Our History

by Dr. Klein

 

The story of how my practice started in Beverly Hills is a strange one (as all my tales tend to be). After serving as chief resident at UCLA in 1975, I decided to join a small practice in the San Fernando Valley. I continued to work part-time at UCLA, with my remaining hours spent in the valley, giving light treatments and picking pimples--not exactly what I'd learned from Kligman at the University of Pennsylvania. When the grant money at UCLA ran out, I decided to escape the monotony of the valley and venture into the jaws of what was Beverly Hills. 

 

Within two weeks, I took $18,000 and opened my own practice in an 800 square foot office. Nobody believed a new doctor could be successful in Beverly Hills, nor did they really want me there. Right away, I set out to build my practice, and I knew the best way to bring in patients was by meeting people and generating referrals. I knocked on the door of every physician's office in Beverly Hills, introducing myself and building relationships. Amazingly, within three months, I was treating a number of patients—quite a few of whom were celebrities. Within a year, I opened a larger office, and I became so busy that I hired an associate.

 

It wasn’t long before a man named Merv Griffin came to my office and asked me to be a guest on his show. Having a very limited understanding about the world of television, I wasn’t aware of the repercussions. This was long before doctors were pushing creams on QVC or paying publicists to get them in Harper’s Bazaar. I went on the show with Durk Pearson (Life Extension), the diet guru who revolutionized low-fat diets. I told people, among many things, how to recognize a Melanoma. The next day, people were asking for my autograph, and soon thereafter, I received 10,000 letters—many of which came from folks who said I had saved their lives.

 

Once again, I was faced with needing a bigger office, and my suite in Beverly Hills quickly grew to 7000 square feet. I did three more shows, and on the third, I mentioned a little thing I was playing with called Collagen. By 1981, 728 doctors injected 5009 patients with Collagen—1000 of those injections were administered by me.

 

I went on to be mentioned in movies, such as Postcards from the Edge—even creating a scene for First Wives Club—and I lectured all over the world. I developed the dilution and injection points used for the 2002 FDA approval of Botox for use in the glabellar lines. Along the way, amfAR was founded at my house, and I have since helped to raise over $300 million for HIV research and care. Additionally, I founded the Rose Tarlow–Arnold Klein Breast Cancer Foundation at UCLA. Although a patient offered to name a building after me, I thought a chair was more appropriate (a couch would’ve been preferred, but unfortunately, no one has that).

 

For those of you who think I might be on the verge of retirement, remember this; I won the Botox suit, I spoke out about a dangerous injectable and subsequently watched it be yanked from the market, and I survived a horrific ski accident, coming out of it stronger than ever before. I am and will continue to be the best at what I do. So, to the world of cosmetic dermatology, all I have to say is, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet”!