For a few, brief years in the 1870s the Mozart Watch Factory of Ann Arbor was on the rise to rival the best watchmakers in America. Don Joaquin Mozart was one of Michigan’s “most promising inventors.” Called a “genius” in the New York Times, he patented 11 inventions related to clockwork. Yet his business skills never quite lived up to his innovations and he died in the county poorhouse. 

A Family Missing & A Family Made

The details of Mozart’s early life are uncertain. He was born in Italy sometime between 1820 and 1826 and moved to America with his family near the age of three. His father’s occupation varies by the source: he was a watchmaker and his son took after him, or a street musician distantly related to the more famous Mozart, or a man of wealth who fled Italy for political reasons and was assassinated in America. None of these are particularly likely, but what can be said with more confidence is that he died when Don was young. 

The remaining Mozart family ended up in the Boston area. It was near the harbor there, when Don was around the age of 9, that he was lured onto a ship “by the promise of curious shells” and taken out to sea. It wasn’t uncommon for ships to capture young men or boys as crew members when they couldn’t find volunteers for arduous journeys, and they often preyed upon poor immigrants. Young Don Mozart sailed for seven years. He searched for his family when he returned, but his efforts failed and he never saw his mother or siblings again.

Fending for himself, Don found work as a tradesman where his skill at mechanics became clear. By age 30 or so he was the established owner of a jewelry store in Xenia, Ohio and filed his first patent for an “automatic fan” propelled by clockwork. The patent advertised a quieter machine that would be particularly useful for fanning the sick or sleeping, and keeping bugs away. With his profession secured, he married Anna Maria Huntington on September 4, 1854.

Don and Anna started their family in Ohio, welcoming their first daughter, Donna Zeralla, on February 28, 1857 and then their second, Estella Gertrude, on November 28, 1858. Don continued to invent, patenting an improved clock escapement (the mechanism that moves the timepiece’s hands at precise intervals) in 1859 wherein he listed himself as a resident of Yellow Springs, Ohio. By 1862 the family had relocated to New York City and welcomed one more daughter, Anna Violet. 

Career Clockmaker

As a resident of New York Don patented another improved clock and watch escapement in 1863 with Levi Beach and Laporte Hubbell credited alongside him. The three men followed this in January 1864 with a simplified and more compact calendar clock that claimed to register leap years and run for a year with one winding.

Don’s talents gained him enough recognition that a company was created to produce his patents. The Mozart Watch Company was established in the spring of 1864 in Providence, Rhode Island and the family relocated there. Capital of $100,000 was secured along with a factory and machinery. Then, before any product seems to have been produced, the stockholders pulled out in the spring of 1866. No distinct reason could be found to explain their change of heart, other than a new belief that they wouldn’t earn a return on their investment. Don was replaced as superintendent, the company was renamed the New York Watch Company and, in contrast to the name, moved to Springfield, Massachusetts. 

Less than a year later, in January of 1867, Don Mozart began anew in Ann Arbor. Advertisements for “Mozart & Co,” a dealer in clocks, watches, jewelry, and silver-plated ware, ran in the Michigan Argus. The shop was located in the Gregory Block on the corner of Huron and Main. Still tinkering with timepieces, his first patent in this new era was filed in July of 1867 wherein he listed himself as living in New York despite his new store in Michigan. Regardless of the residency, the patent was granted on December 24, 1867 and became the basis of his even greater business venture in Ann Arbor. 

Michigan’s Mozart Watch Company

By the summer of 1868 the second Mozart Watch Company was progressing in Ann Arbor. According to a July 24, 1868 article in the Michigan Argus, “the capital for testing the invention has been furnished, a building secured in which to commence operations, an engine put up, the best of machinery purchased, and a force of experienced mechanics set to work, not exactly making Watches, but making tools with which to stock the factory.” The goal was to produce watches based on the recently issued patent that contained no dead-center or setting-point and required only a small number of parts, allowing for cheaper production.

The company’s growth continued, occupying three stories of Dr. Chase's building according to the February 19, 1869 issue of the Michigan Argus. The article concluded, “We shall expect to see the company soon turning out A. No. 1 watches.” On New Years Eve 1869 a gold watch was presented to Reverend Charles H. Brigham of the First Unitarian Church, confirming that the Mozart Watch Company had managed to start production.

Just six months later the Michigan Argus was pleading with citizens to prevent the company from leaving the city. It had “turned out a number of beautiful watches,” but “the few men who took hold of the enterprise find themselves without means to prosecute the work on the large scale which is necessary to make it a success, and that they have not met the encouragement and support which they had a right to expect from the community at large.” 

Advisors to businessmen from Milwaukee and New York had visited the factory to assess the machinery and patent’s chances of success. “The agent of the Milwaukee parties – a practical man – pronounces the watch, and clock soon to come out, a perfect success…If Milwaukee men stand ready to invest $300,000 in it, cannot our capitalists be induced to invest one third of that sum to retain it here?”

The appeals went unanswered and a group from Rock Island, Illinois bought out the Mozart Watch Company, renaming it the Rock Island Watch Company. Then, like in Providence, the company failed to produce anything before the stockholders withdrew their support. A lawsuit commenced in the fall of 1871, alleging fraud in the sale. The battle concluded in the fall 1873 when it was dissolved after an appeal.

Panic & Final Patents

Just as the court case was wrapping up a greater worry replaced it. The financial panic of 1873 swept the nation and the local banking house of Miller & Webster closed its doors for good in September of that year. The Michigan Argus reported that “a large share of the losses will fall upon parties illy able to bear them,” and this seems to have included Don Mozart. 

Don had always been reliant upon his strengths in innovation. He is recounted as saying, “that he never knew the time when, if he was short of money, he could not hide himself in a hole for a month, and work out an idea that would bring him $1,000.” The article concludes that “money has come to him so easily he has valued it little, has spent it with a prodigal generosity, not to say reckless, and having, most of his life, no special occasion for what is called business shrewdness has in later years been victimized by speculators in his genius.” As he had all his life, he persisted, and that same fall the Michigan Argus included an advertisement for watch repairs by Don Mozart.  

Before the loss of his savings, Don had filed a series of three patents that were approved in July of 1873: another improved escapement, an upgrade to calendar clocks, and a self winding watch. This trio held the potential to earn his savings back. They were designed to be used together in one watch that would include dials showing the month, day of the month, day of the week, AM or PM, quarter seconds, seconds, minutes and hour. It would be wound by the user opening and shutting the watch case five or six times a day and no damage would be sustained by heavier use. He is said to have gone to New York to find funding, but the wealthy residents who would be able to offer the capital were away at their summer homes and he was told to return later.

Always seeking improvement, he took a portion of the watch apart during the interim and lost a piece of it in the process. He was never able to figure out how to put it together again. Before he could return to New York, he lost control of his mind. On December 2, 1874, Don Mozart was taken to what was then known as the “Michigan Asylum for the Insane” in Kalamazoo. Reports claimed that his “fits of temporary insanity” had been going on “for some time” and that up until his removal to Kalamazoo “he was talking extravagantly but coherently enough, of his brilliant prospects and the wealth and success that awaited him, and detailed to friends minutely the terms of an agreement that he claimed to have just made with persons in New York, though he had never gone to that City after his visit in the early Summer.”

The papers attributed his loss of reality to “the strain upon his mind made by his newly invented watch” and the failure of Miller & Webster. In 1875 he was moved to the Washtenaw County Poor House, and died there on March 15, 1877 at the reported age of 58. He was buried at Forest Hill Cemetery and obituaries were carried in papers across the country. 

Collectible Chronometers

It is difficult to determine exactly how many Mozart watches were finished. Estimates vary from 13, to 30, to only a few. The examples that were reported on or have since been located often contain personalized engravings indicating that they were made for investors and friends. They remain as exemplary samples of American watchmaking and their rarity makes them highly sought after by collectors. 

In 2016, a "Chronometer-Lever Escapement" watch signed "Mozart Watch Co., Ann Arbor, Mich., No. 7, Don J. Mozart Patent Dec. 24, 1868" was sold by the auction house Bonhams for $5,250 (the patent date seemed to be a mistake, corresponding instead with the patent of December 24, 1867). Sotheby's auctioned another in 2004 as part of their “Masterpieces from the Time Museum” group. 

Remaining watches can be found as part of the National Watch and Clock Museum, the Paul M. Chamberlain collection, which was displayed at the Art Institute of Chicago in 1921 and found a permanent home at Michigan State University, and the Washtenaw County Historical Society.

Have you ever wanted to take a bath in your living room? Wished that your bathtub didn’t take up so much space? No? Well maybe E. J. Knowlton can convince you otherwise. Invented in Ann Arbor and patented in 1868, Knowlton’s “Bathing Apparatus” or "Universal Bath" was advertised across the country and made its way around the world. The lightweight, foldable bathtub was touted as being “Neater, Cheaper and more Convenient than a Stationary Bath, with no expense for Bath Room and Fixtures.”

The Inventor

Ernest John Knowlton, known as E.J., was born in upstate Manlius, New York in 1818. As a young man he and his older brother, Oliver, worked as contractors for the Erie Canal. The Knowlton brothers likely contributed their labor to a series of enlargements to the canal that began in 1836 and continued until 1862. During this period both of them contracted typhus fever, and Oliver died from the disease in 1840 at the age of 24. In his will he left his “dear sisters” Charlotte, Emeline, and Maria along with his “dear brother” Ernest about 48 acres of property in Portage, New York, and the money that he had managed to save. 

E.J. went on to teach school for 11 terms and travel for a number of years. At the age of 32 he married Roxana Potter and they settled in Michigan in 1850. They lived together in Canton, Lyon Township, and South Lyon, until they took up residence in Ann Arbor in 1867.

The couple called Ann Arbor home for 32 years, living at 24 N State St (an address that today is 322 N State St, the house having been replaced by the Duncan Manor apartment building nearly a century ago) for at least 25 of them. Their family grew to include three children, Ida, Jerome, and Mildred. Jerome was likely named to honor Oliver, whose middle name had been Jerome. E.J. was active in the community as a longtime member and leader of the Methodist Episcopal church, located at the northwest corner of State and Washington. He was also a strong advocate for the Union during the Civil War and helped find men to fill Ann Arbor's quota.

Productive Patenting

E.J.'s first appearance in the Ann Arbor City Directory in 1868 lists him as a “patent rights salesman.” Securing and selling patents was common in the era. Michiganders were issued 426 patents in 1876 alone, totaling one patent for every 2,787 residents.

The patents he maintained rights for included a “farm ladder,” which he created in 1863. It's distinction came from its dual use as both an A-frame ladder and a longer, single ladder that could be used when leaned against a tree or structure. Its patent lists fruit gathering and tree grafting as potential uses.

Three years later E.J. patented another piece of farming equipment, an improved “land roller” to break up soil to prepare it for crops. 

The Universal Bath

His pivot from agricultural equipment came in 1868 with his universal bathing apparatus. Described as a “flexible or pliable bathing-tub” it consisted of a wooden frame with a hammock like body of “oiled silk, or India-rubber cloth, or any other pliant water-proof material.” The frame’s hinged construction allowed it to be folded and stored away when not in use.  The patent describes the setup of the suspended tub:

 “One side of the frame A is secured to the front side of a bedstead [bed frame], by means of suitable straps or cords, and an adjustable leg is used for supporting the other side of the frame. Water is poured into the flexible body, and the person wishing to bathe enters the tub. The flexibility of the body allows it to accommodate itself to the shape of the person, bringing the water in more direct contact with the body of said person.”

Four years later, the patent was reissued with improvements to the invention. The updated drawings illustrate what was believed to set it apart from the competition. The new recommendation was to attach the frame to chairs, rather than using a bed frame and the formerly included leg. The bath’s “tub” portion could also be divided to create smaller sections. This setup could further reduce the amount of water required, which was crucial for potential consumers who didn’t have indoor plumbing and would have to painstakingly haul and heat water. Additional configurations are described: 

“Part of the frame to which the sack is attached, adaptable to sufficient inclination from the foot upward, to form certain specific adaptation, as for a hip, sponge, or foot bath where the bather may sit thereon with feet in the sage of the sack, just in front of the chair, on the floor or base-point, and sponge from head to foot in the most comfortable position, while the water all gathers around the feet” 

While the image of a man, sitting on a chair, surrounded by a “tub” can seem silly to us now, Knowlton’s apparatus was far from being the only bathing innovation in its era. Tubs specifically for sitting, sized just for children, and even bathtubs that folded up to reduce their footprint in small houses were not unprecedented. From 1880 to 1900 the Mosely Folding Bath Company produced a murphy bed-style bathtub that could be folded up to disguise itself as a wooden wardrobe with a mirror. Comparing it to the competition, Knowlton’s bath answered all of these needs with one product. 

Advertising directs interested parties to contact Knowlton at his home address of 24 N State St, but for some period of time he rented space from Herman Krapf who owned the planing mill at 529 Detroit St (the longtime home of Treasure Mart) to produce his baths there.

An Adaptive Apparatus

The advertising for the apparatus provides us with insight into the intended customer. “A complete arrangement for families, physicians, army men, students, miners, itinerants, everybody.” Most of the clientele listed were of an economic class less likely to own a home, or at least not one large enough to make a stationary tub worthwhile. Another advertisement preaches that “One of the most valuable agencies in contributing to the good health of all classes is the practice of judicious bathing.” 

The inclusion of physicians and army men stand out as using it for perhaps a different reason. The 1872 patent states that the “bath or baths may be used with great convenience and ease in the sick room.” If a person is ailing or has limited mobility and is unable to be easily moved to a stationary tub or bathroom, a portable bath may be a better solution. For army men, this would ring true for field hospitals.

We will never know what led Knowlton to pivot from farming equipment to portable bathtubs, but as a young sufferer of typhus who watched his brother die of the disease, Knowlton may have been acutely aware of the difficult, necessary work of bathing patients. Based on his ads he equated bathing with health. 

Invention Endures

Even as a resident of Ann Arbor E.J. still kept up his agricultural roots. The 1888-1889 city directory lists E.J. as a farmer of a secondary, 120 acre property in Saline Township. This continued connection to land management spurred further farm-related patents. In 1876, eight years after his bathing apparatus, he patented a combined hay rake and tedders for farm use. Three years later he patented another hay-tedder.

Knowlton additionally advertised a cistern guard he patented in 1874 on the trade cards he distributed for his universal bath. Even at age 76 he was still formulating improvements to his bathing apparatus. In 1894, after 20 years of experimentation, he patented a compound for waterproofing fabric. It was claimed to make closely woven fabrics “as good as a rubber coated sack” and “cost half as much.” The newly waterproofed tubs were advertised as having been tested in the homes of well-known families in Ann Arbor, where they were used for 5 years without issue.

Inherited Aspirations

Obituaries can only contain a brief summary of a person’s life, which underscores the importance of each detail included. In E.J. 's, he is said to have “had a great desire to go to college and in order to carry out this purpose he hired his time of his father.” Meaning, his father allowed him to seek work outside of his household to earn money. His work on the Erie Canal may also have been driven by his goal of saving enough to receive an advanced degree. 

While “he failed to acquire the college education he so greatly desired,” his son appears to have embraced the significance his father placed on continued education. Jerome stayed in Ann Arbor to earn his bachelors and then law degree from the University of Michigan. He started his own practice here, Sawyer & Knowlton, before joining the University of Michigan Law School. He was a law professor from 1885 to 1917 and held the position of Dean of the Law School from 1891 to 1895. From 1882 to 1885 Jerome also contributed to the community by serving as the Postmaster of Ann Arbor. 

Ida, the oldest Knowlton daughter, went on to marry another University of Michigan Law professor, Victor H. Lane, while E.J.'s younger daughter Mildred, married William T. Whedon, from Chelsea. These two moved to Norwood, Massachusetts where William worked as a tanner. Mildred passed away in 1897, two years before her father.

E.J. was remembered as “a man of most persevering character and indomitable courage, never being cast down by matters that would have discouraged ordinary men.” E.J., Roxana, and Jerome are all buried together in Forest Hill, and daughter Ida is interred there as well in the Lane family plot alongside her husband.