He is Singapore's only authorised cuckoo clock repair specialist – and a 'restorer of memories'

To the average ear, the difference between tick-tak-tick-tak and tak-tak-tak-tak is likely inconsequential, if at all noticeable.

But being able to diagnose the issue with a faulty cuckoo clock, based on its sound, is partly why Michael Cheah has been touted as the "go-to guy" for repairs by his customers in Singapore and the region, including Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Hong Kong, the Philippines and India.

Cheah is in demand, firstly, because he’s great with his ears and hands, possessing specialised technical skills.

Plus, The Cuckoo Haus, which he founded and runs full-time, is the only cuckoo clock service station in Singapore authorised by the Black Forest Clock Association.

The reputable association, better known as VdS or its German name Verein die Schwarzwalduhr, issues authenticity certification to member organisations for their cuckoo clocks. 

The highly sought-after seal is given to mechanical clocks, not quartz clocks or those running on solar energy. The clock must be made entirely of wood – except for their movement, the mechanical system that powers a clock – with all essential parts produced in Germany’s Black Forest region, the birthplace of cuckoo clocks, and meet the stringent quality controls set by the association.

Most importantly, though, his customers, consciously or otherwise, are hoping that he will restore their precious memories. For many, the clock is not just a clock.

The sentiment may seem whimsical to others, but it mirrors his own passion for the niche profession he discovered by accident in 2010.

A CHANCE CALLING

It's rare enough to own a cuckoo clock, let alone be a specialist in them, especially in Singapore. So it’s little wonder Cheah is often asked, with a mix of curiosity and incredulity, how he even realised this could be a job. 

“By chance”, the 58-year-old believes – similar to the serendipity of customers stumbling upon his business after searching high and low for a cuckoo clock repair specialist. 

While he conceptualised The Cuckoo Haus in 2009, he only incorporated it the following year as a retail business. He was going through a major life transition at the time, and was seeking a new challenge.

Having previously worked for a German company in construction and machine manufacturing for over a decade, he landed on cuckoo clocks – a cultural icon of German craftsmanship.

Handmade wooden cuckoo clocks typically take the form of charming chalets and feature intricately carved designs. These folkloric timepieces are traditionally powered by weights shaped like pine cones and a swinging pendulum, with a small cuckoo bird emerging to call out the hour.

Tapping on the few German contacts Cheah had, “I decided to bring cuckoo clocks over to sell”, he recalled wryly. “But I had no experience in retail. Big mistake.”

This is because those who want a cuckoo clock tend to prefer purchasing the tangible memory of German tradition from Black Forest itself, he explained.

His retail store, located at Clarke Quay Central, lasted all of around nine months. But it was enough.

The store was located on the fourth floor of the mall, next to the National Volunteer and Philanthropy Centre (NVPC), and footfall was scant.

One day, an NVPC employee – whose name Cheah can’t recall – approached him to repair an old and “very valuable” cuckoo clock from their late aunt.

“I said I’m selling clocks. I don’t know how to repair. He told me: ‘Never mind, you have nothing to do, you sit here most of the time. Just figure it out. You charge me whatever rate you want to charge me,’” recalled Cheah, still visibly perplexed that a stranger took a chance on him, and that it changed the trajectory of his life.

He was always "mechanically inclined", preferring to fix broken appliances by himself at home, for instance. So he took to the analogue artefact quite naturally. 

“It was like watching a child learning how to walk. I was so excited, like hey, this is something I want to do. I enjoyed it, and I repaired it quite fast. Everybody was happy,” he said.

SCIENCE AND ART IN CUCKOO CLOCK REPAIR

Following the closure of his retail shop, Cheah returned to corporate life for a few years. He continued to repair cuckoo clocks as a “hobby” on the weekends, before deciding to take it full-time in 2016.

His busiest period? Just after the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown, with people having rediscovered their old clocks while stuck at home.

To date, he estimates having repaired more than 500 warranty clocks. Most authentic Black Forest cuckoo clocks come with a two-year warranty that’s recognised by authorised repair specialists and service stations worldwide.

In his experience, there are myriad reasons a cuckoo clock doesn't work. 

For one, Singapore’s humidity may result in a rusty chain in a mechanical clock. Some clocks also get “choked up” thanks to cooking fumes at home.

Then there are instances where there is “nothing wrong with the clock”. The owner simply needs to display it right, he said. 

“You have to hang it at a certain height, in a correct way, in a correct location where there’s not too much wind. The pendulum works on a simple harmonic motion, so if there’s wind, it will disrupt the rhythm and the clock will stop. This is characteristic of a cuckoo clock.”

An understanding of cuckoo clocks is hence equal parts science and art. Among other intangible skills, one needs a keen sense of intuition to pinpoint the problem, which is sharpened through experience. 

There is no standard template to follow – in part why Cheah believes few are able or willing to pick up the trade, even though he hopes that can change with more awareness of the craft.

“With a grandfather clock, or any other clock, there's a certain procedure that you need to follow. And if everything is done properly, it will work right. But with cuckoo clocks, you could do everything correctly and it still won’t work,” he said. 

It’s a challenge he relishes, however, taking two to five days on average to repair a clock. Then he usually keeps it an extra couple of days to ensure it’s fully functional before returning it to the owner.

“You need to have patience and be very observant. Slow yourself down to a certain state where you can observe the movements in the clock to troubleshoot. And you need to listen intently to the sound of the clock: tick-tak-tick-tak or tak-tak-tak-tak. There are a lot of sounds that will give you a telltale sign of what's wrong,” he said.

“Otherwise, you’ll be touching and playing with the clock, without getting anywhere.”

As such, he treats each cuckoo clock as the sum of its parts. If the music isn’t working, for example, he doesn’t just focus on getting it to play again. Instead, he “strips everything out”, fully refurbishing the timepiece.

“So in that sense, when the clock goes back to the owner, it looks almost like new,” he said, adding that every clock he repairs gets a one-year warranty.

Cheah’s total commitment doesn’t go unappreciated. Many customers have lauded his clear and methodical explanations on caring for the clock after repair.

“Michael is a master at his craft. He took the time to explain what could possibly go wrong and advised me on what to do to take care of the clock. When I had a problem with the clock at home, he was happy to guide me through troubleshooting and fixing the problem,” wrote one satisfied customer on Google Reviews.

REPAIRING CLOCKS, RESTORING MEMORIES

Expressive customers, it would seem, are a core aspect of his job. Even so, their sentimentality, uncharacteristic of typically stoic Asians, still catches him off guard on occasion.

One memorable customer, he recalled, was an “emotional” young lady from India, who brought a cuckoo clock that her grandfather bought in Germany in 1967. She was crying when she dropped off the clock, and again when she collected it after repair. 

“She said she couldn’t find anybody to do this for so many years. She went around India and all that, but the clock kept on spoiling. And so I did everything for her,” he said.

A couple meanwhile hoped to fix their cuckoo clock bought decades ago, while they were backpacking on a shoestring budget in Germany. Even though they could well afford 10 new clocks now, they “just wanted to get that one going”, he added.

Then there was a customer who couldn’t fall asleep without the ticking of her cuckoo clock, and called him at night to fix it.

“I know the clock is working now, because the moment the clock doesn’t work, she would have called me non-stop already, and I have to go,” he shared, tickled by the fond memory.

“No, seriously, I think cuckoo clock people are a different breed of people ... I was like, hey, why don't we do it tomorrow? It’s not life and death.”

Still, Cheah is drawn to such impassioned customers precisely for their quirks. For his keen understanding of their inexplicable connection to their clocks, some have said that his price, while not cheap, is “money well spent” – a compliment as rare as a VdS authenticity certification.

Customers are usually willing to pay more for repairs than they paid for the clock. Repairs start from S$160 for a small cuckoo clock without a music box, with the final cost depending on the extent of work needed. At the higher end, a clock's repair cost once exceeded S$2,000.

While he requires payment upfront, he guarantees a full refund if he’s unable to fix the clock – which he hasn’t needed to do since he started his business.

“Because I'm relatively expensive, I think my price will filter out all those people who feel that the clock is just a clock. Whoever comes to me, usually the clock means something to them. Some may say it out loud, some may not, but who would normally want to pay more for repairs than the clock costs?” he said. 

“My tagline is I don’t repair clocks – I look at myself as a restorer of memories. That gives me the motivation to do a good job. The best thing that's kept me going all these years is the joy I bring to the client.”

And the feeling is mutual.

“Some people play golf, some people go fishing. I repair clocks, and I make money out of it too. When I’m repairing, I feel like I’m in another world. It’s very strange, but that’s the time when I feel the most relaxed. I’m totally at ease," he shared.

In his cosy studio, barely five steps from the door to his workbench, Cheah enters his zone. He pulls up his toolkit and opens the back of a clock, gently tinkering with its movement. Then the cuckoo bird pops out of its little window. A pair of dancing figurines begins to circle the wooden platform, as the familiar refrain of Edelweiss fills the room. 

In the background, a wall of cuckoo clocks ticks in sync.