MT. CLEMENS HISTORY BUBBLES UP WITH HOSPITAL’S REVIVAL OF FAMOUS THERAPEUTIC HOT SPRINGS
The way Susan Gans sees it, we have a 400-million-year supply of mineral water underneath Mt. Clemens.
And it’s about time that we started using it.
“It’s a shame that for 50 years it has all been closed down,” says the owner of Geologix, which owns the only operating mineral well in town.
Modern medicine killed the Mt. Clemens mineral baths, once world famous for treating aches, pains and arthritis.
Now the limitations of modern medicine may bring them back.
“I think it’s possible that we are getting ready for another bath era,” says Marie McDougal, Harrison Township author of a new book about the baths. “People with chronic conditions are getting tired of the drugs.” But the idea that mineral baths can cure “will have to prove itself.”
St. Joseph’s Mercy Hospital in Mt. Clemens is ready to try.
By August, it hopes to have enough private investors for a multimillion-dollar renovation of its 1899 historic east wing of the hospital on North Road, which is the only one of the city’s 11 original bathhouses still standing. The plan is to open a 14,000-square-foot therapeutic spa by mid-2002, says Scott Adler, vice president for community integration.
“We plan to have six tubs and 22 treatment rooms,” he says, plus acupuncture, massage and other medically based alternative treatments.
Two years ago, St. Joe opened one little bathtub for mineral baths in an unused, old physical therapy area of the east wing. Because it didn’t have its own well, the bathtub uses bath salts distilled from Gans’ well.
Already, more than 1,000 people have used that one bath, astonishing the hospital staff. It costs $40 for a bath, $75 for a bath plus massage.
“We really did it as a public relations thing to mark the 100th anniversary of the hospital,” says Adler. “Now we get calls from people around the country who want to come here.”
Last year, a retired doctor with arthritis and carpal tunnel problems came from Philadelphia and stayed 21 days. By the time she left, she told therapists, she could sleep again on her side and her shoulders didn’t hurt,
Old therapy may be revived
McDougal remembers the worst feature of the baths - their sulfury stink. Her new book, “Mount Clemens Bath City, U.S.A. in Vintage Postcards” (Arcadia, $18.99), shows postcards reflecting the early 1900s when thousands of people, including Babe Ruth, Mae West and other celebrities, flocked to the city to be healed and hobnob with other bathers.
Postcards show decrepit people hobbling to the waters on crutches and miraculously leaving the bathhouses with a spring in their step and smiles on their faces.
“Everybody is Cured at Mt. Clemens;” they advertised. “I left My Aches and Pains at Mt. Clemens.”
“I think 99 percent of the reason they felt better was that people got away from their problems for three weeks,” McDougal says.
“You were getting all the toxins out with the hot water, and relaxation had a lot to do with it. The baths advertised, ‘We cure rheumatism.’ But they didn’t say how long the cure would last.”
Although there have been sporadic attempts to revive the mineral bath industry in Mt. Clemens since the 1970s, none ever worked out.
This time, the public, riding a crest of interest in alternative medical treatments, might just be ready.
One believer is Norman Bielak of Shelby Township, who swears once-a-week baths at St. Joe’s for the past month have noticeably reduced his back, knee and leg pain.
“It’s not cheap, but if you get any results at all, it’s worth it. After each one, you feel a little better,” says Bielak, 75, who has had multiple medical problems stemming from a gunshot wound to the leg in World War II.
He has had two knee replacements, knee surgery, back pain from his left leg being shorter than his right, a heart attack and hypertension.
He got his doctor’s permission to try the baths for pain, but he still takes his regular medications. Insurance does not cover the bath treatments.
Every week, he puts on his bathing suit and sits in the tub for 20 minutes. A therapist starts the temperature at a controlled 103 degrees, then gradually lowers it. She puts weights on his lower body to keep him from floating. His whole body is submerged in the 65-gallon stainless steel tub, except for his head, which rests on a bolstered towel.
After the bath, he is escorted into a massage room and given a half-hour therapeutic massage with mineral cream.
Bielak lived 75 years without ever having had a massage. How does he like it?
“Oh, it’s nice,” he says with enthusiasm “After the first one I came home and fell asleep. I definitely think it’s something in the minerals, no question about it.”
How it might work
But how does mineral bath therapy, called balneology, work?
Sure, the hot water feels good. Sure, the massage is nice.
But it goes beyond that, advocates say.
Mineral baths have been used for thousands of years to treat skin diseases, aching muscles and joint pain. Balneology is big in Germany (think Baden Baden), Eastern Europe and Russia. After being closed for several years, baths in Bath, England, are due to reopen next year. Yet very little has been written about the subject in this country.
The National Institutes of Health has done no research on the subject, and none is planned.
“The Mineral Waters of the United States” (out of print) reports that Mt. Clemens water, similar to that of Achsel and Mannstein in Germany, benefits skin conditions, chronic rheumatism, stiff joints and pain. Yet that book, written in 1899, is hardly a definitive source for medical information.
Dermatologists already know that mineral baths can improve psoriasis, eczema and other skin conditions; thousands flock to the Dead Sea in Israel to be treated by the mineral-rich sea and the sun.
Minerals can be absorbed through the skin, says Dr. Howard Sawyer, assistant professor of occupational and environmental mental medicine at Wayne State University.
He believes minerals in the Mt. Clemens water likely are absorbed if the body needs them, either working on a local or systemic level.
How exactly do they work?
That’s hard to say.
“We have all kinds of enzyme systems and physiological activities that depend upon proper amounts of trace elements,” says Sawyer, who is an expert on clinical toxicology.
“And there is no question that substances can be absorbed through the skin; transdermal absorption is one of the hottest things in medicine right now.
“The trouble with this mineral bath kind of thing is that it’s hard to go out and prove things, simply because of the complexity of what you’re studying. All it is is a bunch of concentrated sea water; how can it help anybody?
“But I’m convinced, as a reasonably skeptical physician, that it can.”
J. Paul deVierville, one of the few Americans familiar with balneology, teaches the subject in Germany. Bathing in minerals is beneficial, he says. But it’s the combination of the minerals, relaxation, warmth and nurturing that really makes people feel better.
“The minerals themselves are facilitating the physiology of the body, so the body heals itself,” says deVierville, who is based in San Antonio. “But it’s also a psychological benefit.”
Modern entrepreneur
Susan Gans blasts a stream of water and it melts the snow with its heat. Teens just getting out of school walk by.
“What’s going on?” they ask, staring at the black water pouring out of the hose.
There used to be about a dozen mineral water wells in Mt. Clemens, but now there is only one, owned by Gans.
Located near the Comfort Inn off North River Road, the well is 1,400 feet deep, far deeper than any well you’d dig for drinking water. This well spews out lukewarm black water that tastes like a salty sea and smells like rotten eggs. The original bathhouses used the water directly in their baths.
Nobody today would do that.
Concerned with safety, Gans treats the water to remove the hydrogen sulfide, a toxic gas that also causes the rottenegg smell and dark color. After treatment, the water is scentless and the color is light tan.
Mt. Clemens mineral water has one of the highest concentration of minerals for any body of water in the world – 2 pounds per 5 gallons of water. Dried out the minerals look like a heap of white salts, like the buildup at the bottom of your furnace dehumidifier.
Gans has developed bath salts, pain creams and all kinds of other Ache-Away products that she sells in metro Detroit shops, spas and on her Web site (www.ache-away.com). She also supplies St. Joe’s with a stronger version of the products.
The scent of nostalgia
The longer the bath era is gone the more intense the nostalgia. Some longtime Mt. Clemens residents are even nostalgic for the stink.
“We were little kids uptown, and I remember people would walk through town with their bathrobes and towels. And I remember the smell, but you kind of got used to it after a while,” remembers Ola Arnold, 77, who moved to Mt. Clemens in 1939. She now works as the bath attendant at St. Joe’s.
Of the 11 bathhouses once in the city, all except one burned down or were torn down.
Their quaint names - Arethusa, Clementine, Colonial, Eureka, Fountain, Medea, Original, Olympia, Park and Plaza belong to the sepia-toned past. Where they stood are parking lots, office buildings, part of Gratiot Avenue.
Except for St. Joe’s.
True, its marble-columned lobby is used for meetings.
Its owners talk of market share and patient trends.
Its wide oak staircases are used by hospital workers hurrying up and downstairs to their computerized jobs.
But from the outside of St. Joe’s, you can still see the ghosts of the Mt. Clemens mineral bathers. In bathrobes, they sit on the sweeping, grand porch, their crutches tossed aside, faces to the sun, wellness just a mineral bath away.
