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Promising Gain With No Pain
Before the California Medical Board partially shut down Dr. Melvyn Rosenstein's operation, before "Dr. Dick" agreed to cease advertising and performing surgeries until the results of a Feb. 8 hearing, I recruited an extremely reluctant male volunteer from Metro's editorial ranks to pay a visit to Mark Howard, director of patient services, or salesman, for the Rosenstein Medical Group in San Francisco. Posing as the girlfriend of an interested client, I asked Howard over the phone if there was any danger involved in Rosenstein's penile-enlargement surgery.
"No, not at all," Howard said, emphatically. "No danger at all."
That's not what some of Rosenstein's former patients say. They report scarring, disfigurement, shrinking to smaller than original size, infection and even impotence. Ron Nance, a Rosenstein patient, visited an emergency room as a result of swelling and infection.
Howard encouraged me to buy the $17.95 Rosenstein Group promo video, which explains the procedure. The video turns out to be less an explanation of enlargement surgery than a celebration of it. Concealed by shadow, men who say they were concerned that the procedure be "accepted by the medical community at large and by urologists in general" (it's not) now claim their sex lives have "improved dramatically" and "intimate relationships appear to be stronger and more meaningful."
Intrigued, "Bob" and I drive to San Francisco for a free consultation.
Howard's office is on the 21st floor of the Citicorp Building at One Sansome St., an imposing, corporate death star of gray and black granite with vertigo-inspiring views of the streets below.
Mark Howard is a slender man, in his late 40s, who refers to himself as a "cocky guy." He is initially accommodating, but grows impatient with repeated questions about the safety of the procedure.
As potential clients, Bob and I probably seem less than enthused.
We wince as Mark shows us frightening before-and-after pictures and informs us that average length gain as a result of the lengthening procedure is two-and-a-half inches, demonstrated by a wooden ruler tastefully displayed on the consultation table.
According to prior instruction, Bob offers that he's probably "about average. I'm probably just short of five inches," to which Howard, not missing a beat, responds, "Six is average. But averages aren't important. What's important is how you feel about yourself." (According to one UC-San Francisco study, average erect length is 5.1 inches.)
Howard displays the Rosenstein Group's Better Business Bureau report which shows a "satisfactory" rating. He reassures us that complications are minor: there are some complaints of itching, incidents of injected fat being reabsorbed into the penis (although you can go back for "refills"), and he says there's a scar. But the scar fades to a hairline, and is usually covered over with pubic hair. Also, there is no "medical fee" for follow-up procedures, excluding refills.
"So, no one's had a bad outcome?" I ask. Howard rolls his eyes.
"His penis is going to turn green, fall off and never work anymore," he chides.
Silly me.
"What about long-term problems?" Bob asks. "How long has this procedure been done?"
"This has been going on for about eight years," Howard replies.
"So, you've never had problems with people who--"
"I've never had problems. No, never." Mark is adamant.
Bob asks about effects on sexual performance. After a lengthy discourse on how sexual performance is not related to penis size, Howard pulls a punch: "So, you're approaching that age now where maybe you're getting love handles, a little gut." Bob squirms in his seat. "I will tell you this, men and women both call up and thank me."
This is the sly dance of the Rosenstein Group sell. Although the group will not make absurd claims about sexual prowess, implications that the procedure improves sex lives are abundant.
Responding to a question from Bob, Howard informs us that, he, like Ron Nance's salesman, Peter Zapp, is also a Rosenstein Group client. He had the girth enhancement performed two years ago.
And, he asides to Bob, shielding his mouth, "I shouldn't be saying this in front of a lady, but last year I celebrated my birthday, and"--wink, nudge--"two 27-year-olds, very thin. One from this floor as a matter of fact."
Bob and I are at a loss for words.
At least a 50 percent deposit is due before the flight to Rosenstein's clinic in L.A. Costs have jumped to $6,500 for both the length and girth procedures--$5,500 if we book before Feb. 1. There is no mention of ongoing action by the medical board to shut Rosenstein down because, according to state Deputy Attorney General Elisa Wolfe, public health is "in jeopardy."
Since we're obviously not ready to cut a check (he also takes credit cards), Mark advises us to send payment by Federal Express. "You know how the mail is," he says. He then piles our arms with brochures and newspaper articles about Dr. Rosenstein. "Some of the things in these articles are wrong," he says, "If you read something that disturbs you, give me a call."
"I think there's some information here for me to think about," Bob muses. Give the man an Oscar.
"We're not talking brain surgery," Howard responds in his sensitive way. Then we're guided out of the office. "Okay, I'm running behind. I told you this was going to be 30 minutes."
After exchanging goodbyes, we depart.
When Dr. Rosenstein is asked about Howard's sales pitch, he responds that all his salespeople "are specifically told not to pull any punches." As for Howard's omission of serious complications, "I have specifically told them they should not be doing that."
According to Rosenstein, salesmen for his group go through a "re-training seminar" every six months, at which they are instructed to be clear about complications. What salesmen like Howard or Zapp choose to do "behind closed doors" is beyond the doctor's control. Further, Rosenstein says, "You have to realize that any of these visits with a layperson are informal. When they come to the office they are given an eight-page written consent and extensive counseling." But by the time patients like Ron get to the clinic, they've already paid a deposit--or arranged financing--and made the flight to Culver City. Rosenstein maintains, however, that after the clinic counseling session, "We do scare some people off. And that's fine with me."
Marketing director Chris Solton claims salesmen for the Rosenstein Group do not earn commission, but a six-month "bonus" is based on their performance, which, he says, includes their performance during consultations. "They're never allowed to say there aren't any risks. Guys might overemphasize certain things, but we've had guys get fired for saying things like this. These guys have no incentive to lie."
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In which Metro reporters, posing as a couple, risk their reputations to visit the Rosenstein Medical Group's penile-enlargement sales office in San Francisco
From the Feb. 8-14, 1996 issue of Metro
Copyright© 1996 Metro Publishing and Virtual Valley, Inc.