Around the turn of the twentieth century, Marie and Pierre Curie’s discovery of radium sparked a frenzy of interest in its potential health benefits. Companies from various industries eagerly incorporated the radioactive element into their products, touting its supposed healing properties. Radium found its way into everyday consumer goods, including cosmetics, toothpaste, hair creams, over-the-counter medications, health restoratives, bottled water, and watch dials.
Adding to this surge, researchers detected natural radioactivity in springs across the United States. Physicians suggested that there was a health benefit to “taking the waters” at these springs. according to the Bulletin for the History of Chemistry. By the middle of the 1910s, thermal springs experienced a renaissance as places not merely to “take the waters” but to receive the benefits of radioactivity.((Matthew Lavine, “The Two Faces of Radium in Early American Nuclear Culture,” Bulletin for the History of Chemistry 39, no. 1 (2014): 56.)) However, most Americans lacked the time or means to visit spas. The solution? Bottling and shipping radioactive water.
In 1914, seizing upon this trend, the Pine Crest Spring Water Company of Pittsfield, Massachusetts, rebranded itself as the Great Radium Spring Water Company. Under the direction of Fred M. Osteyee, the owner, the company offered bottled water and flavored drinks. The amount of radium in the product is unknown – it could have been a minuscule trace or a clever marketing ploy.((“Great Radium Spring Water Co. Bottles,” Museum of Radiation and Radioactivity, accessed March 18, 2024.)),((Robbybobby64, “Great Radium Spring Water Co.,” Antique Bottles, accessed March 18, 2024,))
As scientific research started shedding light on the hazards of radiation exposure, the once-thriving radium trend began to fade in the late 1920s and early 1930s. The Great Radium Spring Water Company ceased its operations in 1931. (Of course, the Great Depression probably impacted business, too.) Concurrently, tragic cases like that of the “Radium Girls” – young factory workers suffering from radium poisoning after ingesting the luminous paint used on watch dials – cast a shadow over products.
Furthermore, stricter regulations emerged to combat misleading health claims associated with products. The pervasive advertisements promoting radium’s purported healing properties came under scrutiny because of this, prompting regulatory authorities to intervene and rein in the excesses of corporations that had capitalized on the radium craze.
Resting on a shelf in my office is a relic from this bygone era: a century-old aqua-blue bottle adorned with the Great Radium Spring Water Company logo. This artifact is a tangible link to a time when corporations eagerly promoted radium-infused products as miracle cures.
I sometimes incorporate this bottle into my lectures on the history of public health and use it to illustrate the complexities of consumer products during the emerging nuclear age. It is a reminder of an era when companies made promises of health and vitality but left behind a legacy of tragic consequences. Inspired by a recent viewing of the play Radium Girls, I retrieved the old bottle from the shelf to share its story on the blog.