One was tried by James Bond, and writers Jack (On The Road) Kerouac and J.D. (Catcher In The Rye) Salinger followed suit as well.
The creator of Shrek relied on his, spending at least half an hour inside it daily.
All of them were fans of the original love machine, which was introduced in the Fifties by psychoanalyst and therapist Dr. Wilhelm Reich as a means to achieve a better, if not the ultimate, sexual experience.
In many ways, it’s hard not to feel sympathy for Reich, born in Austria. A follower of Sigmund Freud in Vienna, he fled to the U.S. just prior to World War II to escape Adolf Hitler.
There he became a voice advocating for the health-boosting effects of guilt-free orgasms. He coined the term ‘sexual revolution’ and spent his life as a psychoanalyst working to liberate us all from our Victorian restraint.
And yet, just as society was on the brink of embracing sexual freedom with the Swinging Sixties, he passed away, missing the opportunity to enjoy the pleasures of his envisioned Utopia.
However, his invention, which later earned a humorous nod in a Woody Allen film as an ‘Orgasmatron’, endured. Its promise of offering what he termed ‘orgastic potency’ persisted, despite being little more than a simple wooden cabinet lined with metal—devoid of wheels, whistles, ticklers, teasers, or bells. Essentially, it was merely a box.
Still, according to Christopher Turner’s new biography of Reich, Sean Connery possessed one during his peak James Bond era.
Nonetheless, whether the box delivered on its creator’s promise remains uncertain. Connery never disclosed if he was shaken or stirred. William Steig, the author of the original Shrek comic, claimed that his own experience provided ‘an inner vibration, a little bit like an orgasmic feeling’—which sounds far less exhilarating than blowing your socks off.
Norman Mailer, the American author who tirelessly sought what he termed the ‘apocalyptic’ sexual experience, confessed shortly before his death that he never realized it through his own endeavors.
You might conclude they were all a bit mad. However, Reich’s madness had its own method, of a sort. More significantly, his theories left a lasting influence on society, often for the worse.
Reich’s elevation of free love and immediate sexual gratification is directly connected to the excesses found in today’s permissive society.
Initially, however, he was a prominent figure in the establishment of psycho-analysis during the early 20th century. As a therapist, he held the belief that individuals needed liberation from their inhibitions. His journey then took a radical turn with a daring theory.
He proposed that the release experienced during sexual climax was essential for a healthy mind and body—and, as his vision expanded, a healthy world.
Not only would it free neurotics from their fears, but it would also reform warmongering fascists of their vile beliefs. ‘Make love not war’ was his mantra long before it became a catchphrase of the Sixties.
Nevertheless, his ambitions went even further. Reich believed he had uncovered the very foundation of life, an eternal and universal force he named ‘orgone’—hence the official designation of his wooden box: the ‘Orgone Energy Accumulator.’
Similar to Sigmund Freud’s concept of ‘libido’, Reich asserted that his life force possessed a tangible form, manifesting in glowing microscopic particles he referred to as ‘bions.’
The harvesting and harnessing of ‘orgone’ from the environment was the intended function of his sexual device—best utilized, he claimed, while in a state ofdirect sunlight, in open country, and at a considerable distance from electricity power lines.
The wood used in its construction absorbed the ‘orgone’ that was freely flying in the skies, while layers of metal provided insulation on the inside.
By concentrating the life force within this ‘accumulator’, he asserted that users were energized, similar to how a car battery connects to the mains, resulting in sexual ecstasy that liberated their minds and bodies.
He claimed that the warming of the box was evidence of its capacity to attract natural energy. However, sceptics argued that enclosing someone in an insulated container on a hot day was likely to simply increase temperatures without any additional benefits.
Reich remained undeterred. He insisted that the possibilities of his invention were boundless. It had the potential to heal the ill and even eradicate cancer tumours. He was confident that it represented the cure the world had long anticipated, stating, “I am the discoverer of life energy.”
He was so convinced of his beliefs that he challenged Albert Einstein, renowned as the greatest theoretical physicist, to test an accumulator and validate his findings.
The esteemed physicist reviewed the evidence and dismissed Reich’s theory as nonsensical scientifically. “Orgone,” he stated, simply did not exist. Following this, he ceased taking Reich’s calls or discussing the issue.
Feeling slighted and labeled a quack by the international psycho-analysis community, as well as a charlatan by the scientific community, Reich became more paranoid. Everyone around him was seen as a potential adversary, including his ex-wife and daughter. Retreating into near-reclusiveness at his home in Maine, he continued constructing his accumulators — a total of 250 — for a select few curious individuals.
Most of his customers were part of the rising Beat generation of writers and artists, drawn to his unconventionality and his support of free love.
However, he soon clashed with the law. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration deemed the cures he attributed to his accumulator false and misleading, resulting in a court injunction that forbade him from selling and distributing the devices.
When he disregarded the order, he was imprisoned for two years in 1956, and the remaining machines were destroyed. Authorities burned stacks of his books, reminiscent of the Nazis’ actions against his work.
His supporters suspected a conspiracy aimed at silencing him due to the contentious nature of his ideas.
Reich passed away from a heart attack in prison in November 1957. What became his legacy, the love machine, found its place in a Museum of Questionable Medical Devices, alongside impractical inventions like a foot-operated breast enlarger and a vacuum-powered hair restorer.
Yet, it found new life within popular culture. It inspired Jane Fonda’s revelry as she was nestled inside a so-called ‘Excessive Machine’ in the 1964 cult sci-fi parody Barbarella, and brought joy to Woody Allen as he emerged from an ‘Orgasmatron’ in Sleeper (1973). Simon and Garfunkel even referred to it as their ‘big, bright green pleasure machine.’
Yet, Reich’s cultural impact extended well beyond humorous appearances in movies and songs. In many respects, his advocacy for sexual release contributed to the liberation sentiments of the Sixties. The message shifted towards embracing sexuality with restraint seen as outdated. Our present-day permissive, sex-saturated culture can trace its roots back to Reich’s so-called scientific ideas.
However, this wasn’t the trajectory he envisioned. Based on his theories, greater sexual freedom was supposed to usher in a better world. This has not materialized. An analysis of Reich in Time magazine noted that America had transformed into one massive ‘orgone’ box: “From innumerable screens and stages, posters and pages, it flashes larger-than-life-sized images of sex. The message is sex will save you.”
Remarkably, that observation pertained to 1964, an era that appears almost quaint by today’s standards. Over the 47 years that followed, any semblance of restraint seems to have vanished entirely.
Two opposing interpretations arose from Reich’s love machine. “To the bohemians,” his biographer Christopher Turner observes, “it was a liberation machine, the wardrobe that would lead to Utopia. But to conservatives, it resembled Pandora’s box, unleashing anarchism and promiscuity.”
There lies the crucial dilemma. How have things turned out?
Germaine Greer reflected on how his theories influenced her landmark 1970 book on women’s liberation, The Female Eunuch.
“We believed that freeing sexuality would lead to virtue flourishing,” she remarked. “I think we were wrong.” Her statement could serve as a requiem for Reich, etched onto one of his orgasmatrons and, with the legacy of the Sixties that he inspired, laid to rest.
by David Livingstone