Strong Medicine (27 page)

involved. You will not be a party to any settlement. You are not being

asked to lie and if, for any reason, all this blew open and you were

questioned officially, naturally you'd tell the truth. "

"If that's my position," Andrew queried, "what about yours? Will you tell

Miss Wyrazik the real cause of her brother's death?"

"No," Gould answered curtly. Then he added, "That's why some

144D

of us are in this deeper than you. And maybe why we deserve to be.11

In the ensuing silence Andrew thought: What Ezra Gould had just said was

an admission, subtle but clear, that Andrew had been right, and others

wrong, four years ago when Andrew tried to bring Noah Townsend's drug

addiction out in the open but was rebuffed. Andrew was certain now that

Leonard Sweeting had told others of their conversation at that time.

Undoubtedly the admission was the only one that ever would be made; such

things were never inserted in a written record. But at least, Andrew

reasoned, something had been learned-by himself, Sweeting, Gould and

others. Unfortunately their learning came too late to help either

Townsend or Wyrazik.

So where, Andrew asked himself, did he go from here? The answer seemed

to be: Nowhere.

What Gould had been saying did, on the whole, make sense. It was also

true that Andrew was not being asked to lie, though he was being asked

to keep quiet so, in that sense, he was sharing in a cover-up. On the

other hand, who else was there to tell, and what would be gained from

doing so? No matter what happened, Kurt Wyrazik could not be brought back

to life, and Noah Townsendtragically but necessarily-had been removed

from the scene and would menace no one else.

"All right," Andrew told the chief of medicine, "I'll do nothing more."

"Thank you," Gould acknowledged. He looked at his watch. "It's been a

long day. I'm going home."

Andrew went to see Hilda Townsend the following afternoon.

Townsend was age sixty-three, Hilda four years younger. For a woman of

her age, she was attractive. She had kept her figure in good shape. Her

face was firm. Her hair, while entirely gray, was cut stylishly short.

Today she was dressed smartly in white linen slacks and a blue silk

blouse. Around her neck she wore a thin gold chain.

Andrew had expected her to show signs of strain, perhaps of weeping.

There were none.

The Townsends lived in a small but pleasant two-storied house on Hill

Street, Morristown, not far from the medical office at Elm and Franklin

to which, on fine-weather days, Noah Townsend had often walked. 'Mere

were no servants in the house and Hilda let

141

Andrew in herself, preceding him to a sitting room. It was a room,

furnished in soft browns and beiges, which overlooked a garden.

When they were seated, Hilda said matter-of-factly, "Would you like

something, Andrew? A drink? Tea, perhaps?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks." Then he said, "Hilda, I don't know what

else to say except-I'm terribly sorry."

She nodded, as if the words were expected, then asked, "Were you dreading

this? Coming here to see me?"

"A little," he admitted.

"I thought so. But there's no need. And don't be surprised or shocked

because I'm not weeping, or wringing my hands, or doing any of those

other emotional, womanly things."

Uncertain how to respond, he simply said, "All right."

As if she had not heard, Hilda Townsend went on, "The fact is, I've done

them all, done them so often, and for so long, that now they're far

behind me. For years I shed so many tears that my supply ran dry. I used

to think that little pieces of my heart were breaking off while I watched

Noah destroy himself. And when I couldn't make him understand or even

listen, I came to think that all of my heart was gone and only an inner

piece of stone was left. Does any of that make sense?"

"I think so," Andrew said, and thought: How little each of us knows of

the sufferings of other people! For years Hilda Townsend must have lived

behind a wall of loyal concealment, a wall which Andrew had neither known

of nor suspected. He remembered, too, Ezra Gould's words of the night

before. "She didn't talk a lot . . . I got the impression she's been

expecting something to happen, though never knowing what.

"You knew about Noah and the drugs," Hilda said. "Didn't you?"

"Yes.,,

Her voice became accusing. "You're a doctor. Why did you do nothing?"

"I tried. At the hospital. Four years ago."

"And no one there would listen?"

"Something like that."

"Could you have tried harder?"

"Yes," he said. "Looking back now, I think I could have."

She sighed. "You probably wouldn't have succeeded." Abruptly she switched

subjects. "I went to see Noah this morning, or rather

142

tried to see him. He was raving. He didn't know me. He doesn't know

anyone."

"Hilda," Andrew said gently, "is there anything I can do, anything, to

help you?"

She ignored the question. "Does Celia feel any guilt about what's

happened?"

The question startled him. "I haven't told her yet. I will this evening.

But as to guilt-"

"She shouldl" The words were spoken savagely. In the same tone, Hilda

went on, "Celia is a part of that greedy, ruthless, money-coining,

high-pressure drug business. They do anything to sell their drugs, to get

doctors to prescribe them and people to use them, even if the drugs

aren't needed. Anythingl"

Andrew said quietly, "No pharmaceutical company forced Noah to take the

drugs he did."

"Maybe not directly." Hilda's voice rose. "But Noah took drugs, and so

do others, because the companies surround doctors with theml They deluge

them! With sleazy, oh-so-clever, limitless advertising, page after page

in medical magazines which doctors have to read, and with an avalanche

of mail, and with free trips and hospitality and booze-all of it designed

to make doctors think drugs, ahvays drugs, still more drugs! The

companies, every one of them, swamp doctors with free samples, telling

them they can have any drug they want, in whatever quantity, and just by

asking! No restrictions, never any questions! You know it, Andrew." She

stopped. "I want to ask you something."

He told her, "If I can answer, I will."

"Lots of salesmen-detail men-came into the office. Noah saw them all the

time. Don't you think that some of them, maybe all of them, knew how much

he was taking drugs, were aware he was an addict?"

Andrew considered. He thought of the untidy profusion of drugs, all in

manufacturers' containers and packages, in Noah's office. "Yes," he

answered. "Yes, I think it's likely that they knew."

"Yet it didn't stop them, did it? Bastardsl They just went on delivering.

Giving Noah anything he wanted. Helping him destroy himself. That's the

rotten, filthy business your wife is in, Andrew, and I loathe it!"

"There's something in what you've said, Hilda," he acknowledged. "Maybe

a lot. And while it isn't the whole picture, I'd like you to know I

understand your feelings."

143

"Do you?" Hilda Townsend's voice mixed contempt and bitterness. "Then

explain them to Celia sometime. Maybe she'll consider changing to another

line of work."

Then, as if a pent-up force had at last broken free, she put her head in

her hands and began to cry.

5

The mid-to-late-1960s was a time when women's lib became a phrase on many

lips and a fixture in the news. In 1963 Betty Friedan had published The

Feminine Mystique, a declaration of war on "the second-class citizenship of

women." Her book became the vade mecum of the women's movement and the

Friedan voice was now heard frequently. Germaine Greer and Kate Millett

joined the movement, adding literary and artistic style. Gloria Steinem

effectively combined women's advocacy with journalism and feminist politics.

Women's lib had its mockers. Abbie Hoffman, a counterculturc celebrity of

the period, declared, "The only alliance I would make with the women's lib

movement is in bed." And historians, reminding the world that few things

are ever new, pointed out that in 1792 in England, one Mary Wollstonecraft

courageously published A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, arguing,

"Tyrants and sensualists . . . endeavor to keep women in the dark, because

the former only want slaves, and the latter a plaything."

But many in the 1960s took the movement seriously, and thoughtful men

explored their consciences.

Celia's attitude to women's lib was approving and sympathetic. She bought

copies of The Feminine Mystique and gave them to several male executives at

Felding-Roth. One was Vincent Lord, who returned the book with a scribbled

note, "I have no use for this rubbish." Sam Hawthorne, influenced by his

wife Lilian, an ardent libber herself, was more sympathetic. He told Celia,

"You're proof that this company has no sex discrimination."

She shook her head in disagreement. "I had to claw my way to

144

where I am, Sam-with your help, but also fighting male prejudice, and you

know it."

:'But you don't have to do that anymore."

'That's because I've proved myself as a producer, and I'm useful. Which

makes me a freak, an exception. Also, you know how little support there is

whenever I argue for more women on the detail force."

He laughed. "Okay, I concede, but attitudes are changing. Apart from that,

you're still the best example a man could have for treating women as

equals."

Despite her private advocacy, Celia took no active part in women's lib. She

decided--selfishly, as she admitted to herself-that, first, she didn't need

it personally; second, she didn't have the time.

Celia's working time continued to be occupied with O-T-C products at Bray

& Commonwealth. Despite Sam's promise of a change to other duties, no new

assignment seemed in sight for Celia, and his urging to "be patient for a

few months" proved an underestimate.

Meanwhile, at home, Celia shared with Andrew the anguish following Noah

Townsend's breakdown and committal to a mental institution. As time went

on, the prediction of Dr. Gould that Noah would never be discharged seemed

increasingly and sadly to be true.

Andrew had told Celia of Hilda Townsend's tirade about drug companies and

excessive free samples, and was surprised to find her sympathetic. "Hilda's

right," Celia said. "The amount of free drugs handed out is crazy and I

guess we all know it. But competition made the scene the way it is. Now, no

one company could cut back without being at a disadvantage."

"Surely," Andrew remonstrated, "drug companies could get together and make

some agreement to cut back."

"No," Celia said. "Even if they wanted to, that would be collusion and

against the law."

"Then how about a case like Noah's? Where drug company detail people must

have known, or at least had a good idea, that Noah was heavily on drugs.