Chronicling the almost unbelievable game of cat-and-mouse between John R. Brinkley, a “doctor” who settled in Milford, Kansas and made a fortune performing sham surgeries—implanting goat testicles into men and women with the claim it would make the younger, healthier, and more virile—and Morris Fishbein, the AMA official who made it his life’s mission to bust quacks and protect the public from medical shams, Pope Brock’s Charlatan is a surprisingly delightful read. Part biography, part social history, and part interdisciplinary study, this book is chock full of little-known facts about the swingingest of times (the 1920s and 30s, to be exact) and the brilliantly devious men who unknowingly shaped American politics, advertising, and medical regulations as they sought to make a quick million.

Charlatan is an immsensely enjoyable read that serves as an excellent example that narrative nonfiction can be just as engaging as fiction. And with a story like this, in which the truth is often stranger than fiction, you’ll wonder what took you so long to pick it up.

Plus, who doesn’t love a book with a goat on the cover? ( )

Pope Brock has written a terrifically good book about the gullibility of large numbers of Americans for miracle cures, as illustrated in the case of John Brinkley. Brinkley was a con man who made millions from playing primarily on the anxieties of men for whom Viagra has become the modern, medically approved solution. For Brinkley it was implanted goat testicles. In creating his empire of fraud in the 1920s and 30s, Brinkley also came up with several innovations in mass advertising and communication that we take for granted today.

In Brinkley's time doctors who favored an honest, transparent, and scientific approach to medical practice could do little other than denounce him in the press. There were few if any laws against Brinkley's scams, even though they resulted in the deaths of hundreds and perhaps thousands of self-deceiving souls. I was surprised to learn that it was only in 1964 that the first doctor went to jail for malpractice. The pressure of the American Medical Association, probably in concert with several other factors, ultimately led to laws that permit the prosecution of quacks like Brinkley. This book also details he fight between the AMA and people like Brinkley--although he was the premier fraudster of his day.

The author has produced a well-researched, well-put-together work. His writing style is fluid and utterly delightful. Every page has some sort of sardonic comment on the way willing subjects submitted to the massive crimes Brinkley committed. Even those who knew it was all a hoax underwent Brinkley's treatments anyway because they liked the guy so much. The reader comes away looking with fresh suspicion at today's popular medical treatments. I think the other day I tried Tea Tree Oil for something or other. Oh, well. ( )

Jackson County's most notorious native son was generous to the old folks at home, but his legacy is not great. Brock's book is really a parallel biography of 'goat gland doctor', John Brinkley, and the man who made it his mission to bring Brinkley down. There's good evidence to suggest that 40 some people died as a result of Brinkley's rejuvenation treatments. The AMA's effort to stop him was one of the first consumer safety crusades. ( )

Pope Brock has written a well-researched and very entertaining book about Dr. J. R. Brinkley, a fraudster who made millions promoting miracle cures. The most frightening and profitable of his ventures was curing impotency and ageing by implanting goat testicles into men.

The book looks at Brinkley's life, the rise of the American Medical Association, and the trials that ultimately led to Brinkley's downfall. It's written in the best traditon of telling a compelling story, and I would definitely call it a "page-turner"/

The author draws a parallel to today's avalanche of TV ads for miracle diet pills and e-mails about Viagara, bringing the book to a satisfying and thought-provoking conclusion. ( )

The goat cure and border radio.

"The rude reach of XER made some Americans hopping mad. After a hard day’s work, a lot of folks tuning in for Amos and Andy or Charlie McCarthy didn’t want to hear about testicles instead. But while they railed at 'Mexico’s radio outlaw' and the 'bootlegger of the air,' others reacted differently—for along with all the blarney and nefarious advice came some first-class Tex-Mex and hillbilly music, music millions had never heard before, music they knew nothing about. Music they loved."

Celebrator Dopplebock
Negro Modelo