One day last winter a young textile worker went to Manhattan's Neurological Institute. He complained of "spells." Whenever he took a nip of alcohol, coffee, tea or cola drinks, said he, the result was startling: he would lose control of his muscles and leap like a jitterbug. His cavorting was invariable: he curved his fingers like claws, walked on the outside of his feet and jerked his legs in the air. Sometimes he twisted his head to one side, curled his lips in a sneer, and rolled his eyes upward, mumbling and clucking to himself. The only way to stop an...
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