I began writing this book three years ago, intrigued by this horological arms race that ran the course of nearly thirty years, culminating with the Graves Supercomplication. The little-known story behind the lives and watches of Henry Graves, Jr., and James Ward Packard, shaped by obsession and fueled by passions, took hold of me completely. Soon I found myself following in the footsteps of these men across America and Europe, digging through archives, reading yellowed letters and diaries, sorting through cracked, leather-bound photo albums, uncovering hidden treasures, and peering into the microscopic world of complicated watch movements.
Part treasure hunt, part voyage of discovery, this was a journey made all the more interesting by the number of extraordinary people I had the great good fortune to meet along the way. Each, in one way or another, brought me closer to unraveling this tale. First, William Andrewes, a man for whom to call horology a passion is inadequate; it is a subject on which he holds forth as if reciting poetry. At an early and difficult stage, Will took the time to ring me with the kindest, most encouraging words. Next, John Reardon, a talented horological historian and the author of Patek Philippe in America; his fascination for Henry Graves, Jr., the collector was indescribably infectious. Not only did John open numerous horological doors, guiding me through the pivots and escapements of mechanical watches with patience and enthusiasm, but he also took great delight in my sleuthing.
During the course of writing this book I prevailed upon the collected wisdom housed in a number of libraries and institutions. They were an unending source of historical gems, and as a result, I was able to pore over letters and old newspaper clippings, examine everything from art catalogues to hotel menus from the 1880s, view historical photograph collections, learn about the beginnings of both electricity and automobiles, and become familiar with the manners and rituals of New York society at the turn of the century. I am eternally grateful to the dedicated librarians and curators who allowed me access to their archives, including the Brooklyn Historical Society, the New-York Historical Society, the Thomas Watson Library at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Brooklyn Museum of Art Library, the New York Stock Exchange Archives, the Arthur W. Diamond Law Library at Columbia University, the New York Public Library, the Brooklyn Public Library, and the Archives of the National Packard Museum in Warren, Ohio. In particular I would like to thank Sheldon Steele, executive director of the Larz Anderson Auto Museum, who showed me the Roderick Blood Collection Papers in Brookline, Massachusetts; Ilhan Citak at the Special Collections, Lehigh University Libraries, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania; Flavia Ramelli at the Patek Philippe Archives in Geneva, Switzerland; Laura Ronner and Anna Marie Sandecki at the Tiffany & Co. Archives Collection in Parsippany, New Jersey; Carlene Stephens at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.; Jim Lubic at the American Watch and Clockmakers Institute in Harrison, Ohio; Jim Moske at the Office of the Secretary Records, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Archives in New York; Gregory August Rami at the American Natural History Museum in New York; Dorthea Sartain, curator of archives at the New York Explorers Club; and Michele Tucker, curator at the Saranac Lake Free Library in Saranac, New York.
While the primary players in this gentleman’s duel have long since passed, they did leave a remarkable collection of mechanical watches in their wake. Where the formal record of their lives was thin, a number of scholars, family members, collectors, and experts generously offered their own anecdotes, thoughts, and time, and in some cases shared correspondence, diaries, photographs, and artifacts that went a long way in illuminating the men behind the names Henry Graves, Jr., and James Ward Packard. I am indebted to Terry Martin, a true Packard aficionado, who graciously allowed me to sit in his barn as he patiently restored an old Packard motorcar while I sifted through thousands of Packard Motor Car Company documents. Among the many generous souls who shared their time and knowledge, I must offer tremendous thanks to Alan Banbery, Sharon Collinson, Andrew Crisford, Helen Ebersole, Cheryl Graves, Buz Graves, Dorcas Hardy, Chris Hildebrand, Mary Hotaling, Ian Irving, Airell Jenks, Paul Johnson and the dedicated men at the Packard Proving Grounds, Wendell Lauth, Judy Meagher, Elizabeth Pyott, Betsy Solis, Myron Summers, and Wendy Shupe.
My efforts to understand the history and technology of mechanical watches was greatly aided by Aurel Bacs and Daryn Schnipper, who shared their deep understanding of horology and the auction world. I would also like to particularly thank Isabelle Ah-Tec, Blair Hance, Maria Kelly, Yianbo Liu, Julien Marchenoir, Erin McAndrew, Aude Pittard-Campanelli, Nicolas Poupon, and Darrell Rocha.
During my travels while researching this book, I always found refuge with good friends at my various stops along the way: in London, the Vassallos, Mary, Peter, Alex, Ellie, and Mira; Gedi and Offri Hampe and Chana and Naftali Arnon in Jerusalem; and in San Francisco, Kathy and David Rosenberg-Wohl, who also helped guide me through the issues of family trust law and the mazelike Graves family trusts.
The MacDowell Colony gave me the chance to immerse myself in the early writing of this book with an incomparable view of the New Hampshire woods, as well as the great luck to meet the wonderful Alvin Singleton and Mamiko Otsubo, both of whom I now call friend.
I offer thanks to Bill Saporito, who graciously sent me on completely unrelated reporting assignments for Time that kept me in the world of twenty-first-century journalism, even as my mind was occupied in turn-of-the-century America and eighteenth-century Europe.
For the production of this book, I would like to thank my editors: Leslie Meredith, Dominick Anfuso, and Donna Loffredo; also Jennifer Weidman, Elisa Rivlin, Kathryn Higuchi, and Leah Johanson. I am especially grateful to Marty Beiser, who first saw its potential, and my agent, Michelle Tessler, for her unflagging support.
Finally, thank you to my many lovely friends and family who provided support in a variety of instances and who listened as I excitedly described my “Nancy Drew moments” (or at least pretended to). Bettina Chavanne also translated French texts, Michelle Freedman’s historical knowledge helped me with period fashion, and Duke Sherman provided digital mastery. Leslie Frishberg, Jeremy Quittner, Karyn McCormack, Esther Perman, Sue Ruopp, and Susan Scandrett kept me in laughs and encouragement. Thank you, thank you all!