Masking the Truth

Clove Gum 2Everything seemed peaceful for Dr. John Welles in August of 1952. Despite a lifetime of dealing with secrets, whether keeping them for the sake of a loved one or generating secrets of his own, Dr. Welles believed he had finally found sanctuary in the hills of West Virginia. But it wasn’t to be.

By helping Bea Turner, who had become quite dear to him, John made a deal with the representatives of evil itself: the Ku Klux Klan. In his naiveté, he underestimated how truly wicked the Klan was and promised a favor in return to be fulfilled at the Klan leader’s whim. The day the favor was called in set John on his most destructive path so far. He turned to alcohol as a stabilizing factor in his downward spiraling life, yet he was unable to retain any sort of control. Alcohol claimed Dr. Welles for its own, and by submitting to the influence, he continued to lose what was dear to him.

One way the doctor kept people from discovering his alcoholism was to chew strong clove gum. Although I never mentioned brands, I always had Adams Clove Gum in mind for John when masking his drinking. He wouldn’t have been the first to do so.

Clove gum was first manufactured by the Thomas Adams Company in 1914. After working as a photographer and glassmaker, Adams tried his hand at inventing. The only thing he invented of any worth was achieved in the 1850s. While working as a secretary to the Mexican President, Antonio López de Santa Anna, the pair attempted the business venture of using chicle as a cheap alternative to expensive rubber tires. After a year of trying, the project was abandoned, and Adams eventually realized he could use chicle to produce a better type of chewing gum. He formed a company that by the late-1880s was making gum sold across the country.

In 1899, Thomas Adams became part of a new company called American Chicle Company which merged the six largest American chewing gum manufacturers. He remained a member on its board of directors until 1905 when he died. American Chicle Company was renamed Adams in 1997, and The Adams Company has since been acquired by Cadbury. Today it is known as Cadbury Adams. Cadbury Adams continues to use the same packaging used in 1914 to capitalize on the nostalgia factor, and the formula has remained essentially the same as well.

Commercial production of gum dates only to the mid-1800s making clove gum one of the oldest, continuously sold flavored gums on the market. It was especially popular in the Prohibition era, when people believed that they could cover up the scent of alcohol on their breath by chewing it.

Every few years, Adams Clove Gum makes an appearance on the market and is scooped up by longtime fans ensuring that candy and gum sellers run out quickly. The Internet helps when looking for new suppliers, however, my recent tour around the Internet didn’t reveal any sources at the moment.

While many young people today haven’t heard of clove gum, among its devotees, Thomas Adams will forever be remembered as the father of the modern day chewing gum industry.

Beer and Cigarettes

I think I might be a terrible mother. (Somewhere my mother is nodding her head Yes.) Ever since our son, Joshua, was born, I have tried to make good choices for him until he was old enough to do so for himself. For those of you who know me, you’re probably thinking This is going to be one of those stories where she believes she’s been too hard on Joshua, but we’ll reassure her she did the right thing. It’s not.

It started the day we took Joshua to B.A. Sweetie Candy Company in Cleveland. Our baby was going to be a freshman in a few days, and we wanted to give him a treat before he started high school. What better way to ensure our baby remained a baby than by taking him to a gigantic candy warehouse?  The usual complaints of are we there yet didn’t even phase us as we made the long trip. We had to endure them because our destination was a surprise. Imagine the look that would appear on Joshua’s face when we arrived. I did.

I dreamed about the three of us leisurely strolling every aisle, choosing candy with the same care a diamond buyer would give an uncut stone, and greedily wiping out over half our stash on the long trip home. It would be perfect. And it was with the exception of one small glitch:  Joshua spied the gigantic Jelly Belly dispenser upon entering the building. He rushed over and began reading flavors on the front of each sleeve of jelly beans. No, no—this is not how we do it. Joshua, you completely passed the bins of old fashioned candy over here. We must do this in an orderly manner so we don’t miss anything or overspend. Of course, I didn’t say any of this to him.

“Mom, they have Pomegranate.” (His favorite flavor in life.) “And look, Cappuccino. Can I have these, Mom?”

“Well, Jelly Belly Beans are very expensive. Why don’t you make sure this is what you want before we take them out? We can’t put them back like wrapped candy.”

“Okay.”

What a great kid. He endured my plan of touring the building and found other things he wanted. He enjoyed it, too. I was secretly pleased when he chose a few old fashioned candies that pre-dated me. Tootsie Pops and candy cigarettes had been favorites among the candy in my Halloween pumpkin. However, the Jelly Belly Beans were his goal and exactly where we ended up. That’s fine. I tactfully pointed out that he needed to weigh the beans to about a quarter of a pound so we didn’t go over our candy budget. Like the trooper he is, he did.

It was no surprise when he chose Pomegranate and Cappuccino. Then he found a flavor that wasn’t exactly, how should I say this, savory?

“Mom, look—Draft Beer.”

“Uh, yeah. What about Mint Chocolate Chip or Mango Chili?”

“Can I have these?”

“Why?”

“I want to see if they taste like beer.”

“And how would you know? How about Sizzling Cinnamon? Those are great, Josh.”

He smiled halfheartedly and shoved his hands in his pockets, but he didn’t move away from the dreaded flavor. My inner mother braced for a confrontation. I stepped closer to appraise the offending candy. It was actually quite pretty; a soft golden jelly bean with a pearlescent coating. So innocent looking.

“All right, but just a few.”

We paid for our ridiculous quantity of candy and went home a happy, satisfied family. Internal mother reared her head again, so only one item each was sampled during our drive. Joshua did not choose the Draft Beer beans. That happened a few days later.

He sat cross-legged on my bed with his bag of beans. I could tell he wanted my approval for having chosen them and now eating them. He placed one in his mouth and chewed. The expression on his face was priceless.

“Ugh, they do taste like beer.”

“Again, how would you know?”

“Here, Mom, try one.”

How to describe the taste? Really, really cheap beer that ends on a sickening sweet note. What were you thinking, Jelly Belly? What’s worse, the flavor lingered on my breath. I believe these things would get a person in trouble with a cop in the event that said person was pulled over for speeding.

“Aauugh, this awful. I can’t believe I let you buy these.”

Joshua was quite entertained at this point. He wanted something else from the pile and grabbed his candy cigarettes. That’s when it hit me.

My precious baby sat there with a bag of Draft Beer jelly beans and a candy cigarette elegantly positioned between two fingers. He held it like a pro. Images of out-of-control college parties swam before my eyes.

“I am such a terrible mother. I let you buy Draft Beer jelly beans and candy cigarettes.”

An ornery grin spread over Joshua’s face, lighting up his eyes, before he said, “What kind of parent are you?”

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