From Medicine to Epidemic πŸ’Šβš οΈ | The Complete History of Heroin | Boring History For Sleep

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Boring History for Sleep 3h 35m 1 speaker 7 chapters transcribed 3 months ago
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What is discussed at the start of this section?

Jeremy Bamber 0:00
Hey everyone, tonight we're cracking open one of the strangest files in medical history. Picture this. It's 1898, and the most trusted pharmaceutical company on the planet is selling a brand new cough syrup. It's marketed to mothers. It's marketed for babies. It's stamped with a logo you still see on aspirin today. and the name printed right there on the label, in proud Gothic lettering, Heroin. Yeah, that Heroin. Sold over the counter, next to the throat lozenges, with a little drawing of a smiling family on the box. How did the same compound go from being a respected family remedy to the headline of every cautionary tale of the 20th century? That's the ride we're taking tonight. We're going back to a forgotten London lab in 1874, a frantic 11-day sprint inside a German chemistry department, a worldwide marketing blitz that would make modern ad agencies jealous, and the slow, awkward moment when the entire medical world had to quietly admit it had made a catastrophic mistake.
Jeremy Bamber 1:00
Heroes, villains, misplaced notebooks, buyer reps handing out free samples at the grocery store, the whole circus. Before we get into it, do me a favour and hit that like button, smash subscribe so the algorithm actually shows you part two, and drop a comment telling me what city you're watching from and what time it is where you are. I genuinely love reading those. Alright, let's get into it. To understand how the most notorious drug of the modern age ended up in a cheerful little bottle on a family's kitchen shelf, we have to rewind the clock further than most people expect. Not to 1898. Not to the gleaming laboratories of Imperial Germany. We have to go back to a soggy London afternoon in 1874, to a working hospital pharmacy where a tired chemist was trying to invent something that would make his name, and instead accidentally invented something that would haunt the next 150 years.
Jeremy Bamber 1:51
The twist, as you'll see, is that he had absolutely no idea. He simply jotted down a few notes, shrugged, and moved on. That shrug is where our story actually begins. The man in question was Charles Romley Alder Wright, a working chemist at St Mary's Hospital Medical School in Paddington. St Mary's at that point was not the glamorous teaching hospital it would later become. It was a cramped, coal-dusted institution squeezed between railway tracks and tenements, perpetually short on funds and staffed by the sort of earnest British academics who kept their overcoats on indoors because the radiators were, let's say, aspirational. Wright was 30 years old, ambitious, overworked and mildly obsessed with a problem that had been plaguing 19th century medicine for decades.
Jeremy Bamber 2:36
That problem was morphine. Not morphine itself, exactly, but what morphine was doing to patients. By the 1870s the entire medical profession had essentially fallen head over heels in love with this miracle painkiller and unfortunately so had a concerning number of their patients. Physicians were beginning to notice that their favourite prescription tended to come back through the front door at the end of a long chain, each link uglier than the last. Patients who had been given morphine for a broken arm six months ago were now turning up, complaining of mysterious aches that only seemed to respond to, you guessed it, more morphine. Civil War veterans on both sides of the Atlantic had returned home with what was delicately called the Soldier's Disease.

How did heroin transition from a medicine to a public health crisis?

Jeremy Bamber 3:19
which was just a polite Victorian way of saying they could not function without their daily dose. The medical community was collectively realising that it had a situation on its hands and naturally the preferred solution was not to use less of the drug. It was to find a better drug, a cleaner one, a tidier one, ideally one that worked just as well but somehow, magically, skipped the inconvenient part where patients became dependent on it for the rest of their natural lives. This was the Victorian approach to pharmacology in a nutshell. If a treatment has a problem, the solution is never to step back and reconsider.

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