Strong Medicine (43 page)

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Celia, with Andrew, and others from the company, attended Teddy's funeral

and accompanied the cortege to the graveside. It was a miserable,

blustery March day, with showers of freezing rain, and the mourners

huddled in their coats while sheltering under wind-besieged umbrellas.

Some, including Celia and Andrew. went to the Upshaws' home afterward,

and it was there that Teddy's widow, Zoe, took Celia aside.

"Teddy admired you so much, Mrs. Jordan," Zoe said. "He was proud to work

for you, and he used to say that as long as you were at Felding-Roth, the

company would always have a conscience."

Celia, moved by the words, remembered the first day she had become aware

of Teddy-fifteen years earlier, immediately after her speech to the

Waldorf sales convention, when she had been ordered from the meeting hall

in apparent disgrace. His was one of the few sympathetic faces she had

seen on the way out.

"I loved Teddy, too," she told the other woman.

Afterward Andrew asked, "What was it Mrs. Upshaw said to you?"

Celia told him, adding "I haven't always lived up to Teddy's ideal. I

remember that fight, the argument, you and I had in Ecuador when you

pointed out some places where I'd ignored my conscience, and you were

right."

"We were both right," Andrew corrected her, "because you brought up some

things that I'd done, or hadn't done, too. But none of us is perfect, and

I agree with Teddy. You are FeldingRoth's conscience, I'm proud of you

for it, and I hope you'll stay that way."

The following month brought better news, for the world at large and, in

a narrower sense, for Felding-Roth.

The war in Vietnam was over. It was a crushing defeat for America, a

nation not accustomed to defeats. Yet, the tragic slaughter had ceased

and the task ahead-formidable but less bloody-was the healing of national

wounds, more divisive and bitter than any since the Civil War.

"In our lifetimes the bitterness won't end," Andrew predicted one

evening, after he and Celia had watched on television the final,

humiliating exodus of Americans from Saigon. "And historians, two

centuries from now, will still be arguing the rights and wrongs about our

being in Vietnam."

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"I know it's selfish," Celia said, "but all I can think of is, thank

heaven it finished before Brucie was old enough to go!"

A week or two later, the hierarchy of Felding-Roth was cheered by news

from France that the drug Montayne had been approved for manufacture and

sale in that country. It meant that under the licensing agreement between

Felding-Roth Pharmaceuticals and Laboratoires Gironde-Chimie, American

testing of Montayne would now begin.

As to the drug's purpose, Celia had suffered some unease on first

learning that it was intended for pregnant women, to be taken early in

their pregnancy when nausea and morning sickness were most prevalent

onditions which Montayne would banish. Celia, like others, had strong

memories of Thalidomide and its awful aftermath. She also remembered how

glad in retrospect she had been that during both of her own pregnancies

Andrew had insisted she take no drugs at all.

She had confided her concern to Sam, who was understanding and

sympathetic. "When I first heard about Montayne," he admitted, "my

reaction was the same as yours. But since then I've learned more about

it, convincing me it's a splendidly effective, yet totally safe drug."

Since Thalidomide, Sam pointed out, fifteen years had passed during which

time there had been enormous progress in pharmaceutical research,

including scientific testing of new drugs. As well, government

regulations in 1975 were stricter by far than in the 1950s.

"Many things change," Sam insisted. "For example, there was a time when

the idea of using anesthetics during childbirth was fiercely opposed by

some who believed it would be dangerous and destructive. In the same way

there can, and must, be safe drugs for use during pregnancy. Montayne is

simply one whose time has come."

He urged Celia to keep an open mind until she had examined all the data.

She promised that she would.

The importance of Montayne to Felding-Roth was underlined soon afterward

when the vice president and comptroller, Seth Feingold, confided to

Celia, "Sam has promised the board that Montayne will give us a big boost

moneywise, which we sure as hell need. This year our balance sheet looks

like we're candidates for a welfare handout."

Feingold, a sprightly, white-haired company veteran, was past retirement

age, but was retained because of his encyclopedic knowl-

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edge of Felding-Roth finances and an ability to juggle money in tight

situations. Over the past two years he and Celia had become friends, their

closeness aided by the fact that Andrew had successfully treated

Feingold's wife for arthritis. The treatment freed Mrs. Feingold from pain

she had suffered over several years.

"My wife thinks your husband could change water into wine," the

comptroller had informed Celia one day. "Now that I know you better, I've

a similar feeling about his wife."

Continuing to discuss Montayne, he said, "I've talked with Gi-

ronde-Chimie's financial people, and the Frenchies believe their drug

will be an enormous profit builder for them."

"Even though it's early, all of us in sales are gearing up for the same

thing here," Celia assured him. "But especially for you, Seth, we'll try

a little harder."

"Attagirl! Speaking of trying harder, some of us are wondering how hard

those Brits are working in our research center over there. Or are they

loafing, spending most of their time having tea breaks?"

"I haven't heard much lately . . ." Celia began.

"I haven't heard anything, " Feingold said. "Except it's costing us

millions, like the money's going in a bathtub with the plug out. That's

one reason why our balance sheet is a disaster area. I'm telling you,

Celia, a lot of people around here, including some members of the board,

are worried about that British caper. Ask Sam."

As it turned out, Celia did not need to ask Sam because he sent for her

a few days later. "You may have heard," he said, "that I'm taking a lot

of flak about Harlow and Martin Peat-Smith."

"Yes," she answered. "Seth Feingold told me."

Sam nodded. "Seth is one of the doubters. For financial reasons he'd like

to see Harlow shut down. So would a growing number on the board, and I'm

expecting tough questions from shareholders at the annual meeting." He

added moodily, "Some days I feel like letting it happen."

Celia reminded him, "It's not much more than two years since the Harlow

research started. You had faith in Martin."

"Martin predicted at least some positive result within two years," Sam

answered. "Also there are limits to faith when we're hemorrhaging dollars

and I have the board and shareholders on my back. Another thing-Martin's

been obstinate about progress reports. He just won't make any. So I need

some assurance there really is progress and that it's worthwhile going

on."

"Why not go to see for yourself?"

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"I would, except that right now I can't take the time. So I want you to go,

Celia. As soon as you can, and then report back to me."

She said doubtfully, "Don't you think Vince Lord is better qualified?"

"Scientifically, yes. But Vince is too prejudiced. He opposed doing

research in Britain, so if Harlow closed it would prove him right, and he

couldn't resist recommending it."

Celia laughed. "How well you know us all!"

Sam said seriously, "I know you, Celia, and I've learned to trust your

judgment and your instincts. Just the same, I urge you-no matter how much

you like Martin Peat-Smith-if you need to be tough and ruthless in your

recommendation, do it! How soon can you go?"

"I'll try for tomorrow," Celia said.

4

When Celia arrived at London's Heathrow Airport in the early morning for a

two-day visit, no time was wasted. A waiting limousine transported her

directly to the Felding-Roth Research Institute where she would review with

Martin Peat-Smith and others what she now thought of mentally as "the Harlow

equation."

After that, having reached a decision about what to recommend to Sam, she

would fly home.

During her first day at Harlow she was made pointedly aware that the mood,

with almost everyone she met, was upbeat. From Martin downward, Celia was

assured how well the research on mental aging was progressing, how much had

been learned already, and how hard-and as a coordinated team-all concerned

were working. Only occasionally were there flashes-like fleeting, acci-

dental glimpses through the doorway of a private donjon-of what seemed to

her like doubt or hesitancy. Then they were gone, or instantly denied,

leaving her to wonder if she had imagined them after all.

To begin, on that first day Martin walked with her through the

225

labs, explaining work in progress. Since their last meeting, he explained,

he and others working with him had fulfilled their initial objective of

"discovering and isolating an mRNA which is different in the brains of young

animals compared with old ones." He added, "This will probably, in time, be

found equally true of human beings."

The scientific jargon flowed.

". . . extracted mRNA from the brains of rats of varying ages . . .

afterward the extraction incubated with 'broken cell' preparations of yeast

with radioactive amino acids added . . . the yeast system manufactures the

animal brain peptides which become mildly radioactive also . . . next,

separate them by means of their electric charge, on special gels . . .

following that, use an X-ray film and, where bands appear, we have a

peptide . . ."

Like a conjurer producing a rabbit from a hat-voild!-Martin slid several

eight-by-ten negatives across a lab bench where he and Celia had paused.

"These are films of the chromatograms."

As Celia picked them up, they seemed to be almost clear, transparent films,

but Martin commanded, "Look closely and you'll see two columns of dark

lines. One is from the young rat, the other from the old. Notice . . ." He

pointed with a finger. "Here and here on the young rat column are at least

nine peptides no longer being produced in the older animal's brain." His

voice rose with excitement as he declared, "Now we have positive evidence

that the brain RNA, and probably the DNA, change during the aging process.

This is terribly important. "

"Yes," Celia said, but wondered silently: was it really a triumph

justifying more than two years of combined effort here at enormous expense?

A reminder of the expense was all around-the spacious labs and modem

offices, all with modular dividers permitting rearrangement when desired;

the unobstructed corridors; a cozy conference room; and, in the elaborately

equipped labs, a wealth of stainless steel and modem benches, the latter

manufactured from synthetics-no wood allowed because, in scientific terms,