Medicine: A Revival of Quackery

Elisha Perkins was reputed to be able to cure almost any kind of ailment with two small pieces of “magnetized” metal. A couple of centuries ago, his “magnetic tractors” allegedly drew diseases out of such celebrities as George Washington. He was discredited only when his magnetic tractors were discovered to be two pieces of painted wood. Since Elisha Perkins’ day, medical charlatanism has made great strides, notes Dr. William H. Gordon in the medical magazine GP. Frequently the quackery is keyed to news of medical progress. Use of radioactive isotopes in medicine, for example, inspired some Comanche County, Texas entrepreneurs to sell packages of their local topsoil, which contained faint traces of uranium. Patients were supposed to sit with their feet in the topsoil for relief of rheumatism and other ailments.

Some of the products of charlatans have an ancient history. A turn-of-the-century fashion in ample bosoms produced “Bust-O-Fill”; the current bosom-conscious fad has resulted in “Kurv-On,” “La Contour” and “Charm-On,” which, says the Food and Drug Administration, “have about the same effect on the development or structure of the female breast as Smith Brothers cough drops.” The “magic detector” of Dr. Albert Abrams, a roaring success in the ’20s, popped up again last year in San Francisco. The detector enabled Dr. Abrams to “tune in on the electric vibration coming from a drop of blood and tell exactly what disease the patients were suffering from.”

Not all such examples are amusing. Use of the mails for medical quackery, according to Postmaster General Arthur Summerfield, is at an alltime high. Millions fall for quackery because their own physicians’ advice is undramatic, especially in fields such as cancer, where the physician cannot guarantee a cure. An estimated $500 million annually is spent by a duped public on misrepresented drugs or remedies sold door to door.