The miniature grandfather clock never ticked in Greg Allison’s childhood.
The clock, just 7 inches high, sat under a rounded glass dome on one of the highest shelves in the library of his family’s house in Rochester, N.Y.
One night in 1981, when Greg was 15, his father, a World War II veteran of few words, opened up about the silent timepiece after a few drinks.
It was a wedding gift, he said, from Greg’s grandfather, a master watchmaker in Los Angeles with unmatched technical prowess. Greg’s father told him that about a dozen other watches made by his grandfather had been lost. Perhaps they were somewhere in Los Angeles.
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When Greg’s grandfather gifted the clock to his son and daughter-in-law, he attached a note.
“See if you can find one like this,” he wrote.
Greg took his grandfather’s message to heart. He vowed in his diary that night to find the other 12 clocks.
Charles Allison is a mystery. Perhaps that is what has made him so compelling to his grandson. He built watches and clocks at his little storefront in Sherman Oaks for decades in the first half of the 20th century. The technical difference between a watch and a clock is that a clock has a pendulum, while a watch does not. Most of the watches Charles made look like what we call clocks.
His business was as a repairman, though, and the watches he made were kept on a pair of shelves in the store.
Two small signs on the shelves bore the admonishments “DO NOT HANDLE” and “NOT FOR SALE.”
Charles’ store became the subject of a few newspaper stories, and those clippings were passed along to Greg by an uncle. One clipping, missing both the date and the name of the publication, called his grandfather “Charley”:
“Don’t let the modesty of Charley Allison and his unpretentious shop fool you. He is one of the outstanding watchmakers and watch repairers in this country. ... We left [the shop] with the impression that Allison is not only a mechanic but combines with his work considerable artistry and creative ability.” The reporter noted that Charles’ watches weren’t for sale.
When Greg’s father told him about his grandfather, he recounted a story about a Texas oilman who tried to buy the “Allison Mystery Clock.”
The Allison Mystery Clock — which was, to be precise, a watch — told time, but no one besides Charles had any idea how it worked. It simply ticked. The phenomenon delighted visitors to the store, who came from places as far off as Ohio and Alaska to see the clock and try to determine how it functioned.
Unique timepieces created by Charles Allison. (Scott Serio / For The Times)
“Why ask? He won’t tell,” one person wrote in the 700-page signature book Charles kept at the store.
“When you approach it you just seem to see right through it,” wrote a reporter for the Van Nuys News in 1941. “You take it in your hands and there’s nothing particularly to see, as far as what makes it tick is concerned. ... You don’t wind this clock — it is not connected — as far as the eye can see with anything electric, static, psychic, psychological, radio beam or other phenomena.”
The Texas oilman asked Charles for a price.
“It’s not for sale,” Charles said.
The Texas oilman put a blank check on the table.
“It’s not for sale,” Charles repeated. The oilman left, the Mystery Clock stayed.
Celebrities, actors and musicians, engineers and watchmakers came to the store to marvel at Charles’ creations.
“I’d like to be able to keep time as well as your clocks and watches do — and I’m supposed to be a fair drummer,” wrote Gene Krupa, the legendary jazz drummer, in the signature book.
Greg’s father descended from one of several branches in Charles’ family tree, the one Charles started with his second wife.
Judy Allison belongs in another branch, the one Charles started with his fourth (and final) wife. Charles’ stepson from that marriage, Jimmy Smith, is Judy’s stepfather.
A few years ago, Jimmy suffered a stroke and in 2021 Judy prepared to move him from his San Fernando Valley home to her place in Montana. When she asked him what she needed to bring with them, he croaked, “The clocks.”
When she was growing up, she did not know much about Charles Allison.
He died before she was born. She just knew Jimmy always viewed Charles as a father figure.
She also remembered growing up in the Valley just around the corner from the old watchmaker’s Woodland Hills shop, where her stepgrandmother continued to live after Charles’ death. The front “showroom” had been left intact. Watchmaking tools were still strewn around.
After her stepfather’s stroke, Judy went to his house and began packing. She found black-and-white photos curling at the edges in the garage. They were of Charles and his family. She realized the photos were not of her family members, but of those from one of Charles’ previous marriages. Some were taken in New York, and Judy realized that they might be of interest to Charles’ descendants in Rochester, of whom she had heard.
She also found a photo of 12 of Charles’ timepieces, sitting on the store shelves, with the sign — “NOT FOR SALE.”
After Judy found the photos, she searched her stepgrandmother’s old room and found little bundles wrapped in cloth and tied with string or with rope, depending on their size. She had found the clocks.
“I could tell they had been wrapped up like that for the 70 years since he had died,” Judy said.
She matched each clock to the photo she had like pieces in a puzzle. One, however, was missing: a miniature grandfather clock.
Why do people search for things? And what does it say about them?
Judy and Greg were both searching across the country: Greg for the clocks, Judy for the extended family members she had never met.
They both searched and researched. In 2017, after he turned 50, Greg was having a martini in front of the broken miniature grandfather clock. It was time to look in earnest for the clocks.
He started on the internet but could not find anything about watchmaker Charles Allison. Then he tried looking in California museums. Over five years, he made three trips to Los Angeles in search of clues.
He visited where the store used to be. He met with someone in the San Fernando Valley Historical Society. He made trips deep into the basements of the Los Angeles Public Library’s central branch downtown.
What he discovered almost made him give up. A divorce decree between Charles and his third wife surfaced nothing about the watches, but laid bare nasty accusations against his grandfather — accusations of spousal violence.
“It put a big, dark cloud over everything for me,” said Greg, now 58.
He returned to New York in 2019 dispirited and decided to focus on the timepiece he did have.
He brought the broken clock to an Amish watchmaker in Jasper, N.Y., who was able to take it apart and fix it — 68 years after it had stopped running.
“He mentioned that I should be really proud of my grandfather: that he was in a class of his own. It got me reignited on the path to find the clocks,” Greg said. “It was validating to meet someone neutral, who knows about clocks. Not just a watchmaker, but a watchmaker’s watchmaker. For him to validate my grandfather meant a lot to me.”
Greg brought the clock home and made a YouTube video about his grandfather and his search for the rest of the collection.
“I felt like the repair of that clock to me symbolically repaired some of the shame of the disconnect between my grandfather, my father and myself. I loved the concept of that being repaired,” he said.
He went back to L.A. when the COVID-19 pandemic eased in 2022. He even hired a private detective, though he was disappointed with the man’s effort.
By that point he’d spent five years searching, and he was no closer to finding the clocks than when he started.
Judy brought the clocks to Montana and decided to find the Rochester Allisons. Then her stepfather Jimmy fell and broke his hip. Life got in the way.
Every once in a while she would Google “Allisons in Rochester, New York.” She never got any hits.
One day she typed in “Charles Allison Watchmaker,” something she’d searched for before. This time, a YouTube video popped up, the one Greg made about the miniature grandfather clock.
“Greg was just so excited about this story,” Judy said. “He was so enamored by the skill of his grandfather. I thought, ‘That’s so awesome. He’s been searching too.’ I totally could relate to the searching: wanting to solve the story and tie it up.”
So she commented.
“Hello! My name is Judy Allison,” she wrote. “Your grandfather married my step-grandmother. I recently cleared out my stepfather’s home and I have many many photographs of your grandfather and your family and I have been searching for a way to get these photographs to your family.”
She sent Greg an email. She sent him a message on Facebook.
In her haste and excitement, Judy made a typo: “My step grandmother was married to your grandfather and I how the clocks you are looking for.”
Greg saw the message at work and thought that “how” was supposed to be “know” — that she had heard about the clocks as well. He didn’t immediately trust Judy, who coincidentally had the exact same name as his sister, Judy Allison. (She had changed her name from Smith to Allison to make her name stand out more in her profession, real estate.) He suspected a scammer. Eventually, he responded that he might be able to have a “quick chat” that week.
“I have a box of really cool photographs that I know are your families [sic],” she replied. “I also have the rest of the clocks.”
Greg’s jaw dropped “to the floor,” he said.
“I was like ‘holy s—,’” he said.
“I was just super excited to tell him,” Judy said. “He had been searching for so long for these clocks. Here they are on my windowsill. I’ve been looking at them for a year, marveling at them. I already knew I wanted him to have the clocks.”
The two got on the phone that night and talked for hours.
Judy understands the complicated relationships some people have with their fathers. She was raised by her stepdad, who was raised by his stepdad.
When she was 17, she found her biological father.
“I understood Greg’s quest, him wanting to know about his family and his connection to them. I understood him wanting to understand,” she said.
Greg had not been close to his father. He was the youngest of six. His father was already 46 when he was born.
“This is about seeking connection with my paternal heritage,” Greg said. “I had this mysterious, genius grandfather I didn’t have a chance to meet. I needed to learn about who I am and where I’m going in life and what I’m going to accomplish.”
“Greg grew up looking at the clock and wondering. He had that fire in him,” Judy said. “I never thought about it for two seconds. It was a done deal. I knew those clocks should go to him. I never even thought about keeping them.”
She invited Greg to her home in Hamilton, Mont.
Greg drove with his sister — also Judy Allison (he calls them Judy Florida and Judy Montana) — to Montana, where they spoke with Judy and Jimmy Smith — who was able to communicate a bit despite his stroke.
“He was able to sit down and relive his childhood,” Judy said of her stepfather. “He would say a few words and I could fill in the story for everybody. He just really enjoyed himself and sat there with us all three hours going through photos.”
Judy gave the clocks to Greg, and he packed them into the car and drove them to Rochester. The Amish watchmaker helped him get them running again.
“I believe the man was definitely above and beyond the average watchmaker’s capabilities — in fact quite a bit,” said the watchmaker, who asked that his name not be used. “I believe the man was a genius.”
The watchmaker disassembled and reassembled the timepieces, studied their intricate parts all handmade by Charles. Some of the pieces are unique, the watchmaker said, and more complex than a Rolex. His favorite is the World Clock, which tracks time in 24 different time zones. You can see through the center of the clock.
“I have yet to see a picture of another clock that will match this,” the watchmaker said.
Greg decided to fulfill his grandfather’s wish and put the clocks in a museum.
They are now on display in Columbia, Pa., at the National Watch and Clock Museum. On July 26, the Allison family gathered at the museum for a reunion to celebrate the family watchmaker whose creations were so long forgotten.
Only one clock is missing from the display: the Allison Mystery Clock. No one can find it. Judy believes it may have been thrown out accidentally during the cleaning of her stepfather’s house.
But Greg has a smaller version of the clock, called the American Mystery Clock. And he has what may be his next mission.
“We may someday re-create the big mystery clock.”
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