All language subtitles for Hazardous.History.with.Henry.Winkler.S01E06.Food.Fiascos.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

Do you remember
when it was okay

to sell candy in a syringe?

Kids were buying
'em in middle America,

and then all of a sudden
mom looked over his shoulder

and is like, "What is
Johnny playing with?"

Do you remember when
bananas could get you high?

Suddenly everybody's
going to the store

and buying bananas,
not for the potassium,

but to scrape the banana
peels and smoke 'em.

At their next show, they
hand out 500 banana joints

and a fad is born.

Or when fat-free potato
chips backfired spectacularly.

Over the course of six years,

the FDA receives over 20,000
individual complaints.

Because although this
thing seems great on paper,

it also is just running

through your body
like a freight train.

These are the things we used
to do, for fun, for money,

or maybe out of boredom,
that we'll never see again.

Were they dangerous? Certainly.

Deadly? Occasionally.

But boy, wasn't it exciting?

Long before energy
drinks like Red Bull

and Monster became
household names,

Americans were
introduced to a beverage

that not only gave you energy,
it actually contained it.

The radium craze
begins in 1898,

when Marie Curie
discovers radium.

It's a new entry on
the periodic table,

which is very
exciting to a chemist,

but it's even more
exciting to the public,

because radium glows.

Manufacturers
start putting radium

into any consumer
product they can imagine.

We're talking about
toothpaste, hair

cream, skin products. There's
even radium suppositories.

Woo! Not how I'd like
to get my radium.

But one idea
outdoes them all, Radithor.

Radithor is literally the
world's first energy drink,

because it's supposed to
transfer the energy from radium

into your body.

It's supposed to do
all sorts of things,

yes, give you general energy

and help your organs
function better,

but also help constipation,
asthma, exhaustion, headaches.

The drink isn't
that complicated.

It's literally just
radium dissolved in water,

and it's sold in tiny one
ounce bottles at $2 a pop,

but that's like $15
in today's money.

People believed
that you were born

with a finite amount of energy,

almost that you
had like a battery

and that that would wear
down over your life.

So the idea that you
could buy in a bottle,

an energy drink that
would give you more,

seemed like the perfect biohack.

Radithor
becomes a big seller,

but only for those
who can afford it.

One of those people
is a golf champion

and industrialist
named Eben Byers.

In 1927, a doctor
recommended he try it

because he had an arm injury,

and he thought this
might help his recovery.

Byers becomes convinced
it's helping him,

and that he's recovering
quicker because of it,

so he makes it part
of his daily regimen.

Byers loves this
stuff so much,

he's actually drinking
it three times a day.

Three times a day he is
giving himself radium.

I know what you're thinking.
"How's this gonna go for him?"

Spoiler alert, not so great.

Radium comes
from decayed thorium

and uranium, two types
of radioactive metals.

Sure, radium has energy,
but it's radioactive energy.

Byers is singing the
praises of Radithor

to anyone who will listen.

He's sending cases
to his friends,

pretty soon, whatever effect
he thought it was having

actually goes away,
and he starts to

experience weight loss, he's got
terrible headaches, things are

not looking good. - By 1930,
things start turning severe.

Byers' teeth fall out, he
develops holes in his skull.

Eventually his jaw has
to be surgically removed.

What do you think he thought?

Honestly, when his jaw came off?

Do you think he was
like, "Well, crap.

I'm starting to think
this stuff isn't working."

On
December 19th, 1931,

the Federal Trade Commission
orders that Radithor

cease and desist
from representing

that the drink is
therapeutic or harmless,

but it's too late
for Eben Byers.

On March 31st,
1932, Eben Byers dies.

His body ravaged by
radiation poisoning.

Byers' death makes
national headlines

when the Wall Street
Journal writes,

"The radium water worked
fine until his jaw came off."

But Byers'
story doesn't end there.

All human bodies have
naturally occurring radiation,

but Byers actually has to be
buried in a lead lined coffin

to contain the radioactivity
of his remains.

Here he is thinking he's found
like the Fountain of Youth.

Turns out it was the
fountain of death.

The wildest thing is in
1965, they exhumed his body

because they wanted to
do some testing on it,

and they found his body at
that time, 30 years later,

was still five times
more radioactive

than another human being.

Think how popular
energy drinks are today.

Think how many brands there are.

Maybe if it wasn't so expensive,

there could have been
many, many more Eben Byers.

If the zap provided by
Radithor was a little too much,

you couldn't go wrong
with a classic staple,

a cool, refreshing
glass of milk.

But back in the 1800s,

milk wasn't always
so pure or safe.

Our milkman can
bring us man's perfect food,

milk.

Everybody drank milk
growing up at every meal.

That's just what you did.

But in the 1800s,

getting your hands on
milk isn't so simple.

Milk was produced
in rural areas,

and when that milk was
brought to the cities,

one, it incurred travel costs,

which made it more expensive,

but it also sometimes
would spoil.

So instead of milk,

many Americans are
drinking something else.

In the 1820s, the
price of whiskey

is cheaper than the
price of beer, milk, tea.

At its peak, alcohol consumption

is literally three
times what it is today.

The average American

was consuming about two
bottles of whiskey a week.

Because of the
incredible demand,

whiskey makers have hundreds
of thousands of pounds

worth of byproduct

that they don't really
know what to do with.

To make whiskey,
the distillers would

take their wheat, their
corn, or their rye,

they'd boil it and then
they would ferment it.

Anything left over
is called swill.

It's not completely
devoid of nutrients,

but you wouldn't
call it nutritious.

Suddenly, some
innovators have an idea,

that there's a real need
for milk in American cities.

How is milk made, by cows?

What do cows eat? Grain.

So these city distilleries,

they build stables
and buy dairy cows,

and they start feeding them

with the leftover grain from
their distilling process.

This sounds really good
and really progressive.

Except the dairy
cows aren't as enthusiastic.

Those cows did not want
that industrial waste,

but they get so desperate
that they start eating it

and they start
producing a ton of milk.

But there's a problem,

it's ghastly blue milk
and it's very runny.

So they call this
stuff swill milk.

It looks very unappetizing.

How do you sell
runny blue sludge?

Well, you gotta make
it look like real milk.

You have to thicken it and
you have to turn it white.

How they do this

is what takes things to
a whole other nasty level

Innovating American
entrepreneurs decide,

"Well, we just need to
make it look white."

So they start adding
substances to it,

like flour and eggs, which
isn't that bad I guess,

but then they start
adding plaster.

Milk naturally has a layer
of cream floating on top.

So how do they replicate that?

Well, they grind up calf brains.

Yes, the brains of baby cows,

and add it to the milk.

To preserve this swill,

distillers add formaldehyde,
which keeps it fresh

and also actually adds a
weird bit of sweetness.

Just what babies like best.

Today, formaldehyde is
found in a lot of things.

From particle board to
insulation to dishwashing liquid

to insecticide.

These distillers sell this
swill milk to local distributors

who rebranded it as
pure country milk.

By the late 1830s,
swill milk makes up 50

to 80% of all the milk found
in the large northeast cities.

This milk is sold in open
containers on the street,

which make it a breeding ground

for all kinds of bacterial
diseases like cholera,

tuberculosis, and scarlet fever.

So Frank Leslie, an
investigative journalist,

did this huge expose on
what was actually going on.

He was like the TMZ of the time.

This expose causes
a public backlash

that leads to the New
York State legislature

issuing milk regulations.

So the history of milk
wasn't so wholesome,

but what about white bread?

For generations
of American kids,

it was all about white bread.

Dependable, comforting,
a lunchbox staple.

So what could possibly go wrong

with something so simple?

The 1950s is the
heyday of white bread.

Sandwiches are eaten,
lunch and dinner,

toast on the breakfast table.

You can
help them grow bigger

and stronger with
Wonder enriched bread.

Wonder supplies vitamins

and protein to help your child
grow bigger and stronger.

But America's
obsession with white bread

starts a century earlier.

For a long, long time,

the bread people
ate was brown bread,

because wheat is brown.

But in the 19th century, there's
a move towards white bread.

A lot of people
associate the color white

with cleanliness, purity,
overall higher quality.

As a result, white bread
becomes a status symbol.

This presents a problem
to commercial bakers

because white bread weighs less,

and this is in an era when
bread is sold by the pound.

So commercial bakers feel
like they're losing money

because they're baking
bread that weighs less.

So they start cutting the wheat

with different ingredients like
sawdust, plaster, and chalk,

and something else called alum.

Yummy

Alum is an aluminum
based compound

that is tasteless and is heavy.

So it accomplishes the task

of making the loaf
of bread heavier

but not affecting its taste.

You know where
you find alum today?

In laundry detergent, in
household cleaning products.

It's just like that laundry
pod eating challenge,

except these people don't
know they're doing it.

It's snuck in their bread.

If you're eating this
alum bread regularly,

it could lead to some really
bad digestive problems.

It could go from constipation

and diarrhea to like
full system failures.

In 1860, the use of alum

and other additives
is banned in England,

but in the United States,

that doesn't happen
until the 1900s.

Nobody likes spoiled
milk or moldy bread

or rotting fruit, which
is why companies came up

with ingenious ways
to preserve food.

Well, maybe ingenious is
a little too generous.

The 1800s is an incredibly
exciting time in America.

You've got trains,
you've got mass transit.

Meat can come from Chicago's
meat packing plants

and land in Boston.

Fresh fruit from the
peach orchards in Georgia

and South Carolina

could come all the way
up to New York City.

But there are no
refrigerated trained cars,

which means fresh
fruit, fresh produce,

fresh meat all arrive
at their destinations

in varying states of decay.

So food manufacturers
are looking for ways

to keep food fresh, or at
least keep it looking fresh.

Without modern refrigeration,

food manufacturers turn to an
exciting new field, chemistry.

Canning companies discover

that copper sulfate can
be added to rotting peas

or wilting green beans

to give them a bright
green appearance.

They discover
salicylic acid is great

for preserving canned fruit.

As meat begins to rot,
the proteins break down

and the fibers
begin to separate.

Meat packers have realized
that with the addition

of a chemical called borax,

they can actually make
the proteins contract,

which in turn makes
the product look fresh.

Underneath all those bright
colors and crisp appearances,

the food is just as
rancid as before.

Furthermore, the manufacturers
never tested any of this,

so no one knows what
these additives can do

to the human body.

In 1902, Harvey Washington
Wiley is head chemist

at the US Department
of Agriculture,

and he comes up with an
experiment to identify

some of the effects
of these additives.

He recruits 12 volunteers,

and in a basement of the USDA
headquarters in Washington DC,

Wiley creates an
experimental restaurant.

Wiley provides menus

and ingredients to a chef
who then prepares the food,

but laces it with
one questionable

preservative at a time. So he's
essentially poisoning these

volunteers to find out what's
gonna happen if they eat

this stuff. - This little supper
club gets a nickname.

It's soon known as
the Poison Squad,

and it starts to make
national headlines.

The American public
is enthralled.

They know that the foods
his volunteers are eating

are the same foods
on their own plates.

When you consider
how unregulated the

whole situation is,
the study is nuts.

These are serious chemicals.

Copper sulfate is
used in pesticide.

Borax is used to kill ants.

Formaldehyde is
an embalming fluid,

so these are not things that
you should be ingesting.

Can you imagine the stomach
aches these guys must have had?

Everybody back then
was eating poisoned food.

Everybody, we were a
society of Poison Squads,

we're all Poison Squad.

Of course, Wiley
finds continued evidence

of well, poisoning.

Nausea, headaches,
confusion, stomach aches,

all sorts of ailments
from consuming poisons.

The study only
lasts six months,

but that's long enough
for Wiley to realize

that all of these additives
are building up in the body,

making people sicker and sicker
the longer they eat them.

Thanks to Harvey Wiley

and his work with
the Poison Squad,

in 1906, Congress enacted
the Meat Inspection Act

and the Pure Food and Drug Act.

These are some of the very
first consumer protection laws

in the nation's history,
food or otherwise.

There's gotta be a monument
somewhere to these guys

who make it that I today
can eat cheddar cheese

without paint on it.

These are heroes.

The Poison Squad
took one for the team

and we're all much safer for it.

But how could you go wrong

with an early version
of a very famous soda.

It had lemon, lime and
something to take the edge off.

I think now people look at
soda as a quick fun drink,

but in the early days of
sodas, they were created

and sold as health tonics
with curative properties.

Coca-Cola is one
of the best examples.

It contained cocaine,

and was sold as a
product that could handle

all kinds of things,
including headaches.

But this doesn't last very long,

because in 1914,

Congress bans cocaine in
over the counter products

like Coca-Cola.

That doesn't
stop other manufacturers

from getting creative.

Along comes a man
named Charles Grigg.

He's gonna open himself
a beverage company

in St. Louis.

Grigg decides he wants
to create something

to help with people's
vitality and wellness.

He's going to make it
a lemon lime flavor,

and he's going to add
seven different ingredients

that he thinks will lift you up.

And his new
soda's name? 7 Up.

But this 7 Up is different
than the one we drink today.

It has an extra ingredient.

We add
lithium and sodium citrates.

Lithium, they put
lithium in 7 Up.

So lithium based compounds
are known to have a calming,

even sedative effect,

and in this particular case,
it's gonna enhance your mood,

it's gonna make you happier.

Sounds a lot like a narcotic.

Lithium, in the modern era,

is an extremely
controlled substance

that's used to treat
bipolar disorder.

As scientists do more
research into lithium,

they realize that this
is a powerful drug

and probably shouldn't
be in soda pop.

So in 1949, there's a
ban on lithium products

and Grigg has to remove
the lithium from 7 Up.

Up to this point,

7 Up is promoted as
a medicinal tonic.

So now without lithium,

it is forced to do
a total rebrand.

My the youngest baby
boomers are toddlers,

and they wanna hit that market,

so they decide that
a great thing to do

is to market soda to babies.

The company is even kind enough

to provide recipes for mothers

The
7 Up milk cocktail.

By the way, mom, when
it comes to toddlers,

if they like to be coaxed to
drink their milk, try this.

Add 7 Up to the
milk in equal parts,

pouring the 7 Up
gently into the milk.

It's a wholesome
combination, and it works.

This isn't so far
off from when sodas

were considered medicinal.

They would have
good health benefits

if you drank it regularly.

So while today we
look at this and go,

"It is absolutely nuts
to give sodas to babies."

Back then, not so much.

When I was a baby,
my parents took whiskey

and rubbed it on my gums.

I think we all know
everybody's parents

that did this were just
getting their kids buzzed

so they would pass out.

The opposite of that
is to give them sugar.

It's a terrible idea.

These ads appeared through
the 1950s and then fade away.

Did advertisers
think better of it,

or was it just time for
a new marketing campaign?

We don't know.

What we do know is that 7 Up

has been one of the top selling
sodas for nearly a century.

The 1960s were all
about pushing the limits.

Hair got longer,
cars got faster,

and even something
as simple as candy

underwent a cultural makeover,

but one company
created a product

that might not go down
quite as easily today.

By the late 1960s,

candy has sort of undergone
another stage of evolution.

They just started
to press dextrose

into all sorts of shapes.

There are some familiar
names like Starburst,

Swedish Fish, Lemonheads,
Cadbury Cream Eggs.

The shapes and
the types of candy

are definitely interesting,

but more interesting still

are the containers and
the marketing campaigns.

Any trend that was going on,

a candy manufacturer would say,

"Hey, we can glom onto that."

A New York based
candy importer

called R.L Albert and Son
import a candy from Japan,

but they rebrand it to
play off of the rise

of the anti-war
counterculture movement,

and that candy is
called Hippy Sippy.

It comes in this
plastic container.

You don't eat the container,

but it's filled with
these little candy beads.

The design
is no accident.

It doesn't come in the
shape of a peace symbol

or a flower.

No, no, no, no, this candy
comes in a very unique vessel.

The container looks
like a heroin needle,

and it's meant to poke fun

at the sort of counterculture
movement, the hippie movement.

It's super groovy,

and it comes with pins that
say, "We sell happiness,"

and "I'll try anything."

"We sell happiness." I mean,
there's a subtext there, right?

So did drug dealers.

It's a heroin
themed candy treat

meant to be sold to children.

The Albert Candy
company made this,

sent them out to Woolworths
and Rexall Drugstores,

and kids were buying
'em in middle America.

And then all of a sudden mom
looked over his shoulders like,

"What is Johnny playing with?"

Government representatives
climb on the campaign

to oppose Hippy Sippy.

Famously, the mayor of
Elizabeth, New Jersey

declares the candy
absolutely diabolical

and says that it connotes
loose moral values

among the youth.

The thing about the kids
are, they're probably thinking,

"Oh, it's like I'm gonna
play hospital or whatever."

They're not thinking heroin.

The kids are oblivious
to sort of all the drama,

sort of, that adults are
having with this product.

Less than a year
after it was introduced,

Hippy Sippy is pulled
off of the shelves

and it is banned nationwide.

Ultimately, it's
not these culture wars

that kill the Hippy Sippy,

it's because it
contains cocoa butter,

and there's concern that that
cocoa butter can be inhaled

through the straw and get
lodged in children's lungs.

It's a safety hazard.

But some people insist that
this candy was so controversial

that the FDA needed
an excuse to ban it.

In the upheaval of the 1960s,

a controversial candy
might have missed the mark,

but what if you
could find a new way

to enjoy something
natural, like bananas?

A central component
of the counterculture

of the 1960s is drug use,

but the people who are members
of this counterculture,

they're young people and they
don't have a lot of money,

and drugs are expensive.

In March of 1967,

a counterculture newspaper
called the Berkeley Barb

hits on the idea,

what if we could get
high from banana peels?

The belief was
that the serotonin

in the banana peel
would get you high.

Serotonin is the body's
feel good chemical.

It can stabilize emotion
and it can elevate mood.

And this is exactly what people

in the counterculture
are looking for.

Apparently if you scrape
out the white spongy parts

of a banana peel

and then dry it in
a 200 degree oven,

you could roll it
up and smoke it.

The phrase, "Smoke 'em, if
you got 'em," in the 1960s,

sometimes applied
to banana peels.

♪ I'm Chiquita banana

You would think that the
big banana corporations

were the one that
spread this rumor,

'cause they wanted
to sell more bananas.

But it turns out it was
this band called Country Joe

and the Fish.

Country Joe and the Fish

are a popular psychedelic
band from Berkeley.

They're on tour in
Vancouver, Canada

and they decide, let's give
the banana joint a try.

At first they feel nothing,

but then it hits
them really hard,

and they get so high that
they are playing the same song

for like 45 minutes.

At their next show, they
hand out 500 banana joints

and a fad is born.

Suddenly for some reason,
you can't get bananas.

Everybody's going to the store

and buying bananas,
not for the potassium,

but to scrape the banana
peels and smoke 'em.

It's Easter Sunday, 1967,

and in New York City,
10,000 people have gathered

to celebrate the banana.

They wear Chiquita badges.

They recite the banana pledge,

one nation, under banana,

with liberty and
justice for all.

Although banana smoking
seems like harmless fun,

it starts to have real
world consequences.

According to
counterculture newspapers,

people are taken into custody

for being in possession
of banana peels.

There is even one case
where a man is arrested

for driving under the
influence of banana peels.

New Jersey representative,
Frank Thompson,

tells Congress apparently
it was not enough

for this generation of thrill
seekers to use illicit LSD

and marijuana and airplane glue.

They now have invaded
the fruit stands.

He urges the adoption of
the Banana Labeling Act,

that will actually warn
people of the dangers

of smoking banana skins.

Thompson's bill is a
bit premature though.

Researchers at both the FDA

and New York University
start investigating

the chemical composition
of banana peels,

and they come to a conclusion.

There's nothing psychotropic
in a banana peel.

Banana dean doesn't exist.

I remember as a teenager,

we were promised that if
you inhaled some cinnamon,

you might get a
little bit stoned.

So it seems entirely
believable that a generation

of thrill seeking
counter culturalists

would consider rolling up a
banana peel and smoking it

just in the off rumor

that you might get a little
bit of a buzz from it.

But if bananas
don't get you high,

what happened with
Country Joe and the Fish?

Country Joe and the Fish
had been also drinking water

laced with LSD.

The banana joints didn't
get them high, it was LSD.

As soon as young people
realized there was no hope

in getting high from bananas,
the craze went up in smoke.

From the 1920s to the 1980s,

the number of cigarettes
smoked in America quadrupled.

During that same time,

candy became a multi-billion
dollar industry.

Typical of American ingenuity,

someone had the idea
to combine them.

Candy cigarettes originate
roughly at the same time

that regular
cigarettes are booming.

8-year-old Negin definitely
smoked candy cigarettes.

We would just pretend we were
like the ladies in the movies,

smoking cigarettes,
talking like this,

but we were like eight.

These candy cigarettes
looked like cigarettes.

They were wrapped in a wrapper

that looked like
it had a filter.

They even put a
red tip on the top

so it looked like it was lit,

and then when you puffed it,

powdered sugar came out the end.

It was like you were
smoking a cigarette.

In some cases,

they would actually use
the real trademarks,

the real designs
of the real logos

of actual cigarette companies.

But in other cases, the
packaging would look

to mirror the actual
cigarette companies.

They not only would
take a name like Viceroy,

a very popular brand
and name these Viceray,

but the packaging
is almost identical,

right down to the cellophane
that encloses the package.

Tobacco companies
turned a blind eye

to something that would normally
be trademark infringement.

They are perfectly willing
to let the candy companies

use or simulate their
names because they know,

or at least they believe,
that this is gonna condition

young kids, 5, 6,
7, 8, 9 year olds,

to become future smokers.

Imagine selling
Hires Root Beer,

but it's Budweiser
root beer, you know?

But the bottle
would look exactly

like a bottle of Bud
Light or something.

The idea is simple, they want
kids to emulate mom and dad.

Pretty much any and every
nicotine delivery system

that adults used,

was replicated in child
form, delivering sugar.

I mean, candy cigarettes
were everywhere.

It wasn't a big deal.

Nobody thought about like
what this means for children.

What are we teaching
them about cigarettes?

We would go to the deli,
we'd get the quarter drink

and a pack of candy cigarettes,

and we'd stand around
drinking and smoking,

and we felt cool.

We felt like we were
doing something adult.

But not
everyone is on board

with candy cigarettes.

In 1970, a
Pennsylvania congressman

introduced the
Candy Cigarette Act,

to make candy
cigarettes illegal.

It failed to pass.

The same thing happened in 1991.

Kids who puff away
on candy cigarettes

are twice as likely
to become smokers

when they become adults.

Thanks to the Tobacco
Control Act of 2009,

you could still actually sell
the same little sugary stick,

you just can't call it

or make it look anything
like a cigarette.

Of course, technically candy
cigarettes were harmless,

and that's exactly
what the makers

of something called Ginger Jake

said about their product
during prohibition.

The era of prohibition
creates this underground

of mobsters and
gangsters and smugglers,

and an entire generation of
people who are looking for

an alternative way
of getting their fix

Instead of a
bar or a liquor store,

America's new watering hole
of choice is a pharmacy.

Jamaican Ginger
is a patent medicine

that's been around
since the 1800s.

Most people just
call it Ginger Jake.

It's used as a pain reliever

and sold in two ounce
bottles at roadside stands

and pharmacies
across the country.

It's got a little
ginger in there,

but it's like 70 to 80% alcohol.

It does have some
temporary pain relief

like much alcohol does.

Thanks to prohibition,

now thousands of Americans
are turning to Ginger Jake

as a cocktail
rather than a cure.

The government
quickly recognizes

that the sales of Ginger
Jake go through the roof,

and they can't do
anything to restrict it,

and that's because
it's medicinal.

What the government does
is it imposes a requirement

that the producers
of Ginger Jake

now have to up the
levels of solid by 50%.

Ultimately, the state's
gonna take the liquid

and boil it down,

and that's how
they can figure out

what the alcohol content is.

Government
inspectors don't care

what solids are left behind.

They just want there to be
enough of something else

in there to dilute
the alcohol content.

And so enterprising
individuals realize

that these solids don't
have to be ginger.

They can be anything.

So in 1929, these
two brothers-in-law,

Harry Gross and Max Reisman,

decide to kind of come up
with their own Ginger Jake,

something that can
skirt around the law,

but essentially be a way to
sell alcohol to customers.

They go to the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology

and they ask a chemist
there what they can do

to boost the solid
content of a liquid.

He suggests adding
tri-ortho-cresyl

phosphate or TOCP. - TOCP is a
colorless, odorless liquid at

room temperature. But when you
boil it, it turns into a solid,

which makes it completely
undetectable to the consumer,

but satisfies
government testing.

Within a year,

Gross and Reisman sell
nearly 64,000 bottles

of Ginger Jake from
coast to coast.

The problem is that when
Gross and Reisman go to MIT,

they don't tell the chemist
what they're actually making.

TOCP is in polystyrene, it's
in vinyl, it's in plastics,

it's in gasoline.

It's definitely not
something you want to ingest.

TOCP can affect the nerves,

will create pulmonary edema,
stomach issues, diarrhea,

and lower limb paralysis.

This was an alcohol

that would literally make you
lose feeling in your body,

and people still drank it.

More than 20,000
Americans ended up

with what they referred
to as the Jake Leg,

where they had one leg that
just wasn't working as well

and they kind of had
a limp because of it.

The Food and Drug
Administration finds

that it's only this
version of Ginger Jake

that's causing the problems,

but at that point it's
too late to differentiate,

and so the name Ginger Jake
is ruined once and for all.

Well, it looks like Gross
and Reisman weren't as clever

as they thought.

They were each given a
suspended two years sentence

and a fine of a
thousand dollars.

How many of us
wish we could eat

as much as we want
without gaining weight?

Well, in the 1990s, a new
potato chip hit the market

and developed quite
the reputation.

Enjoy as much as you want
and not gain a pound.

But there was a catch.

I'll tell you as
both a historian

and a teen of the nineties,

the diet culture back
then was all about low fat

or no fat as much as possible.

Rather than figure out what
foods would be better for us.

No, no, just take the same foods

and then just replace what
was fatty with something else.

So when food
manufacturers decide

to take the fat outta the food,

you're actually pulling
the flavor out as well.

So you've gotta make up
for that loss of flavor,

whether it's fast food,
whether it's snacks.

How do you do that?

Typically, you just
add a bunch of sugar,

and that doesn't really help.

Then a game changing
product hits the market.

In 1996, the FDA
approves a compound

that has zero calories,

zero cholesterol, it
tastes just like fat.

This product is called Olestra.

Olestra really does
have a similar flavor

and mouth feel to actual fat,

but it's engineered to
have larger molecules

than natural fat.

So the body cannot
absorb or digest it,

which makes it calorie free.

It's really kind of a miracle.

Olestra is
quintessentially American.

Americans will not give up

their fatty fast
foods and snacks,

but they also don't wanna
pay the bodily price to them.

Olestra is what this stuff is,

and Olean is sort
of the company name

that they use when they
start pairing it up

with salty snacks.

So you start to see like
a bag of potato chips

and it would say,
"Now with Olean,"

and there's no fat in there.

So you go, "Oh, this sounds
great. I should try it."

So marketing these
products, it's exciting.

It's a miracle, you
can overindulge, right?

You can have all that flavor
and none of the bad effects,

But if your body
doesn't digest Olestra,

it's going to do
something else with it.

What they don't tell
you is once you try it,

you can't leave the house.

Because although this
thing seems great on paper,

yeah it's no fat, it
also is just running

through your body
like a freight drain.

This causes some
people to get so sick,

it requires hospitalization,

in some rare cases, colonoscopies.

Do you know of any
snack food today

that requires a colonoscopy?

Because the GI issues were
potentially so significant,

the FDA requires a warning label

to be placed on any product
that includes Olestra.

Olestra might cause
abdominal cramping

and loose stools,
not very appetizing.

What's crazy is that everybody
knew of these side effects,

but when you spend $200
million on research,

the companies push it,
the FDA approves it,

and now everyone is using it.

I was excited to
try Olean chips,

but I also looked at it as a
bit of a science experiment,

you know, and I made
sure I was gonna be

in a controlled environment,

like I wasn't gonna have a
date or have to be going out.

Over the course of six years,

the FDA receives over
20,000 individual complaints

of people saying they
suffer from cramping

and diarrhea,
fecal incontinence,

and arguably one of the
worst two word combinations

in history, anal leakage.

Very quickly, we went from
Olean being this amazing thing

to being the butt of every joke,
literally and figuratively.

I mean, anal
leakage was the joke

that every late night show,
every standup comedian,

everybody was making
fun of this stuff,

in such a short window of time.

By 2000, sales of Olestra
products

have actually dropped by
50%, and they never rebound.

So there is an attempt
by the food industry

to reformulate
Olestra into a product

that doesn't cause
stomach problems.

Unfortunately, that comes
with a brand new side effect.

They actually cause
you to gain weight.

In 2010, Time
magazine names Olestra

one of the top 50
worst inventions,

and it's banned
in many countries.

Today, nutrition experts

tout the benefits
of healthy fats.

Of course, that still doesn't
give us a diet potato chip.

College is that
time of your life

when you get a taste of freedom
and real responsibility.

Between classes,
sports and parties,

it can feel like there aren't
enough hours in the day.

Wouldn't it be great
if there was a way

to get a little boost?

In a legal way, of course.

Early energy
drinks like Radithor

contained radioactive
materials to give you energy.

We found out the hard way

that this was dangerous
and deeply crazy.

But then in the
nineties and the 2000s,

energy drinks make a huge
comeback coast to coast.

Red Bull had really
sort of opened America up

to this world of energy drinks,

and you started mixing
Red Bull and vodka, right?

So it starts to become
part of the party culture.

Chris Hunter, Jason
Freeman and Jeff Wright.

Three fraternity brothers
from Ohio State University

see this alcohol
energy drink trend,

and they see a
business opportunity.

They begin experimenting
with their own mixtures

of energy drink and alcohol.

In 2005, these
budding entrepreneurs

come out with a
pre-mixed energy beer.

It's genius.

It's the first time a
beer and an energy drink

are available
pre-mixed together.

They soon realize

they found an eager
customer base,

and they figure they're
onto something big.

They decide to
call the Four Loko.

Four, because it has
four main ingredients.

It has alcohol, it has
caffeine, it has Guarana,

which is a seed that has like
double the caffeine of coffee,

and Taurene, which is an amino
acid that helps boost energy.

And so they add Loko

because well, that mix of
four ingredients is insane.

The drinks become very
popular across college campuses

and they actually acquire
an unofficial motto,

horny, hyper and happy.

I guess technically
that's only three Loko,

but as a college student,

those are three things
I didn't mind being.

Each 23 ounce can has
the same amount of alcohol

as five beers

and the same amount of
caffeine as two cups of coffee.

You don't drink Four
Loko, you survive Four Loko.

It is like a can of Red Bull

and a bottle of tequila
met and had a baby.

It's madness.

Within a few months,
this drink is everywhere.

It's in convenience stores,
it's in liquor stores,

and it's even in rap songs.

But soon it
starts to garner attention

for the wrong reasons.

The reason kids drinking it
is, 'cause it's really cheap.

You know, it's like 2.50
and it's 12% alcohol,

so it'll get the job done.

Caffeine masks some of
the effects of intoxication.

By the time you
drink two of them,

you may be more drunk
than you realize.

There are so many
people passing out

from drinking too much Four Loko

that it starts to get the
nickname, "Blackout in a can."

I remember when Four
Loko was both captivating

and terrorizing New York.

Teenagers were found
unconscious at school.

People are falling
into subway tracks.

My friend's restaurant
had a Four Loko night

and a young woman actually
went through a glass door

that she didn't
realize wasn't open.

This stuff is crazy.

At Central
Washington University,

nine students who
drank Four Loko

are hospitalized
in a single night.

Their blood alcohol
concentrations

range from 0.12 to a 0.35.

That is over four
times the legal limit.

I mean, anything over a 0.3
can lead to like coma or death.

Then it turns out
alcohol isn't even

Four Loko's biggest problem.

In November of 2010,
the FDA sends a letter,

warning of the danger of
the levels of the caffeine

in these alcoholic beverages.

Brooklyn politician,
Felix Ortiz, goes on TV

to demonstrate exactly how
dangerous this product is.

He drinks as much Four Loko
as he can within an hour

with a doctor
measuring his vitals.

After just two and a half cans,
his vital signs have spiked

and the camera crews have to cut

to prevent from
filming him vomiting.

With the FDA bearing down,

the Four Loko team
preemptively states

that they will remove
caffeine, Taurene

and Guarana from
their beverages.

In December of 2010,

the caffeine-free
version is released,

but that's not the end of the
story for the original recipe.

Wholesale distributors
across a number of states

buy a bunch of
this unused stock.

They send it to a
processor in Virginia,

and they distill thousands
of truckloads of Four Loko

to get the alcohol out of it.

The alcohol then is mixed with
gasoline and sold as a fuel.

So you can't drink Four
Loko, but your car can.

Looking back at the
foods we once enjoyed,

from fat free chips
to candy cigarettes,

to radioactive energy drinks,
there was always something new

and exciting to try.

Now sometimes it was toxic

or it might have had
some bad side effects,

but that didn't stop
our "Hazardous History,"

from being hard to resist.