{"product_id":"starvation-heights-isbn-9781400097463","title":"Starvation Heights","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn this true story—a haunting saga of medical murder set in an era of steamships   and gaslights—Gregg Olsen reveals one of the most unusual and disturbing criminal   cases in American history.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn 1911 two wealthy British heiresses, Claire and Dora Williamson, arrived at a sanitorium   in the forests of the Pacific Northwest to undergo the revolutionary “fasting treatment”   of Dr. Linda Burfield Hazzard. It was supposed to be a holiday for the two sisters, but within a month of arriving at what the locals called Starvation Heights, the   women underwent brutal treatments and were emaciated shadows of their former selves. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire and Dora were   not the first victims of Linda Hazzard, a quack doctor of extraordinary evil and   greed. But as their   jewelry disappeared and forged bank drafts began transferring their wealth to Hazzard’s   accounts, the sisters came to learn that Hazzard would stop at nothing short of murder to achieve her ambitions.“A fascinating turn-of-the-century story of medical malpractice and murder. If you liked \u003ci\u003eThe Alienist\u003c\/i\u003e, you'll find \u003ci\u003eStarvation Heights \u003c\/i\u003eall the more gripping because this story is true.” —Michael Connelly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An engrossing and compelling look at a shocking crime in another era. Olsen’s deft touch takes us back to the early 1900s so cleverly that reading \u003ci\u003eStarvation Heights\u003c\/i\u003e is akin to stepping into a time machine.” —Ann Rule\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An account of real-life villainry that outdoes anything a novelist might concoct.” —Les Standiford, author of \u003ci\u003eMeet You in Hell\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eGregg Olsen\u003c\/b\u003e is the author of several works of nonfiction and fiction, including the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller \u003ci\u003eAbandoned Prayers\u003c\/i\u003e.  A journalist and investigative author for more than two decades, Olsen  has received numerous awards and much critical acclaim for his writing.  The Seattle native now lives in rural Washington state with his wife,  twin daughters, cat, and six chickens.\u003cb\u003eOne\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was a world both bustling and tranquil; a musky sweet-smelling  blend of extremes. As hotel clerks, waiters, doormen, and gardeners  went about their myriad duties, ladies in heavy, ankle-length satin  dresses and mile-high hats of twisted taffeta and rosette-coiled  velvet gossiped while demurely fanning themselves under the sparkle  of a great glass dome amid enormous oriental urns planted with palms.  Their chatter was frivolous and cheerful, like the chirping of  songbirds gathering to feed on millet sprays and the dried discs of  sunflowers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe front desk calendar was inscribed: September 1910.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAcross the lobby, Dorothea and Claire Williamson, splendidly attired  in dresses pulled from one of the fourteen trunks that accompanied  them around the world, gazed out a window. The evidence fall was  lapping toward winter was everywhere on the grounds of the  two-year-old Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia. Small  clusters of leaves had fallen in the cool, moist air, their bronze  and gold remnants raked into ruffly heaps. New shrubbery framed the  expansive lawns of the Canadian Pacific Railway-built hotel; ivy  began its creep upward on the magnificently towering brick edifice.  Plantings were crisp from the precise trim of a gardener's shears.  There could be no disputing that the view of the green, well-tended  grounds and the blue waters of the Inner Harbour was a soothing tonic  for weary eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOrphaned daughters of a well-to-do English officer in the Imperial  Army Medical Service, Dorothea was born in Trichinopoli, India,  Claire in London. And though schooled in Switzerland, England, and  France and well traveled, the sisters, especially Claire, exhibited a  childlike naivete and innocence that sometimes left them a target of  manipulation by those with dubious intentions. Hardly a week went by  when there wasn't a banker or an investment expert with phony  assurances that he had a plan for their money. Encounters with those  who would do them financial harm only served to draw them closer to  each other.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuitors, however, were another matter. Neither sister had found a man  that would make a husband worth leaving her sister all alone. And  though Claire and Dorothea were unwed and beyond the age of thirty,  neither quite considered herself a spinster. Yet, among the ladies in  the lobby, they did not court the attentions of gentlemen. It was  true they had had their admirers. But they were indifferent to such  advances, and certainly they had no regard for the conventions of  courtship.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire and Dora, as her sister called her, were likely the only women  in the hotel with waists not bound and compressed like the bunched-up  necks of cloth sacks. Corsets, they told each other, were the devil's  invention, cutting off circulation and choking digestive tracts. They  preferred looser, one-piece undergarments. Clothing, they insisted,  that wouldn't choke the very life out of them. To be fair, neither  really had any need of corsets. Their figures were trim and youthful.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs they sat sipping tea, the sisters were a striking image:  unblemished porcelain skin, blue-green eyes, and the controlled  posture of the upper class. Dora had auburn-hued hair with a few grey  strands that she plucked from her scalp whenever they showed.  Claire's face was more heart-shaped than round like her sister's, and  her dark, wavy hair was the envy of the few who had seen it unfurled  from beneath a hat. Claire, the younger of the two by four years, was  slightly stouter in her bone structure than her sister. Both women  had small, delicate hands that seldom went without the covering of  gloves.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDora cupped her hand over her mouth, turned away from her sister, and  dramatically stifled a yawn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A bit more sugar, dearie,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire nodded and moved a small tray with a silver pitcher and sugar  bowl closer to Dora. Sugar, she thought, would provide a nice boost  for the afternoon. A boost was decidedly in order. Neither sister had  been sleeping well. Both longed to fall into the kind of slumber that  would wash over them and give them the stamina needed to continue  their journey. It had been such a long journey. They had come from  Liverpool, England, by steamer, arriving first in Quebec, then  Toronto, before making their way west across the Canadian Prairies to  the Pacific Coast and Vancouver Island's Empress, a stately hotel  that held its surroundings like a grand, decorated cake above the  seawater in which the island seemed to float. It was the kind of fine  establishment that travelers found unexpected in North America—a  hotel with nearly the standards of the better places in Europe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt each stop of their journey the sisters visited the distant  relatives that made up all that was left of their family. Their  father had died shortly after Claire's birth, their mother when  Claire was only fourteen and Dora, eighteen. Scarlet fever drained  the life out of two sisters, Ethel and Gertrude, when they were very  young. Beyond each other, all Claire and Dorothea could embrace now  were the odd collection of various aunts, uncles, and cousins, and  their beloved governess, Margaret Conway. They certainly, and they  always said, tragically, had the money for such endeavors. Their  Scottish-born grandfather, Charles Williamson, left his beloved  Dorothea and Claire a fantastic fortune—worth more than a million  American dollars. Most of it was in Victorian Government Inscribed  Stock from Australia. Considerable land holdings in Canada, the  United States, England, and Australia added a good deal more to their  net worth. That two women controlled such extraordinary funds in 1910  was all the more remarkable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhile their fortune had afforded them world travel, wardrobes  brimming with gowns from Paris, armloads of Irish linen, and charming  homes near London and Melbourne, it had not brought them the one  thing they sought over everything else: a sense of well-being. If not  their money, what would help them be happy, be well? It was a  question often asked by the rich and unhappy, and it was a question  Claire had frequently posed to her sister. Dora had no clear answers.  She only knew they were not alone in their endeavors. Both Europe and  America were dotted with centers for healing, institutions of  physical culture, sanitariums, all promising robust health to those  with brimming pocketbooks. By the time they visited North America,  the sisters were like many other faddists for cures--they had been to  several health institutes already. It was almost a hobby, a  lifestyle, their great quest. And so they were drawn. Like a  vapor-camouflaged island far away on the taut line of the horizon,  always out of reach . . . always beckoning with the promise, the hope.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhile on their travels, the women saw a small but thoroughly  intriguing newspaper advertisement in a Seattle daily newspaper. On  September 2, 1910, Claire responded to the notice. She wrote a letter  to Dr. Linda Burfield Hazzard, requesting the doctor's book, Fasting  for the Cure of Disease. In her note, she exaggerated her sister's  illness somewhat. It was true that Dora had not been feeling well,  but she was hardly knocking on Death's door. Claire was given to  overstating matters and emotions. She had been overindulged by a  devoted sister who allowed her the leeway for slight embellishments.  It mattered none to Dora. Her sister was the center of her world.  Whatever it was Claire fancied, she only had to ask for it. Dora  would cheerfully comply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire described to the doctor how Dora had been on a partial fast  since August 26 and had eaten nothing but fruit since then—with the  exception of two small meals. Her glands were swollen and pain shot  through her knees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(Dora's) eyes just now are very bloodshot and seem to be eliminating  a good deal of matter. Her period was due ten days ago, she has a  very sharp pain over the right temple whenever she moves . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFive days after she sent the letter, a package arrived at the hotel  front desk. It had been shipped from Dr. Hazzard's office in Seattle.  In it was a slim but provocative volume penned by a woman who  believed every ailment was caused by dietary factors. The idea was  not entirely original, but Linda Burfield Hazzard presented her  thesis in a convincing and revolutionary way. The sisters, especially  Claire, couldn't wait. They were intrigued. Suddenly, sleep didn't  seem so important.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDora called for a waiter to have their tea sent up to their suite.  They had some reading to attend to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTheir hotel suite was lovely, but a bit too snug. Dora had hoped for  a little more room, perhaps two dressing tables. She remarked to  Claire that she'd be more careful about their accommodations in the  future. Even though only four years separated them, in Dora's mind it  was she who had the role of the mother; Claire, the child. Claire  happily accepted the role. She found her place in telling Dora how  they could not have survived the loss of their parents without her  maturity and unflappable resolve. It was Dora who reminded her sister  that they should rely only on each other. No financial advisors. No  husbands. Just the two of them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was also Dora who made the arrangements when it came to the  details of their lives. At least Claire allowed her to believe so.  When disappointment was the result of such efforts, Dora took the  blame.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I hadn't wanted to stay at that hotel in the first place. I suppose  I shall recover from the draftiness of the place. Dora, it isn't your  fault. It really isn't.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire studied Dora's face as she surveyed their room at the Empress.  She could see Dora's dissatisfaction. To ease her sister's sense of  responsibility, Claire spoke up quickly and cheerfully reminded her  older sister of their circumstances.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"We are not in England . . . this, my dear, is North America. This  was a colony, for goodness sake!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDora clasped her hands against her cheeks and laughed. With that, the  hotel was suddenly fine. Besides, they had more important concerns.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs Dora breathlessly read the doctor's book aloud, Claire brushed out  her long, burnished hair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith each word, Dora's voice singsonged with bursts of enthusiasm.  Every so often, Claire would stop her brushing and turn from the  looking glass to tell her sister that she agreed with every word.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt should not require an exhaustive argument to establish the fact  that disease has its origin in impaired digestion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUpon this fundamental truth and its development the treatment known  as the fasting treatment, depends on its entirety; and long  experience at varied hands has demonstrated that, whatever the  manifestation, the only disease is impure blood and its sole cause  impaired digestion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDr. Hazzard's thesis was to \"rest\" the digestive system and allow the  \"impurities\" to pass out of the body. The \"natural cleansing process\"  would in time, she reasoned, strengthen the body.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA fresh foundation is there to work upon—a new and thoroughly  cleansed body, ready to take up its labors, and with proper hygienic  and dietic care, to carry them on indefinitely.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlready vegetarians, the Williamsons embraced natural methods of  healing as superior to modern medicine. They thought little of  traditional doctors and their drugs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Such medicine is for fools,\" Dora said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire knew exactly what was next. In many ways the two were like  twins. Everyone thought so. They always knew what the other was  thinking. And they seldom, if ever, disagreed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs they clouded their tea with sugar and milk poured from Canadian  Pacific Railway silver service, each sister entertained the  possibility of submitting to Linda Hazzard's fasting treatment. It  was so intriguing, so promising. A poor diet was always suspect in  health problems. The fasting treatment might finally provide their  long-sought key to a lifetime of good health. Turning the pages, Dora  found a small brochure tucked into the book touting the sanitarium  known as Hazzard's Institute of Natural Therapeutics. The sanitarium  was in the country, west of Seattle across Puget Sound. The  sanitarium's address was in a village called Olalla. Its very name  was melodic. O-la-lla. Like a song, maybe sung by a seabird. The  place sounded lovely, a location blessed with fresh air, sparkling  salt water, and a forested covering that would surely keep the  environs cool in the hottest of summers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Dare we do it?\" Claire asked, already knowing Dora's answer, already  knowing her sister's desire.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDora smiled, grabbed Claire's hand, and squeezed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Dare we not!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDora closed the pages of Fasting for the Cure of Disease and watched  Claire spin her long hair into a spiral to coil it away in the  confines of a sleeping cap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNeither sister was seriously ill, if at all. But the two women  persuaded each other that treatment was in order. Claire had told her  older sister about Dr. John Harvey Kellogg and his celebrated  sanitarium in Michigan, but the two had decided it was too far and  inconvenient a trip. Besides, the sisters preferred coastal, over  inland, travel. To their way of thinking, treatment was both a  medical necessity and the basis for a holiday.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDora had foolishly convinced herself she suffered from swollen glands  and \"acute rheumatic pains\" in her knees. To add more credence to  Claire's misguided notion she also was in dire need of treatment, a  London osteopath told her that her uterus had dropped back on her  spine and her ovaries were badly inflamed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUntil that diagnosis, all Claire believed she had was a delicate stomach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDr. Hazzard, they read, was the only licensed fasting specialist in  the entire world. Through the years of her practice, Dr. Hazzard had  stood before patients and the medical establishment with the  announcement she had discovered the basis for all ailments—mental,  physical, and moral.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Overeating,\" the doctor wrote, \"is the vice of the whole human race.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTherapy in the country sounded like the right prescription, and with  the decision made, the practical issue of just when they could take  the treatment was considered. After visiting North America, the  sisters had plans to travel back to Australia and on to London,  places where they had family homes. Claire planned to set sail for  London on May 18, 1911. She had enrolled in a kindergarten  instruction course. Her sister, not overly enchanted with the  prospect of being alone, decided she'd travel to Australia to visit a  distant aunt. Dora knew she could not stay with Claire during the  training.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were voyages neither would take.New York Times Bestselling Author","brand":"Crown","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301555327205,"sku":"NP9781400097463","price":20.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781400097463.jpg?v=1767737275","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/starvation-heights-isbn-9781400097463","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}