A Tribute to Jerry Mittleman (1923-2008)

Jerry Mittleman, my old and dear friend, has died. It was he who introduced me, and countless thousands, through his practice and his newsletters to preventive and holistic dentistry and health. Thank you, Jerry.

And it was he who got me writing again after many years of trauma. (See this article.) Again, thank you, Jerry. As we say, “That would have sufficed.” It was to him that I hurried to proudly present him with my first new writing.

And it was Jerry who came up with what became, for a time, the name of my work based on George Goodheart’s Applied Kinesiology: Behavioral Kinesiology, which then became the title of the hardcover edition of my first book.

Let me tell you a story about that. When I was interviewed to go on the Johnny Carson Show to promote it, the producer asked me why I had a dentist, Jerry, write the introduction. A dentist? I replied that dentistry was perhaps the most stressful of all the therapeutic professions. The producer looked amazed. “You know,” he said, “I’ve never thought of my dentist as a person.”

Ever since, one aspect of my work has been for me—as it was for Jerry—to reduce dental stress, for the dentist as well as for the patient. And extrapolating this to every health practitioner that he always sees the patient as a person, and that the patient so sees him.

Not only did Jerry promote my writing (he started me on my monthly report which ran for twelve years), but he also heavily promoted my seminars, held for years, at his suggestion, at the Barbizon Plaza Hotel in New York City. And throughout the years—up to the present day—he and Beverly, his devoted wife and partner, have always promoted my work through their newsletters.

When I had my practice in Manhattan, we would share many patients. And I so fondly remember how every Tuesday night Jerry and Bev would walk from their office to mine where we would talk about our mutual patients and our latest discoveries. Out of these meetings we developed what Jerry called the M-D appliance, from our initials, of course. But he was investigated for it by the dental authorities who thought it stood for “Doctor of Medicine”—and he was a dentist.

Yes, Jerry, you did so much for me, my friend. But I am most touched, to the point of tears, by what your devoted son Roy told me today. That in the hospital on the day of your dying you listened to one of my tapes. Dear friend, that, most of all, would have sufficed.

My condolences go out to your loved ones, Beverly and Roy. And my love to you—as I Know you loved me.

Well, Jerry, dear friend, may this tribute suffice.