By Gary Dickson
I suspect there have always been frauds, flim-flams, hucksters and charlatans to prey on the naive. They tend to be intelligent people, usually with the gift of gab. For some reason, though, they choose to use their gifts and skills in an unethical manner, for a fast buck, instead of for making a positive contribution to society.
Even today we don”t have to look far to find someone hawking a cure-all medicinal product or some exercise equipment that is guaranteed to transform our body in no time with little or no effort, like the battery-powered abdominal belt. The ads told me all I had to do was wear it to develop six-pack abs.
The 1920s and ?30s was an era of abundant flim-flams. One of the most famous quacks of all-time was Dr. John Brinkley. He wasn”t a real doctor. He had three years of medical school and a diploma he purchased for $500.
People have always sought the fountain of youth. Brinkley capitalized on that fact and it helped make him a multimillionaire, which wasn”t easy during the Great Depression. Knowing that the male goat has a reputation for sexual potency, he started transplanting goat testicles into men whose abilities had started to fade.
Brinkley was a southerner, but he set up his first goat gland transplant hospital in Milford, Kan. Being a marketing whiz; in addition to a fantastic mail campaign he also bought a regional radio station and started broadcasting country music, religious programs and, of course, ads touting the benefits of goat gland transplants. On Sundays he personally delivered the weekly sermon broadcast. Brinkley may have sounded pious on Sunday, but come Monday if a patient didn”t have his $750 cash payment in full, he could become a real demon.
Eventually Brinkley became so well known that if it hadn”t been for a special rule for write-in votes he would have been elected governor of Kansas . On the other hand, he could have been classified as one of the country”s greatest serial killers. At least 42 men died on his operating table; many of whom were totally healthy when they checked into his clinic.
Brinkley also developed the Medical Mailbox radio program. He would read a listener”s ailment letter on the air and prescribe a treatment. His financial gain came through the medicines he prescribed. They were available, by number, through a network of drugstores. Later, it was discovered that many of the medications were nothing more than colored water and alcohol. There is no telling how many seriously ill people died because of a delay in receiving real medical care.
Eventually, the Kansas Medical Board banned him from practicing in the state. Having once said that he could generate three millionaire-making ideas before breakfast, Brinkley just pulled up stakes and moved on.
He next persuaded the Mexican government to allow him to set up a powerful radio station just across the border from Del Rio , Texas . He moved his clinic to Del Rio and started broadcasting to the entire United States and parts of Canada from his border blasting radio station XERA. For a while, his wealth grew. He sailed his yachts and rubbed shoulders with royalty.
After a number of years, though, his arch-nemesis, Morris Fishbein of the American Medical Association, was finally able to expose him as a fraud, nationally. The lawsuits broke Brinkley and died relatively young from a heart attack.
Brinkley ended or wrecked many lives and bilked thousands out of money they could ill afford to spend, but he was also an innovator. He gave the world modern methods of marketing, political campaigning and radio broadcasting. He spread country music to all of North America and gave us the X, the radio station that would later make Wolfman Jack famous and about which ZZ Top performed the song, “Heard it on the X.”
Gary Dickson is the publisher of the Record-Bee. Call him at 263-5636, ext. 24. E-mail him at gdickson@record-bee.com.
