John Graham's bed was magnificent, and for the price of 50 pounds, curious married couples

could spend a night there, though it was explicitly stated that no one would be sleeping.

About 100 years before P.T. Barnum would refine the art of the showman.

John was making a name for himself with his big bed and even bigger promises. John had created the 18th century

version of a magical, mystical, spiritually infused love hotel and spa in the name of health

and wellness. And he did it in the heart of London, in what would look

something like a huge piece of performance art today. John's looks and bravado had gotten him a long

way. He was smart. He was arrogant, and he described himself not just as a doctor of the body,

but of the soul. Like many folks of his time, John saw the money to be made in driving cures.

One avenue into this industry that he tried was becoming a surgeon, but he never graduated

from medical school. For some time, he took to the American colonies to study with the

luminaries of the day. It's said that in Philadelphia, he learned about electricity from one of Benjamin Franklin's

collaborators, but fled back to London at the outbreak of the American Revolution. He continued

traveling the continent in search of healing remedies, and of course a quick buck. Upon his return to

London, and with some success and followers in tow, he opened up his

Temple of Health and Hyman on the River Thames in 1781. Graham's temple was a brilliant

sight, made of stone and soaring columns, and air perfumed with spice and flowers. Candelabras

glistened and light beams danced on the mirrors as visitors were welcome to walk the halls.

There were tall stained glass windows in lecture halls and shops to buy bottles of potions.

A large statue of the goddess Hyman herself was carved in stone, seemingly looking over and out for everyone who entered her domain.

The centerpiece of John's newly opened temple, as you now know, was his enormous

canopyed, nine-by-12-foot celestial bed.

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