Long, long ago I was an actor. A child actor who worked in the profession for 26 years. On several occasions I did plays that toured around the country. It was quite an experience to ride the rails of the country on some old steam engine trains -- even ones that burned wood.
Against the memories of a better time, I remember playing the leading role in a play that was showing for a few days in Davenport, Iowa, in the early 40s. Friends of one of the members of the cast suggested that we go to "the place on the hill that trained chiropractors." At the time, I was about ten or eleven and had never heard the word "chiropractor." My mother told me that she had been to one years before I was born and had been greatly relieved of her back problems.
This sounded like fun. Our resident hosts in Davenport then told us about what a character this B.J. Palmer was. "He's noted as a world traveler and for making all kinds of claims for what he teaches. The local churches even made him take signs off the school buildings that proclaimed that chiropractic was the 'saviour' of mankind. They claimed that there was room for only one and it wasn't chiropractic."
Now I was really anxious to get to the school and hopefully meet this B.J. person. Unfortunately, when we got there, B.J. was traveling the world so we had to settle for a secretary who graciously showed us around. What I remember most was all of the pictures on the walls -- many of B.J. in different costumes depicting himself as people like Caesar and Napoleon. There were a whole bunch of beautiful chess sets, but most of all there were all of those bones in the museum and all the epigrams on the walls.
In retrospect, it would have been nice to have met B.J. himself, for he must have been quite a character -- but that's just about it for B.J. He was a character. Maybe a very smart character just like P.T. Barnum was a smart character. But over the years, because of what I did for so long, I met and worked with some incredibly interesting people. It, therefore, takes someone pretty awesome to impress me. Unfortunately, all that I've ever read about B.J. and all of the things I've ever heard that he said and wrote impresses me with the fact that he was a wonderful and extremely clever entrepreneur.
Because many of B.J.'s disciples were not exposed to the likes of his personality, what he said and the way he said it undoubtedly intellectually seduced them. The result is that a cult has formed around this wonderful showman that transcends a healthy enterprise.
Members of the profession quote him like the Scriptures, hand his picture on their walls, collect his books, and buy his home to make a shrine out of it. Folks, this is sick. Any human who puts his pants on the same as I, and is so worshipped, is a little strange.
The parallels are all around, because it seems human nature to want to adore one of our own. Jim Bakker, for example, could be proven to be the biggest con artist in the world and even if proven guilty, would have a mindlessly loyal following. There is always that charismatic character who can bend the will of his followers, and B.J., presumably well motivated, certainly had that power. As a member of the profession this, to me, is embarrassing.
Because I've dared to say the preceding, there isn't any doubt that I shall get letters and calls informing me of my intellectual "midgetry" and professional ingratitude. How dare I presume to criticize the "Developer?" Who do you think you are?
The answer is that while B.J. Palmer certainly helped develop the profession, he didn't develop my thinking. His ideas may suggest concepts, but never dictate what I think, and it would be reassuring to believe that the majority of the profession also wants to develop ideas based upon evolving knowledge.
B.J. Palmer was quite a guy. Without his egomaniacal drive we might not have a profession to belong to today. Hooray for B.J. Now that we are adults, however, we must put away our philosophical toys and move ahead with ideas based on modern research methods and common sense. So let's take down some of those pictures of the old fellow, stop quoting him like he was a god, and please get rid of that "temple" he lived in, in Florida. Think of all the better ways the money could be spent instead of buying his furniture, plates, and linens to deify.
Let's say "hello" to progress by saying "bye bye" to B.J.