By Russ Stewart – Victoria, B.C.
At 15, I was the “boy of all work” in the pharmacy in my hometown in 1946. I had many an adventure and many a learning experience there, though one anecdote in particular sticks in my mind.
One of the local men had brought home an English war bride, complete with baby boy. One winter day she came into the pharmacy and asked me if we had any ear caps. I knew she didn’t want earmuffs, but admitted I didn’t know what ear caps were.
She explained that they were designed to fit over a baby’s ears and hold them flat so he didn’t lie with the cartilage doubled over and become “cabbage-eared”, as she called it.
I knew all the stock in the store and most things that were available from our suppliers and nothing matched that description. I’d never heard my mother or my grandmother mention ear caps, either. I told her I doubted ear caps were available in Canada. She looked at me trustingly and asked what I suggested as an alternative.
New product might work
Being a reasonably bright young fellow and a keen salesman, I was well informed on everything that came into the store. Just that morning, we’d received an initial shipment of a brand new product called “Scotch Tape.”
I’d read the material that came with it. It explained it’d been developed for masking cars for painting, and had been reformulated to be useful in a wide variety of applications. As I recall, each little roll sold for 15¢ and came in a metal dispenser decorated in a tartan pattern.
I explained to the young mother if she cut off a strip of this Scotch Tape about 9-inches long and stuck it over one ear, then around the back of the child’s head and over the other ear, it would keep his ears nice and flat. Even I was a little surprised when she agreed with me and bought a roll.
I later wondered what happened when she tried to remove the tape with the child’s hair sticking to it. I wondered if the little fellow grew up with a warped psyche as a result. If he became an axe murderer it would be my fault!
Many years afterward, my mind was set at ease on this point. I chanced to meet a woman who was the boy’s aunt. She laughed when I told her the story and said I needn’t worry, the baby was now 50 years old and both he and his mother (and his ears) had survived my advice just fine!
