CTR

A familiar ring: Choose The Right rings adorn the fingers of kids the
world over - but the history of the famous Mormon symbol is a little
fuzzy
By Jessica Ravitz
The Salt Lake Tribune
Salt Lake Tribune

Scattered about Douglas "Coy" Miles' Federal Heights home are remnants
from years in promotional sales. Collection plates featuring wildlife
artwork by Clark Bronson of which Miles says he sold 25,000 sets. Aged
brochures showcasing awards, plaques and assorted Relief Society
jewelry created for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Copies of paintings by famed Mormon artist Arnold Friberg, which Miles
personally commissioned to commemorate the 100th anniversary of
college football. "I had to go sit with him to make sure they got done
on time," Miles says. But in a small blue box resting on his dining
room table is the star of them all: an original CTR (Choose The Right)
ring, this one made in Taiwan. "It's the smallest, simplest thing I
ever made, and now it's become the biggest," says Miles, 90, who
claims the logo design, the sample, the manufacturing and the
distribution of the ring - at least in the beginning - were all him
and his employees at Balfour Merchandising.
Turns out Miles isn't the only one who's staked a claim on the
famous Mormon symbol meant to guide moral behavior. Several names,
which he asked to keep off the record, come to Miles' mind. In fact,
he says he once spotted on the road a license plate surrounded by the
words "Father of the CTR Ring."
"I tried to run him down and couldn't follow him," Miles says, and laughs.
Last month, The Salt Lake Tribune ran a feature obituary about a
woman, Helen Alldredge, whose daughters said their mother - during her
service on the LDS Primary General Board - designed the CTR shield
logo, which adorns more than rings, now appearing on everything from
T-shirts and ties to stationery and socks.
The response from readers was enormous. Mixed in the calls were
tales of other CTR logo-creation stories, tips offering various names
of designers, even theories about why the history is fuzzy. In a world
where countless Saints say "everything is done by committee," the
whodunit, really, began to raise questions.
"There was always controversy about whose brilliant idea this was,"
said Mary Griffiths, one of Alldredge's daughters, contacted in Oregon
last week. "Mother never cared. You're just serving the Lord. . . .
It's not like you get paid for what you do."
Griffiths, 59, only knows what's been gleaned over the years, and
says her mom was on the committee that, in the 1960s, came up with the
original CTR lesson manual, a mainstay for children in the LDS Church.
And she's always believed that her mother, while sitting in Lurene
Wilkinson's living room with Margery Cannon, sketched the now-famous
shield logo.
Reached in the same Salt Lake City home where this original sketch
allegedly took shape, Wilkinson helped clarify what had happened. She
says she, Alldredge and Cannon (now Wiscomb) were new Primary General
Board members who'd done a lot of research about how to best reach and
teach children. Wilkinson, in her mid-80s, remembers Cannon suggesting
that children liked "secret symbols." Alldredge, she laughs, didn't
like the "T" in "CTR," so for a while Wilkinson says the women played
with the idea of using "RC" for "Right Choice." Those letters,
however, conjured up ideas of "Roman Catholic" and "RC Cola," which is
why they came back to CTR. As for who sketched the actual shield logo,
which is on the original 1963 lesson manual, Wilkinson isn't sure who
was responsible.
"It just evolved," she says. "I don't want to detract from
[Helen's] honor and glory, she was an absolute angel. . . . But when
you're trying to give credit, you run into trouble. . . . I just think
you have to give it to all three of us and leave it at that."
Wilkinson says she suggested putting CTR on a ring, as a reminder
for children. She'd given her own daughter a special ring to remind
the girl to stop twisting her hair in school, Wilkinson explains. But
she says LaVern Parmley, longtime president of the Primary board, shot
down the idea, claiming the endeavor would be too expensive.
The actual ring and the forces that saw it through to fruition
would only come to light later. At least sort of.
In 2001, Jerry Johnston of the LDS Church-owned Deseret Morning
News wrote a piece about Norma Nichols, then 90. He wrote that
Nichols, while serving on the board in 1970, "chaired the committee
that invented the ring." Along the lines of Wilkinson's claims, this
committee reportedly thought about dropping the "T" in "CTR" and
instead considered a "CR" ring for "Choose Right." Johnston quoted
Nichols as saying, "I went home that night to think about it. That's
when the inspiration came that the word 'the' was the most important
word of all. Choosing right could mean many things, but choosing the
right meant there was only one way."
Selecting Miles to get involved was, it seems, the next step. Miles
says LaVern Parmley approached him in 1970, asking him to come up with
something to help the committee.
"She said, 'Coy, I want you to go work with the 6-year-old
committee. They need something that the kids can use and not lose, if
possible,' " he remembers. "I decided that the best thing I could do
is work out a ring for the little kids."
So, according to Miles, the ring was his idea. He says he went to
Joel Izatt, an artist Miles employed, and told him what he wanted to
see. Izatt, of Clearfield and now 66, confirms that he designed the
shield logo - as it's seen today - per Miles' directions. That sketch,
the only one submitted to the Primary board committee, was approved. A
craftsman employed by Miles made the first ring sample, and for 10
years, Miles says he was the sole manufacturer and distributor of the
adjustable CTR rings, which were sold for between 31 and 40 cents
apiece.
The first 10,000 rings "turned little kids' fingers black," so he
replaced them all at his expense, says Miles, who wears on his own
finger his company's sample Class of '73 BYU ring, featuring a large
sapphire surrounded by more than a dozen diamonds.
Today, the symbol created for children adorns LDS community fingers
across the globe. The CTR logo has been translated into Spanish ("Haz
Lo Justo") and dozens of other languages, including Romanian, Samoan
and Hilgaynon. What was once an inexpensive, simple token has now
morphed into hundreds of styles available for prices from less than $1
to well over $200.
Last year, LDS Church distribution services, internationally,
distributed 522,455 new CTR rings in 24 languages, says William
Anderson, the inventory-control supervisor in Salt Lake City. And that
number doesn't reflect the sales in stores such as Deseret Book nor
the orders generated among licensed jewelry wholesalers.
Miles never registered the ring design with the federal copyright
office. And, in fact, the church owns the copyright for the design,
LDS Church spokesman Dale Bills says.
Even though Miles says he held the monopoly on production and sales
in the early years, he bears no grudges as he watches the rings'
soaring success. Instead, he reflects on the CTR ring and its history
- albeit sometimes convoluted - with pride.
"I didn't do it for myself," he says. "I always considered that
that design belonged to the customer I was working with."
In this case, just as Helen Alldredge, Lurene Wilkinson and Margery
Cannon did years before him, he was serving his church. And in the
end, for all of them, that was the only thing that mattered.
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* JESSICA RAVITZ can be reached at jravitz@sltrib.com or
801-257-8776. Send comments to the religion editor at
religioneditor@sltrib.com.