Cashing in on a Pain in the Neck

I own the little collection of mid-19th century ephemera posted here for a man who went by the name B. M. Kemp. The showcard below is printed on "porcelain stock," a glossy finish especially popular in the 1850s. This card tells the story that the poor fellow had "an awful growth on his neck" weighing 15 pounds. But he bravely, even boldly, went before the public for a fee, displaying himself and teaching his version of how the body worked.

Kemp also railed against what he called the "Horrors of Drug Medication," which hints that he had some alternative he was likely selling at the conclusion of his lectures. (It was the usual sequence of events in medicine shows and advertisements to first show moral outrage about the worthlessness and dangerousness of competitor's medicines and those used by medical society doctors, after which the lecturer would present his own medicines, which he assured were genuinely effective). Kemp then showed another visual that may have been as unsettling as the abnormality protruding over his collar - a manikin with removable parts to show the onlookers something that most had never seen but constantly wondered about - the inside of themselves.

Kemp was a rare and odd-looking performer to be sure, but he wasn't the only unusual visitor hoping to entertain and educate while making some money in the towns he visited. Education and fascination collided in the pageant of curious people and creatures that toured throughout the American countryside during the mid-19th century. This was the era of Chang and Eng, the famous Siamese twins; Barnum's fejee Mermaid; and Tom Thumb; the time when lions, tigers, camels, and elephants appeared in large tents on the outskirts of town for a day or two before they disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.

It was also during this time that traveling medical and physiological lecturers captivated audiences by using manikins to illustrate human anatomy. Male and female anatomy was taught separately to the two sexes to protect the privacy and modesty of both as they listened to things about their own anatomy that they hoped might not be true but feared were. In 1850 a prominent doctor in Lynn, Massachusetts, lashed out at all the Kemp-style lecturers who had been giving presentations in his town, "What an abomination are all these self-styled "doctors,' going about preaching their balderdash 'physiology' ...." The Lynn doctor went on to criticize the anatomical accuracy of their manikins, describing the heart of one as looking more like an apple dumpling and intimating that other parts appeared to have been created from items in a toyshop.

Courtesy of Stanley B. Burns, MD & The Burns Archive

Who B. M. Kemp was remains a mystery. It may be that these three little scraps of paper are all that remain to testify of his existance. (We do know Kemp was a man, since the description says the growth was on "his" neck.) We don't really know what the "albuminate growth" was, but at that weight, it was probably close to the size of a bowling ball. When I came across a period photograph (attached here) of a man with a sizeable neck growth, it matched the image my mind had created of B. M. Kemp. Stanley B. Burns, MD & The Burns Archive (see www.burnsarchive.com) have kindly allowed me to share this image here (please note, however, that there's no evidence linking this photograph with B. M. Kemp).

Completing the Kemp collection are two small passes for his show, apparently signed by B. M. Kemp himself. Maybe they were the tickets visitors received to gain entrance after they had paid, or perhaps they were his version of VIP passes given to individuals with whom he hoped to curry favor - relatives, friends, or perhaps some local authorities who seemed otherwise ready to give him trouble.

His showcard left a lot of blanks because he was on the move and things kept changing: what town and building he would next lecture in, when it would happen, and even how much he felt people could afford to pay in the next location he was to appear. Sadly, there are many more blanks about B. M. Kemp than answers. Itinerants were experts at getting paid, disappearing quickly, and being untraceable.

If you know anything about B. M. Kemp's identity, please send me a note on my Contact page so that I can share it in an update to this post.

For more on traveling health lecturers, see:

PROMISING CURES, Chapter 5: Rabid Dogma

Lynn Massachusetts history - History of medicine - 19th-Century Health Remedies - Vintage Medical Ephemera - 19th-century medicine

Epitaph for “The Metaphysical Cure”

Well, the beautiful box I featured a few posts ago has been sold – definitely not to me. It went for $1,850 which comes as no surprise – it’s a historical treasure for sure.

I’ve done more research on these metaphysical medicines and their maker and I thought that these tidbits about a little-known 19th century medicine may be of interest, at least to the new owners of that great box!

Borrowing from Ben

Mrs. Martha G. Brown started her medicine selling career in 1860 when she was living in Philadelphia, selling Poor Richard’s Eye Water for 25 cents a bottle. Early on, her ads were accompanied by the quaint, cartoonish image of a bespectacled logo-style image of fellow Philadelphian, Ben Franklin, author of Poor Richard’s Almanac and the obvious inspiration for her medicine. The image was dropped by 1862.

Oh no I didn’t!

Mrs. Brown toured across much of the country over the next two decades, consulting with customers and promoting her medicine. In December 1862 she was at the Penobscot Exchange and the Bangor House, both in Bangor, Maine. She included one of several testimonials from Maine customers that got her in hot water. It was that of John Holyoke of Brewer, who testified that he had been “quite deaf in one ear for the past seven years”; then he visited Mrs. Brown on the 5th and after just one treatment, he could hear sounds. “The next day I could hear words distinctly.” Sounded great – it just wasn’t true – according to John Holyoke:

Mr. Editor:

     I notice in your paper, something purporting to be a certificate that I have been a subject under the treatment of Mrs. M. G. Brown, for deafness. As I have never been troubled with deafness, and as I never saw the woman, and know nothing of her, except that she has imposed upon the public in the use of my name, (for there is no other person of the name in Brewer) will you please publish this, and expose the imposition and oblige the public.

Respectfully yours,

John Holyoke

Mrs. Brown responded quickly, just two days later, hoping to restore her reputation. On Christmas Eve, she explained:

The cure of deafness performed in Brewer by Mrs. M. G. Brown, was on John W. Holyoke, nephew to John Holyoke …

Nothing more was heard on the subject, but by doing some genealogical, research, I determined that while John did have a nephew named John W. Holyoke living in Brewer, he was only 14 years old when Mrs. Brown claimed he had gone to her for help with his deafness – a problem that he supposedly had since he was only 7 years old. So, it could have happened ... maybe.

Bumpy Genius

In 1864 some of her newspaper advertisements carried a large portion of the phrenological reading she received at the famous New York phrenological firm, Fowler & Wells. It revealed, in part,

You are capable of making great discoveries; you have the power of invention. … You are not inclined to adopt other peoples’ thoughts.

She explained that she shared her phrenological reading to prove (1) that she shouldn’t be “classed  with Quacks or Humbugs who have experimented on the suffering masses till the blood of those slain by Quackery, pouring Medicine down the throat …” and (2) “I wish to appear before the world in my true colors …” She was absolutely convinced of the validity of phrenology.

The Lynn Connection

In the 1866 directory for Essex County, the Colcord & Snow drug store of Lynn, Mass., advertised Mrs. Brown’s Poor Richard’s Eye Water alongside its tough competitor, Thompson’s Eye Water, and many other patent medicines, such as Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters and Romaine’s Crimean Bitters, Cocaine, and Hasheesh Candy. Mrs. Brown's eye medicine means that much more to me since my focus has always been remedies that were made and/or sold in Lynn. Sweet!

So are Vegans Cannibals?

Here's an interesting excerpt from Mrs. M. G. Brown’s Metaphysical Pamphlet, published in 1871; after rereading it a few times, it sort of grows on you:

The hair is a field of grass; the eyes and ears are plants; the sight and hearing are Metaphysical plants, messengers to the mind; the teeth are plants; the tongue, heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, etc., etc., are all plants growing in the body – the Earth. God … preserves the earth in its abnormal state, with Dew, Rain, Frost and Snow ….

Selling Forever and Ever

Mrs. Brown kept spreading the good word about her medicines until her death. In 1868 she visited Chicago at the Matteson House and the Briggs House; in 1879 the then 70-year-old medicine maker gave consultations at the Carrollton Hotel in Baltimore, Maryland. In May 1881 she was in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, but she was nearing the end of her tour of Earth; she died two months later, in July. The New Orleans Times Picayune irreverently teased that although she was deceased, her advertising might live on forever on her gravestone:

Among recent deaths is that of Mrs. M. G. Brown, inventor of “Poor Richard’s Eye Water” and the eye, ear and scalp remedy known as the “Metaphysical Discovery.” The lady was in her seventy-third year, and although a dealer in quack medicines, was from all accounts very religious. It is said that she regarded the testimonials sent her as a reward from Heaven to be enjoyed in secret, but such a statement arouses a lurking suspicion that her heirs might …  inscribe a metaphysical advertisement on her monument.

Your doctor said There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute

In the year of her death, a doctor shared his unfavorable view of Mrs. Brown in a medical publication. He discussed three patients who had taken Mrs. Brown’s medicines, each experiencing eye irritation and ear pain until they finally came to him for help. The doctor was frustrated that all three went to Mrs. Brown before they came to him:

The well-known expression, “The majority of people wish to be humbugged,” seems to be true. It ever was, and no doubt ever will be, the fact, as long as the world stands, and mysticism and superstition reign over scientific and educated ideas.

The Legacy

The federal census of 1870 listed [Mrs.] M. G. Brown as a Metaphysical Physician with a personal estate valued at $100,000. Also living at her house were her assistant in the medical business, another general assistant, and a domestic servant, plus Elizabeth Billsland, who was simply “keeping house”, but she had $80,000 in real and personal assets.

 

In the 1880 census, only M. G. Brown and Elizabeth Billsland were listed in the house together; Mrs. Brown was simply “keeping house” and Elizabeth had “no occupation”. But then Mrs. Brown died in the next year and Elizabeth took over the business and even assumed the “Mrs. M. G. Brown” name to make a seamless transition in the medicine business.

 

When Elizabeth Billsland died on 20 November 1903, she was 65; she was never married and had no children. She had created her will back in 1883 when the medicine business Mrs. Brown had left behind was apparently still going strong. The will stipulated that her sister would receive her house at 51 Bond Street in New York City, along with all the furniture, books, & personal effects which it contained. She further instructed that The Metaphysical Discovery and Poor Richards Eye Water each be sold for $500,000.

 

I don’t think her heirs were ever able to sell the medicines, let alone for a half million dollars, since they disappeared from the marketplace. ... But one empty box has just sold for $1,850 – I think Mrs. Brown and Elizabeth Billsland would both be proud.

Lynn Massachusetts history - History of medicine - 19th-Century Health Remedies - Vintage Medical Ephemera - 19th-century medicine

Curing with Frost, Rain, and Dew

One thing you have to give to the patent medicine makers of the 19th century - they were definitely creative. Since each was positioning their remedy as unique in a very crowded marketplace, there were many that were determined to come up with a unique message - a never-before heard, unforgettable backstory to their discovery of the ultimate, unquestionable king of all medicines. Mrs. M. G. Brown's Metaphysical Discovery has to be counted among the most memorable concepts: medicines made of dew drops, rain drops, snow flakes, and frost crystals.

Mrs. Brown declared with no false humility whatsoever, that her medicine was "the greatest discovery ever made since the creation" and that "it has never failed in a single case to cure and prevent disease ...." It's hard to imagine why anybody else even tried to sell other medicines!

photo courtesy of AntiqueAdvertising.com

The stunning box pictured above is a treasure I would love to have in my collection. It's just made of wood and paper, but the story it tells is so much more. Printed somewhere between 1863 (the date on the label) and 1871, the label design is glorious in its Victorian effusiveness, telling in four different languages (one on each side), the curative joy found inside. The box contained three 18-ounce bottles, one each of the three remedies constituting the METAPHYSICAL DISCOVERY. To cure ANY disease, all three of her remedies had to be used together, "as they work in conjunction." They were:

No. 1 - Dew-Drops, entering in at the eyes ... correspond[ing] with the tear.

No. 2 - Rain, entering in at the ears

No. 3 - Frost and Snow, entering in at the Scalp

Mrs. Brown had published a pamphlet that explained the master plan behind her three medicines were really the plan of the Master "... I did not make the principles," she said humbly, "I discovered them":

... the sea is taken up by the water-spout into the clouds, the laboratory of the earth, and there prepared by Divine skill into moisture of a three-fold character ; the dew-drops, which God's industrious hand supplies every night, preparing the earth for the bursting forth of the sun ; the rain, which penetrates the heart of the earth, clearing obstructions ; the frost and snow, which act as a tonic, producing immediate circulation, bidding the dead earth leap into life.

The cost was $6.00 in 1871, which is equivalent to $151.31 in USD near the end of November 2023. Not bad for a trio of medicines that cured absolutely everything ... as long as you don't stew over how these cures were just three degrees of water ... it might make you steam.

Lynn Massachusetts history - History of medicine - 19th-Century Health Remedies - Vintage Medical Ephemera - 19th-century medicine