A Product of its Time: Lydia Pinkham

In the late 1800s, ads touting “guaranteed” cures for virtually every disease known to mankind (and a few that weren’t) were peppered throughout most newspapers. “Female ills” were one of the more common targets of advertising (alongside its male counterpart “exhausted vitality”), and if the ads were to be believed, most women of the day were little more than bedridden invalids owing to their delicate constitutions. (I’m eternally grateful that I live in an era where such infirmity has been largely left in the dust.)  While many treatments for these ailments were proffered, with some attaining a degree of notoriety (or infamy), perhaps none were as ubiquitous or pervasive as Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. 

The local market was quickly saturated, so Lydia and her husband Isaac mortgaged their home, and $1000 of those proceeds were hauled to New York City by their son Daniel to plunk down on advertising. It’s unlikely they had any notion of the empire they were founding. Lydia died in 1883, but by that time the business had taken on a life of its own, and was by all appearances an unstoppable juggernaut. To give you some idea of just how prevalent her advertising became, searching the keyword “Pinkham” on the Colorado Historic Newspaper site yields nearly 7000 results between 1880 and 1905 (and almost 27,000 if no date range is selected). Considering this is an (as yet) incomplete record comprised of papers exclusive to Colorado, and it doesn’t even include major publications like the Denver Post or Rocky Mountain News, you should garner some insight as to just how inescapable the ad campaign was.

In addition to the vegetable compound, the company began branching out and providing other folk remedies, though none gained anywhere near the popularity of the original. In addition, Lydia encouraged people (particularly women) to write for advice on women’s issues, a practice which continued long after her death (though many seeking her advice were unaware of this fact). In a sense, she became a precursor to advice columnists like Ann Landers. She never charged for her advice, though it’s unlikely that she was reluctant to recommend a bottle or two of Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound where applicable. Because of this, she became far more than a mere figurehead for her company, but a strong voice for women’s rights (but these, too, are subjects for another time).