In looking back at the past year, I have a lot
to be thankful for. One of the most
important things to be thankful for was my health. Last year on this day, I severely hurt an
ankle. This year, things could have been
a whole lot worse.
I could talk about the updated ABA checklist, but instead, I'll put in here what is going to end up in my newspaper column this week.
I've mentioned this story before here, but last summer I was hiking around the Catskill
Mountains in New York when I stumbled upon a Hindu temple out in the forest. It would be an odd find, except that I was looking
for it and soon, bits of a murder mystery involving kali worshipers began
bouncing around in my head.
Brahmanoor Kali Temple, Grahamsville NY
A writer
sees something and it stimulates those creative juices. The day was young, so I continued up into the
hills looking for birds, eventually ending up on one of the highest mountains
in the area. I found the threatened
Bicknell’s thrush totally by accident. Walking
back down the mountain, I slipped on the scree and fell down a cliff ten yards
below, landing hard on a big flat rock.
I laid there on my back in shock taking
inventory of my body parts. I was still
holding a pizza shaped rock I had grabbed on the way down after dropping my
camera. I threw off the rock and noticed
blood around me, then I felt the pain in my right leg. Initially, I figured I had an open fracture
of my leg but surprisingly, I could bear weight on it. I limped the four miles back to my car. Down at the bottom of the mountain in the
small town where I started, I dragged my leg into a convenience store looking
for first aid supplies. I was a mess.
The clerk looked at me like was toxic. I talked her out of calling 9-1-1 and she
went and grabbed what I needed. “What
happened?” She asked.
“Well, I was at the Hindu temple and then went
walking up into the mountains…”
“Hindu temple?” She looked at me as I was bandaging my
leg. “We don’t have one of those. This isn’t the city.”
“Yes, you do.”
I said. I then told her the rough
location I was at, no more than four miles from where I stood.
“You must have hit your head, sir. Maybe I should still call 9-1-1?” No ambulance was called and I limped off to
the car, I looked at my pictures to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I drove
back to Pennsylvania and had an epiphany, it amazed me how people had such a
lack of knowledge of things in their own areas.
They were missing cool things, or so I thought. I vowed to stop and check out any roadside
attractions I came across. All
historical markers would be worthy of my attention.
The other day, I had a meeting in Colorado
that took me south through a slew of points of interest. I photographed a UFO shaped water tower and
looked at lots of old houses of former congressmen. Eventually I ended up in a place called Last
Chance, Colorado, a town now located at the corner of nowhere, and
forgotten. It used to be a cattle
boomtown, but now it isn’t much.
Stephen Penrose Statue, Colorado Springs, CO,
There are many boomtowns around the west. Some are from mining, some are from oil and
gas, and some are even from the changing tastes of tourism (thankfully not from birding). Epiphany, South Dakota, however, could be the
only medical boomtown around.
Many cities have grown due to having a very
successful hospital and medical practice.
Mayo in Rochester, Minnesota comes to mind, but no one ever thinks of Epiphany,
South Dakota. Mostly because no one has
ever heard of Epiphany. I asked a few
people and all I got were shrugs and zero recognition of the small hamlet northeast
of Mitchell. Epiphany is a 101-town, it
has a population of 101 and is located exactly 101 miles from the offices of
this newspaper. It isn’t Deadwood, but Epiphany
has a bit of a story, in fact, quite a bit of a story.
Four years after its founding, a rather unique
man appeared into the prairie town. A
Cincinnati priest named William Kroeger was assigned to the fledgling parish. Unlike most priests, coming to save his
parishioners, Kroeger also claimed to be a doctor and started healing the local
sick and ill people. This attracted many
other sick and ailing people to the town.
Soon, he was forced to choose, priesthood or medicine, and as a result,
he set up his medical practice in town. This was no hang your shingle operation. He integrated the healing experience and
the money began rolling in, Epiphany-Kroeger became a company town with the
father’s enterprise having 90% of the property value of the area. Everyone around was involved in the business. He built hotels, set up a bank, developed
tranportations, started a newspaper, and built medicine manufacturing
facilities. He even founded a box making factory to
improve shipping for the various elixirs sent using the mail. In
fact, he even negotiated bulk passenger and shipping rates for the various railroads
that served the area. When he got into a
price war with the Chicago & Northwestern, eventually banning them. It is hard to realize that in a short period
of time, this Priest controlled the economy of this part of Hanson County,
There are some interesting findings in looking
up Kroeger. He wasn’t just a pious dual
trained priest. Kroeger claimed he had
graduated at the medical school in Cincinnati but there was no record of him
ever attending that school. Even the
South Dakota Board of Medicine knew this marking his application as fraudulent
but granted him a license anyway.
Initially, Kroeger treated his parishioners for free but then set up the
Father Kroeger Remedy Company and began charging. He became very wealthy, spending three months
every summer traveling overseas with his companion, his live-in secretary/
former housekeeper/ whom he trained as his pharmacist. As the company grew, to treat more patients, he
trained his office manager to be also be a consulting physician.
Kroeger bought the first x-ray machine used in
South Dakota in order to treat skin cancers, then added two more. Thousands of people made their way to Epiphany
each month from all over the world seeking cures for anything and
everything. Surprisingly, unlike 3500
practitioners during the period, Kroeger was never investigated by the American
Medical Association and is rarely referenced. Things were booming in 1904 and then something
unexpected happened. He returned from
his summer of 1904 tour of Europe with his female companion, and he got ill and
died later that fall. The boom went
bust. He was barely over 40 years of age. The cause was possibly due to radiation
sickness. On his deathbed, he was
ordained back into the priesthood by the bishop and buried in Epiphany.
His companion tried to keep it going but she
was unable to convince the state medical board that her training with Kroeger
was sufficient to be granted a license and eventually sold everything off at
auction. One newspaper estimated that
his wealth was about $250,000 which would convert to about 7 million in today’s
dollars, not bad for ten years of effort.
At the same time period, there was a similar healing
center located in Almena, Wisconsin, a small village located near my home town
in western Wisconsin. This one was led
by a barefoot Austrian healer named John Till.
Till never ever wore shoes, claiming they caused disease. Till, it was reported by the Wisconsin State
Historical Society archives, would work 16 hour days, seeing up to two train
loads of patients a day, sometimes seeing the very same patients seen earlier
by Kroeger in South Dakota. Till was not
as integrated and his treatment involved sponging on a harsh oil concoction onto
the backs of his patients. This would
inflame the skin to the point where it would ooze apparently in an attempt to
draw out toxins. Unlike Kroeger, Till
never charged his patients nor set up manufacturing facilities. He did take donations and was reported to
deposit a few thousand dollars a week into the local bank.
1906 Almena, WI John Till's clinic courtesy of Library of Congress, below 1908 photo of the barefooted "healer"
Entrepreneurs built bakeries and a hotel to serve
the estimated 5-600 patients a week that made their way to Almena. Many businesses and people profited thanks to
Till. Unlike South Dakota, however
Wisconsin never granted Till a license to practice medicine and arrested him
many, many times for practicing without a license. In 1922, when he was deported back to Austria
instead of serving a jail sentence due to a public outcry for leniency.
There is a lot of history out there. It is everywhere and sometimes in some rather
unique and unassuming places. All it
takes to learn It seems, is to stop and read a sign. Epiphany….who knew?
With many thanks
Olaf