The Quack Doctor

Source: The Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette,17 April 1907

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Following on from the last post, we remain in early 20th-century America. But while Mayr’s Wonderful Stomach Remedy was fairly harmless (albeit rather revolting), this nostrum was notorious for the damage it caused in just 6 years of existence. Between 1906 and 1912, the Delta Chemical Company made more than half a million dollars by supplying morphine addicts with its own branded version of the narcotic.

The company was run by Dr Robert Prewitt and Ryland C. Bruce. Prewitt’s medical qualification was genuine, but he never had much success as a practising physician, trying his hand at surgical instrument selling in Little Rock, AR, until this venture went down the pan. He then became a travelling salesman for various chemical companies and ended up working at a St Louis sanatorium that ran a mail-order addiction cure business on the side.

Prewitt, in partnership with former insurance salesman Bruce, took over this business in 1906 and started to think big. They traded as the Delta Chemical Company and dubbed their product Morphina-Cura, an ‘infallible remedy’ for drug habits of all kinds.

The product name changed to Habitina in 1907, probably because titling something a ‘cure’ could lead to allegations of misbranding under the Pure Food and Drug Act. Addicts – then often referred to as habitués – were advised to ‘discontinue the use of all narcotic drugs and take sufficient HABITINA to support the system without any of the old drug.’ They should then gradually decrease the dose until they stopped taking it altogether.

This was in line with reputable medical practice, but for addicted patients with no supervision, life didn’t work out according to the instructions. Habitina contained 16 grains (approx 1g) of morphine sulphate and 8 grains of heroin per fl. oz. It was simply a more expensive way of continuing to take huge hits of narcotics – and of course the money went straight into Prewitt and Bruce’s pockets. The company hooked people in with free samples, and although they claimed to make patients answer a questionnaire, in reality they would send the freebies out to anyone who asked.

In 1912, Prewitt officially changed his name to Gregg because of his wife’s father’s will. Old man Gregg stipulated that his daughter must keep her maiden name or forfeit her inheritance of $50,000. Her first husband had gone along with it without changing his own name, but romantic Prewitt decided to be at one with his spouse, and the couple became Dr and Mrs Robert Prewitt Gregg.

Just a few months later, however, Prewitt’s fortunes changed. He and Ryland Bruce were arrested and charged with sending poison through the mail and with using the mail for a scheme to defraud. The trial revealed the devastating effect of Habitina on its victims, several of whom testified in court.

Some had experienced periods of insanity – Missouri mechanic Mr. H. I. C. lost everything and became a ‘maniac’ consuming a whole $2 bottle of Habitina every day. Mrs M. P. of Pennsylvania lost her reason and went blind as a result of taking the medicine, but hospital treatment eventually cured her addiction.

Perhaps the most tragic case is 26-year-old Mrs G. M. S., who spent more than $2,300 on Habitina over the course of 5 years, even going without shoes to be able to afford it. At the time of the trial she was still addicted.

Prewitt and Bruce were found guilty on both counts, fined $2000 each and sentenced to five years’ hard labour. It would be nice to end on that note, but the pair appealed. At the appeal court, Judge Munger dismissed the count of sending poison through the mail, as registered physicians were still permitted to do this, and sent the second count – the scheme to defraud – to a new trial.

At this point, I must own up to an epic fail, because I haven’t been able to find out anything about the second trial – if anyone can point me towards any sources, I’d be grateful. I imagine Prewitt and Bruce were acquitted because being unscrupulous doesn’t necessarily amount to a crime. They were careful to remain within the law as regards labelling their product, and made it very clear that Habitina contained morphine and that a cure would only result from a gradual reduction in dose.

They surely knew that they would make a fortune from addicts who would take it willy-nilly for years, but even with my lack of legal knowledge, I suspect this couldn’t technically be defined as a scheme to defraud. As you can see from the bottle label, they weren’t exactly misleading people about what was in it:

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A couple of weeks ago a I did a post about McMunn’s Elixir of Opium, and because I had quite a bit of information about it, I intended to do a podcast. Unfortunately I was suffering from the worst cold ever (N.B. every cold I have is the worst cold ever) so I couldn’t speak enough to do the recording. I’ve now been able to finish it (with a bit of help from the dog, who snuffles in the background), so you can listen on the player above, or by clicking here.

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In other news, I’m pleased to announce that The Quack Doctor is a finalist in the Medgadget Awards Best Literary Medical Weblog category. I’m up against some excellent contenders, but if you’d like to vote for me I would of course be delighted. You can see all the different categories and finalists here, or go straight to the poll here. Voting closes on 14 Feb.

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Source: Western Journal of Medicine and Surgery (Louisville, KY), July 1855 Click here for Transcript

There are no prizes for guessing what was in this. First formulated in the mid 1830s by Dr John B McMunn (or M’Munn), it became a big hit in the US once a drug company called A B Sands bought the recipe in 1841. The dosage instructions gave plenty of room for manoeuvre:

To a child a month old, or younger, give from half a drop to two drops; to a child 6 months old, from 3 to 10 drops; and to adults from 10 to 60 drops (or even double or treble that much, if the pain and other symptoms be severe and urgent) mixed in two or three teaspoonsful of water, according to the size of the dose. As the administration of every medicine should be governed by its effects, it is proper to begin with the smallest dose, and increase or repeat it at proper intervals until the desired effects are produced.

Although a ‘secret remedy,’ the Elixir was popular with physicians and was advertised a lot in medical journals. One of its selling points was that it was supposedly ‘denarcotised’, and thought to be safer than laudanum. Not all doctors, however, supported it. In 1850, the Western Lancet (Cincinnati) ran an article suggesting that it was inappropriate for the New York Medical Gazette to promote this dubious nostrum. ‘All this,’ they insisted later, ‘was conceived in the kindest feeling to the editor, and with no other motive than to correct what we conceive to be a serious evil to the profession.’

The editor, Dr D Meredith Reese, didn’t take the ‘kindest feeling’ too well. He called the Western Lancet‘s article an ‘unprofessional attack’ and asserted that the Elixir was not a secret remedy – if the Lancet‘s editors didn’t know what was in it, that was down to their ignorance. The Lancet commented:

Now it is exceedingly amusing to hear the declaration made by Dr. Reese, that this article is not a secret remedy, and yet he is unable to give its composition! This is funny indeed…

…Perhaps his system of ethics, like his favorite elixir, is also a secret.

In 1864 the original recipe came to light, showing the process of treating opium with sulphuric ether to remove the narcotine and make the product safe – a nice idea but narcotine doesn’t have narcotic properties anyway, and the medicine certainly was not safe. It was as addictive as any other opium product –  in the early 20th century, for example, George Pettey M.D. related the case of a woman who had taken the Elixir for 31 years, losing 16 newborn babies to the congenital effects.

Another danger – not entirely the Elixir’s fault – was the possibility of mistakes on the prescription. An 1860s physician prescribed the product for a little girl, but instead of elx. of opium, he put exl., and doctors’ handwriting being what it is, the apothecary interpreted it as ext. (extract) of opium – a much stronger preparation that resulted in the child sleeping ‘the sleep which knows no waking.’

A particularly tragic case occurred in Monroe, NY, in 1875. A 17-month-old boy showed symptoms of worms, and ‘By the advice of an old Florida woman, who said it would cause the worms which were supposed to be in the child’s stomach, to have a good sleep‘, the mother gave him 15-20 drops of elixir every hour, sending worms and baby to sleep forever. When his breathing became rapid and rattly, she carried him to the nearest neighbour, a third of a mile away, but it was too late.

The child never moved a muscle from half past 3 till it died, which was about 11 at night, living some 12 hours after the last dose. It is a sad thing to see the child cut down in health as it were, and at an age when all the cares of the parents and affections of its brother and sister were at its very height of enjoyment. The little fellow was at play in the morning as ever and at 11 at night was a corpse.

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Many thanks to R L Ripples of TweetsofOld for the story from the Monroe Gazette and Courier.

Dr James Wilkins Haines was a Quaker physician from Cincinnati, and you can learn more about his eventful life at Karen Campbell’s Quaker Genealogy blog.

In 1917 the American Medical Association denounced his remedy (by then known as “Haines’ Golden Treatment”) as “a cruel humbug.” On analysing the powders, they found them to comprise “milk sugar, starch, capsicum and a minute amount of ipecac.”

Image: Gustav Imlaür, Ihr zu Füßen! 1883

DRUNKENNESS, LIQUOR HABIT

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In all the World there is but one Cure. Dr. Haine’s GOLDEN
SPECIFIC. It can be given in a cup of coffee or tea, or in
articles of food, without the knowledge of the patient, if
necessary. It is absolutely harmless, and will effect a per-
manent and speedy cure, whether the patient is a moderate
drinker or an alcoholic wreck. IT NEVER FAILS. It
operates so quietly and with such certainty that the patient
undergoes no inconvenience, and ere he is aware, his com-
plete reformation is effected. 48 page book of particulars
free.–H. HODDER & Co., Agents, Broad Street, Bristol.
Trade supplied by LYNCH & CO., LONDON.

Source:  The Bristol Mercury and Daily Post, Friday 20^th Feb 1891
Note: The misplaced apostrophe in “Haines” is as in the original.

 In theory, the ipecac holds promise as a cure – bung it in the guy’s whisky bottle and he might be violently sick whenever he takes a drop, thus he begins to associate drink with sickness.

There wasn’t, however, enough ipecac to make an impression beyond the normal effects of alcohol, and even if there were, the advert advises putting the remedy in the patient’s coffee – so at best it might put him (it’s always a him) off coffee.

There is something particularly sad about the fact that this remedy wasn’t aimed at alcoholics but at their families, who might invest in it a quantity of both hope and money that they could ill afford.