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“Right. Anyway, I said yes because you got three dollars in your commissary. So you could get cigarettes, whatever you wanted. It was a good deal.”
“And you underwent approximately thirty-two skin-patch tests in a year and a half, is that right?”
“Yes. We’d get in line in the morning, like three times a week, and we’d go see the doctor.”
“Can you describe the process?”
“The doctor would listen to my heart and all, ask me how I was doin’, then he tell me to turn around, and tape up my back. Then he put the stuff on and put me under the lamp, a bunch of times.”
Gabby turned to me. “They would create a grid, then apply the lotion and expose each square to a sunlamp for a different time period, up to half an hour. They were trying to see blistering, burning, bleeding, and any other adverse effects of the ointment. It was essentially a Phase I test, which answers the question, is it safe?”
I recoiled, horrified. “And they were testing itonhim?”
“And others.” Gabby returned her attention to Chuck. “Did he give you any pain medicine?”
“No, it didn’t hurt in the beginning, but then it started to bleed in between. All of us had scabs and patches and scars on our backs, like one of them patchwork quilts.” Chuck gestured at his back. “That’s what mine still look like.”
“Do you mind if I see and take a picture?”
“Fine with me.” Chuck rose and unbuttoned the top of his flannel shirt, then turned around, easing his shirt off his shoulders. His back was entirely scarred with small squares placed willy-nilly from his shoulders to his waist, the pinkish bumps standing out against his dark skin, hideously haphazard.
“Gabby, was thislegal?” I asked, outraged.
“Yes, back then. More correctly, there wasn’t anything making it unlawful.” Gabby took a few pictures, then set down her phone. “Thanks, Chuck.” She turned to me again, by way of explanation.“This case begins with Dr. Albert Kligman, a dermatology professor at Penn’s medical school. He saw the inmates as subjects to be exploited, like a big controlled experiment. As he told the newspaper, ‘All I saw before me were acres of skin. It was like a farmer seeing a fertile field for the first time.’ He said he saw the place as ‘an anthropoid colony, mainly healthy under perfect control conditions.’ ” Gabby cocked her head, her expression grim. “Do you know what ‘anthropoid’ means?”
“No, honestly.”
“Apelike.” Gabby and Chuck exchanged disgusted looks. “Kligman was considered a genius, but he was a racist with no moral compass. He turned Holmesburg and seven other county jails in Philadelphia into a massive moneymaking enterprise based on human medical experimentation.”
I recoiled. “How did he do it?”
“He set up three private businesses, primarily one named Ivy Labs, trading on Penn’s Ivy League prestige. He ran paid research programs for major companies like Johnson & Johnson, Dow Chemical, and R.J. Reynolds, who wanted to test new products on the inmates. There were roughly twelve hundred inmates at Holmesburg and most of them participated in product testing. Minority inmates were given the most dangerous tests. It lasted until the mid-seventies, and if you ask me, this is Philadelphia’s version of what happened to Henrietta Lacks at Johns Hopkins and the syphilis studies at Tuskegee.”
“What products did they test?” I asked, appalled.
“Hundreds. They started with creams, toothpaste, deodorant, dandruff shampoos, hair dye, detergents, soaps, and ointments for poison ivy and ringworm. Their hair and teeth fell out. Their eyes were irritated by shampoos rubbed into them three times a day. They inoculated prisoners with staph infections, wart virus, herpes simplex, andherpes zoster. The men were used like guinea pigs.” Gabby gestured at a thick file on her desk. “Most of the records were destroyed by the prison or Kligman.”
I felt shocked. “What was the product in the skin-patch test on Chuck?”
“Tretinoin, an acne medication that Kligman was developing, which works by exfoliating the skin. It irritates, burns, and blisters when exposed to sunlight. It turns out that tretinoin becomes Retin-A and its sister drug Renova, which helps with wrinkles.” Gabby’s sharp eyes flashed with anger. “Retin-A, Renova, and its progeny are used in anti-aging and anti-wrinkle creams now. You’ve probably seen the commercials. Our lawsuit is the horrifying origin story of one of the most lucrative products on the market today.”
I couldn’t get over it. “So they experimented on human beings for acosmetic?”
Gabby nodded. “Their lawyers would say, ‘Not a cosmetic, a drug with cosmetic applications.’ ”
Chuck snorted. “Their lawyers are full ofshit.”
My God.“So we’re suing the doctor, right, Gabby?”
“Unfortunately, no, he passed away in 2010. We’re suing those responsible for the testing and those that benefit from it currently.” Gabby counted off on her fingers. “Bausch Health currently manufactures Retin-A, and Kligman assigned the original patent to Johnson & Johnson. Rhone Pharma is the parent company of Fournette Labs, which makes poison ivy medication. Chuck and the other defendants tested their products after they were given poison ivy. I’ve sent the defendants demand letters with draft complaints for the past two months, and nobody has made a settlement offer.”
“How much are you asking for in the lawsuit?”
“Fifteen million for seven plaintiffs.”
Wow. “That’s real money.”
“Sure as hell is,” Chuck interjected with a smile.
