Truly Gone and Forgotten: Captain Hadacol!

Captain Hadacol

Are you tired? Feeling run down? Lost that pep and verve? Well, have I got the superhero for you – his name is Captain Hadacol, and he is here to get your kids drunk!

The Captain’s namesake was the patent medication Hadacol, an over-the-counter “health tonic” that grew to enormous popularity in Dry Counties in the U.S. - despite looking and tasting like bilgewater - because of its 12% alcohol content. 

It even thrived where alcohol was more readily available, owing to the natural hucksterism of its inventor, former Louisiana State Senator Dudley J. LeBlanc, twelve-time winner of the “Name That Sounds Most Like A Guy Who Gets Rich Off Of Snake Oil” Awards, Southeast Division.

LeBlanc kept Hadacol’s popularity soaring with a number of promotional gimmicks, including the wildly popular Hadacol Caravan – a traveling concert featuring stars such as Hank Williams, Rudy Vallee and Jack Dempsey, and admission to which was paid in Hadacol box tops. 

"...Drink up!"

There were also collectible doodads from thimbles to glasses and dishware, decidedly adult-oriented advertising (touting Hadacol’s allegedly viagra-like properties), more Hadacol-inspired pop music than you can shake a stick at and, oh yeah, getting children hooked on it.

From the inside front cover of Captain Hadacol’s own comic, readers are repeatedly commanded in bold and urgent type to “Hadacol-ize your child’s system!” against nervousness, sleeplessness, and a “rundown condition.” 

"Colonel Henry Blake took two bottles of Hadacol
over the Sea of Japan. He spun in.
There were no surviviors."

Parents in particular are encouraged to feel concern for their “puny, weak children” whose salvation lies in a bottle. 

A photo of a man in a white smock is certainly intended to lend an air of medical expertise to the advice, but if you think about it he might just be wearing that to paint the living room.

There are also countless testimonials – from parents AND children – clearly written by the same hand, peppering the book. 

Every one of them bears the staccato economy of words you’d normally find on a battlefield casualty report. “Brenda Sue Miller had been rundown and had a very poor appetite. She took two bottles of Hadacol. She has been eating better and she feels better. She is very glad she is taking HADACOL.” 

And so is Captain Hadacol -- he loves the stuff! 

Because when he isn’t lit up like a Christmas tree himself, the Captain is John Wright, a low-energy lush with no particular personality. 

When trouble calls, John dashes to his medicine cabinet – or wherever he’s stashed a bottle – to toss back a responsible shot of Hadacol (mixed with half a glass of water, for health!) and emerges as a “mighty defender of right throughout the world!” I wouldn’t let him drive, though.

A dose of Hadacol gives you that Bill Clinton vibe.

A delightful characteristic of the slightly-lit superhero is that John gets a lot more relaxed after a swig of ichor. His glasses come off, his hair becomes tousled and loose -- folks, the Captain is ready to swing!

John’s powers and costume appear in a cloud of Dutch courage after every shot of Hadacol, which is just as reliable a medical promise as anything else the tonic was advertised to do. I’m sure some kids were disappointed to not gain Hadacol-powers like their hero, but after a thermos or two of the stuff, you probably don’t care as much.

Perhaps a small consolation for underage day-drinkers would have been the Captain Hadacol Fan Club. For only two bits and a Hadacol box top, tiny tipplers could earn themselves an official Captain Hadacol Club membership card, a brochure of exciting prizes that could be redeemed for Hadacol box tops, and a customized t-shirt that glowed in the dark! A great addition to any lead-lined wardrobe, I'm sure.

Funny how your abdominal cancer spells "Hadacol," John.

The Captain was fairly short-lived, primarily because Hadacol itself was on its way out. 

Facing increasing scrutiny from the Food and Drug Administration, the Federal Trade Commission, and a broader pushback to the brand's national expansion, LeBlanc sold the brand for a small fortune -- having hidden its enormous debts from the new buyers. By 1952, collapsing into bankruptcy almost immediately after the sale was finalized, Hadacol and its high-BAC super-spokesman were little more than a boozy memory.

The white vinyl thigh-highs are a choice.

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Bonus G&F: Read more about another unsteady super-type, The Brown Bottle!