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by Florencia Agote
The Questionable Medical Devices Museum holds curiosities guaranteed to appeal to the mad scientist inside us all.
Hidden away in the historic St. Anthony Main area, the Museum of Questionable Medical Devices is a showcase of products too good to be true - and too bizarre to be fiction. Admission to the museum is free, and visitors can explore and experiment with many of the 232 gadgets that promised to hold the key to eternal youth, happiness, health, and beauty.
The museum's associate curator, Shawne Fitzgerald, gave me a guided tour of the quackery and - to be honest - I was glad to have her around. The devices on display range from terrifying to titillating to downright ridiculous.
For example, one device - a sharp, pointed tool designed to prevent nocturnal emissions - is sure to give goose bumps to more than one man. Another, the psychograph, claims to determine personality traits by measuring bumps on your head - a pseudo-science called phrenology. (Visitors to the museum can have their head examined, so to speak, for a mere $3.)
Some of the most popular exhibits deal with youth and sex. The signs that accompanied the weird-looking gadgets on display in this area boasted: "How to remain young forever," "How to improve sexual life," "How to get a better-looking body," and "How to improve health with a miracle pill."
The MacGregor Rejuvenator, dated 1932, was invented to reverse the aging process and bring back lost years. For me, it brought back only memories of falling asleep inside an MRI machine. The Crosly Xervac, which was supposed to spur hair growth by creating a vacuum to draw blood to the scalp, appeared to be more successful in causing hickeys.
The 1918 prostate gland warmer appears to be a low-tech forerunner of Viagra. The device, which was plugged into an electrical outlet and inserted into the rectum, claimed to restore sexual vitality. Another charming "sexual helper" was the Manhood Belt, a device soaked in red pepper and activated by body sweat.
There's no shortage of bizarre gadgets designed for women, either. Dozens of devices were created, including the foot-operated bosom enlarger, a pump with pink cups to be placed over the breasts.
Some of the less outlandish devices looked eerily familiar. A silvery bracelet that is supposed to prevent stress is one of my uncle's favorites; he wears it every day. I recognized other devices from TV infomercials.
Why do people always look for the fast solution or for the magical pill? Why are we willing to pay fortunes for that magical solution? Are we that naïve?
I posed these questions to Fitzgerald, who answered with an unqualified "yes!"
The museum offers information warning visitors to be wary of products that sound too good to be true. In one brochure, Bob McCoy, the museum's owner, notes that the medical devices on display in the museum "were made by cynical people who earned a pretty penny off of them."
Most of the odd-looking gadgets in the museum are on permanent loan from the United States Food and Drug Administration and the American Medical Association. Others were purchased or donated to McCoy.
McCoy hopes that he can prevent people from wasting their time and money on fraudulent and dangerous medical devices. He is particularly concerned about cancer and AIDS patients, who are often desperate to find cures and may become victims of bogus healers. He wants people to "remain skeptical," and believe me, after visiting this museum, you will.