Quack! Quack!

A while back, I was presenting a lecture at the Orlando Public Library and I’d arrived early, so that I had time to peruse their used book store. On that particular day, I unearthed a gem: Doctors of the Old West, published in 1967 by Bonanza Books. To me, the only thing more fascinating than medicine is outdated medicine, so I plunked down on a stool and tore into it.

The author, a Mr. Robert F. Karolevitz, sets the stage with an exposé on Native American medicine, which he describes in all its gory detail (he provides no references, so you have to wonder if these aren’t simply urban legends).  He opens with a juicy anecdote:

            With permission of his tribal chief, the Apache medicine man placed the two babies back-to-back, and with a single bullet, killed both of them.

What an icebreaker. Bob goes on to explain that the infants were dying of smallpox anyway, and that by killing both infants with one shot, the shaman would only be credited with one death. How economical.

To his credit, Mr. Karolevitz does expound on the many natural remedies utilized by the “gourd-rattling incanters,” as he so graciously refers to them, and credit is certainly due. 

Native Americans had extensive knowledge of their natural world and relied on herbal remedies to treat their ill and injured. Grape and elderberry were blended into tonics; poultices of skunk cabbage and honeysuckle vine were applied to sores; and teas from a number of plants, such as sagebrush and willow, were used for diarrhea and upset stomachs. Since plants represent the earliest forms of medicine, going back over five thousand years in China, it’s no wonder the Indians were working wonders with weeds.

Robert then describes the miraculous changes that took place once “civilized” medicine arrived on the frontier (his quotations, not mine). This so-called civilized medicine showed up just in time to treat the natives still struggling against the onslaught of diseases toted aboard the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria, along with other pestilence-ridden ships from Europe. 

But our civilized medicine has boasted quite a few “gourd-rattling incanters” of its own. They may not have literally shaken gourds, but they might as well have, for some of their early remedies certainly didn’t do anything for the patient (aside from expediting death).

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines “quackery” as “the methods and treatments used by unskillful doctors or people who pretend to be doctors.” And these so-called “quacks” have a long and colorful history. Let’s take a look.

One form of quackery that became part of pioneer life in America were the “snake oil” salesmen, the most famous being Clark Stanley. Mr. Stanley, aka, “The Rattlesnake King,” drew large crowds by throttling rattlesnakes while he pitched his “medicine,” which was supposed to heal everything from toothaches to broken bones. Stanley’s potion, like so many concoctions being sold across the country, wasn’t medicine at all. His snake oil turned out to be mineral oil mixed with a bit of beef fat. A dash of turpentine gave it that authentic “mediciny” flavor. Ironically, when Clark was forced to fess up, he tried shifting the blame, attributing his potion to an Indian medicine man. Quack!

Another form of quackery relied on the shape of one’s head. Dr. Joseph Gall believed that a person’s moral and intellectual abilities were based on the size and shape of his brain. Since the skull conforms to the brain, he believed trained practitioners could simply “decode” one’s personality by translating the bumps on the skull. Dr. Gall demonstrated his technique, known in professional circles as phrenology, by identifying certain nodules on the heads of criminals. He also identified bumps associated with courage, cleverness, and murderous instincts. Soon, phrenology parlors were cropping up all over town, where one could go to have his head read and his personality deciphered. I wonder if Gall ever identified a bullshit bump?
Quack! Quack!

But the most outrageous and “ballsy” form of quackery goes to Dr. John Brinkley, who wasn’t really a doctor, but paid five hundred bucks for a fake diploma before launching the most preposterous transplant scheme in the history of medicine. 

When a male patient of his complained about a lack of sex drive, the good doctor came up with the perfect solution. Brinkley's previous position as house doctor at the Swift meatpacking company had exposed him to the enthusiastic mating activities of goats, so it made perfect sense to implant those hypersexual goat testicles into his flaccid patient. The new-and-improved patient was able to miraculously impregnate his wife, and before Brinkley knew it, business was booming. Alas, after performing over sixteen thousand testicular transplants, his medical “license” was revoked. He did, however, die a very wealthy man.
Quack! Quack! Quack!

Even in this day of modern medicine, quackery still abounds, and the Internet provides a most expedient means of spreading it far and wide. So beware of anyone claiming to reverse the aging process, cure your baldness, or magically grow your penis. 

If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Here's my article from Archaeology Magazine, examining evidence for medicine among the Archaic people from Windover. There's an expanded chapter in my book, Life and Death at Windover: Excavations of a 7,000-year-old Pond Cemetery.

And here's a fun read on some of the famous quacks of our time. The goat-loving Brinkley is included!