Buzz
During the 1980s, acclaimed filmmaker Errol Morris spent several exasperating days in Vernon, Florida, only to discover a harsh reality: individuals who intentionally lose limbs for insurance money aren’t keen on starring in documentaries.
Morris eventually produced a film from his time in the town—the 1981 documentary Vernon, Florida—though it wasn’t the exposé he initially planned. Instead of delving into the world of amputees and insurance scams under the title Nub City, he shifted focus to the town’s quirky residents. Faced with threats and hostility from the so-called Nub Club, Morris redirected his lens to safer, albeit less scandalous, subjects.
In an interview with The 7th Avenue Project, Morris recounted the creative roadblock and his decision to prioritize safety over his original vision.
I approached the home of a double-amputee, missing an arm and a leg on opposite sides—a common strategy to allow the use of a crutch. His muscular son-in-law, a Marine, physically assaulted me. Realizing the danger, I concluded that my actions were both reckless and perilous.
During the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Nub Club was a significant factor in the sharp rise of insurance premiums. By the end of the decade, the Florida Panhandle accounted for two-thirds of all U.S. limb-loss claims, with Vernon, Florida, at the heart of the scandal.
The origins of the Nub Club remain unclear—whether its first member joined by accident or design. Perhaps it was a factory mishap, or maybe a deliberate decision driven by the economic struggles of small-town America.
What is certain is that, by the early 1950s, the prospect of exchanging a limb for thousands of dollars became an enticing option for many in Vernon. By the mid-1960s, at least 50 of the town’s 700 residents had joined the Nub Club through farming accidents, garage mishaps, hunting incidents, and more. While some resorted to sawing off limbs, most opted for the swiftness of a shotgun blast.
Insurance agents in the area were inundated with tales as bizarre and darkly comical as they were tragic. One agent recounted clients from the Panhandle: a man who injured his foot defending his chickens, another who shot off his hand aiming at a hawk, and a farmer who accidentally targeted his own foot instead of a squirrel. Many incidents involved both firearms and vehicles, including one man who lost two limbs in a tractor and rifle mishap.
Numerous Nub Club members secured multiple insurance policies, often just days or hours before their injuries. Despite rising premiums, the trend persisted, turning some individuals into millionaires.
As recounted by Thomas Lake of the St. Petersburg Times, one agent’s story perfectly encapsulates the bizarre nature of the local events:
"Another individual insured himself with 28 to 38 companies," explained Murray Armstrong, a Liberty National insurance official. "A farmer who typically drove a stick shift truck, he switched to his wife’s automatic car on the day of the accident, resulting in the loss of his left foot. Had he driven his truck, he would have needed that foot for the clutch. He also carried a tourniquet, claiming it was for snake bites. Despite paying premiums exceeding his income, he wasn’t poor—middle class, in fact. He received over $1 million from insurers. Convincing a jury that someone would shoot off their own foot proved nearly impossible."
These payouts, of course, weren’t accompanied by sympathy. Insurers soon caught on to the scheme and took legal action against many Nub Club members. However, persuading a jury that someone would willingly shoot themselves was a challenge. No amputee in Vernon or nearby areas was ever convicted of fraud.
Ultimately, insurance companies collaborated and dispatched investigator John J. Healy to Vernon. His findings confirmed what local agents and corporate offices already suspected.
"Parked in your car on a scorching summer night along Nub City’s main street, witnessing eight to twelve amputees hobbling by, creates an unsettling, almost ghostly ambiance," he noted in his report.
Ken Dornstein’s 1996 book, Accidentally, on Purpose: Making of a Personal Injury Underworld in America, recounted Healy’s investigation. Dornstein mentioned Healy’s blunt observation that Vernon’s second favorite activity was watching stray dogs mate in the town square, while the top pastime was self-inflicted injury for profit.
By the early 1960s, insurers halted the practice before Vernon ran out of limbs to lose. However, the town’s infamous nickname stuck. Premiums skyrocketed in the area, and many insurers outright refused to cover the Panhandle region.
Two decades later, a New Yorker mention of the town’s tragic history prompted Morris to visit the Deep South. Although he didn’t capture the past on film, his journey revived a poignant and fascinating chapter of America’s economic struggles.
