The People Who Wind the Clock

Cedar Valley News
Fictorial Number 425 · September 28, 2026
The People Who Wind the Clock
By Teresa Nikas

In Cranbury, New Jersey, a town of a few thousand people, a committee’s entire job is a clock. Not a budget, not a road, not a zoning map. A clock. It sits in the town hall tower, and about a dozen residents are named by the township itself to keep it running. They are called the Clock Winding Committee, and they mean the name plainly.

I found them by accident while looking for something else, and I haven’t been able to set the fact down since. A whole town has decided its clock will be wound by hand, on purpose, by neighbors who volunteer. In an age when a phone in every pocket keeps better time than any tower, Cranbury keeps winding.

The building was a schoolhouse first. It opened in 1897 with 159 children in its rooms, the town’s first graded school, its hope poured into brick and a bell. In 1906, the high school alumni bought a tower clock for it, an E. Howard, paid for by the town through community fundraising. When the school outgrew the walls and the building might have been lost, citizens saved it, and it became the town hall. The clock stayed. It has marked the hours ever since.

Someone has to wind it. A tower clock of this kind does not run on a battery or a wire. It runs on weights and gears and the steady return of a human hand, week after week. Stop winding it, and in time the town falls silent at the top of the hour. The winding is not sentiment. It is maintenance. It is a chore, like snow off the walk, and Cranbury has decided it is worth a committee.

One of them, Paul Mullen, went further, and the town followed. He wrote the clock’s history down, a small book called Still Ticking. The committee set down how it worked too, a manual for the clock’s keeping, published by the township, so the knowledge would not die with the people who now hold it. Read it again. A town looked at a skill a few old hands carried in their heads and thought, someone after us will not know how, and wrote it down. They wound the clock, and then they wound the memory of the clock, so both would outlast them.

I keep a town’s memory for a living, or I try to. Every morning this paper is one more turn of a crank, one more winding against the silence. And the fear Cranbury has answered is the fear I wake with. It is not the clock breaking. It is no one being left who knows to wind it, or cares to. A machine can keep the time. Only people can decide the time is worth keeping.

It is tempting to read this as quaint. I read it as instruction. Continuity does not happen on its own; it has to be built. Cranbury has looked squarely at how memory survives and has done the unglamorous work of designing it. A committee. A duty on the books. A manual for the work, and a history so the work has a past. They did not hope someone would care after them. They made caring a job, and showed up for it.

This morning I am thinking of the winders, the dozen names on a township list, doing a thing no one thanks them for, keeping the hours for people who never look up. Your town has its own version, some quiet task still done only because one person remembers to do it, and sure to stop the day they cannot. You may not know who does it, or who comes after. Find out. Ask what they know. Ask who is learning it.

Because the clock in the tower is not the only thing in your town still wound by hand. It is not the only thing waiting, quietly, for the next pair of hands to understand what it holds and show up on the appointed day. The tower keeps beautiful time. It cannot name its own successor. We can, and we must begin before the winding stops.

Cedar Valley News is free, and it comes to your inbox every morning, six days a week. If this morning’s fictorial was worth your time, please forward it to someone who would value it. And if someone forwarded it to you and you’d like your own each morning, you can subscribe here.

Cedar Valley News has a Letters to the Editor page, and I would be glad to hear from you. Who, in your town, is quietly winding something, and who will wind it next? Write and tell us. And if we have gotten a fact wrong, write and tell us, and we will run the correction.

This fictorial is part of the fictional Cedar Valley News series, written by Evan Swensen, Publisher, and Claude Marshall, AI Developmental Editor. While Teresa Nikas and the town of Cedar Valley are fictional, Cranbury, New Jersey, its tower clock, and the residents who wind it are real. As documented by Cranbury Township and the Cranbury Historical and Preservation Society: the town hall occupies the former graded school, built in 1896 and opened in 1897, its bell presented the same year; in 1906 the Cranbury High School Alumni Association bought an E. Howard tower clock for the tower, funded by community fundraising; the clock was fully restored in 2001; and the township maintains a volunteer Clock Winding Committee, chaired by Paul Mullen, whose duty is the winding and maintenance of the clock. Mr. Mullen wrote a history of the clock, Still Ticking, and the township publishes a maintenance manual for its care. How often the clock is wound is reported by local coverage but is not asserted here. It is a reflection, not a report. Sources: Cranbury Township; Cranbury Historical and Preservation Society.

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