Rat Poison

Besides being a man of varied talents and striking personality, the late Robert T. Nelson was a great talker. Before his death in 1935, he awed his friends' by being able to discourse windily for hours on almost any subject. Among his accomplishments was his "discovery," around 1918, of an "element" now called vrilium, to which he attributed prodigious curative powers. Nelson did not explain exactly what he thought vrilium was, but he did claim that it was "radioactive."

In the early 20s, Nelson started packaging a pinch of vrilium inside an ordinary two-inch-long brass cylinder. Popularly called "The Magic Spike," the cartridge was sold to people suffering from a variety of painful diseases. Nelson was always happy to explain how it worked: when the cylinder was attached to the lapel (or hung around the neck), there were "emanations" into the atmosphere for a distance of 20 feet, discouraging all sorts of disease germs. Meanwhile, the vrilium was supposed to "emanate" inward, restoring the buyer's sick body cells to normal.

The Markup. So many ailing people in & around Chicago flocked to buy that in 1944 the Vrilium Products Co. was formed to manufacture and sell more Magic Spikes. Former Mayor Ed Kelly wore one to the 1948 Democratic National Convention, and credited the healing of a bone abscess to its power. Other wearers included Municipal Court Bailiff Al Horan and Illinois State Senator William J. Connors. Exact sales figures on the Magic Spike are unknown. Osteopath Raymond Kistler of Wyandotte, Mich, admitted that he bought 150 at around $150 apiece, resold them at $300.

Last week in Chicago federal district court, the U.S. Government was finally taking official, disapproving notice of the Magic Spike. Inventor Nelson's son, Robert T. Nelson Jr., and his partner George C. Erickson were on trial, charged, under the Pure Food and Drug Act, with "false and misleading" claims about the gadget's powers (maximum penalty: a year in jail, $1,000).

The Lowdown. The prosecution called half a dozen disease-ridden Magic Spike buyers to the stand, all of whom testified that they had been relieved of nothing but their money. Dr. George L.. Clark, head of the division of analytical chemistry at the University of Illinois, reported that the Magic Spikes he had tested contained no vrilium--whatever it might be--but merely 1/2,000th of a cent's worth of barium chloride, a cheap rat poison. Dr. Bernard Waldman, head of the nuclear physics laboratory at the University of Notre Dame, aimed a Geiger counter at six "radioactive" Magic Spikes in the courtroom. The judge and jurors heard no telltale rat-tat-tat.

Undaunted, the defense sent a parade of satisfied Magic Spike customers to the stand. One man testified that a Magic Spike had cured his dachshund, Hector, of paralysis of the hindquarters. He also declared that until he bought the gadget in 1939, he himself had been short of breath and unable to walk against the wind. After he got the spike, he said, he walked against the wind fine. Another witness testified that a Magic Spike not only cured his arthritis but also made his wife's violets blossom three times better than normal. Another man simply told the jury that a Magic Spike had improved his wife's disposition.

When young Nelson took the stand, he seemed unimpressed by the fact that his Magic Spikes had got no response out of the Geiger counter. Said he blandly to the jurors: "I believe we have an unrecognized form of radioactivity."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.