I’m a hobbyist at the beginning of my watch-servicing journey, learning one watch at a time — often by making mistakes, figuring them out, and trying not to lose too many springs and screws along the way.
This vintage Titoni came from a bulk lot I bought late last year. There were a couple of similar pieces in the lot, but one had a badly damaged dial, so I chose to restore the better one. It still has some visible marks from the dial pegs, but I feel they add a bit of character rather than taking away from it.
At first glance, it looked like a clean, simple Swiss automatic: a white dial with “Titoni Automatic” and “25 Jewels” printed neatly beneath. Nothing flashy — just classic mid-century design. The dial doesn’t say “Airmaster,” which initially made me question what I really had. But turning the watch over revealed “Titoni Airmaster” engraved on the caseback, giving me a clearer sense of its identity and era.
Placing it in History
Titoni isn’t a brand you hear about as often as Omega or Longines, but they’ve been making watches in Grenchen, Switzerland since 1919. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, they produced solid, well-engineered automatic watches aimed at everyday wearers rather than collectors.
Inside the watch is the A. Schild (AS) caliber 2066 automatic movement. This is a Swiss-made day-date movement from roughly the late 1960s to mid-1970s, and it’s a caliber you’ll see across many different brands and models from that period — not just Titoni. That’s because the AS 2066 is what’s known as an ébauche: a base movement made by A. Schild that was supplied to multiple watch manufacturers, who then cased it, finished it, and sometimes modified or branded it as their own. In that sense, while the watch is very much a Titoni, the beating heart inside it is part of a wider family of movements used throughout vintage Swiss watchmaking.
For me, that historical context made this watch even more interesting and helps me understand the movement better as there are resources online— but also raised the stakes of my restoration attempt.
My First Automatic — and a Day-Date at That
Up until now, most of my learning had been with manual-wind movements. They’re more straightforward, easier to visualize, and generally more forgiving for a beginner.
This Titoni with (AS) caliber 2066 was different.
This was my first automatic movement, and on top of that, it wasn’t just time-only — it had a day-date complication. In hindsight, that’s not exactly an easy starting point. But I learn best by jumping in.
As soon as I opened the case, I could see this was going to be more complex than anything I’d done before.
The Day-Date Complication (the real test)
The day-date mechanism sits on top of the movement like an extra mechanical brain. Compared to a simple dial and hands, this layer introduces:
- Date driving wheels
- Day switching levers
- Jumper springs that must sit just right
- Tiny parts that have very little tolerance for misplacement
Taking this apart required a lot more patience than I was used to. Reassembling it was even harder. Everything needed to align perfectly, otherwise the day or date wouldn’t change correctly at midnight. Plus the damn spring keeps flying away.
The Motion Works
Underneath the dial, the motion works — the system that transfers power from the movement to the hands — was another learning curve.
Compared to simpler movements I’d worked on, this setup felt more crowded and more precise. Getting the hour wheel, minute wheel, and cannon pinion seated properly took careful attention.
The Keyless Works
As there are now components for the date that needs to align properly I had to disassemble it a couple of times as the setting was not working.
The Automatic Winding System
Then came the automatic works.
The rotor, reverser wheels, and winding train added an entirely new dimension to the movement. This was my first time really understanding how wrist motion is converted into stored energy in the mainspring.
The Screwdriver Dance
One thing that surprised me — and tested my patience — was the variety of different screw sizes throughout the movement.
Unlike some simpler calibers where you can mostly stick to one or two screwdriver blades, the AS 2066 required constant switching:
- Tiny screws for the day-date plate
- Slightly larger screws for the automatic bridge
- Different again for the train bridge
It sounds minor, but when you’re deep in a service and trying to stay focused, that constant changing of tools really slows you down and forces you to stay organized.
Cleaning and Putting It All Back Together
Reassembly was slow, deliberate, and at times stressful.
Layer by layer, I rebuilt the movement:
- Train and motion works
- Keyless works
- Day-date mechanism
- Dial and hands
- Automatic system
There were moments where I genuinely wondered if I’d taken on too much. But that’s also where the learning happens.
When the balance wheel finally started ticking steadily again, and I saw the day and date change correctly at midnight, I felt a huge sense of accomplishment. Not because I’m now an expert — but because I pushed myself beyond my comfort zone and came out the other side.
Lessons and Challenges
Calendar works (day-date mechanism)
During disassembly of the calendar works, one of the jumper springs suddenly sprang free — I believe it was the date jumper that controls the advancement and positioning of the date disc. To make things more complicated, I later discovered that one of the calendar components — likely the day corrector spring/lever — was actually broken. I had to rely on the second watch from the bulk lot as a donor to replace this part. Figuring out its correct position and tension during reassembly was particularly challenging, as even a slight misplacement would prevent the date from indexing properly.
Train wheel / barrel issue
I also encountered an issue with one of the train wheels that appeared to be stuck. I initially suspected it was the center wheel (the first wheel in the train, which is driven directly by the mainspring barrel). Understanding how this wheel interacts with the barrel and the rest of the gear train was an important learning point in diagnosing the problem.
Motion works alignment
After reassembling the motion works, I found that the watch would not properly enter hand-setting mode. It turned out that the alignment of the setting components in the keyless works and motion works was slightly off, which forced me to disassemble that section again and realign everything correctly before it functioned as intended.
Shock protection (upper balance jewel)
The top balance jewel uses a spring-style shock protection system that isn’t held in place by traditional clamps but rather by a circular retainer that twists into position. Working against the tension of this retainer while trying to set it at the correct angle was tricky — and when done improperly, it can easily pop out and fly across the bench.
Mainspring winding challenge
I also had to wind the mainspring manually using my mainspring winder. The 8200 drum I had was the closest match for the barrel, but it wasn’t a perfect fit — the section that hooks the outer coil of the mainspring didn’t grip tightly enough. As a result, when I tried to wind the spring, it simply slipped and nothing actually wound into the barrel. This forced me to slow down, reassess the fit, and really understand how critical proper tool sizing is when working with mainsprings.
What This Watch Represents to Me
This Titoni Airmaster isn’t just a restored vintage watch. It’s a snapshot of Swiss watchmaking from a fascinating era, and a reminder of how much craftsmanship went into these everyday timepieces.
For me personally, it marks an important step in my journey as a hobbyist learning watch servicing. It was my first automatic, my first full day-date movement, and by far the most complex disassembly and reassembly I’ve attempted so far.
Every vintage watch has its own history. This one now has a second chapter — my attempt to understand it, service it, and keep it running for many more years.