Lore - Lore 278: Bad For Business

Episode Date: April 21, 2025

It’s easy to think of folklore and the supernatural as something that sits outside our little bubble of normal life. But in many cases throughout history, spooky things had a way of creeping into one of the most mundane areas of society: the business world. Narrated and produced by Aaron Mahnke, with writing by GennaRose Nethercott, research by Cassandra de Alba, and music by Chad Lawson. ————————— Lore Resources:  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  Official Lore Merchandise: lorepodcast.com/shop All the shows from Grim & Mild: www.grimandmild.com ————————— Sponsors: BetterHelp: Lore is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at BetterHelp.com/LORE, and get on your way to being your best self. 1-800-Flowers: Right now, when you order one dozen roses, they’ll double it to TWO dozen for FREE, at 1800Flowers.com/LORE. SimpliSafe: Secure your home with 24/7 professional monitoring. Sign up today at SimpliSafe.com/Lore to get 20% off any new SimpliSafe system with Fast Protect Monitoring. Avocado Green Mattress: Shop now at AvocadoMattress.com, and save 10% on certified organic mattresses. To report a concern regarding a radio-style, non-Aaron ad in this episode, reach out to [e-mail] with the name of the company or organization so we can look into it. To advertise on this podcast please email: [e-mail]. Or go to: https://advertising.libsyn.com/lore ————————— ©2025 Aaron Mahnke. All rights reserved.

You've probably heard of Moirologists, also known as professional mourners or whalers. These were people who were paid to attend funerals and cry loudly to make sure that the mood was somber enough. But did you know that at one point in history, there were also funerary clowns? They were called archimimes and they were an essential part of ancient Greek funerals. And with the help of costumes and a custom wax mask, they would dress up to look like the person in the casket. Then the clown would proceed to romp through the funeral ceremony while impersonating the deceased,

even making jokes at the expense of the person about to be buried. It was basically a graveside comedy roast. It sounds pretty rude, right? Why would mourners want a jester to mock their dead loved one? Well, some folklorists think that Archimimes weren't trying to make the living laugh at all. No, their intended audience was the dead. You see, the Greeks may have believed that some light-hearted revelry would put the deceased

spirits in a good mood, allowing them to enjoy their own funeral rather than feeling frightened and sorrowful. So, yeah, step aside, court jesters, the new coolest job just dropped. Ghost jester. There have been all sorts of strange, spooky jobs throughout history, from archimimes to medieval leech collectors and resurrection men. Heck, my own job probably belongs on that list too. After all, for over a decade now, if you can believe it, I've had the privilege of telling

stories about medicinal cannibalism and cursed shipwrecks for a living. Since humanity began, the supernatural has found its way into the workforce in some unexpected ways. So grab your resumes and get your references in order, because today we're handing in our applications to four of history's strangest paranormal professions. I'm Aaron Mankeke and this is Lore. The year was 1947, the place, a house known as Woodfield, in a small town just north of London. The occasion, a chance to speak to the dead.

The lights in the room dimmed low as each member of the assembled group took his or her place. In one chair sat Peter Underwood, future president of a famed group of paranormal scholars called the Ghost Club. In another, a medium named Florence Thompson, and beside her Thompson's assistant Peter Craven. A few newspaper reporters joined the circle too. And then, the seance began.

As candles flickered, Florence began to rock back and forth, slipping into a trance. And as she did, the final member of their party widened his eyes. Because you see, this last fellow was a bit out of his element. He was no ghost hunter or psychic, not even a reporter who might be accustomed to strange sights like this one. No, there in the final chair sat a humble member of the Lutton Area Assessment Committee, tasked with determining whether or not the house was haunted for tax purposes and tonight he was on the job. It had all started two months earlier in July of 1947 when a man named Mr. Blaney Key had approached the Lutton

Area Assessment Committee in a huff. His property taxes were too darn high he insisted and it was all the assessment committee's fault. After all it it was their job to set property values, thus determining how much tax an owner would owe, and Key claimed that the committee had valued his property higher than it deserved. He wanted it reappraised, with the value lowered. Key cited numerous reasons for his appeal. The house, Woodfield, was in bad shape, he said. It had been neglected by past owners. It may even have been damaged during the bombing in World War II. But the committee had heard

appeals like this a thousand times before. I can almost see them yawning behind their desks, ready to dismiss the man. But then Mr. Key said something that made everyone in the room sit up straight and listen. The very worst thing about the house, he said, was that it was haunted. Mr. Blaney Key went on to describe tale after tale of horror to the now riveted assessment committee. I imagine for a group used to debating property lines and tax brackets, it must have felt like falling into a penny dreadful. Okay, now, Mr. Key didn't live at Woodfield himself, so hadn't seen any of this paranormal

activity firsthand, but his tenants sure had. One elderly woman had heard what sounded like a massive bird beating its wings against the walls. A 15-year-old girl had fled the house after staying only two days, having been awakened in the night by some unknown force before falling unconscious. She also claimed to have seen a ghost girl with her arms outstretched toward her, arms that protruded right out of the wall, above her bed. Oh, and by the way, Mr. Key did have an idea of who exactly was haunting Woodfield House.

According to a local legend, some 300 years before, a man had locked his daughter and her lover inside a cupboard in that very home. He hadn't approved of the match, you see, so rather than give his blessing, the father locked the sweethearts up to die a slow, terrible death. It's been said that the murdered girl and her beloved have haunted the grounds ever since. All of this, Mr. Key said, should be reason enough to lower his property's value. The assessment committee was far from convinced, but hey, they had a job to do, right?

And they were going to do it. The house would have to be inspected for the various faults in Keyes' list of complaints, and that included its status as a haunted house. And so the committee decided there was only one thing to do, enlist a team to spend the night within Woodfield and hunt for ghosts. Which brings us back to the evening of the seance on September 26th of 1947. The low lights, the circle of guests, and the entranced psychic Florence Thompson, who had now begun to speak.

Groaning and rubbing her head, she muttered phrase after phrase, Oh, my head, I've been shot, she cried in a high-pitched voice. Let me go, you're killing me. She went on like this for a while, until eventually she came out of her trance and delivered a report. I feel sure, Thompson said, that a terrible love tragedy took place here. There are indications of two spirits who are in need of help, and one of them is a girl of about twenty-two. It was a compelling show, but apparently not compelling enough for the Lutton Area Assessment Committee, who decided they needed more information before a decision could be reached, and so

they scheduled a second seance two weeks later, with more experts in the mix. And this time, things got even spookier. One attendee claimed to see an old man's ghostly face wafting through the room. Another witnessed an entire crowd of spirit people, including, yes, a young woman and a young man. Thompson herself made contact once more, and the ghosts even told her their names, Bessie and John.

Bessie told Mrs. Thompson, and I quote, We were going away together, but my father knew and hurt my head. We have been shut away for a long time. And then the dead girl made a plea to the medium. Help John for me, she said. Help us to rest. At a third and final seance, Florence Thompson channeled Bessie once again. We are going away now, Bessie said through Florence. We won't haunt this place anymore. At last, the Lutton Area Assessment Committee decided it had seen enough, and the final verdict, Key's appeal, was rejected. It might seem strange, I know.

With all the time and money they put into the seances, it was clear they took Key's claims seriously. And you would think after all the strange happenings during the seances themselves, the committee would have more than enough evidence to rule in Key's favor. Except here's the thing, that legend about the two murdered lovers? Well, it wasn't exactly 300 years old, as the committee had been led to believe. In fact, the house hadn't even been standing that long No, it turns out the first mention of the lovers in the cupboard appeared in 1863 not as a folktale, but in a penny dreadful

It was called black bests or the night of the road and is about a visitor discovering the lovers skeletons Sealed within the cupboard. That's right, the story wasn't true at all, just a single authored pulp publication. Oh, and the visitor who supposedly discovered those remains? It was none other than larger-than-life highwayman and folk hero himself, Dick Turpin. When you think of classic pairings, certain duos come to mind. Thunder and Lightning, Peanut Butter and Jelly, Sam and Frodo. What you probably don't think of is Spiritualism and the oil industry. But let me tell you, for decades, these two went together like champagne and caviar. And honestly, if you think about it, seances and the search for oil have more in common

than you might assume. Scholar Rochelle Rainery Zuck may have said it best when she wrote, both 19th century phenomena were invested in a belief in the unseen, whether in the form of deceased loved ones or of underground oil reserves. Now, like so much of history, this connection really just comes down to being in the right place at the right time. You see, the Fox sisters first reported communicating with the dead in 1848. Only a decade later, in 1859, oil was first struck via drilling, rather than hand-digging.

Both events triggered an entire booming industry that just so happened to coincide. It probably didn't help that these incidents happened fairly close to each other geographically, only about 200 miles apart in fact, with the Fox Sisters in Hydesville, New York and the oil strike in Titusville, Pennsylvania. And so, two fledgling industries came of age side by side, and as they did, they interacted in some unexpected ways. The most unexpected of all? Oil prospectors began employing mediums to help them find hidden underground oil reserves.

Enter the newly minted job title of the Oil Wizard. So how exactly can a psychic find an oil reserve, you might be wondering? Well, they had a few methods. Some used dowsing rods, also known as divining rods, witching sticks, or my personal favorite, wiggle sticks. You've probably heard of these Y-shaped objects being used more often to locate water, but dowsing rods have been used to find everything from buried treasure to escaped prisoners. And now, of course, oil. These oil wizards would grip the branch, usually witch hazel or beech tree, from the shorter

prongs and then wander the property with the longest prong pointed at the ground. When the rod dipped suddenly, supposedly that was a spot where oil could be found. Another gizmo used in the hunt for petroleum was something called, and I'm not making this up, a doodle bug. The structure of these things varied, but they usually took the form of a mysterious black box. These boxes would be outfitted with various bells, whistles, dials, tubes, and more, which would ring and rattle when oil was near.

One doodle bug that we know of had to be operated by four men who carried the contraption while covered in a large shroud. When they passed over oil, a bell on the box would ring. Allegedly, the shroud was there to protect the device's proprietary secrets. But hey, would we really be that surprised if it was actually there to conceal the men ringing the bells by hand? Now, sticks and bells are one thing, but the really impressive oil wizards didn't need tools at all. No, they could find oil with their minds and bodies alone. In fact, one of the most popular means of finding oil was through the interpretation of dreams. In one famous instance, a Pennsylvania man dreamt that he saw a woman in the woods. He knew this woman.

Actually, she was a bit infamous around town for being something of a flirt. Suddenly the man noticed a Native American man preparing to shoot him with a bow. The young woman produced a shotgun out of nowhere and handed it to the dreamer who shot the Native American. When the slain man disappeared, oil gushed forth from the spot where he had been standing. The fellow never forgot the strange dream, and sometime later he was amazed to come upon the very spot he had seen in his sleep. So he and his brother decided to drill for oil.

And the thing is, it worked. Oil was indeed struck, earning the brothers tens of thousands of dollars. They named the well Coquette, in honor of the woman in the dreams. There were other strategies too. Some people claimed to literally be able to smell the ground and tell you where to dig. They were called creatively oil smellers. Others insisted they could simply sense where that liquid gold was lurking deep beneath the soil. One Italian woman named Augusta del Pio Luogo said she felt painful little zaps pass from her head to her feet when she walked over oil-rich ground.

Another woman, Evelyn Penrose, reported feeling, and I quote, a violent stab in the soles of my feet like a red-hot knife when walking over hidden oil. And then there's Guy Finley, known as the X-ray-eyed boy, who'd been having mystical visions of oil reserves since he was young. But perhaps the most famous oil wizard of all was a man named Abraham James. Now, I'll admit, it's hard to separate the facts about his life from the fiction, but it seems likely that he was born in Pennsylvania during the year of 1827.

His mother was said to possess the second sight, and when James came of age, it seemed that he inherited the family talent. By the early 1860s, James had moved to Chicago, which was the place to be for spiritualists at the time. He was a round-faced man with thick glasses and a long, luscious brown beard that, by all accounts, made him look a bit like a prophet. Suffice to say, he had no trouble making friends in the Windy City, and soon, he and his fellow spiritualists decided to go into business together.

They called their new venture the Chicago Rock Oil Company. And yes, their whole deal was finding oil with the help of the supernatural. And this wasn't just a get-rich-quick scheme for James and his pals. No, they hoped that by successfully establishing oil wells, they could prove spiritualism's legitimacy to the world once and for all. Except it didn't go so well. You see, the first tract of land their spirit guides led them to ended up being filled not with oil, but water. Don't worry though, all they needed was a bit of clever rebranding. After consulting the spirits, of course, the Chicago Rock Oil Company changed their name to the Chicago Artesian Well Company, and the well they found, known as Spirits Well, became a popular tourist destination.

After that, James left Chicago, relocating to Pennsylvania, where he continued his oil wizardry. And finally, on Halloween Day of 1866, all his efforts would pay off. While riding a buggy across some Pennsylvania farmland with a few other men, James' spirit guides took control of his body, flinging him from the buggy and over a fence. He began to jerk and spasm on the ground, and then, guided by the spirits, he plunged a penny into the earth. Now I want to take a moment here to acknowledge that James claimed his spirit guides took

the form of Native Americans. And look, I could write an entire episode about the cruel paradox of usurping Native culture in order to drill and maim the very land once protected by those same indigenous peoples. But I'm sure the irony of that was entirely lost on Abraham James. Because when he drove that penny into the ground, there was only one word on his mind, dig. This time when the drills broke ground,

black bubbling oil flowed up from the spot. Several more wells were dug nearby, and each one produced nearly 100 barrels of oil every day. And that was all it took. Abraham James became an overnight celebrity, and one of the most successful oil wizards in American history Peter Herkos hadn't always been a psychic. No, born in the Netherlands in the year of 1911, he started life as a simple house painter's son.

And for his first three decades, the six-foot-three big bumbling Dutchman, as one biographer described him, was happy to follow his father into the family business. But little did he know, his world was about to quite literally turn upside down. On July 10th of 1941, when Peter was 30 years old, he fell from a ladder while painting a house. He plummeted four stories, landing on his shoulder and head, and spent the next four days in a coma. And the Peter that awoke?

Well, let's just say he wasn't exactly the same man he had been before. For one, some of his memories were gone. He couldn't recall names or numbers and only recognize family members by the sounds of their voices. But in place of those lost memories, new ones had arrived,

visions of events and places he should not have had a way of knowing about. In one incident, he knew a nurse had lost her bag on a train. In another, he shook a man's hand and felt certain that he would die in a matter of days, a prediction that indeed came true. Now, if you fell off a ladder, woke up from a coma, and started seeing the future, you might just assume you were losing your mind, which is exactly what Peter and his physicians feared. And so the director of a mental hospital was brought in to assess the injured house painter.

Coming across as a little dismissive and disdainful, the director asked Peter what he could sense about him, which might have been a mistake because Peter proceeded to describe the man's tiger-striped pajamas and how they'd been a gift from the man's mistress, who he had also secretly had a child with, all of which, it turns out, was true. A mental hospital clearly wasn't the place for Peter Hurkos. So where did a giant psychic Dutchman belong? To the Netherlands police force, at least, the answer seemed obvious. Hurkos should be working for them. That's right. In 1947, Peter Herkos became a police psychic.

He mostly assisted with homicide cases, and his main party trick was psychometry, in which he gained impressions by touching or holding objects. Impressions such as who, exactly, was guilty of murder. Peter described these impressions as being like pictures flashing by on a TV screen. And suffice to say, the public was immediately fascinated by him. He gained enough attention, in fact, that in 1956, he was brought to the United States to continue his detective work there. And it was there that Peter was assigned the biggest challenge yet, tracking down a serial killer known as the Boston Strangler.

For too long, the notorious Boston Strangler had been spreading terror across New England. He targeted single women alone in their homes, and despite an ongoing investigation, the police had reached a dead end. So the Massachusetts Attorney General's Office decided to bring in the big guns. That is, the psychic assistant, Peter Hurkos. Now, to be fair, they weren't going to trust this guy on blind faith. No, he needed to be tested first. And so, in a hotel room in the Boston suburbs, detectives laid stacks of crime scene photos

from the Strangler case, face down on a bed for Peter to gain impressions from. He bent over the bed, moving his right hand in fast circles over the photographs. And then suddenly he slapped one of the stacks. This phony baloney, this not belong, he yelled in his thick Dutch accent. And he was right. The investigators had hidden one unrelated stack of crime scene photos among the bunch.

Peter had passed the first test. Oh, and by the way, this detail is too good not to share with you. One of the detectives showed up late, apologizing because his car broke down. Peter marched over to him, stuck a finger in his face and said, ''You are not late because your car broke down. You took time to stop by your girlfriend's apartment and did a quickie one. Hullybully, hanky-panky. Am I right, sir?''

Dazed, the detective asked if Peter had been following him. But no, he'd been right there in that hotel room all day, which the other detectives confirmed. Now, I can't imagine being one of the investigators in that room with Peter. How unnerving it must have been. And what came next was truly chilling. Moving to another stack of face down photographs, he began to speak. Dead woman, he said. Legs apart. I see her. One hand up, one down.

Funny way. Here, I show you. And then Peter laid down on the floor and arranged himself in a twisted, grimaced position. A detective flipped over the top photograph, and there, clear as day, was the image of Boston Strangler victim Anna Slessers, in the exact same position Peter had shown. And it wasn't just Anna. Photograph after photograph, woman after woman, Peter repeated his performance, writhing on the floor as he precisely imitated every single photo on that hotel bed, all without ever

having seen them. Finally, the detectives, who amazingly hadn't run screaming from the room, brought out a collection of the victim's clothing. Peter ran the fabric through his hands, and then he made a shocking announcement. He knew who the killer was. Not by name, mind you, but he gave quite a specific description. According to Peter, the killer was 130 to 140 pounds, had a sharp nose, a scar on his left arm, and something wrong with one of his thumbs.

This man apparently spoke in a high-pitched French accent and had something to do with priests. Oh, and he was also obsessed with shoes. With that, the detectives must have decided that they had had enough creepy vibes for one day, and they adjourned. But the following morning, the detectives handed Peter a letter. It had been penned by one of their suspects, and when Peter crumpled it up in his hand, he broke out into a sweat. By God, he cried. This the one. He the murderer.

And because the police knew who had written the letter, I can give you a physical description of the actual person. He had a sharp nose, a scar on his left forearm, a deformed right thumb, and he spoke in a high-pitched voice. He had briefly been part of a French monastic order before taking a job selling nurses' shoes. On top of that, when investigators went to search this person's house, they found plenty of suspicious objects, including a book of yoga poses with 11 female figures blacked out, the exact number of victims claimed by the Boston Strangler. Not to mention sketches of apartment interiors with X's corresponding to where the Strangler's

victims had been found. And I'm with you, this may seem like damning evidence, but here's the thing, it wasn't. Psychic hunches and doodles cannot send a man to prison and that's probably a good thing too, because soon after, another man named Albert DeSalvo came forward with a shocking confession. He was the Boston Strangler. And he fit the bill too. Not only did he have a prior history of sexual assault, but he knew things about the murders that only the killer would. And that was that. The police finally had their man. No thanks, it seems, to Peter Herkos.

Well, except for a few small details. Albert DiSalvo just so happened to have a sharp nose, a high-pitched voice, and a scar on his left arm. Since the beginning of time, humans have always hunted for shortcuts, for quicker, easier ways to get the job done. There were the alchemists, obsessed with turning base metal to gold. There was the industrial revolution, replacing independent artisans with factory work and inventing wage slavery in the process. Today, as we witnessed the rise of AI, we're watching yet another attempt to skip over

the steps of human labor and skill in favor of supposed ease. But here's the thing about shortcuts. The quicker they get, the further they seem to stray from the truth. From home appraisals to oil drilling and murder investigations, there's no evidence that any ghostly or psychic assistance has actually worked. Sure, the medium's got it right some of the time, but it's hard to say whether that accuracy was genuine supernatural ability or just dumb luck.

And in the case of Peter Herkos, there are certainly ways that he could have seen the crime scene photos before that day in the hotel room, or even known that a suspect in custody had the traits that he would later go on to describe. But the truth is, I just don't know. After all, I'm not psychic. What I do know, though, is that Peter insisted until his death that the police had the wrong man, insisting it had been the letter writer all along. Meanwhile, Albert DeSalvo was sentenced to life in prison.

Not for the serial murders, mind you, for which they still lacked evidence, but for a string of other sexual assaults. He was fatally stabbed in prison in 1973, but that didn't mean that his story was over. In fact, far from it. Because decades later, in 2013, some new evidence surfaced. Familial DNA linked the salvo to 19-year-old Mary Sullivan, the last known victim of the Boston Strangler. And with that, they finally had the proof that the women's families, the detectives,

the entire state of Massachusetts had been waiting for. The Boston Strangler had been unmasked. Or had he? Because you see, some people still weren't convinced. Yes, DeSalvo clearly killed Mary Sullivan, but had he committed all the murders as well? For one, eyewitnesses said that DeSalvo, who had a very distinctive face, wasn't the guy they had seen at some of the other crimes. And more than that, the string of victims had very little in common other than their

gender. They were of all races, religions, ages, and more. And serial killers? Well, they tend to have a type. Add to the fact that DeSalvo had a pesky habit of confessing to crimes he didn't commit and it does raise some doubts. Now I know what you're thinking, if DeSalvo didn't do it then how was he able to provide the police with details only the killer would know? Well some people think they have an answer to that as well. Albert DeSalvo they say, just may have been a psychic. I hope you've enjoyed attending this job fair today, featuring some of the spookiest

careers in history. And I have one final story for you that raises the stakes to a whole new level. After all, a psychic aiding in an investigation is one thing, but how about getting medical care from a ghost? Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. This episode of Lore was sponsored by BetterHelp. Therapy can feel like a big investment, but the state of your mind is just as important as your physical health. Let's talk numbers for a moment. Traditional in-person therapy can cost anywhere from $100 to $250 per session, which adds

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Your mental health is worth it, and now it's within reach. I know how important and helpful therapy can be, and it isn't just for folks who have experienced major trauma. Therapy is helpful for learning positive coping skills and how to set boundaries, and it can empower you to be the best version of yourself. With over 30,000 therapists, BetterHelp is the world's largest online therapy platform, having served over 5 million people globally.

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To claim your Double Your Roses offer, go to 1-800-Flowers.com-slash-Lore. That's 1-800-Flowers.com-slash-Lore. This episode is also sponsored by Simply Safe. With longer daylight hours, you may be spending more time away from the house and giving burglars more opportunities to strike. FBI crime data shows break-ins are more likely during daylight hours than under the cloak of night. Protect your home with SimpliSafe's proactive security that helps stop threats before they

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Their mattresses are made from organic, eco-friendly materials that are good for both you and the planet. Plus, you can rest easy knowing that avocado adheres to the highest standards of safety and sustainability. Shop now at avocatomatris.com and save 10% on certified organic mattresses. Avocado mattress, dream of better. Daniel was many things. Born in Ontario in 1845, he was a school teacher, a grocer, a beekeeper and more. But one thing Daniel was not was a doctor. And yet at the age of 50,

Daniel decided it was his earthly duty to pioneer a brand new field of medicine. Why? Well, because an expert told him to. The only problem was that that expert just so happened to be a ghost. Daniel claimed that during a seance in 1895, he channeled a doctor named Jim Atkinson

who had died some 50 years prior. And apparently the late great Dr. Atkinson had some wisdom to impart. He described a method of healing that had been too ahead of its time when he was alive. And so he was showing up again in hopes that now, in a more modern era, his work might be taken seriously. And who had he picked to deliver this medicine to the world?

Why, none other than Daniel, of course. Daniel claimed that the spirit taught him about something called subluxations. This was a condition in which the bones of the spine moved out of position, creating pressure on the spinal nerves. And if the ghost doc was to be believed, these subluxations caused a mind boggling 95% of all disease. But don't worry, there was a cure as well. And amazingly, it involved no drugs or medicine, merely human touch.

By carefully manipulating the patient's joints by hand, one could realign the spine into its natural shape and relieve that pressure, which is exactly what Daniel marched out into the world to do. That's right, this guy literally went into business as a medical practitioner despite having no experience or training whatsoever. Well, unless you count ghost training. In Daniel's own words, the method by which I obtained an explanation of certain physical phenomena from an intelligence in the spiritual world is known in biblical language as inspiration.

Unsurprisingly, the medical industry wasn't too thrilled with this random spiritualist in their midst. And they really weren't stoked on the fact that he'd been treating very real, very sick patients. In fact, it wasn't long before Daniel was arrested and jailed for practicing medicine without a license. But that, of course, wasn't going to stop him, not when he had a sacred spiritual mission. After his release, Daniel insisted that his methodology was not, in fact, medicine, but a religion.

Thus, his right to perform these skeletal adjustments was protected under his right to religious freedom. Now, like any religion, it had to have a leader, a figurehead, a great prophet, if you will. And I'm sure it comes as no surprise that Daniel nominated himself for the role. In 1911, he wrote, I am the fountainhead. I am the founder of this method in its science, in its art, in its philosophy, and in its religious phase. And shockingly, his religious freedom strategy worked. Daniel was permitted to continue practicing. And as he did, he taught his techniques to others, who taught others.

And soon Daniel's method had spread not only across Canada, but to the world. Thousands of loyal practitioners began to claim it could heal, well, everything, appendicitis, allergies, diabetes, ADHD, crossed eyes, heart disease, colic, and more. And I know what you're wondering, did it actually work? Well, to be honest, the jury is still out on that one, largely because there's never been much in the way of a robust scientific study around the practice. And those studies that were conducted have been pretty skewed,

often performed by the faithful practitioners themselves, rather than unbiased outsiders. While nothing is conclusive, it seems like Daniel's techniques probably can't heal anything besides back pain. For back and neck pain though, it is a pretty popular treatment. And yes, I'm using the present tense there for a reason, because amazingly this field of medicine

delivered by a ghost is still practiced to this day. And not just by fringe believers either. No, it's a massive industry built around a service administered to millions of patients every year. And you've probably heard of it. You see, Daniel David Palmer, known today as D.D. Palmer, labeled his new religion with a simple Greek word that means done by hand. That word is chiropractic. This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Manke, with writing by Jenna Rose Nethercott, research by Cassandra De Alba, and music by Chad Lawson. Don't like hearing the ads?

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