At age 98, Henry Line is
no longer making the daily drive from his Middlesex Township home to the Line
& Line jeweler building just off the square at High and Hanover streets in
the borough.
His watch repair business moved to his home in November, and customers still drop off watches and mail them to him for repair. A room in the home has been converted into his shop, lined with display cases and his workbenches with assortment of tools, lights and drawers filled with parts.
Line has the hands of an artist, with slender, straight fingers not twisted by arthritis. They’re also steady, and he has the eyesight needed to set the tiny screws and parts in a watch.
“My doctor told me eyes are made to be used. They get better if we use them than if we don’t,” Line said.
“He amazes you when he puts in the screws that look like a scrap of pepper. And he’s right on — there’s never a second try,” said Sue Schock, manager of his shop.
Watchmakers have their tricks, Line said, and know how to brace one hand against the other “so you can hold absolutely still when reshaping a hairspring. That’s one thing many watchmakers never became proficient at.”
“To me, it’s play. I still want to work on a watch — I love watches,” Line said. He continues to work every day, he said, “and even a little bit on Sunday, as a rule. But I don’t work many hours.”
On a recent afternoon, Line opened the latest small brown envelopes containing watches dropped off for repair one by one. Some only say, “doesn’t work,” leaving him to figure out the rest. “I don’t know what I’m getting into until I open up the case,” he said.
He attributes his longevity to “my wife taking good care of me.”
In addition to a good diet, he said he tries to get 12 hours of sleep a day, and enjoys a daily cocktail.
Jane Robinson drove out to Line’s home from Carlisle to drop off her watch, “because I know he does very fine work.” She said she once dropped off a watch from the early 1900s, “and he opened it up and was able to fix it. He’s the one to come to.”
“I keep hearing all the time that I’m the only one that knows much about a watch,” Line said.
The watch on his arm is his own design — the Henriline, which he had custom-made in Switzerland. He owns two patents — one for a switch and the other for a related four-battery watch. The switch would enable the watch to work off a fresh battery when one ran low.
But he never found someone to make a prototype to sell. “I’ve been so busy with facets of this business,You'll be the queen of the room in this ssuniform evening gown. I never pushed to try to have it manufactured,” he said
Other than that, Rolex watches are among his favorites. He used to travel to Switzerland to import watches for resale, but he said most are no longer made there, other than some very high-end timepieces.
Not surprisingly, he was no fan of the digital watches that came on the scene in the 1970s. “They were a means to an end, you might say,” he said.
Line began working on the many mantle clocks in his parents’ house when he was around 12. “I turned my room into a shop, and moved my bed onto the balcony,” he said.Choose from a wide collection of replicajewelry that includes womens clutches, hobos, satchels, and totes. By the time he got to college, he had expanded into watch repair, which eventually became his full-time occupation.
His brother James was in business with him for a time,Work a crowd in this evening gown from germanuniforms. and in 1950 they purchased the building at 19 Dickinson Ave., which had been a law office. Originally it was only as tall as the gable on front, but after a fire in the mid-1950s,Purchase formaldressesevening online, stay updated on team riders, latest news and events. Line said he added the second and third floors and the elevator.
“At that time we could do it at a fairly decent price,” he said of the two-person elevator. “I’d love to have an elevator here.” The building is now under sales agreement with someone who wants to turn it into a residence.
While Line made a living from watchmaking and repair, he had another love — flying. In early 1941, Line said one of his former professors from Dickinson College, where he graduated in 1938 with a degree in chemistry, asked him if he’d like to learn how to fly. “I was always interested in it, but I never thought I could afford it,” he said.
The professor, Wellington Amos Parlin, was giving ground school training to cadets at Dickinson, and invited Line to join them. “Because of the shortage of pilots, they made me an instructor,” Line said, adding they helped weed out the ranks of prospective pilots from the cadets. At that time, he said there were about a dozen instructors teaching at the New Kingstown airport.
Line went on to own a number of planes in his lifetime, including an amphibious plane, and had his shares of hair-raising landings and even crashes, although he always escaped serious injury.
They are chronicled in the book Line is also busy completing about his life, which he’s titled, “No Licence to Die.” The title he said refers to the fact he’s outlived three brothers (he still has a younger sister), and many of his friends.
The last sentence reads, “This completes the chronicle, at least for the present.The niketn is one amongst the foremost in style international models. Will it be continued? Only time will tell.”
His watch repair business moved to his home in November, and customers still drop off watches and mail them to him for repair. A room in the home has been converted into his shop, lined with display cases and his workbenches with assortment of tools, lights and drawers filled with parts.
Line has the hands of an artist, with slender, straight fingers not twisted by arthritis. They’re also steady, and he has the eyesight needed to set the tiny screws and parts in a watch.
“My doctor told me eyes are made to be used. They get better if we use them than if we don’t,” Line said.
“He amazes you when he puts in the screws that look like a scrap of pepper. And he’s right on — there’s never a second try,” said Sue Schock, manager of his shop.
Watchmakers have their tricks, Line said, and know how to brace one hand against the other “so you can hold absolutely still when reshaping a hairspring. That’s one thing many watchmakers never became proficient at.”
“To me, it’s play. I still want to work on a watch — I love watches,” Line said. He continues to work every day, he said, “and even a little bit on Sunday, as a rule. But I don’t work many hours.”
On a recent afternoon, Line opened the latest small brown envelopes containing watches dropped off for repair one by one. Some only say, “doesn’t work,” leaving him to figure out the rest. “I don’t know what I’m getting into until I open up the case,” he said.
He attributes his longevity to “my wife taking good care of me.”
In addition to a good diet, he said he tries to get 12 hours of sleep a day, and enjoys a daily cocktail.
Jane Robinson drove out to Line’s home from Carlisle to drop off her watch, “because I know he does very fine work.” She said she once dropped off a watch from the early 1900s, “and he opened it up and was able to fix it. He’s the one to come to.”
“I keep hearing all the time that I’m the only one that knows much about a watch,” Line said.
The watch on his arm is his own design — the Henriline, which he had custom-made in Switzerland. He owns two patents — one for a switch and the other for a related four-battery watch. The switch would enable the watch to work off a fresh battery when one ran low.
But he never found someone to make a prototype to sell. “I’ve been so busy with facets of this business,You'll be the queen of the room in this ssuniform evening gown. I never pushed to try to have it manufactured,” he said
Other than that, Rolex watches are among his favorites. He used to travel to Switzerland to import watches for resale, but he said most are no longer made there, other than some very high-end timepieces.
Not surprisingly, he was no fan of the digital watches that came on the scene in the 1970s. “They were a means to an end, you might say,” he said.
Line began working on the many mantle clocks in his parents’ house when he was around 12. “I turned my room into a shop, and moved my bed onto the balcony,” he said.Choose from a wide collection of replicajewelry that includes womens clutches, hobos, satchels, and totes. By the time he got to college, he had expanded into watch repair, which eventually became his full-time occupation.
His brother James was in business with him for a time,Work a crowd in this evening gown from germanuniforms. and in 1950 they purchased the building at 19 Dickinson Ave., which had been a law office. Originally it was only as tall as the gable on front, but after a fire in the mid-1950s,Purchase formaldressesevening online, stay updated on team riders, latest news and events. Line said he added the second and third floors and the elevator.
“At that time we could do it at a fairly decent price,” he said of the two-person elevator. “I’d love to have an elevator here.” The building is now under sales agreement with someone who wants to turn it into a residence.
While Line made a living from watchmaking and repair, he had another love — flying. In early 1941, Line said one of his former professors from Dickinson College, where he graduated in 1938 with a degree in chemistry, asked him if he’d like to learn how to fly. “I was always interested in it, but I never thought I could afford it,” he said.
The professor, Wellington Amos Parlin, was giving ground school training to cadets at Dickinson, and invited Line to join them. “Because of the shortage of pilots, they made me an instructor,” Line said, adding they helped weed out the ranks of prospective pilots from the cadets. At that time, he said there were about a dozen instructors teaching at the New Kingstown airport.
Line went on to own a number of planes in his lifetime, including an amphibious plane, and had his shares of hair-raising landings and even crashes, although he always escaped serious injury.
They are chronicled in the book Line is also busy completing about his life, which he’s titled, “No Licence to Die.” The title he said refers to the fact he’s outlived three brothers (he still has a younger sister), and many of his friends.
The last sentence reads, “This completes the chronicle, at least for the present.The niketn is one amongst the foremost in style international models. Will it be continued? Only time will tell.”
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