THE HORD SANITARIUM

“Propaganda for Reform Department:—One often hears it declared that the present time is the worst ever known for a young man to make a fortune or get a start to one.

“All a mistake, as the enclosed letter from the Hord Skinatarium will certify. At $25 this equals $2,500 for 100 cases, $25,000 for 1,000 cases, and all any young doctor needs is a little push to be as rich as J. D. in a few months. If you know of any cases send ’em in and get your $25.

“K. T. Crossen, M.D., Carbondale, Ohio.”

With his letter Dr. Crossen encloses a circular letter from the Hord Sanitarium, “For Liquor and Drug Habits, A Cure Positively Guaranteed,” and an unsigned check on the Farmers National Bank, Shelbyville, Indiana, for $25 payable to himself. Printed on the check in large red letters is the statement:

“This check will be countersigned upon you bringing or sending us a patient.”

Fig. 1.—Photographic reproduction of the un­signed check that the Hord Sani­tar­ium sends to phys­icians.

Fig. 2.—Part of the letter that accompanies the check for twenty-five dollars.

The Journal has received these circular letters and unsigned checks by the hundreds from physicians who have expressed very frankly their contempt of the kind of business the Hord Sanitarium is engaged in. These correspondents seem to have overlooked the fact that The Journal has already commented editorially on this particular insult to the medical profession. For this reason we reprint the editorial note, “Ethics!” from The Journal, Sept. 27, 1913:

“We will pay you $25 for each patient that you bring or send us.” Thus, to physicians, writes the Hord Sanitarium of Shelbyville, Indiana, and continues: “We have a perfect and an absolute cure for all liquor and drug addictions.” Fearing doubtless that those to whom these offers are made may be disgusted with the first proposition and will realize the evident falsity of the second, the concern encloses a list of references “showing the high moral and professional standing of our sanitarium.” The Hord Sanitarium emphasizes further that it does a strictly “no cure no pay” business. Suspiciously similar is the offer made by the Mizer Sanatorium of Coshocton, Ohio, Blake V. Mizer, manager. Not many months ago Mr. Mizer was running the Hord Sanitorium (the concern’s own spelling), which at that time advertised “the only guaranteed cure.” Now, Mr. Mizer hurls invectives at those concerns that make “unreasonable guarantees” and adds virtuously that “we resort to no such unethical and pretended guarantee in order to do business.” Nevertheless, in small type in the northwest corner of his stationery, Mr. Mizer admits that his “proposition” is no cure no pay. The fees of the Mizer Sanatorium “are $125 to $250, depending on the room.” The physician’s rake-off is “20 per cent. of the above.” “This,” explains Mr. Mizer blandly, “is simply a matter between ourselves and does not concern the patient in any way.” Of course not. All the patient has to do is to pay the bills. And the Mizer Sanatorium is “conducted along ethical ... lines”—​Mr. Mizer says so. The Mizer Sanatorium has odd ideas of what constitutes ethics, medical or otherwise, for not long ago it advertised, in such medical journals as would accept its “copy,” that “medical ethics prevents the statement here of the whole truth about the Mizer treatment.” Of course medical ethics never prevented truthful statements of any kind. A dirty business; no other words express it. When the Hord Sanitarium and the Mizer Sanatorium claim to cure all cases of drug or liquor addiction, they make claims that are false—​cruelly false. When these concerns try to drum up trade by offering secret commissions to physicians they insult an honorable profession. The fact that they send out this sort of advertising matter is presumptive proof that there are some physicians who will patronize them. Such as do so are unfair to their patients and untrue to the ideals of medicine.​—(From The Journal A. M. A., Jan. 31, 1914.)