The Brannock Device

Each fall, Mom bought new clothes and shoes for the first day of school. My new dress came from the Montgomery Catalog, but new shoes required a trip to the shoe store with floor to ceiling shelves of shoe boxes and more hidden in the back.

The clerk pointed us to the slick vinyl seats with chrome arms, pulled up his little stool with a slanting platform covered in rubber treads and grabbed the shiny stainless steel measuring device from its hook on the wall. “Now who is getting shoes today?” he asked. My mother indicated her five children.

Sitting in front of me, he slid off my right shoe, and placed the device on the floor, “Stand up and put your foot on this,” he said. I stepped onto the metal tray. His fingers slid behind my ankle verifying that it set snugly in the heel cup. I watched him slide a concave steel pointer beside my arch until it fit perfectly over the bone at the widest part of my foot – he had found the correct arch length of my foot. On the other side he slid a wider plate with numbers until it aligned with a set of letters to find the width. My toes pointed at my toe’s shoe size.

Comparing the arch and toe lengths he announced my shoe size, “What are you looking for today?” he asked my mother. With her description in mind, he began pulling boxes off the shelf. He snapped open the lids, expertly slid them under each box and shoe horned the tight new shoe onto my right foot resting on the rubber lined slide of his stool.

“Try walking in that,” he motioned to the carpeted aisle. I walked. He added the left shoe, felt the shoe for its fit. And my new shoes went back into the box and onto my mom’s growing pile.

A recent estate sale reminded me of that annual fall ritual. In the workshop, midst a table covered with screwdrivers, dremels, hammers and boxes of nails and screws, I found one of those foot measuring devices from my childhood. I had not seen one in years. I picked it up, asked the price and decided I could afford the oddity that I did not need. It’s officially known as The Brannock Device. Mine provides the calibrations for fitting women’s shoes. Men require a different calibration for their feet as do children. The Brannock Company also produces separate devices for children, ski boots and athletic shoes.

It all began with Charles Brannock of Syracuse, N.Y. whose father owned a shoe shop. Charles wanted to fit shoes perfectly every time. According to the Brannock Company website, Charles used an Erector set, to develop a prototype for the first foot measuring device. He used the device in the store. The shop became known as the place for the best fitting shoes. Other shoe stores wanted his invention.

In 1927 Brannock began manufacturing The Brannock Device. Brannock absolutely refused to make cheap plastic devices that would have to be replaced every couple years. He insisted on durable stainless steel.

I wanted to know how to use my new tool. I found instructive YouTube videos emphasizing the importance of The Brannock Device to find a comfortable fitting shoe. I absolutely agree. When all my shoes irritated my feet, I went to a specialty shop. The clerk took off my shoe, pulled out The Brannock Device and said, “Stand here” and began pushing slides. My feet had grown. Fitted with the right size shoe, I am ready for another school year.


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