Killing Us Softly Read online

  Six months later, in June 1978, the court would reconvene to see whether laetrile was working and to determine who would care for Joey Hofbauer: his parents or the state.

  Michael Schachter didn’t limit his therapy to laetrile. For the next six months, he also gave Joey raw milk, raw liver juice, cod liver oil, soft-boiled eggs, Staphylococcus phage lysate (staph bacteria infected with a virus), pancreatic enzyme enemas (which partially dissolve the lining of the colon), massive doses of vitamin A (which cause blurred vision, bone pain, and dizziness), a vaccine to prevent “Progenitor cryptocides” (a bacterium believed by a physician named Virginia Livingston to cause all cancers), a vegetarian diet, daily coffee enemas made by adding three heaping tablespoons of regular coffee to one quart of water (coffee enemas had already caused two deaths), seven injections of an “autogenous vaccine” (made from bacteria in Joey’s urine), and Wobe-Mugos enzymes (a combination of several pancreatic enzymes obtained from pigs). None of these therapies had been approved for use in people, and all were arguably in violation of New York State laws on human experimentation. A cancer specialist who later testified at Joey’s trial called it “a witch doctor’s diet.”

  In June, six months into Joey’s unconventional treatments, the Saratoga County Department of Social Services, Dr. Michael Schachter, and several cancer specialists appeared before Judge Brown to determine whether Joey’s alternative cancer cures were working. Most damning was the testimony of John Horton, a professor of medicine at Albany Medical College and a board-certified cancer specialist, who had recently examined Joey. “On feeling the left side of the neck there was a [large] lymph node under the angle of the jaw,” he said, “and just below that another [large] lymph node [and] a string of lymph nodes coming down the neck as far as the clavicle [collarbone].” At the time of his diagnosis, Joey Hofbauer had had one swollen lymph gland; now he had seventeen. Dr. Anthony Tartaglia, a board-certified hematologist and chief of medicine at St. Peter’s Hospital, had also examined Joey. “There is no question in my mind that the extent of Hodgkin’s disease in [Joey] is much greater than when I examined him in December,” he said. Tartaglia added that the laetrile that Joey had received was the “equivalent of not getting any treatment.”

  There were other worrisome signs. Tests showed that Joey had liver damage, most likely caused by dangerously high doses of vitamin A. Also, Schachter apparently didn’t realize that Joey’s “occasional nausea and abdominal cramps” were probably caused by cyanide poisoning from large doses of laetrile, having never obtained blood cyanide levels to check it out.

  Unlike the cancer specialists who had examined Joey, Michael Schachter believed his program was working. “I think he is doing very, very well,” he said. “I’m just not as concerned about these lymph nodes in the neck as the other physicians. I feel that [laetrile and metabolic therapy] will be playing a major role in the way medicine is practiced over the next five to ten to fifteen years and consequently I would say that his treatment has been more than adequate, it has been superior.” The Hofbauers brought in their own experts—specifically, laetrile promoter Hans Hoefer-Janker; laetrile’s inventor, Ernest Krebs Jr.; and Marco Brown, who ran the Fairfield Medical Center, in Jamaica. On July 5, Judge Brown ruled in favor of the parents, stating that they were “concerned and loving” and that Dr. Schachter was “duly licensed.”

  Although the cancer had spread into his neck, Joey was in the early stages of Hodgkin’s disease. And the Saratoga Department of Social Services wasn’t giving up. There was still time. Unfortunately, public sentiment was turning in favor of laetrile, making it harder and harder for Joey to get the medicines he needed to save his life.

  By the end of the 1970s, laetrile wasn’t just a drug; it was a social movement.

  Led by Robert Bradford, of Los Altos, California, the John Birch Society—an ultraconservative organization dedicated to eliminating government regulations—founded the Committee for Freedom of Choice in Cancer Therapy. By 1977 the committee claimed five hundred chapters and thirty-five thousand members. Committee members influenced popular television programs like 60 Minutes, magazines like Newsweek, and commentators like James Kilpatrick, all of whom promoted the wonders of laetrile. Almost singlehandedly, they successfully rallied public support for the drug. In 1976, Alaska became the first state to legalize both the manufacture and sale of laetrile; by 1978 fourteen states had followed; by 1979, twenty-one. Most Americans favored the legalization of laetrile; by 1980 it was a billion-dollar-a-year industry. A movement had been born—a movement that would soon include one of the most popular movie stars of the day.

  In the summer of 1978, Steve McQueen (The Great Escape, The Thomas Crown Affair, Bullitt, The Towering Inferno) suffered from a persistent cough and weight loss. Doctors diagnosed him with bronchitis, then walking pneumonia, then a fungal infection. Eventually a lung biopsy revealed the problem: mesothelioma, an aggressive type of lung cancer. After learning he had cancer, McQueen checked into Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles to begin radiation and chemotherapy, which didn’t work. Doctors told him he had only two months to live. So McQueen took matters into his own hands, choosing to treat himself with laetrile at a clinic in Mexico run by William D. Kelley.

  Kelley was a flamboyant, charismatic promoter of alternative therapies. Born in Arkansas City, Kansas, he had studied dentistry at Baylor before setting up a clinic in Fort Worth and later in Grapevine, Texas. There Kelley started a mail-order vitamin business. Like Michael Schachter, Kelley believed nonspecific nutritional therapies could treat cancer. Under the direction of Kelley, McQueen received laetrile, massages, shampoos, megavitamins, nutritional supplements, chiropractic adjustments, a high-fiber diet, sheep embryo shots, enzyme implants, and twice-daily coffee enemas (marketed as Kelley’s Koffee)—treatments that cost McQueen ten thousand dollars a month (equivalent to eighty thousand dollars today).

  Kelley used McQueen’s celebrity to promote laetrile. Appearing on the national television show Tomorrow, hosted by Tom Snyder, he said, “Those doctors gave him no hope. But his chances are excellent. I believe with all my heart that this approach represents the future of cancer therapy. It took Winston Churchill”—one of the first people to be treated with antibiotics—“to popularize antibiotic medicine. Steve McQueen will do the same for metabolic therapy.” McQueen echoed Kelley’s enthusiasm; appearing on Mexican television, he said, “Mexico is showing the world this new way of fighting cancer through nonspecific metabolic therapy. Thank you for saving my life. God bless you all.”

  The John Birch Society’s manipulation of the media and the celebrated case of Steve McQueen influenced public opinion. Laetrile had moved into the mainstream. On December 14, 1978, the Saratoga County Department of Social Services appealed Judge Brown’s ruling of six months earlier. The case went before Judge Sweeney of New York’s Third District Court of Appeals, who reaffirmed the earlier decision: “We are of the view that there is ample proof to support the findings and determination of [Judge Brown’s] trial court.”

  Joey Hofbauer would continue to be treated by Michael Schachter.

  The Saratoga County Department of Social Services still had one more appeal—one more chance to save Joey Hofbauer’s life. The decision would be made on July 10, 1979. Fortunately for Joey Hofbauer, several events had been set in motion that would soon reduce the public’s desire for laetrile. But Joey was getting sicker; the clock was ticking.

  On May 26, 1977, Franz Ingelfinger, the distinguished editor of the New England Journal of Medicine, published an editorial titled “Laetrilomania.” Ingelfinger wrote, “As a cancer patient myself, I would not take Laetrile under any circumstances. If any members of my family had cancer, I would counsel them against it. If I were still in practice, I would not recommend it to my patients.” Despite his personal feelings, Ingelfinger suggested a definitive study—one that would settle the argument once and for all. In December 1979, the FDA granted an “investigational new drug” license for laetrile, opening
the door for a study. This was the first time in the history of the United States that the FDA had approved human testing of a cancer drug that had never been shown to work in experimental animals.

  While researchers were designing Ingelfinger’s laetrile study, other events were working on Joey’s behalf. In July 1977, Senator Edward Kennedy of Massachusetts held a hearing to discuss the value of laetrile. Testifying in favor of the drug were San Francisco physician and laetrile proponent John Richardson, John Bircher Robert Bradford, and laetrile inventor Ernest Krebs Jr. Kennedy didn’t buy it, saying, “There isn’t a scintilla of evidence that [laetrile] provides any sense of hope in curing or preventing cancer.” During the hearing, representative Terrence McCarthy of Massachusetts was less politic. “The people selling laetrile are crooks, liars, and thieves,” he said.

  Unfortunately, clear statements by the editor of the New England Journal of Medicine and Senator Edward Kennedy didn’t convince the courts that Joey Hofbauer had received inadequate care. On July 10, 1979, in response to the Saratoga County Department of Social Services’ final appeal, Judge Jasen ruled that he was “unable to conclude, as a matter of law, that Joseph’s parents [had] not undertaken reasonable efforts to ensure that acceptable medical treatment is being provided their child.” It was Joey Hofbauer’s last chance to receive the radiation and chemotherapy he needed. Jasen still considered laetrile, coffee enemas, pancreatic enzymes, and a “vaccine” made from bacteria in Joey’s urine to be “acceptable medical treatment.”

  On July 10, 1980, ten-year-old Joey Hofbauer died of Hodgkin’s disease, his lungs riddled with cancer. Although Michael Schachter acknowledged that Hodgkin’s disease had killed Joey, he claimed partial success. “Most of the body was either free of Hodgkin’s or minimally involved,” he said.

  Four months later, America’s most celebrated standard-bearer for laetrile, Steve McQueen, also died. After McQueen’s appearance on Mexican television, Cliff Coleman, a longtime friend, had paid him a visit. “I walked over and there was this skinny old man,” recalled Coleman. “No more than a skeleton with dark eyes and a matted beard, sitting swallowed up in an armchair.” McQueen told Coleman, “I can’t take it anymore.” One month later, McQueen was taken to a medical clinic in El Paso, Texas, where tests showed that cancer had spread from his lungs to his abdomen, liver, and pelvis. Within a few days, on November 7, 1980, during surgery to remove a massive abdominal tumor, Steve McQueen died of a heart attack.

  One year after the deaths of Joey Hofbauer and Steve McQueen, cancer specialist Charles Moertel, of the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, led research teams at UCLA, the University of Arizona, and the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, in New York, in the clinical trial proposed by Franz Ingelfinger. They treated 178 cancer victims with laetrile and high doses of vitamins, finding that the combination didn’t cure, improve, or stabilize cancers. “Patients died rapidly, with a median survival of only 4.8 months,” they wrote. “It must be concluded that Laetrile [is] of no substantive value in the treatment of cancers. Further investigation or clinical use of such therapy is not justified.” Researchers also found that several patients had suffered symptoms of cyanide poisoning from laetrile. Within a year of the publication, laetrile sales dropped dramatically. In 1987, the FDA banned the sale of laetrile. (It can still be obtained from clinics in Mexico or illegally from the Internet. In recent years, more websites have appeared promoting the drug.)

  In retrospect, the last best chance to save Joey Hofbauer had occurred in one court and one court only: Judge Loren Brown’s family court. This was the only time that cancer specialists had testified. Lawyers working on behalf of Joey had done their homework. The doctors and scientists presented by the state had published hundreds of papers, written book chapters on Hodgkin’s disease, chaired professional societies, headed research teams showing the value of radiation and chemotherapy, performed studies in experimental animals showing that laetrile didn’t work and was dangerous, or headed the FDA’s section on cancer treatments. They were, in short, the brightest, most accomplished members of their field.

  The doctors and scientists offered by the Hofbauers also shared several characteristics: none were board-certified in oncology, hematology, or toxicology; none had ever published a paper in a medical journal; none had shown any reasonable evidence that their therapies worked; and most didn’t even have hospital privileges. That Brown could rule in favor of the Hofbauers’ choice to deny their son a proven, effective therapy is unconscionable. But an explanation can be found in the record of the trial. In the section titled “Findings of Fact and Conclusion of Law,” Brown wrote, “This court finds that metabolic therapy has a place in our society, and, hopefully, its proponents are on the first rung of a ladder that will rid us of all forms of cancer.” Brown believed that his small family court in Saratoga County had witnessed a miracle—a breakthrough that would soon turn cancer therapy on its ear. To Judge Brown, the notion that laetrile and coffee enemas could treat Joey Hofbauer wasn’t a matter of opinion; it was a “Finding of Fact.”

  There was another force working against Joey Hofbauer in Judge Brown’s courtroom that day—a force far more powerful than clinicians like Michael Schachter or laetrile promoters like Ernest Krebs Jr. or ideologues like Robert Bradford. It was revealed during an exchange between the Hofbauers’ lawyer, Kirkpatrick Dilling, and Victor Herbert, a cancer specialist. Dilling was questioning Herbert about the value of bonemeal.

  DILLING: Calcium, is that an essential nutrient?

  HERBERT: Yes.

  DILLING: Are you familiar with the fact that bonemeal is very high in calcium?

  HERBERT: I’m familiar with the fact that bonemeal is a dangerous quack remedy because of its lead content and people have died from being given bonemeal instead of calcium properly in milk and milk products.

  DILLING: Isn’t bonemeal widely available?

  HERBERT: Certainly is, your organization pushes it.

  Dilling froze. His organization? Herbert had revealed something that wasn’t evident to most in the courtroom that day—exactly who was paying for the Hofbauers’ defense. Recovering, Dilling went on the offensive. “I want to state for the record,” he said, “that I’m proud to represent the National Health Federation and I would appreciate it if the witness would keep his views to himself.”

  The National Health Federation (NHF) is an organization that represents the financial interests of the alternative medicine industry. At the time of Joey’s trial, these therapies had become quite lucrative. Kirkpatrick Dilling was general counsel to the NHF. Against these powerful financial interests, Joey Hofbauer didn’t have a chance.

  Michael Schachter was never held accountable for his treatment of Joey Hofbauer. On the contrary, since Joey’s death Schachter has thrived, directing the Schachter Center for Complementary Medicine, in Suffern, New York. In 2010, a promotional brochure claimed he “has successfully treated thousands of patients using orthomolecular psychiatry, nutritional medicine, chelation therapy for cardiovascular disease, and alternative cancer therapies.”

  Joey Hofbauer’s story, while extreme, contains much of what attracts people to alternative therapies today: a heartfelt distrust of modern medicine (John and Mary Hofbauer didn’t believe the advice of hematologists and oncologists); the notion that large doses of vitamins mean better health (Joey was given massive doses of vitamin A, which was likely to have been to his detriment); the belief that natural products are safer than conventional therapies (the Hofbauers preferred laetrile, pancreatic enzymes, coffee enemas, and raw liver juice to radiation and chemotherapy); the lure of healers whose charisma masks their lack of expertise (Michael Schachter, a psychiatrist, convinced the Hofbauers he could cure their son, even though he had no expertise treating cancer); the power of celebrity endorsements (Steve McQueen was one of the most popular movie stars of his day); and, perhaps most of all, the unseen influence of a lucrative business (Kirkpatrick Dilling’s NHF, still active today, is
one of many lobbying groups that have influenced Congress to offer special protections to the fourteen hundred companies that manufacture alternative remedies in the United States).

  Part I

  DISTRUST OF MODERN MEDICINE

  1

  Rediscovering the Past: Mehmet Oz and His Superstars

  Oh, no, my dear; I’m really a very good man, but I’m a very bad Wizard.

  —The Wizard of Oz

  Few celebrities are more recognizable than Oprah Winfrey. At the height of her syndicated talk show, which attracted more than 40 million viewers a week, Oprah launched the career of a man who would soon become America’s most recognized promoter of alternative medicine: Mehmet Oz, star of The Dr. Oz Show.

  Like Winfrey’s, Oz’s show is also popular—more than 4 million people watch it every day. It’s not hard to figure out why. It’s the same reason that John and Mary Hofbauer were attracted to Michael Schachter, or Steve McQueen to William Kelley. Oz believes that modern medicine isn’t always to be trusted—that we should retreat to an age when healing was more natural, less cluttered with man-made technologies.

  On the surface, Mehmet Oz would seem to be the last person to argue against modern medicine.

  After graduating from Harvard University, the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine, and the Wharton School, Oz climbed the ranks at Columbia University Medical Center to become a full professor in cardiovascular surgery. He performs as many as 250 operations a year and has authored 400 medical papers and book chapters. Six of his books have been on the New York Times best-seller list. Oz was voted one of Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People, the World Economic Forum’s Global Leader of Tomorrow, Harvard University’s 100 Most Influential Alumni, Esquire’s Best and Brightest, and Healthy Living’s Healer of the Millennium. He’s not just famous; he’s a brand (“America’s Doctor”).