Time as a Gift: Three Watches Given as Presents That Became Legends
The world of watches always turns out to be vaster than it seems. More than mere measuring instruments, mechanical watches hold a living mechanism that serves as a vessel for intentions, feelings and memories — sheltering, in their very metal and their very rhythm, everything that withstands time. Perhaps that is why, even though they have been surpassed in accuracy by quartz watches, by atomic clocks and by the ubiquity of the time on mobile phones, mechanical watches remain on our wrists, as messengers of a symbolic and emotional dimension that no technology has managed to replace.
On this Christmas Eve we present three watches given as gifts in extraordinary circumstances, pieces that became part of history for the best of reasons. These stories reveal thrilling moments in watchmaking and in the lives of its protagonists, and we know that it is stories like these that make us admire watches: not for their usefulness, but for the meaning and the memory they hold.
Patek Philippe - Gago Coutinho and Sacadura Cabral
In 1922, the aerial crossing of the South Atlantic by Gago Coutinho and Sacadura Cabral became a symbol of the union of science, navigation and technical skill. At the heart of the adventure, time was not an abstraction but a tool: every course depended on the precision of the marine chronometers and aviation watches carried on board the “Lusitânia”, the “Pátria” and the “Santa Cruz”.
Among the documented instruments were, for example, chronometers by the British firm Dent — supplier to the Portuguese Navy since the 19th century — and chronometers by Johannsen and Kullberg, which equipped the ships and, on this mission, were adapted for use in the air.
These were not ornamental watches; they were true scientific instruments.
When we look at the aerial crossing of the South Atlantic in 1922, it is easy to forget that the real protagonist was not only the flying machine, but time — measured, regulated and interpreted with scientific precision. Gago Coutinho himself makes this point in his report on the voyage, presented to the State the following year:
In astronomical navigation we used, as on board ships, a mean-time chronometer, which gives Greenwich time; and we also carried a good mean-time deck watch. For forecasting astronomical observations at night, we had a further chronometer regulated to Greenwich sidereal time. Gago Coutinho
In preparing the mission, the Observatório Naval de Lisboa checked, adjusted and sealed the chronometers according to rigorous standards. Gago Coutinho’s own navigation method, based on the “artificial-horizon sextant”, was only possible thanks to the exact reading of the chronometers — and the success of the crossing literally depended on their working. It was known, from first-hand accounts and museum records, that Gago Coutinho used a Dent chronometer No. 32511 during the voyage, and that, after their return:
The Executive Committee for the reception of the Portuguese aviators presented them with a gold Patek Philippe wristwatch.
The relationship between man, machine and time was thus inscribed in Portuguese history. These pieces are material witnesses to an era in which measuring time was, in itself, an act of conquest.
The Breguet No. 160 “Marie-Antoinette”
Around 1783, an admirer of Queen Marie-Antoinette of Austria, wife of Louis XVI, commissioned from Abraham-Louis Breguet a watch without precedent. The client’s identity remains unknown, but the intention was clear and documented:
to create the most complex and perfect watch possible, with no limit on cost or time, intended for the queen.
The order explicitly included every complication known at the time. This was not about immediate display, but an absolute, almost conceptual gesture, in which time and money ceased to be criteria. The watch became a technical and symbolic proof.
Making the watch proved extraordinarily long. The French Revolution, which began in 1789, disrupted court life and led to the execution of Marie-Antoinette in 1793, before the watch was finished. The project, however, was not abandoned.
The Breguet No. 160 was only completed in 1827, more than forty years after the order and four years after the death of Abraham-Louis Breguet. Among other functions, the watch features a minute repeater, perpetual calendar, equation of time, thermometer, power reserve, automatic winding and the display of the hours in multiple formats. It was never delivered to its intended recipient. Even so, it remained forever associated with her name, not through use, but through intention.
Throughout the 19th century, the watch passed through several private owners. At the beginning of the 20th century, it entered the collection of Sir David Lionel Goldsmid-Stern-Salomons, an important British collector of horology and science.
In 1966, the piece was donated to the L.A. Mayer Museum for Islamic Art in Jerusalem, where it became one of the most important objects in its collection of historical horology, despite having no direct connection to the Islamic world. Its presence in the museum was justified by the universal value of the object as a work of engineering and art.
On the night of 15 April 1983, the museum was burgled.
More than a hundred timepieces were stolen, including the Breguet No. 160.
The burglary had been meticulously planned and left no immediate leads.
For decades, the whereabouts of the watch remained unknown. Its uniqueness made it impossible to sell on the legal market, which added to the mystery surrounding the theft.
In 2007, after more than twenty years missing, the Breguet No. 160 was recovered. The watch was returned to the museum by a woman who said she was fulfilling the wishes of her late husband, identified as Na’aman Diller, a professional Israeli thief who had already died by then.
The investigation confirmed the authenticity of the piece. The watch was complete, although it required technical assessment and conservation. The recovery was regarded as one of the most remarkable episodes in the recent history of museum horology.
Gift No. 3
Rolex Paul Newman - Rolex Cosmograph Daytona, reference 6239
In 1968, the actor Paul Newman was deeply involved in competitive motor racing. Alongside his film career, he regularly raced in endurance events and professional training programmes, an activity that carried real and constant risks. It was in this context that his wife, the actress Joanne Woodward, gave him a watch: a Rolex Cosmograph Daytona, reference 6239, with an exotic dial, now universally known as the Paul Newman Daytona.
The Rolex Daytona was not chosen as a status symbol. It was a professional chronograph, designed for timing on the track, fitted with a tachymeter scale and clear legibility. It worked, directly and effectively, as an instrument suited to Newman’s activity as a driver. The gesture did not seek to create a public symbol or a media icon. The watch was meant for its recipient’s everyday and sporting use.
On the caseback, Joanne Woodward had the words “DRIVE CAREFULLY ME” engraved.
The message is simple, direct and deeply personal. It contains neither the recipient’s name nor any date. The choice of the final word — ME — turns the phrase into an intimate plea: it is not only about caution, but about emotional responsibility. This engraving is widely documented through photographs, family accounts and the known history of the watch itself.
Paul Newman wore this Rolex for several years, both off and on the track. The watch appears in numerous photographs and public records, confirming that it was not kept as a symbolic or exceptional piece, but was part of his everyday life. That continued use reinforces the genuine character of the gift: the watch fulfilled exactly the purpose for which it was given.
Later, Newman gave the watch to his daughter’s then boyfriend, James Cox, as he was preparing to start a career in motor racing. The gesture kept the original logic of the gift intact: the watch went with whoever faced the risk. For decades, the whereabouts of the piece remained discreet, away from the media and the collectors’ market.
In 2017, the watch was auctioned by Phillips in New York, reaching 17.75 million dollars and becoming, at the time, the most expensive wristwatch ever sold at auction.
This Rolex is not important because it is a Paul Newman Daytona. It became a Paul Newman Daytona because it was worn by Paul Newman. And it became historic because it was given with a private message that never lost its meaning. The words “DRIVE CAREFULLY ME” were not meant for the public. They were written for one specific man, at a particular moment, out of real concern.
Joanne Woodward’s gift of the Rolex to Paul Newman shows that a watch can become historic without any intention of being so. All it takes is for the gesture to be true, the use to be real and the story to be documented. Among all the great watch gifts known, this one remains one of the most human: a watch given out of love, worn naturally and enriched by time.
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