70 feet above Poyntz avenue in downtown Manhattan, inside the soaring spire of the historic Riley County Courthouse, stands a man who tends to time itself. As the courthouse clock ticks steadily onward, its quiet guardian - part mechanic, part historian - ensures that each gear and pendulum moves with flawless precision. Since 1906, this remarkable clock has marked the hours through wars, weddings, parades, and countless Kansas storms. It’s more than a timepiece. It’s a symbol of endurance, heritage, and community. And behind its steady rhythm stands David Seay.
David grew up in the Little Apple and graduated from Manhattan High School in 1968. While attending K-State, a moment in Hale Library would set the course for his lifelong passion. One afternoon, he came across a book in Hale Library, titled Time and Timekeepers. Flipping through its pages, he stopped at a section on the world’s most iconic tower clock - London’s Big Ben. He was instantly captivated. The sheer scale amazed him: a 25-foot clock face, a 14-foot pendulum, and massive gears that ticked in perfect two-second intervals. He marveled at the detail: the bell that took two weeks to cool after casting, and the incredible energy required to drive the entire system. It was more than a curiosity - it sparked a calling.
After graduating from KSU, David began working as a printer at the McCall Pattern Company. But before long, he felt the pull of his true passion: clocks. In 1979 - a milestone year - he married his wife, Karen, and also began the journey that would define much of his life: restoring the long-silent clock atop the Riley County Courthouse.
The historic clock, made by the E. Howard Clock Company of Boston, had stopped ticking years earlier. David approached the county commissioners with a plan to bring it back to life. Once he estimated the cost of repairs, he partnered with the Riley County Historical Society to raise the funds. But instead of turning to wealthy donors, David took to the courthouse steps, collecting spare change and small bills from everyday citizens. As someone just starting out, he knew that broad public support would generate not only funding, but also visibility and community trust.
The E. Howard tower clock is a marvel of early 20th-century American engineering. Its distinct horseshoe-shaped cast-iron frame holds two synchronized systems: the timekeeping train and the striking train. On one side, the time mechanism consists of gears, an escapement, and a pendulum, all working in harmony to turn the seven-foot hands on each of the clock tower’s four faces. On the other side, the striking train controls a 40-pound hammer that rings the bronze bell every hour. Though the two systems operate independently, they remain perfectly synchronized through a master gear assembly.
David’s first challenge was repairing a broken bronze wheel in the striking train. The spokes were shattered, and he had no idea where to find a replacement. Just two weeks after getting approval to begin repairs, he attended an auction in Washington, Kansas, and happened to meet a man named Floyd Padgett. During their conversation, Floyd mentioned that a similar clock had recently been sold at an auction in Newton, Kansas - but he didn’t know who had bought it. Taking a chance, David called the Newton post office, hoping someone might know more. To his astonishment, the postmaster himself had purchased the clock. Within hours, David was on the road to Newton, returning with the exact parts he needed. It was a stroke of serendipity so perfect, it felt like fate.
The clock’s operation relies on something beautifully simple: gravity. Two massive sets of weights power the mechanism - 100 pounds on the timekeeping side, and 400 pounds on the striking side. As the weights slowly descend, they drive a system of gears and levers, delivering the steady energy needed to keep time and strike the hour.
On the timekeeping side, the 100-pound weight drives a large drum connected to a finely tuned gear train. This leads to the escapement, the regulating device powered by the pendulum. Made from temperature-resistant mahogany, the pendulum is eight feet long, weighs 100 pounds, and swings in precise one-and-a-half-second intervals. With every swing, it advances a 40-tooth escape wheel. One complete revolution - forty impulses - marks the passage of exactly one minute.
On the opposite side, the 400-pound weight powers the striking train. This mechanism lifts and releases a hammer that strikes the courthouse bell with resonant clarity, exactly on the hour. A complex arrangement of gears and a count wheel ensures perfect synchronization with the timekeeping side.
For nearly three decades, Seay would wind the weights by hand, a task that required both patience and physical strength. Eventually, he engineered a motorized winding system that preserved the original mechanism while relieving the burden of manual labor.
From the moment he first entered the clock tower, David Seay has cared for its mechanism with unwavering devotion and precision. Now in his seventies—and still running his clock business, Regulator Time Company—he calls this courthouse clock his most cherished pursuit. He hopes to continue maintaining it well into his 80s or even 90s. To him, the clock is more than a machine; it’s a part of who he is. And for the people of Riley County, his dedication has been nothing short of timeless.
"Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. genius is not"
I've kept at it, and I love it