It's 1932 and the 53-year-old son of an iron magnate is wasting away in a bed overlooking

the ocean in his palatial Southampton Long Island mansion.

Waves crash against the rocks beneath the balcony of his room, but the only energy he

can muster is to shift his eyes across the gorgeous view.

His body isn't just failing him, it is literally falling apart.

His skin is yellow, he only has six teeth, his entire lower jaw is missing, it literally

fell off.

His bones are so weak that you could poke a hole right through his skull with your finger,

and he weighs no more than 93 pounds.

His skin, bones, and even breath are all dangerously radioactive.

Waves and family hardly recognize the man, who is once a handsome, athletic, semi-progulfer

with a reputation as a lady killer.

And there's nothing his millions of dollars can do to help him.

In fact, his vast wealth is the reason he's here.

He spent the last five years indulging in an expensive habit of gulping down trendy,

radioactive health potions.

They were supposed to energize him, relieve his aches and pains, make him more virile.

Instead, they ravaged his body and turned his skeleton into Swiss cheese.

A few men gather around, hunched over, attempting to extract a testimony from the frail millionaire.

They're lawyers representing the Federal Trade Commission, and they need buyers to give

a statement as part of an ongoing court case against the maker of Radithor, the miracle

energy tonic containing radium, a highly radioactive element found in uranium that buyers

...