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| Photo courtesy of Haltom's |
My watch odyssey started four decades before I was born, in Fort Worth, Texas. My grandfather, newly emigrated from Sicily, was working as a cinema projectionist. He came to America in 1910 at the age of 15. By 1912, he had found work, was getting ready to find the girl he first saw when they were kids in Sicily, to marry her, now in Texas, and start a new life. But before he did that, he walked into Haltom’s Fine Jewelers and bought a pocket watch. The watch, a Howard, had 17 jewels and cost (in 1912 dollars) $50. That’s about $1,500 is today’s money, no small sum then for a 17-year-old. He had his (and mine) initials engraved on the back, and used it for many years, moving from Fort Worth to Dallas to start his own shop (leather and shoe repair). He eventually settled his young family in southern California, where he lived until he died at the age of 97.
After he passed, my mom gave me a little box and said my grandfather wanted me to have it. It looked like rosewood and was ancient but in pristine condition. Inside the box was the watch. It was gorgeous. It wasn’t working at the time; a gear had broken. I took it eventually to the original shop where my grandfather bought it, in Fort Worth and asked about a repair. They quoted me $150, which at the time, seemed like more discretionary money than I could afford at the time. So, I put it in my home safe and let it rest there. Last year I sent it out to be repaired (now a lot more than $150!) and got it back just like new. It was my first real watch. But it wouldn’t be my last. I’d caught the watch bug.
