JB's Warehouse & Curio Emporium

Source: the Telegram , March 22, 1922. The same day that the Toronto Star heralded the work of Frederick Banting, Charles Best, J.B. Collip, J.J.R. Macleod and their associates for giving those afflicted with diabetes a "message of hope," this disgusting "medical breakthrough" appeared in the Telegram . I believe the same technology has been employed in fiction to cure vampirism. I also don't doubt that stories like this warmed the hearts of casually racist readers, or those who might have believed such a quack invention would truly improve humanity.

How to turn a nice sketch of a turn-of-the-century gentleman into a depiction of a hideous victim of venereal disease: assign the printer to randomly drop ink over a second copy and switch his fancy tie into a bow tie. The victim in today's ad looks not so much like a tragic sufferer of syphilis, but more like an Edwardian conception of a zombie or a gentleman whose portrait was painted by Basil Hallward .  Source: the Toronto World , May 21, 1902.

Long before innocent victims of zits were urged to Oxycute them, sufferers of acne, boils and other facial skin eruptions were urged to try quack medicines like Stuart's Calcium Wafers. Besides working their magic on pimples, these wafers were also touted as a remedy for constipation, liver problems, nerve damage, "and all disorders and symptoms arising from impure blood." One group who took issue with the product's claims of "scientifically" treating pimples were health authorities. The "Propaganda for Reform" column ( PDF ) of the June 1, 1918 edition of The Journal of the American Medical Association determined that not only were the manufacturer's claims about the wafers being safe for children and containing no poisonous ingredients were "false and misleading," but that the remedy "did contain a poisonous ingredient, to wit, strychnin ." Source: The Toronto World , March 25, 1910 - JB

( full size version ) Six respectable-looking Edwardian Torontonians can't be wrong, can they? Even if this miracle revitalizer contains ingredients like arsenic and strychnine ? Alvin Wood Chase (1817-1885) was an Ann Arbor-based patent medicine salesman who received his medical training in fits and spurts while supplying local doctors and drug dispensers. He wrote a series of home remedy handbooks that recommended treatments like using water that toads were boiled in to heal sprains and a variety of poultices to battle cancer . By the late 1940s, Dr. Chase's miracle product was manufactured in Oakville (where the local historical society has posted a 1949 A.W. Chase almanac ). Ads continued to be produced, such as one posted on Kitchen Retro targeting 1950s housewives. Further websurfing indicates that you can still rely on the good doctor to lift brain fog and prevent loss of flesh. Source: The Toronto World , May 13, 1904 - JB

But wait, there's more! For a limited time, we'll toss in a set of sanding discs that allow you to use the Spot Reducer for simple household tasks like finishing furniture! Considering that this magazine is titled For Men Only , I'm guessing this product was meant to be purchased as a gift for the little lady, or else it wasn't considered macho enough to show a man using this product apart from its untapped potential as a workshop tool. For Men Only was one of Martin Goodman's stable of men's adventure magazines that flourished from the early 1950s through mid-1970s. Though the contents page indicates this issue was put out by Canam Publishers (one of about six million publishing house names Goodman operated under), this issue bears the Atlas distribution logo that also marked Goodman's comic book line, which evolved into Marvel Comics. Stories tend toward the first person and are distinguished by sensationalistic titles and gory subheads. These ma...

Source: Teen-Age Love #70, May 1970 Word placement is crucial when trying to sell a product. The manufacturers of this low-end weight loss aid should have fired the ad designer or the 1930s-era doctor staring into his microscope for continuing to suggest that fattening foods are delicious. I suspect the designer was clumsy when pasting together the Dr. Kildare wannabe, text from the 1950s and a picture of his girlfriend from their Florida vacation three years ago. Then again, the intent might be to subtly convince weight-conscious teens that sneaking a few snacks is OK, which leads to continued purchases of Vel-X to reduce extra flab that never quite disappears. Also note the very small print near the bottom of the middle column that "your own experience may, of course, vary." Gullible readers were too exhausted by the sheer volume of text used in this ad (or the repetition of "thousands" of users, who were actually Lily and Janice Thousands of Cedarhurst, NY...