Freud, Murder, and Fame: Lessons in Psychology’s Fascinating History

by Todd C. Riniolo

  As one example of another mind cure receiving attention just a few years before Freud started to appear in national magazines, national publications (particularly Good Housekeeping) exposed certain segments of the public to the Emmanuel Movement, which combined talk therapy with religion. Readers learned of “miracle” cures, just as they later did with Freudian treatments. Furthermore, the Emmanuel Movement, unlike Freud, had a bestselling book, Religion and Medicine: The Moral Control of Nervous Disorders, which sold about 200,000 copies and was reviewed “in virtually every major newspaper, medical, and religious periodical, it soon became the single most important text of so-called “scientific psychotherapy” in the United States” (Caplan, 1998a, p. 297). To the general public, most of whom did not have any particular interest in the subject; Freud would have simply been one in a relatively large marketplace of related movements that also included Christian Scientists, other mind-curists, New Thought, healing cults, faith healers, spiritualists, and so forth (Caplan, 1998a). This crowded landscape also interfered with his gaining widespread name recognition among the general public.

  While Freud was not a household name in America in the early 1920s, there certainly exists historical data fragments consistent with the notion that Freud and psychoanalysis gained popularization with certain segments of the American public beyond academics and the medical community (primarily intellectuals, well-read individuals, and the interested readers of popular magazines). As one example, the number of letters written to Freud increased substantially[6] (Benjamin & Dixon, 1996). However, by the early 1920s, interest in psychoanalysis was not increasing (it was not dramatically dropping either; Burnham, 1968).

  When psychoanalysis initially became popular among intellectuals in America, it was presented as the “New Psychology,” in contrast to the experimentally based academic psychology (see Chapter 1 for further discussion). Yet from 1915 through the end of the 1920s, there emerges three stages of “New Psychology,” and often times the three distinct versions were lumped together. As Burnham (1968, p. 354) writes, “Psychoanalysis represented the first of three phases through which the new psychology went. After psychoanalysis came an emphasis on endocrine glands, and after the glands, behaviorism.” The gland psychology would link an individual’s personality with levels of body chemicals. More importantly, the emphasis on glands started to take away some attention from psychoanalysis (Burnham, 1968).

  Likewise, as shown in the table at the end of this paragraph (Hart, 1933, p. 395), magazine articles (per thousand indexed) on the topic of psychoanalysis were not as prevalent in the early 1920s as in the period from 1915-1918 indicating that interest in psychoanalysis was not increasing leading up to the summer of 1924. They would reach their peak in the years immediately after the Leopold and Loeb trial. Also of note, from 1905-1909, there does not exist a single article on psychoanalysis, which provides evidence of the importance of Freud’s American trip. Likewise, notice the drop in articles in the 1930-31 time frame, which corresponds with the onset of the Great Depression. Unfortunately, this breakdown did not occur year by year, which would have provided increased precision for the purposes of this book.

  Freud and the Failed Public Relations Campaign

  Freud was in desperate need of money as early as 1919 (perhaps before). Inflation in his home country of Austria, as well as Germany, had substantially reduced the worth of his personal savings. Freud’s need for money was not only for living expenses for himself and his family, but also so that he could effectively spread his psychoanalytic movement. For example, the psychoanalytic press was having financial troubles and money was needed to ensure it did not go bankrupt. Freud’s nephew, Edward L. Bernays, who was one of the first to effectively use public relations campaigns and had a long and distinguished career in the field he helped pioneer in America, came up with a plan to help his uncle financially. The plan was to increase Uncle Sigmund’s popularity in America. Specifically, he would publish an English version of Freud’s Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, and his uncle would receive royalties in American dollars. Bernays secured a contract with Horace Liveright from the publishing firm Boni and Liveright to achieve that goal.

  Bernays believed that an introduction written by a famous American psychologist would help sales, and G. Stanley Hall who had invited Freud to America agreed to write it. This marketing strategy of having a well-known individual in the field write an introduction to help increase book sales is still prevalent today. The English translation of Freud’s book sold well for that type of book (i.e., an academic book; the book was nowhere near the bestseller list), and did provide Freud with much needed money. Furthermore, the release of the book was supposed to be accompanied by a public relations campaign to increase Freud’s popularity, which would ultimately increase book sales. However, as will be shown below, Freud was not very cooperative. The likely reason is that Freud had been concerned since his American visit in 1909 “that the purity of psychoanalysis would be contaminated by its use in America; he therefore tried to protect it in its orthodox form” (Rieber, 1998, p. 386). As an example, Freud was unhappy with the English translation that his nephew helped publish, and Freud was diligent about identifying the translation errors so that they could be changed in subsequent reprintings.

  Freud was correct that psychoanalysis had already been “Americanized” at this point, and was likely concerned that a public relations campaign would further distort the original intent of his theories. Likewise, Freud disliked the notion of popularity with the general public, especially with the American public which he did not have a favorable opinion (see Chapter 6), as he was much more interested in professional accolades than name recognition with the average person in the street. However, Freud at least considered the popularization plan because of his need for money at the time.

  The details of what ultimately unfolded between Freud and his nephew are too intricate to fully summarize here, so I will limit myself to some specifics. A more detailed account is given by Bernays (1965, Chapter 18) in Biography of an Idea: Memoirs of Public Relations Counsel Edward L. Bernays. While this is from Bernays’ perspective, he does rely upon his personal correspondence with his uncle. First, the letters between the two men leave little doubt that Freud was very interested in the money that American popularization could produce, as he “was deeply concerned about the sale of his book” (Bernays, 1965, p. 264). In contrast, he was also a frustrating individual for his nephew to work with as he rejected most of the ideas designed to generate greater public exposure for Freud, and ultimately refused several lucrative offers that would have resulted in Freud gaining wider publicity in the United States.

  Specifically, Bernays had come up with many other ways to increase his uncle’s popularity and bank account besides the English translation of books, but Freud in the end would refuse. For example, Horace Liveright guaranteed Freud $10,000, a substantial amount of money at the time, for an American lecture series in English, which also certainly would have increased book sales by generating greater publicity for Freud. His nephew urged him to accept the offer. Freud would write back to his nephew that “I do not consider myself a person of public notoriety” (Bernays, 1965, p. 256) and declined the offer.

  In October of 1920, Freud would write to his nephew with an idea for an English publication (Bernays, 1965, p. 261):

  I could promise to write, let us say, four popular papers a year for a certain review chosen by you, and these articles, if successful, could be collected in the shape of a small book after some time. The title might be Scraps of Popular Psychoanalysis or something like that. They are to be easy yet original, the first I intend to write down I might name: “Don’t Use Psychoanalysis in Polemics.”

  Bernays would discuss his uncle’s idea with one of his clients, Cosmopolitan magazine, whose readership would expand Freud’s popularity. The editors of Cosmopolitan were interested in having Freud write several articles (about 3,000 words in length) for $800 to $1,000 U.S. dolla
rs per article, also a substantial amount of money at the time. Because the editors of the magazine did not know if Freud’s writings would appeal to their readers as he had no track record of writing for a general audience before, they would not pay in advance and even suggested some topics that were suitable for their readers (e.g., “The Wife’s Mental Place in the Home”; “The Husband’s Mental Place in the Home”; “What a Child Thinks About”). Freud would respond that while the money was fair payment for the length of the article, he was outraged that the editors would not pay in advance and had even suggested ideas for him to write about. As Freud would write to his nephew in refusing the offer (Bernays, 1965, pp. 263-4):

  This absolute submission of your editors to the rotten taste of an uncultivated public is the cause of the low level of American literature and to be sure the anxiousness to make money is at the root of this submission. A German publisher would not have dared to propose to me on what subjects I had to write. In fact, the subjects brought forward in your letter are so commonplace, so far out of my field, that I could not give them my attention and my pen. A European editor would have shown more respect to an author he appreciated.

  Bernays was frustrated in his efforts to help his uncle and would describe Freud’s letter as “exasperating.” Likewise, the publisher of Dial offered Freud $10,000 to lecture in the United States and $25 an hour to treat patients. Freud would send his nephew a cable saying “NOT CONVENIENT. FREUD” (Bernays, 1965, p. 262), followed by a lengthy letter of reasons why he would ultimately refuse the offer. All of the above offers were prior to Freud’s having been diagnosed with cancer of the jaw. Thus, they were not refused because of health concerns. Other examples of Freud refusing offers that could have increased his popularity exist (see Bernays, 1965).

  Freud’s interactions with his nephew, while always cordial, indicate that he was not concerned, and to some degree hostile, to any idea that would have increased his popularity in America. While Freud certainly did appreciate the money that his nephew had generated in book royalties, he refused any type of public relations idea that could have spread his name recognition beyond what it currently was, even if that meant simultaneously refusing substantial amounts of money which Freud was at the time in need of to effectively spread his movement. Thus, while Freud was a great self-promoter for his movement to certain segments of society and was very concerned about his reputation among the professional communities (e.g., medical community), his peers, and notable individuals, this certainly did not extend to the public at-large. Freud’s actions indicate that he disliked the notion of popularity with the American public because of concerns that his theories would become further distorted. It is interesting to ponder what would have happened to Freud’s popularity in America if Freud had relied upon his nephew’s public relations expertise and followed his advice. As it stands, through no fault of Edward Bernays, the public relations campaign to increase Freud’s popularity in the United States in the early 1920s can best be described as a failure (Rieber, 1998).

  Freud and Money: The Sad Case of Horace Frink

  Another example of Freud’s need for money at this time to help popularize his movement (e.g., promotion of psychoanalysis institutes; training of psychoanalysts) can be found in the sad case of Horace Frink. “The Marriage Counselor” (Edmunds, 1998) provides a more detailed account. Frink had been attracted to Freud’s ideas and would ultimately become one of America’s leading psychoanalysts. In 1918, he published Morbid Fears and Compulsions, which was a readable introduction to Freud’s theories for the American intellectual. Frink was also a founding member of the New York Psychoanalytic Society. He was elected as the first president in 1923, but was shortly after removed because of his mental state which will be discussed below.

  In February, 1921, Frink had gone to visit with Freud in Vienna to undergo a personal analysis, which was part of the training Freud provided for his students. Frink, like many of the young analysts who visited Freud for training, worshipped “the master.” During Frink’s analysis, Freud would encourage him to divorce his wife (they had two children together) and marry a New York heiress, Angelika Bijur. Angelika was a former patient of Frink’s whom he had a sexual relationship with. Angelika at the time was married to an older and very rich husband, Abraham Bijur. This recommendation by Freud was followed by Frink having a series of severe depressive and manic episodes. Frink was unsure about the prospect of divorce and giving up his children. Freud would also advise Angelika to divorce her husband, and told her that if she did not follow his advice Frink would likely develop into a homosexual.

  This whole mess of a leading American psychoanalyst potentially marrying a former patient by breaking up two marriages on the advice of Freud was scandalous. Frink’s wife, however, was compliant in keeping a low profile about the whole matter (she would die shortly after in 1923 of pneumonia, and Frink would later recount that he wished he had never divorced her). Angelika’s husband was furious at Freud’s interference in his marriage, and planned on running a letter written to Freud as an advertisement in the New York City newspapers. However, Abraham Bijur died of cancer in May, 1922, before the letter was published, which made a divorce for Angelika unnecessary. Here are portions of that unpublished letter (cited in Edmunds, 1998, pp. 267-8):

  Dr. Freud:

  Recently I am informed by the participants, two patients presented themselves to you, a man and a woman, and made it clear that on your judgment depended whether they had a right to marry one another or not. The man is at present married to another woman, and the father of two children by her, and bound in honor by the ethics of his profession not to take advantage of his confidential position toward his patients and their immediate relatives. The woman he now wants to marry was his patient. He says you sanction his divorcing his wife and marrying his patient, but yet you have never seen the wife and learned to judge her feelings, interests and real wishes.

  The woman, this man’s patient, is my wife. […] How can you know you are just to me: how can you give a judgment that ruins a man’s home and happiness, without at least knowing the victim so as to see if he is worthy of the punishment, or if through him a better solution cannot be found?

  […] Great Doctor, are you savant or charlatan?

  Doktor, please write me the truth. The woman is my wife whom I love. […]

  Frink’s condition continued to worsen and Freud took him as a patient two more times. Ultimately, Horace Frink and Angelika on the advice of Freud married on December 27, 1922. However, the marriage quickly collapsed and was anything but happy as Frink’s mental state deteriorated. In May, 1924, Frink placed himself under Adolph Meyer’s care, and he would ultimately have to be institutionalized for a period of time. The couple divorced in 1925.

  What does the whole mess of Horace Frink have to do with Freud and money? As Hale (1995, p. 29) points out, Freud “suggested that Frink make a financial contribution to the psychoanalytic movement, presumably with his new wife’s money.” Historical data fragments support this interpretation. For example, in a letter written by Freud to Frink in November, 1921, Freud says: “Your complaint that you cannot grasp your homosexuality implies that you are not yet aware of your phantasy of making me a rich man. If matters turn out all right let us change this imaginary gift into a real contribution to the Psychoanalytic Funds” (cited in Edmunds, 1998, p. 270). When Angelika contacted Freud as her new marriage to Frink was falling apart, he sent the following telegraph: “Extremely sorry. The point where you failed was money” (cited in Edmunds, 1998, p. 270).

  What the case of Horace Frink, and all of the effected people involved says about Sigmund Freud, I will leave up to the reader to interpret. This case, however, provides additional evidence that Freud was in need of money to help popularize his movement in the years leading up to the summer of 1924, which is additional evidence that he had not yet become a household name in America (i.e., achieved widespread fame) prior to the Leopold and Loeb trial.

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  In summary, the popularization of Freud went through several stages, each of which was important. First, his American trip sparked interest and gained him name recognition largely with academic psychologists and the medical community. Once his theories became personally relevant to the intellectual community, Freud’s name recognition spread to this subgroup as well. The intellectual community would further extend Freud’s popularity with regular readers of popular magazines, and interest in Freud and psychoanalysis would remain somewhat steady in a crowded landscape. While Freud certainly was well known by specific subgroups of Americans, there is no evidence that he was a household name prior to the summer of 1924. Thus, even for the reader that may ultimately disagree with some of the specifics of my subsequent interpretations (see Chapter 11), there is a consensus that Freud obtaining widespread fame with the general public occurred after the Leopold and Loeb trial.

  Chapter 8: BECOMING A HOUSEHOLD NAME IN EARLY 20TH CENTURY AMERICA: SOME QUESTIONS ABOUT FREUD