Collectible Dentition

A $17 million replica of Captain Cook's historical ship the Endeavour sailed into Newport Harbor this year. Had Capt. Cook been standing at the bow like that DiCaprio kid in the $250 million movie "Titanic," he would have been amazed at how much growth and commercialization has taken place there since 1778.

Or maybe not, since he had never seen it in the first place. Instead, he got into a hassle with some natives on the Big Island of Hawaii (formerly the Sandwich Islands, named after the Earl of McDonald) over the theft of a boat, so they killed him. So much for the Aloha hospitality. He'd have been better off dealing with the natives of Newport Bay and might have ended up buying Balboa Island for a couple bucks worth of beads and getting in on the ground floor of the frozen banana concession.

The point is, the fabrication of replicas is Big Business. Whether it is the Endeavour, the Spirit of St. Louis, Dolly Parton's bra or Archie Bunker's chair, make an exact replica and the world will beat a path to your door and your coffers will runneth over. If you are unable to acquire any suitable coffers, the money can be deposited directly into your account.

From a historical point of view, what dental artifact would be most likely to lend itself to replication? The answer, of course, is George Washington's teeth. Information about the dentition of all succeeding presidents is sparse, historians preferring to delineate the boudoir proclivities of our leaders instead. An inquisitive reporter recently asked our current president about the state of his teeth, only to have him equivocate, stating, "Depends on your definition of teeth."

We have had well over 200 years to study Washington's teeth because their owner, feeling that things had to be better in the Great Beyond, gladly left them behind. There are only four sets of Washington's dentures known to exist; one of which resides in a classy glass cube at the Samuel D. Harris National Museum of Dentistry in Baltimore. The whereabouts of the other three sets is questionable. Perhaps John Greenwood, Washington's dentist, sent them out to the lab for a reline and they've not returned yet.

George had only one remaining natural tooth when he was elected president. It was not thought fitting for the Father of Our Country to deliver the State of the Union address looking like Ollie from the "Kukla, Fran and Ollie" show popular at the time. All the other heads of state around the world, many of whom had as many as four or five teeth of their own, would have poked fun at George. Potentates and kings can be so cruel.

John Greenwood was commissioned to make full upper and lower dentures with Delta picking up 50 percent of the fee after a six-month qualification period and the meeting of the deductible. Delta wanted a radiograph of Washington's one remaining tooth, but the X-ray hadn't been invented yet, so the tooth was posted to them in a little green box with an image of the Tooth Fairy engraved on the cover, along with suitable documentation and a request for an estimate of benefits. George's portion, after deductible, came to $3.79.

With that background, you will understand why we decided to make a replica of the Washington dentures and maybe go into the museum business ourselves.

Fortunately, we have an ideal patient, one Filbert Fischbyne. We have made Mr. Fischbyne at least six sets of teeth, none of which have been satisfactory, but he liked the notion of being part of history when we explained our plan. After taking the necessary impressions in alginate because we didn't have any beeswax, or whatever was in vogue in 1778, the models were sent off to the lab with detailed instructions. Shortly after, the phone rings.

Lab: "Doc, couple questions on this Fischbyne case."

Us: "Shoot."

Lab: "Lessee (reading from lab slip), you're asking for cast gold base, hippopotamus bone, elephant ivory, eight assorted human teeth and a couple springs, right?"

Us: "No, the base is swaged, whatever that is, and the teeth are to be attached with little wooden pegs."

Lab: "Attached to what, Doc? The hippo bone or the elephant ivory? And how come only eight teeth? What about the other 20?"

Us: "We'll get back to you."

This is going to be tougher than we thought. A study of pictures of Washington's teeth reveals little, except that the anterior teeth are square, like Chiclets, and it's hard to tell whether they are composed of real enamel, hippo bone or ivory. We can see the springs pretty clearly, but the mechanics of their use is puzzling. Would they stretch upon opening the jaws, creating a tension, which would then cause the dentures to snap together whether George was ready to close or not?

We have never seen a picture of President Washington with his mouth open, a presidential condition not noted since the departure of Calvin Coolidge in 1929.

Us (to lab): "How you coming with the Fischbyne case? It's been six weeks."

Lab: "Had a little trouble with the springs, Doc. We could only find garage door and screen door springs. So we cut down the screen door springs a bit, and if this Fischbyne guy has enough Fixodent he can probably get his teeth open about a quarter inch. Also, elephant ivory is a prohibited import, so we cut up some pool balls. You may have a little shade match problem, but the numbers won't show."

The Fischbyne/Washington case is in. When Filbert dons the powdered wig, there's a remarkable resemblance. The nose isn't quite right, but he's got the grim look down pat. He says it's because the "dang things don't fit," but we think it's because Delta denied payment based on the fact that he's had a half dozen other dentures inside their five-year limit. Also they said our $9,745 fee falls outside the 90th percentile range for our area.

If you are interested in obtaining an exact replica of the famous George Washington teeth (with a spare set of springs), please contact Mr. Fischbyne or this office.