The October 14 1930 edition of the Toronto Daily Star contained a patent-medicine ad that featured an endorsement from a former governor of Georgia.
Clifford Walker (1877-1954) was the governor of Georgia from 1923 to 1927. He is best known for being a member of the Ku Klux Klan.
Sargon was invented by George Francis Willis, who had previously made a fortune with Tanlac (which appears in an advertisement in this blog entry). The Ray City History blog has an entry on Sargon; it apparently contained just grain alcohol and a laxative.
The October 14 1930 edition of the Toronto Daily Star contained several ads for a movie titled Jenny Lind. By an unfortunate coincidence, two of them appeared on top of ads for patent medicines:
The ads were for a 1930 movie about the life of 19th century opera singer Jenny Lind, known as the Swedish Nightingale. As far as I know, this movie did not cause or have an effect on indigestion or hemorrhoids.
The September 27 1928 edition of the Toronto Daily Star contained another testimonial for Husky patent medicine. (An earlier endorsement was discovered here.)
As usual when an actual name and address appear in an ad, I check in the Toronto city directories to see if the person actually existed. Usually, I find the person, but not this time: I couldn’t find Thomas G. Harvey in the 1927, 1928, or 1929 city directory. And 260 Seaton was occupied by, in order of year, by “Mrs. Williams”, William Leakey, and Edward Andrews.
Perhaps Mr. Harvey stayed in town only briefly – only long enough to consume three bottles of Husky, relieve his stomach pains, and then go on his way. I’ll never know.
The September 22 1926 edition of the Toronto Daily Star contained this patent medicine ad:
As usual with patent medicine ads that contained a Toronto name and address, I looked in the Toronto city directories to check whether this was a real person. I discovered that the 1926 directory listed Edson Bradshaw at 413 Wellesley, so he actually existed.
However, Mr. Bradshaw might have just had a change of fortune. The 1925 directory lists him as a painter and decorator at 159 Bleecker, but the 1926 directory lists him with no occupation. Either the directory compiler didn’t record his job, or he was now out of work; if the latter, he might have been more likely to offer a paid endorsement to Tanlac.
I tracked Mr. Bradshaw for a bit:
- In 1927, he was still listed at 413 Wellesley with no recorded occupation.
- In 1928, he wasn’t listed at all, which appears ominous, but he reappears in the 1929 directory at 419 Leslie, still with no occupation.
- In 1932, he was at 60 Saulter without an occupation, but the 1935 directory lists him as a painter and decorator again, at 26 Walpole.
I hope this meant that his misfortunes were now behind him, and that he was in good health, with or without Tanlac.
The Weird Universe site has an entry on Tanlac. Apparently, it had been exposed as a fraud in 1915, but continued to be sold for at least another 30 years.
The July 19 1928 edition of the Toronto Daily Star contained this ad for a patent medicine that claims to have cured the ills of a Toronto housewife.
When I see a name and address in a patent medicine ad, I like to look it up in the Toronto city directories to see if the person giving the testimonial really existed. In this case, there really was a Mrs. Mary Wilson at 210 John Street in 1928. However, she was not a housewife, as the ad claims: the Seneca Apartments were at that address, and she appears to have been living alone. She was there in 1929, but both she and the apartments did not appear in the 1930 directory.
Because she had such a common name, it was impossible to trace forward from there, so I thought I would try going back. The 1927 directory lists Mrs. Mary Wilson as living at 218 John Street instead of 210; I don’t think it’s too great a leap to assume that this is the same person. The 1926 directory also lists her at 218 John, and has an occupation for her: she was working as a serger at the Berger Tailoring Company at 256-260 Richmond Street West, which was very close by. But there was nobody named Mary Wilson working there or living at 218 John in the 1925 directory, so once again she is lost to history.
Husky and its proponent, A. G. Payne, are also lost to history – I could find no reference to either in searches. This is unusual, as a patent medicine seller often leaves a large paper trail. Mr. Payne isn’t local, either, as there is no one named A. G. Payne in the 1928 city directory.
To complete the collection of dead ends: 210 John and 218 John no longer exist. The block of John Street between Stephanie and Grange is now Grange Park.
The June 3 1925 edition of the Toronto Daily Star contained two ads on the same page for products that claimed that they were effective against rheumatism.
Product #1 had the appropriate name of Rheuma:
Who would not want swift, gratifying relief from agonizing pains (I mean, seriously)? A Google search on Rheuma found nothing, so I have no idea what it contained.
Product #2 was gin pills:
Gin Pills were apparently primarily marketed as being good for the kidneys, and gin-soaked raisins have long been considered a folk remedy for arthritis, though there is no proof that this actually works.
According to Google Maps, there actually is a place named Lower Economy in Nova Scotia. I guess business didn’t exactly boom there.
Here’s an ad from the May 9 1932 Toronto Daily Star for a product of dubious medical value:
A Google search for Reudel Bath Saltrates didn’t turn up anything definitive. An image search showed that it had been historically used to treat foot troubles, so this was a new marketing twist. I could find no word on whether people’s feet became thinner.