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Sanatoriums isolated abandoned wellness centers from another age.

For most people, they are a concept synonymous with horror.

They call to mind nightmarish images.

Huge furnaces were solemn faced, nurses burned, infected human corpses,

manacles that once chained mental patients to walls.

Bizarre black and white photos of freakish treatments long discredited by science.

The most famous of them have seen a parade of historians, urban explorers, ghost hunters,

and hobos pass through their crumbling arches.

They've been transformed into movie sets, haunted houses, and even tourist attractions.

Whatever fear the most famous sanatoriums once held is long gone.

But there are others. The wealthy have always had secret, well hidden spots to lock away

their sick and insane. And such places were my specialty. Not for curiosity or for research,

for profit. A very small but very interested market will pay top dollar for a 150-year-old

straight jacket, a tuberculosis stricken aristocrats rotting suitcase, even used surgical instruments.

The more personal the artifact, the higher the finder's fee.

I always made a point to take as much as I could, as soon as I could.

Nothing stays hidden for long in the information age, and better me than someone else.

It's not like the dead need their possessions anymore, and besides, I don't believe in ghosts.

If I did, I wouldn't have lasted 10 minutes in this business.

...