Good Health Magazine : NUTRITION...

In the mid-19th Century, Sylvester Graham, creator of the graham cracker, believed that plain, simple foods in their natural state were necessary for a healthy body. Salt and other condiments caused insanity, he said; cooked vegetables were “against God’s law,” and chicken pies caused cholera.

In 1899, Dr. John Harvey Kellogg made a fortune by “detoxifying” the bodies of wealthy patients in his Battle Creek, Mich., sanitarium. A back-to-nature enthusiast, Kellogg employed therapy that included a high-fiber diet based on his invention, the cornflake. Although he prescribed natural foods in general, Kellogg was especially fond of strawberries and grapes--he frequently advised hypertensives to consume 10 to 14 pounds of the fruit a day to lower their blood pressure.

Capitalizing on the belief at the time that fiber could cure stomach ailments, one of Kellogg’s clients--Charles W. Post--developed a ground-wheat-and-barley product that he called Grape Nuts. Post marketed the cereal as a remedy for, among other maladies, appendicitis and malaria.

Around the same time, “Fletcherizing” or “chewing for health” took the country by storm. Horace Fletcher designed the process of slow, methodical chewing and rechewing of food, to produce the same positive effects as the high-fiber diets being hawked by his peers. The process was lauded in magazines and used as part of the treatment at Kellogg’s sanitarium.

(Although most people today have never heard of “Fletcherizing,” many Americans are familiar with his other invention--Fletcher’s Castoria, an oily liquid used to treat childhood constipation.)

Despite nutritionists’ and health experts’ constant calls for a modest diet based on foods from a variety of sources, Americans have long sought dietary magic to remedy their grossly imbalanced diets.

This desire for shortcuts to long life, super strength, extra energy, vitality and freedom from disease has caused an assortment of health-food information and misinformation to flourish for what seems like a millennium. Americans have created diets for weight loss to protect the heart, to cleanse the intestines, to lower blood pressure and even to calm hyperactive children. In many ways, our ideas about health foods have come full-circle.

For decades, dietitians have expressed concerns about the American public’s preoccupation with healthful foods as panaceas. “Belief in the virtues of specific foods is as old as man himself,” Professor Mary Swartz Rose told a group of her colleagues at an American Dietetic Assn. meeting on food fads in 1932.

In the 1940s, these concerns grew into a fascination with foods that were believed to prolong life. By the 1960s and ‘70s Americans had developed a preoccupation with superhealth, and by the 1980s food faddists were again looking at food for longevity. Today food safety is again a concern.

Indeed, food faddism is an American way of life, and it hasn’t changed very much. It’s not that consumers haven’t learned from past mistakes. It’s simply that strange and unusual doctrines of the past are repackaged as the audience becomes more sophisticated.

“Around the turn of the century the major concern was food safety,” says C. Wayne Callaway of George Washington University in Washington D.C. “This led to the establishment of the Food and Drug Administration.

“The second era, from about 1920 to 1940, had to do with adequacy. It was discovered that many Americans were malnourished, which led to Recommended Dietary Allowances (RDAs), the Food and Nutrition Board, enrichment of foods and community-education programs.

“The third era is the one we’re in now--an era of dietary guidelines or (the link between) diet and chronic disease--especially fat and the simplistic categorization of foods as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ We’re not looking at the whole diet.”

Historically, Americans never have.

The first nutritionists were employed in the Massachusetts and New York state health departments in 1917 to establish and maintain nutritional standards.

In spite of the nutritionists’ presence, malnutrition in children and nutrient-deficiency diseases--rickets, scurvy and pellagra--were common. This was largely because people had moved from farms, where fresh foods were available, and began eating large amounts of processed foods. Salted meats, canned vegetables and refined flour and sugar, for example, were staples in the typical American household.

Eventually, packagers began fortifying foods with vitamins and minerals that had been removed during processing. Iodized salt, Vitamin B- and iron-enriched grain products, Vitamin-D-fortified milk, and cod liver oil were incorporated into highly processed foods.

By 1930, because of this post-World War I emphasis on vitamins and minerals, nutrition clearly had become a national priority.

Perhaps no one better embodied this mind-set during this period than a scrawny 15-year-old with failing health named Jack La Lanne. After attending a seminar explaining the dynamic effects of a wholesome diet, La Lanne was so inspired that he began to eliminate refined products from his diet. He substituted them with whole grains.

La Lanne converted his mother to his whole-grain way of thinking, and the two began making whole-grain cookies and breads that he sold to his classmates.

The first of a long line of nature salesmen, La Lanne said people should reject highly processed food and eat more natural foods in their natural state. His diet included carrot juice, fresh fruits and vegetables, egg whites and high-fiber baked goods--complemented by lots of vigorous exercise.

Soon, overweight firemen and police officers were gobbling up La Lanne’s products and were paying $5 a month to work out in his back-yard gym.

Although La Lanne developed a small and loyal following, the bulk of the general American public wasn’t ready for the back-to-basics gospel he was preaching.

“I was basically considered a charlatan,” La Lanne says, “because I was telling people not to eat salt and sugar. Doctors said that women would get muscle-bound if they listened to me. People would get hemorrhoids from a whole-grain diet.

“Today, I’m considered an authority.”

Historically, many Americans have sought diets such as La Lanne’s that were based on whole grains and vitamin-rich foods. They ignored dietitians’ advice for balance and moderation and put their faith in nutrition quackery.

Health-food “evangelists” have been eager to supply it.

They have ballyhooed miracle foods as cures for ailments of every sort--from cancer and heart disease to hyperactivity in children. In most cases, a food remained in fashion for a time; then it was replaced by another when a “scientific discovery” was made.

One example of widespread belief in nutrition nonsense comes from an especially peculiar notion in the 1930s, based on theories by Dr. William Harvey Hay.

Hay believed that “harmonized food selection” could cure society’s high rate of tummy troubles. Starchy foods should never be consumed, Hay said, with anything else, lest a “digestive explosion” would occur. Specifically, the combination of protein and carbohydrates at a meal was to be strictly avoided.

Another food superstition was promoted by Bernarr MacFadden, who prescribed a special dietary program to cure cancer that consisted of a fast, followed by the devouring of as many grapes as the patient could eat.

But not all health messages were carried to such extremes. Some were based on valid principles and made nutritional sense. In 1941 the first RDAs were published, and the “the basic seven,” a food guide that divided foods into seven groups, was developed for use as a teaching device.

The basic seven were later streamlined to four--breads and cereals, fruits and vegetables, meats and eggs, and dairy products. Today, a fifth category--fats, sugar and alcohol is being addressed.

Consumption of whole-milk products was encouraged by the U.S. Department of Agriculture with the caveat that extra butter, or its equivalent in fat and Vitamin A and Vitamin D, be included in the diet if skim milk was consumed. Eggs, liver and lean meats were to be eaten for their contribution of iron.

Surprisingly, sugar and fats of all types were considered cheap and important sources of fuel, though researchers have since discovered that they contribute to obesity and can cause other medical problems. The prevalence of the malnutrition diseases declined, but diseases of excess, such as cancer and heart disease, began to rise.

As the country moved from the poverty of the Great Depression to become an economic powerhouse after World War II, Americans faced a paradox. The standard of living had improved so dramatically that millions now had access to foods formerly associated with wealth. However, bacon and eggs for breakfast, rich desserts, cream in coffee, butter on bread and a chop or steak alongside vegetables were now associated with a high risk for certain diseases.

At about the same time, a postwar fascination with Hollywood rekindled Americans’ preoccupation with their physical appearance.

In 1951 Gayelord Hauser’s bestseller, “Look Younger, Live Longer,” encouraged would-be movie stars to add years to their lives by consuming skim milk, brewer’s yeast, wheat germ, yogurt and blackstrap molasses.

Author Lelord Kordel published books in the 1950s suggesting that certain foods could restore youth and vitality. He expanded his notion to claim that honey and rare meat could prevent aging, loss of sexual ability and premature death.

Lecithin supplements were highly recommended because of the nutrient’s link to cholesterol metabolism and heart disease and lecithin’s possible role in preventing obesity. As an emulsifier, lecithin is capable of breaking down fat, so proponents of supplements, such as Kordel, recommended taking lecithin in high doses to eventually rid the body of fat and cholesterol.

Prevention magazine also was promoting longevity through diet. In the early 1950s, articles focused on the link between processed foods and various diseases. The publication considered carob preferable to chocolate, and honey better than sugar.

Yogurt was touted as a “prevention food.” It could remedy belching, stomach rumbling and flatulence. It also was considered useful in the treatment of infant dyspepsia, diarrhea and constipation.

The hope for eternal life was transformed into a fear of disease, which health promoters exploited to sell vitamin supplements. For instance, Vitamin C is important for prevention of scurvy, but claims that it could relieve back pain had no scientific basis. By 1970 Vitamin C was promoted to the ultimate health-food status when a researcher claimed to have discovered its curative effect on viral infections.

It was that year that Linus Pauling, a Nobel Prize-winning biochemist, published “Vitamin C and the Common Cold,” a book that began the trend of vitamin megadosing with its theories that viral infections “could be controlled almost entirely . . . by an adequate intake of ascorbic acid”.

The counterculture of the 1960s also made the Zen macrobiotic diet popular, in spite of health experts’ cries that such a diet was dangerous. A cultist variation of the vegetarian diet, the mystical Zen regimen was composed almost exclusively of whole grains, such as brown rice. Ardent followers didn’t get many of the essential nutrients needed for proper body functioning, and some reportedly died of starvation.

The immortal-health-food industry survived Zen. But by 1969 so many misleading nutrition claims were being made that a special panel--part of the White House Conference on Food and Nutrition--began to look into the practice of deception.

The conference led to government restrictions that forced the industry to change its position. Emphasis shifted from foods for use as miracle drugs to foods for nutritional insurance.

The claims of one of the first modern “health authorities” also were affected by the government’s policy. Adele Davis’ theories on organic foods and other roads to nutrition were numerous. She suggested, among other things, that breast milk combined with doses of Vitamin E could prevent crib death, and that drinking a quart of milk daily would prevent cancer.

By the end of the decade, the public had developed a fetish for organic foods. Some people paid twice as much for organically grown foods, considered to be superior because they were free of pesticides and other chemicals.

Inevitably, processed-food manufacturers jumped on this naturalist bandwagon. Labels boasting “nothing artificial” began appearing on shelves in conventional supermarkets. This practice was accompanied by a renewed interest in physical fitness.

“Superhealth” was the buzzword of the 1970s.

If the selling of health food was considered a cottage industry in the 1960s, it had ballooned into a multimillion-dollar business by the 1970s. One health-food trade magazine boasted that there were some 5,400 health-food retailers in the United States. Add the individual stores within chains and the number increased to 6,500.

Vitamin megadosing was rampant. A national survey of U.S. health practices and opinions showed that 75% of the population believed that extra vitamins provided pep and energy;. 20% said arthritis and cancer could be attributed--at least in part--to vitamin and mineral deficiencies

Vitamin E was supposed to prevent heart disease and arthritis and enhance sexual potency. Niacin and Vitamin B reputedly helped reduce schizophrenia. Bone meal might retard aging, and desiccated liver was a “nutritional champion.” Rodale Press’ Organic Gardening and Farming and Prevention magazines developed large followings.

At the same time, the search for the cause of cancer had become paramount. Some researchers provided further evidence that large intake of certain foods--dairy products, red meat and eggs--could be linked to cancer and, some experts said, man-made chemicals also played a role in development of the disease.

As the food phobia escalated, groups such as Nader’s Raiders and the Center for Science in the Public Interest were organized, much of their energy devoted to improving the quality of the American diet. They monitored research and educated the public. CSPI vowed to “watchdog federal agencies that oversee food safety, trade and nutrition.”

It was a fertile environment for health-food hype nonetheless.

The “mayo grapefruit diet” (no connection to the Mayo Clinic), “the banana diet” and “the rice diet” are examples of the American public’s willingness to self-prescribe for better health. Ultimately, wheat bran, because of its unique ability as a laxative, also became popular as a super-food.

Dr. Denis Burkitt, an Englishman, returned from a trip to Africa, where he had observed that Africans on fiber-rich diets were relatively free of diseases of the gastrointestinal tract. They seldom suffered from colon cancer, appendicitis, diverticulitis or hemorrhoids; even heart disease was rare.

Burkitt studied their environment and food consumption and found that they were vegetarians. Their diet consisted of high-fiber fruits and vegetables, cereal grains, protein from nuts and beans, and far less fat than was present in the typical American diet.

His work, along with Dr. David Ruben’s “Save Your Life Diet” (1975), convinced many Americans that a high-fiber diet could be instrumental in reducing risk from certain diseases. Wheat bran in the 1970s replaced Graham’s wheat flour of the 1900s as the panacea for gastrointestinal disease.

A report by George McGovern’s 1977 Select Committee on Nutrition and Human Needs called for major modifications in American eating habits. Cutting back on fat was a top priority.

The committee published its recommendations as the first Dietary Goals for the United States. It suggested that Americans reduce consumption of cholesterol (a type of fat), saturated fat and sugar and eat more protective foods--especially fiber-rich fruits and vegetables.

Cruciferous vegetables such as broccoli and cabbage were widely eaten because of their assumed ability to fight colon cancer. Carrots were praised for their beta carotene, another nutrient, research said, that had a role in cancer prevention.

By 1988, at least 10 government and volunteer health agencies had issued similar dietary recommendations in the hope of improving the health status of the nation. But as the number of groups making recommendations rose, so did consumer frustration. The advice to reduce fat was magnified, and soon, books on weight loss proliferated.

Dr. Robert Atkins started the “diet revolution” with his series of books of the same title in the early 1970s. He was followed by Nathan Pritikin and his “Permanent Weight Loss Manual” and “The Beverly Hills Diet” in 1981.

Among Atkins’ therapeutic claims was that people could eat as much high-fat food as they could handle as long as carbohydrates--including fruits and vegetables--were not consumed. The basis for this theory was his discovery that a “fat-mobilizing hormone” would be secreted and would stimulate the body to burn its own stored fat. Health experts said this was sheer nonsense.

Then along came Pritikin, who advised consumers to cut their fat intake to a low 10%--even though most health organizations recommended 30% as a safe intake.

Such contradictory advice paved the way for the dangerous no-food-at-all mentality of the late 1980s. Liquid-protein and very-low- calorie diets--some as low as 400 calories per day--were extremely popular and equally dangerous.

In 1987, the California Dietetic Assn., published a booklet, “Popular Diets: How They Rate,” to assist consumers in making eating-plan selections in the face of such silliness.

The organization reviewed 15 of the most celebrated regimens, including “Fit For Life,” a diet based on food combinations; Judith Wurtman’s “Carbohydrate Craver’s Diet,” designed to satisfy the hunger for sweets and starches; the “Fit or Fat Target Diet,” which taught dieters how to design their own diets according to individual tastes and needs, and the “200 Calorie Diet,” which advocated increasing activity to the equivalent of 200 calories along with a modest reduction in food intake to promote weight loss.

The CDA found that it could recommend only one of the diets, “The Setpoint Diet,” by Dr. Gilbert A. Leveille. Four were conditionally recommended and the rest were not recommended. Leveille’s methodology included a moderate reduction in calories to be provided by a variety of foods. Menus were supplied, based on five calorie-intake levels, and exercise was part of the program.

By the late 1980s, Americans’ concern about their diets was expanded to include “heart health.” Oat bran, a fiber-rich grain previously used to feed pigs and horses, was identified as a cholesterol-lowering agent. Supermarket shelves were soon flooded with that cereal. In the last year or so, however, research findings have raised significant questions about the ability of oat bran to lower cholesterol.

At about the same time, the television series “60 Minutes” featured a report with the National Resources Defense Council alleging that Alar, a substance used by growers to preserve red apples, caused cancer.

Although natural-food enthusiasts had been trumpeting the “natural is safe, man-made is suspect” position since the mid-1960s, the report caused panic among many parents because it highlighted dangers to children.

The NRDC claimed that children were more likely to be affected by the chemical because they eat more applesauce and drink more apple juice than adults. School districts quickly yanked apples from their menus; Uniroyal, the manufacturer of Alar, took the pesticide off the market.

Recovery from the Alar scare was slow, and it was compounded by food-poisoning incidents in the late 1980s. Chemicals used to kill aphids, to make fruit and vegetables plumper, and to make animals more muscular were indicted by many. By the end of 1989, it was increasingly difficult for consumers to tell whether any chemicals were safe. Organic foods were the preferred alternative.

In a Louis Harris Poll conducted for Organic Gardening magazine, two-thirds of those queried said they would choose organic foods for their long-term health effects. At least 85% said they would buy organically grown fruits and vegetables if they cost the same as their conventionally farmed counterparts. And almost half of those asked said they thought the federal government was doing a poor job protecting consumers from potentially harmful pesticides in produce.

But is this penchant for organic merely another in Americans’ temporary love affairs with food? Or will residue-free food become the watchword of the ‘90s?

Steve Daniels, executive editor of Organic Gardening, thinks the latter will be the case. He explains that the 1988 poll--taken before the Alar and other pesticide scares--showed a similar consumer interest in organics. That, he says, demonstrated that the interest is more than a fad.

“The message of this poll is clear . . . . Americans realize that the organic alternative is the answer, and they want government and conventional agriculture businesses to respond to their demands,” he says.

“The organic mandate is not a passing fad fueled by fear but a clear preference fueled by reason.”

Elizabeth Whelan, president of the American Council on Science and Health, a consumer-education organization, disagrees. The pesticide phobia is very likely to continue into the ‘90s, she says, but it won’t be due to consumer logic.

Like the food fads that preceded it, the demand for organic foods will result from a blurring of real safety concerns--such as enforcing safe application of chemicals--with exaggerated ones, she says. And, like the rest, she says, it will be a fad “with no benefit to health.”

“I have to agree that this fear is indeed being enhanced, and I don’t know what it’s going to take to make people see what demagoguery this is. Pesticide residues have never been proven unsafe.

“People have a real confusion merging real concerns with hypothetical ones,” Whelan says. They tend to want to blame anyone but themselves for possible risk from disease . . . (so they) run to health food.”