairs. Other times, just one or two, says Sander.

Over the years, he held a number of jobs, including selling insurance. But he always came back to watchmaking.

Old newspaper articles about his business cover part of one wall. He's fond of puns about time. "I'm keeping up with the time," he remarks.

But when it comes to clock repairs, Sander is all business.

"Ninety-five percent of the problem with a clock is that it needs a good cleaning," explains Sander.

Just like cars, clocks need regular oiling. "That's the most important thing," he says.

Sander has repaired a wide variety of clocks. "I've even had clocks with wooden wheels and wooden movements."

Sander has repaired one clock that he estimates dates back to around 1840. But many of the clocks he repairs date from the late 1800s or early 1900s.

Old clocks are proud possessions in many homes today. But years ago, little attention was paid to clocks, he says. "Up until World War II, people didn't pay attention to old clocks."

Today, there are quartz clocks that keep perfect time. But to Sander, the old-style clocks are perfect in their own right. All they need is tender-loving care.

Sander says he's not ready to wind down just yet. For him, the clock's still ticking.