The Three Things Medicare Did That Almost Nobody Gives It Credit For
July 31, 2026
Listen Now
Subscribe
Ready to talk with an advisor?
The advisors at American Retirement Advisors have been having these conversations for over 25 years. A no-cost discovery session is the fastest way to find out where you actually stand.
Schedule a Discovery Session
Show Notes
Eddie and Betty's Conversation
Good morning, this is The American Retirement Advisor podcast. I'm Betty, Eddie's across from me, and we are on day five of Ian's Medicare week. Yesterday was the anniversary and I'll be honest with you, I got a little choked up recording it.
You were not alone in that. Johnson flies out to Missouri, signs the bill inside Harry Truman's own library, and hands the man who spent twenty years losing that fight the very first card ever issued. That is a hard afternoon to follow on a Friday.
So where does that leave us today? Because in most versions of this story, the bill gets signed and everything just stops there. Roll the credits, everybody go home.
Which has always struck me as the wrong place to stop. The interesting question about any promise isn't whether somebody made it. It's what the thing actually did once it was real and out in the world. So today Ian gives us three of those, and the first one has nothing to do with medicine at all.
Then start there, because that's a strange sentence.
In the spring of nineteen sixty six, roughly seven hundred federal workers and volunteers fanned out across this country to inspect about two thousand hospitals inside of three months. And they were not there to check on the quality of the medicine.
What were they checking, then?
Whether Black patients were being admitted. Because a hospital that discriminated could not take Medicare money.
Hold on. Run that past me one more time, because I want to be certain I've got it. You are telling me the retirement program is what desegregated American hospitals.
That is what happened, and Ian was careful to lay out how, because the mechanism really is the whole story here.
Then walk me through it properly, because my understanding, and I'd guess most people's, is that segregation ended in the courts. Brown versus Board of Education, and that was that.
Brown was decided in nineteen fifty four. And hospitals were still segregated a decade after it. It took until sixty three for a federal appeals court to rule that separate but equal in publicly funded hospitals violated the Constitution, in a case called Simkins versus Moses H. Cone Memorial Hospital.
So nine years after Brown and we are only just arriving at hospitals. That is a long time for a principle to take to travel across the street.
And do you know how that case even started? A dentist in Greensboro, North Carolina had a patient with an abscessed tooth. The man needed hospital treatment and there was not one in town that would take him.
An abscessed tooth. That is how a landmark case begins. Somebody in ordinary pain with nowhere to go.
So the courts were moving on it. But here is the structural problem with litigation as a tool. You sue one hospital, you win, and then you start over and sue the next hospital.
One building at a time, and each one takes years, and the country has thousands of them. You could work your whole career and barely finish a state.
Ian puts it in a single line. Litigation moves one hospital at a time. Money moves all of them at once.
Alright, so what is the money in this case?
Two pieces snap together. Title Six of the Civil Rights Act of nineteen sixty four says no institution that discriminates can receive federal funds. And Medicare, which switches on in the summer of sixty six, is about to become the largest single source of federal money any hospital has ever seen.
Oh, that is not a moral argument at all. If you won't integrate, you don't get certified. And if you're not certified, the checks simply never show up.
Ian's line is that it wasn't a lawsuit, it was a checkbook.
And that is a completely different kind of pressure. A court can order you to do something and you can drag your feet for years while the appeals grind on. Nobody drags their feet on the biggest revenue source they have ever been offered.
And then somebody had to go and actually look, which is the part I keep thinking about. That's who the seven hundred people are. They walked the halls themselves.
How would you even verify a thing like that? You certainly can't take the administrator's word for it.
You could not, and they did not. The account in the National Institutes of Health archive says the inspectors leaned on local people, on civil rights activists, and on Black hospital employees telling them what was truly going on inside the building.
So the staff were the ones telling the truth about their own workplace, to a federal inspector, in nineteen sixty six, in some of those towns. That took a kind of courage I'm not sure I can imagine.
Enormous courage, and the inspectors needed them, because there was active deception going on. Administrators covered up signage. They moved patients around for the day. In some cases they falsified charts to fool the people walking through.
They put on a performance of an integrated hospital for an afternoon.
And then presumably put it all back the way it was the next morning.
Alright. Give me the result, because I have been waiting for the number since you started.
By the deadline, ninety percent of the nation's hospitals and seventy percent of southern hospitals had met the desegregation standard.
Nine out of ten in the entire United States. Inside of three months.
Because of a retirement program.
Eddie, I have never heard that in my life, and I don't believe I've ever met a person who has. How is that not the very first thing everybody knows about this program?
And it isn't some new discovery either. The American Journal of Public Health published a study specifically about the federal use of Title Six and Medicare to integrate hospitals between sixty three and sixty seven. It is sitting right there in the scholarly record. It simply isn't in the version most of us were handed.
That is what I'll be telling people about this weekend. Alright, what have you got for number two?
That Medicare stopped being only for the old, and it stopped a very long time ago. Most people assume the program has always meant sixty five and nothing else.
I would have assumed the very same thing. When did it change?
Nineteen seventy two. The Social Security Amendments that October extended it to two groups under sixty five. People who had been receiving Social Security disability benefits for twenty four months, and people with end stage renal disease.
Which is kidney failure, for anybody who hasn't run into that term.
Right. Coverage for both groups started on July first of nineteen seventy three, and roughly one point seven million people under sixty five became eligible on that day.
Now hold on, because the second one is odd and I want to poke at it a little. Congress created a national benefit for people with one specific disease?
Just the one. If your kidneys fail, the federal government covers you regardless of your age. If almost anything else fails, it does not.
That is a strange line to draw, and I don't say that as any criticism of somebody living with kidney disease. I only mean that a person had to decide where that line went, and whatever the reasons were, they clearly weren't tidy ones.
And I think that's the honest lesson sitting inside it. Nobody sat down and designed the modern shape of this program in one go. It got extended and argued over and patched, in exactly the same way it got assembled in the first place.
Which we watched happen on Wednesday, with three warring bills getting stapled together in a single night.
Same pattern the entire way through. Alright, number three, and this is the one that surprises people the most.
Go ahead.
In nineteen eighty eight, Congress passed and President Reagan signed the Medicare Catastrophic Coverage Act. Biggest expansion of benefits since the program was created. It capped what you could be forced to pay out of pocket, and it added an outpatient prescription drug benefit.
That sounds like something people would have been thrilled about. Two of the things I hear retirees worry about most are drug costs and open-ended exposure.
On paper it's a gift, and his remarks from the signing are still on file at his own presidential library. Then people read how the thing was going to be paid for.
Ah. And who was paying?
They were. The new benefits were financed by the enrollees themselves, through a premium increase that was partly tied to income.
So the wealthier retirees carry more of the load. And I can see the collision coming, because a lot of those same people already had perfectly good coverage through a former employer.
That is where the whole thing broke. You're asking a large number of older Americans to pay more money for something a great many of them believed they already had.
And they were not quiet about it, I take it.
Furious. And more to the point, organized. In nineteen eighty nine, in his own Chicago district, the chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, Dan Rostenkowski, was confronted by a crowd of angry older constituents who surrounded his car and blocked it in.
What did he do?
Got out and left on foot. It became one of the most famous images in the history of American senior politics.
A sitting committee chairman fleeing his own voters on foot. That is a photograph that ends careers.
Congress repealed the law on November twenty second, nineteen eighty nine. Roughly seventeen months after passing it.
A year and a half. Have they ever clawed back a benefit like that before or since?
Not on that scale, as far as I could find. And Betty, notice which chair that man was sitting in.
Ways and Means.
On Wednesday we met Wilbur Mills, who held that identical chairmanship and built this whole program out of three warring bills overnight. Twenty four years later a different chairman of the same committee is running through a gas station to get away from retirees.
That committee has been sitting at the dead center of this story from the first day to the last. I had not put that together until just this second.
Beginning to end, it's always been that room.
Alright, so what do the three of them share? Because you've handed me desegregation, kidney disease, and a repealed drug benefit, and on the surface those are three completely unrelated events.
Look at what moved things in each one. Hospitals did not integrate because a court finally found the right words. They integrated because the money was not going to arrive otherwise.
And coverage didn't extend below sixty five because somebody had a grand theory about it. Specific groups had a specific problem and Congress reacted to them.
And the eighty eight expansion didn't fall apart because it was bad medicine. It fell apart over who was being handed the bill for it.
So every single time, the deciding factor was money and who pays. Not health care.
Every time. And Ian's point is that this is still true today, which is why any of it matters to somebody sitting in one of our offices this afternoon.
Say how.
He says that from the conversations our advisors have every week, the decisions that go wrong around this program are almost never medical decisions. They're financial ones, made without enough information, usually under time pressure, and usually right at sixty five.
And that lands for me, because it's exactly the call we take. Nobody phones up confused about a diagnosis. They phone up confused about a deadline and a premium.
Which is the entire reason tomorrow exists.
Tomorrow's the finale. What have you got for us?
A door that opens once, right around your sixty fifth birthday, and then closes in a way most people never discover until they go to walk back through it.
That sounds like the sort of thing a person ought to know well before they need to know it.
And there's a category of expense this program has never covered. Not in sixty five, not now. And it's the one most likely to do to a family today what hospital bills were doing back in nineteen sixty.
The two generations problem. It's still out there waiting.
Tomorrow at ten thirty.
Then let me bring us in. If you would rather have that conversation before the door shuts than afterward, the team at American Retirement Advisors walks families through it as part of every plan, at no cost to you. Six oh two, two eight one, three eight nine eight. I'm Betty, that's Eddie, and this has been The American Retirement Advisor. Take good care of each other.