It was a message that made me pause. A woman’s voice on my voicemail congratulated me on my “Top Doctor” award and asked me to call back to “ensure everything’s accurate” before they sent my plaque. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’m not a medical professional; I’m an investigative journalist specializing in healthcare. Intrigued, I returned the call, ready to delve into the workings of these prestigious-sounding accolades. On the other end of the line was Anne, a cheerful saleswoman from a Long Island company called Top Doctor Awards. She genuinely believed I was a physician, and not just any physician, but one worthy of their coveted award. Amusement mixed with professional curiosity as I began to take notes, sensing a story unfolding.
When I inquired about the selection process, Anne’s explanation was enthusiastic but vague. She claimed my peers had nominated me and patients had reviewed me, painting a picture of a “leading physician.” It would be easy to dismiss this as absurd, but I recognized the allure of these awards. They tap into the egos of doctors and the earnest desire of patients to find the best possible care. Many patients place undue trust in these “best doctor” lists, assuming rigorous vetting ensures only the most qualified are recognized. Hospitals and doctors often reinforce this perception by displaying these awards prominently, lending an air of legitimacy to what might be a less-than-credible system.
And yet, here was Top Doctor Awards, bestowing this honor upon me, someone profoundly unqualified. For over a decade, I’ve been investigating the healthcare industry, focusing on how we measure doctor quality. Medicine is complex; ranking doctors isn’t straightforward. Truly evaluating a doctor’s performance—from diagnostic skills to patient satisfaction—is a nuanced undertaking. Despite this complexity, numerous for-profit companies churn out “Super,” “Top,” or “Best” doctor lists, often monetizing these accolades through magazine features, online directories, and, of course, those shiny plaques offered for a “nominal fee.”
Marshall Allen’s “Top Doctor” award, a symbol of the ease with which such accolades can be obtained, even by those outside the medical profession, highlighting the questionable nature of these awards. (Hannah Birch/ProPublica)
My conversation with Anne took an even more surreal turn when she mentioned my employer, ProPublica. “It says you work for a company called ProPublica,” she stated, matter-of-factly. At least she got that part right. I clarified that I was indeed a journalist, not a doctor. “Is that going to be a problem?” I asked, “Or can I still get the ‘Top Doctor’ award?”
A pause followed, a clear indication I had veered sharply from her script. But Anne, ever the salesperson, quickly recovered. “Yes,” she declared, I could still receive the award. It seemed clear that her commission was tied to volume, not validation.
Then came the sales pitch. The “honor” included a customized plaque, with options of cherry wood with gold trim or black with chrome trim. I pondered which style best represented my unique brand of non-medical “doctoring”—traditional cherry or modern black?
“There’s a nominal fee for the recognition,” Anne continued, slipping back into her scripted delivery. “It’s a reduced rate. Just $289. We accept Visa, Mastercard, and American Express.” That price tag seemed steep, even for an unconventional reporting expense. I hesitated.
Anne shifted gears, moving to close the deal. “The plaque commemorates your achievements and, more importantly, communicates those achievements to your patients,” she emphasized. “It’s a great achievement. I would hate for you to miss it. I can get it to you right now for $99.” Ninety-nine dollars to become a “Top Doctor”? It was an offer I couldn’t refuse, especially for the sake of investigative journalism. And so, I became a “Top Doctor,” bypassing years of medical school and mountains of debt. It certainly added a certain weight to my casual medical advice dispensed in the newsroom: “Go home before we all get sick.”
This experience with Top Doctor Awards sparked a deeper curiosity about the numerous “best doctor” accolades flooding online platforms and glossy magazines. Castle Connolly Top Doctors, Super Doctors, The Best Docs—the list goes on. The more I investigated, the more companies I uncovered, all bestowing praise upon physicians and then charging them to promote their “achievements.” What were their selection criteria? And what did real doctors, the recipients of these awards, think of this system? I wondered how they would react to learning that I, too, was now among their esteemed ranks.
Expert Opinions on “Best Doctor” Awards: A Critical Look
To gain a more informed perspective, I reached out to actual healthcare quality experts. Unsurprisingly, their opinions were far from favorable. “This is a scam,” declared Dr. Michael Carome, director of the health research group for Public Citizen. “Any competent qualified doctor doesn’t need one of these awards unless they want to stroke their ego. These are meaningless, worthless awards.” Dr. Carome went further, labeling it unethical to both issue and accept these awards.
Naturally, the companies behind these for-profit doctor rating systems defended their legitimacy, often at the expense of their competitors. John Connolly, co-founder of Castle Connolly Top Doctors, couldn’t resist a jab at my “award.” “What’s your specialty, Dr. Marshall?” he quipped. “I hope you’re not doing any surgery.”
Connolly explained that Castle Connolly relies on physician nominations to identify “top doctors.” Their New York City-based research team, he claimed, verifies the license, board certification, education, and disciplinary history of each nominee—information readily available to the public. These checks, at least, would prevent someone like myself from slipping through the cracks.
While Connolly believed their nomination process was difficult to manipulate, he offered a crucial caveat: “We don’t claim they are the best,” he clarified regarding their honorees. “We say they are ‘among the best’ and ones we have screened carefully.” This subtle distinction is often lost in the promotional materials.
These “among the best” doctors can pay Castle Connolly for enhanced profiles in their online listings and purchase commemorative plaques. The company also generates revenue by partnering with magazines to produce promotional “Top Doctor” issues, which Connolly noted are typically top sellers for newsstands and advertisers.
Super Doctors, based in Minnesota, employs a similar nomination and credential-checking process. However, their disclaimer is even more explicit, stating that being named a “Super Doctor” doesn’t guarantee superior medical services: “No representation is made that the quality of the medical services provided by the physicians listed in this Web site will be greater than that of other licensed physicians.” Becky Kittelson, research director for Super Doctors, described their list as “a listing people can go to for a start,” emphasizing, “We never say you should go to this one.”
Like Castle Connolly, Super Doctors also monetizes upgraded website listings, plaques, and advertisements in publications highlighting their recognized doctors.
Those glossy magazine spreads featuring “The Best” plastic surgeons or orthopedic specialists in airline magazines? Those are often advertising sections produced by Madison Media Corp. They leverage the lists compiled by companies like Castle Connolly or Super Doctors. Doctors recognized by these services can then purchase ads to be featured in these airline publications, explained John Rissi, president of Madison Media.
When questioned about how he ensures “The Best” doctors in his ads are truly the best, Rissi admitted, “I guess in this world it’s hard to find the absolute best. It’s all through reputation and interpretation.” A sentiment that contrasts sharply with the definitive impression these “best doctor” lists often convey.
The Flaws in Nomination-Based “Best Doctor” Lists
Healthcare quality experts are highly critical of nomination-based systems. Dr. John Santa, a former leader in healthcare quality measurement at Consumer Reports, pointed out the inherent biases in these methodologies. Nomination systems, he argued, are easily manipulated by doctors with financial connections—partners within the same practice or doctors who refer patients to each other. “If you look at these methodologies, they are rife with economic and relationship biases,” Santa asserted.
Dr. Santa considered these vanity awards an insult to patients who deserve reliable information to guide their healthcare decisions. Even the most rigorous of these awards, he argued, merely verify basic credentials. “I’m sorry, being in good standing with a state licensing board is a very low bar,” Santa stated. “Being board certified is a very low bar.” These are fundamental requirements for practicing medicine, not indicators of exceptional quality.
Months after my own “Top Doctor” induction, I decided to further investigate Top Doctor Awards’ selection process, this time without revealing my prior “honor.” I was directed to Donna Martin in client services, who reiterated that “Top Doctors” could be nominated by peers for their achievements. She also mentioned a “full interview process” covering education, leadership, and awards (my English degree remained unmentioned).
My interest piqued when she mentioned a research team, but details about their methodology remained “proprietary.” When I later called Martin back, questioning the credibility of their methods given my own “Top Doctor” status, she promised to review my account and call back. I’m still waiting for that call.
What Do Real “Top Doctors” Think?
Curious about the perspectives of actual physicians who shared my “Top Doctor” award, I contacted Dr. Lewis Maharam, a sports medicine specialist in New York City known as the “Running Doc.” He wasn’t surprised Top Doctor Awards wanted to recognize him, citing a wall adorned with similar accolades. “I’m sort of in that echelon or class,” he stated. “If you’re finding people that don’t deserve [the awards], then maybe you’re onto something.”
Then I dropped the bombshell: I, too, was a “Top Doctor.” Dr. Maharam’s tone shifted instantly. “That’s pretty strong evidence that it’s not legitimate,” he conceded. “It might have been that my assistant just sent in a check.”
Dr. Maharam acknowledged that doctors, often overwhelmed, are easy targets for such schemes. Being included in these lists, even questionable ones, can attract patients, he admitted. However, he resolved to be more discerning in the future, questioning the selection process for any similar offers. Learning of my experience made him reconsider renewing his “Top Doctor” award for 2019.
I attempted to contact about a dozen other “Top Doctors”—orthopedic surgeons, gynecologists, allergists, infectious disease specialists, even an orthodontist, spanning the country. Most calls went to voicemail, but some assistants expressed alarm upon learning of my “Top Doctor” status. Dr. Maharam was the only one who returned my call, highlighting a potential lack of engagement or perhaps awareness among many recipients regarding the true nature of these awards.
My faux cherry wood and gold “Top Doctor” plaque eventually arrived at the ProPublica newsroom, a tangible symbol of this exposé. When asked about my specialty by the saleswoman, I could have chosen neurosurgery for comedic effect, but opted for the truth: “investigations.” This whole experience underscored the critical need for patients to approach “best doctor” lists with skepticism and seek out more reliable sources of information when making crucial healthcare decisions.
