by Robin L. Flanigan

Rudy Hoellein was 13 years old when, as a refugee from East Germany after World War II, the West German government tested him and the other students to match them to a particular trade. Later that year he began a three-year apprenticeship with a watchmaker. "I had the ability to think in a logical way," recalls Hoellein, owner of highly rated Rudy's Watch and Jewelry Repair near Eagle Creek Park. "If one wheel turns one way, the other wheel has to turn the other way."

Before owning his own business, which opened in 1987, Hoellein spent most of the time after his 1961 immigration to the U.S. working at Rost Jewelers downtown, except for a stint serving in the military and at the Omega watch service center in New York City. The shop serves a clientele that sometimes spans four generations, many of whom were customers at his former job.

Hoellein is a certified master watchmaker, which means he can build a watch from scratch and repair both vintage and high-quality models. There aren't many like him these days, as watch repair is a highly skilled profession that feeds a strong demand but is becoming a lost art.

For a variety of reasons, the pool of qualified servicers has plummeted over the last few decades. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the number of watch repairers has shrunk from tens of thousands in the 1960s to just over 3,000 in 2006. "Watch repair is a beautiful art form, and a lot of the people who work in it are dying," says James Lubic, executive director of the American Watchmakers-Clockmakers Institute, a trade group based outside Cincinnati. He puts the median age of the group's members at 62. "But you talk to the old guys and they'll tell you these are the good days," he says. "There's more work and money to be made than in years back. And there's no sign of it ending anytime soon."

Watchmaking goes back centuries, although the human need to divide the day into segments goes back much farther, with obelisks helping Egyptians separate morning from afternoon as early as 3,500 B.C. The first pocket watch, which had only an hour hand, was invented in 1524. In 1656, Dutch scientist Christiaan Huygens made the first pendulum clock and later developed the balance wheel and spring assembly — two parts still found in some wristwatches today.

Although the invention of the wristwatch dates back to a piece of lady's jewelry in the late 19th century, French watchmaker Louis Cartier created the first practical model by request from a famous aviator friend in March of 1904. The watch, made for Alberto Santos-Dumont, had a leather band and a small buckle and allowed the aviator to check the time while keeping both hands on the controls.

Wristwatches began gaining favor over pocket watches during World War I, as officers found them critical in formulating time-sensitive attacks in battle. Military pilots saw the same benefit, and as a result the Army contracted with watch manufacturers to make wristwatches for all its men. The A-11, a simple watch with white numbers on a black face, was popular among American airmen during World War II.

The watchmaking profession has gone through many technological changes over the past 70 years, including the introduction of the self-winding watch in the '40s, the electric watch in the '50s, the electronic watch in the '60s and, perhaps most significantly, the quartz watch in the '70s. The quartz watch brought the most upheaval. Many watch repairers, fearing that people would simply replace their inexpensive quartz watches when they broke, left their jobs for another line of work. Enrollment in watch schools steeply declined.

But the flush '90s ushered in a newfound interest in modern mechanical watches and a flourishing secondary market for vintage timepieces, which translated into a growing need for repairers with the skills to work on both the old and new.

That need shows no sign of slowing. In response, several watchmaking companies are subsidizing training schools in an attempt to grow their own service industries for the products they sell. Rolex USA is taking the lead. In 2001, it founded the Lititz Watch Technicum, a two-year program in the heart of Pennsylvania Amish country. The luxury brand also sponsors programs at colleges in Seattle, Minnesota and Oklahoma. "Our mission is to foster a new generation of watchmakers in the U.S.," explains Charles Berthiaume, a senior vice president for technical operations at Rolex and president of the Lititz Watch Technicum, which enrolls only 12 students each year because training is so intensive.

The school has turned out 62 graduates so far. "Many young people aren't even aware that watchmaking is a viable career option," Berthiaume says. "It's not even on their radar. But there is plenty of work and job security in the future for them."

Second-year student Jen Loos, who grew up in Elmira, N.Y., taking apart old clock movements for her watchmaker father, originally resisted going into the family business. Her maternal grandfather also was a watchmaker; her mother is a jeweler. But after graduating from college with a sociology degree, she thought, "Why on earth did I do this? This is not what I'm best at." She took a skills assessment test that showed a strong aptitude for math and engineering, and with continuing encouragement from her father, decided to enroll in watchmaking school.

"I run into so many people who, once they find out what I'm doing, are like, 'Really? People still do that?'" says the 24-year-old, who hopes to advance to working on clocks. "It's challenging and demanding, but to me it's a blast."

In November, Rolex formed the Swiss American Watchmakers Training Alliance to design a new certification process for its educational programs, which validates that graduates from the watch programs are trained in modern methods of repairing.

For his part, Hoellein, who's retired but still works on orders from home, is training his daughter, Monique, to take over much of the repairs. "She has the talent to do it, and that is something not everyone has," he says. "The eye-hand coordination has to be very, very concentrated. It has to be perfect."

Monique and her older sister, Nicole, worked at the store as teenagers and returned years later as partner and president, respectively. Earlier this year, the women helped Indianapolis resident David Clapp open an heirloom watch he was afraid would break if he tried on his own. Inside was a neatly folded square piece of paper that identified the watch's owner as his great-great grandfather, one of northern Indiana's pioneers in the late 1800s. "It was obvious they have a great love for old watches because they both kind of pounced on it and hovered over it," Clapp says. "It wasn't hard for them to figure out how to pry it open ... It's really quite precious to me."

Although he had little say in his vocation, Hoellein has always been proud of his work. It shows in the framed training certificates he has hung at the store and at home. "This was kind of chosen for me, but I've never regretted it," he says. "I've loved it all my life."