After the Quartz Collapse

In the 1970s, the Quartz Crisis wiped out American mechanical watchmaking. The Swiss filled the vacuum, defining what luxury meant, while U.S. brands faded into the archives. By 2000, mechanical watchmaking in America seemed like a closed chapter.

Then, in 2000, in a quiet pub in Annapolis, a German engineer and an old‑world watchmaker saw an opportunity. Hartwig Balke and George Thomas carried the manufacturing DNA of their hometown—Pforzheim, Germany, where generations had perfected the art of precision production—and embedded it into a new kind of watch company. Small‑batch. Hands‑on. Purpose‑built for a local audience. The result was Towson Watch Company: an American brand making watches the Pforzheim way—by partnering with elite German workshops too specialized and exacting for the mainstream Swiss houses—proving that independence here could equal, and often surpass, the Swiss ideal.

These relationships ran deep, and they opened doors that would have otherwise remained shut to an American venture. At a time when most European suppliers questioned whether serious watchmaking could exist in the U.S., Hartwig presented Towson as an extension of their craft, not a deviation from it. His goal was simple: to bring the watchmaking excellence of his hometown to a new audience through a distinctly American lens.

The Illusion of Craft

Collectors love the idea of old-world watchmaking—traditional tools, skilled hands, real craft. Brands lean into that image. But at this price point, most European companies aren’t doing the work that image implies. They scale, automate, and outsource—then package the result in heritage.

At Towson, we don’t have to pretend.

Our components come from small Pforzheim workshops—places where parts are still cut by hand, where the same family might finish the case and crown. In Maryland, our own watchmakers assemble and regulate every piece under one roof. It’s the kind of hands-on process the market claims to want—except here, it’s real.