Spider Man

His methods today include taking samples from the homes and businesses he treats and testing various compound mixtures, most notably botanical agents that have repellent and killing capabilities, such as pyrethrum (a toxin that comes from chrysanthemums), to discover what would effectively kill every sector (young, old, male, female) of a population. Sandidge says using natural products is one of the things that sets him apart from his competitors. So do many of his theories: Insecticides poisonous to humans aren't necessary to control a population; brown recluses are more scavengers than predators; infestations in houses aren't always the fault of human error; brown recluses don't bite aggressively but rather when they're pressed; the widely used traps, or glue boards, that adhere a spider to a strip of paper or cardboard should be used as a monitoring tool for research, not as an eradication tool.

Now, two years into his new life as an exterminator, he dismisses his competitors as using a method he describes as "There's one — spray!"

"I do consulting for larger firms across the U.S.A.," Sandidge says. Criticized by some exterminators as a self-promoter, Sandidge has nevertheless secured gigs with firms such as the Evansville, Indiana-based Action Pest Control, a major operation in the Ohio River Valley.

Kent Foley, the owner of Arrest-a-Pest in Wichita, called on Sandidge after hearing him speak at an annual state-recertification convention.

"We were doing all the same things everyone else was doing — spraying floorboards, putting glue boards down — limited methods, in my opinion," Foley says. "We've seen phenomenal results since his training."

Foley's trucks now boast that his is the only Wichita pest-control business "Certified as brown recluse specialists by Dr. Jamel Sandidge."

But not everyone buys Sandidge's claims or the manner in which he trumpets them.

Jeff Holper is the owner of Animal and Insect Solutions in St. Louis and a former president of the Missouri Pest Management Association.

The 22-year veteran of the pest-control industry listened to Sandidge speak during a seminar at Purdue University.

"He said, 'I'm the expert. This is what I know. If you think anything different, you're wrong.' I was offended," Holper says.

"Because he's got all the crap behind his name," he says of Sandidge's degrees, "people think he's a great expert. Then he can charge a lot more than it's worth."

One academic, an entomologist who is familiar with Sandidge's work but requested anonymity to avoid angering his former colleague, cautions that Sandidge's work can't be considered conclusive until there's more research. "He infers from his laboratory experiments that spraying insecticide will increase brown-recluse population in homes. But no one has done any critical, real-world experiments to prove this actually happens. His notions are controversial. He might be right and will change how brown-recluse pest control is done. But he also might be wrong. The body of research on the subject is insufficient."

"It's not rocket science," Sandidge counters. If he notices that a certain population isn't reacting to the dusting mixture, he simply adjusts. "But that's the part of the equation that most people don't understand."

Here's how it started. One day when Sandidge was in elementary school, he took a black widow to class in a glass jar.

"I remember the librarian took it from me and said I couldn't have it in school. I really didn't know why. I understood it was poisonous, but I didn't really know anything about it."

Growing up in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Madison Heights, Virginia, across the James River from Lynchburg, Sandidge says he was a nerdy kid. "I was into robotics and stuff. I got good grades but never had to try too hard at it."

He describes his family — father, mother, two older siblings, himself — as middle class. "It was a smallish town ... we had a creek and woods behind our house."

He always harassed the local bug population but never really knew why.

The incident with the black widow and the librarian triggered his curiosity; he claims to have checked out every book about spiders from every library in the area.

Less nerdy by the time he got to high school, he ran track and played football. "I still have records for the shot put and discus," he says. "I was always breaking my own records. I always did things technically perfect because I wasn't a big guy." He says he had offers to play football at a handful of Division II colleges, but his focus wasn't on sports. His straight-A grade-point average, multiple college credits and presidency of the local Vocational Industrial Club of America — "I've been president of over 20 clubs in my life," he says — propelled him toward academia.

He started at Virginia Tech as an engineering major, but his hatred for the subject and general misery nearly caused him to quit school.