Strong Medicine (73 page)

statement continued along predictable lines. She was seated at a green

-baize-covered table and beside her was her counsel, Childers Quentin. She

had persuaded the courtly Quentin to accept this extra responsibility

because, as she told him, "There's no other lawyer who knows more than you

do, now, about Montayne, and I have confidence in your advice."

That advice, relating to today, had been specific and forthright. "Describe

the full facts as honestly, clearly and briefly as possible," Quentin

insisted, "and do not attempt to be smart, or to score off Dennis Donahue."

The last admonition had been in response to Celia's wish to bring out in

evidence the fact that, more than two years earlier when Montayne's U.S.

introduction was being delayed at FDA-some thought unreasonably-Donahue had

been among those protesting the delay, describing it then as "clearly

ridiculous in the circumstances. "

"Absolutely not!" Quentin had ruled. "For one thing, Donahue will have

remembered that remark; if not, his staff will remind him, so he'll be

ready to deal with it. He'd probably say he was one more victim of drug

company propaganda, or something of the kind. And, for another, you'd

arouse his antagonism, which is extremely unwise."

The lawyer then outlined for Celia some Washington facts of life.

"A United States senator has enormous power and influence, in some ways

even more than a President because the exercise of power is less visible.

There isn't a government department a senator can't reach into and have

something done, providing it isn't outrageous or illegal. Important people

inside and outside government will fall over themselves to do a senator a

favor, even if that favor is harmful to someone else. It's a system of

trades and, within that system, a senator's power-which can be used

benevolently or to destroy-is the biggest trading chip of all. Which is why

it's a foolish person indeed who chooses to make an enemy of a U.S.

senator."

Celia had taken the advice to heart and cautioned herself to re-

373

member it in any exchange with Dennis Donahue, whom she already detested.

Also accompanying Celia was Vincent Lord, now seated on the other side

of Quentin. While Celia would make a statement on behalf of Felding-Roth

and then be cross-examined, the research director's role was solely to

answer questions if required.

Senator Donahue concluded his remarks, paused briefly, then announced,

"Our. first witness is Mrs. Celia Jordan, president of Felding-Roth

Pharmaceuticals of New Jersey. Mrs. Jordan, do you wish to introduce your

associates?"

"Yes, Senator." In a few words, Celia introduced Quentin and Lord.

Donahue nodded. "Mr. Quentin we know well. Dr. Lord, we are glad to have

you with us. Mrs. Jordan, you have a statement, I believe. Please

proceed."

Celia remained seated at the witness table as she began, speaking into

a microphone in front of her.

"Mr. Chairman and members of the subcommittee: First and foremost my

company wishes to express its great sorrow and sympathy for those

families which have been part of what Senator Donahue, a few moments ago,

described correctly as a worldwide tragedy. While the full scientific

evidence is not yet in, and may take years to assemble, it now appears

certain that the drug Montayne was responsible for damage to fetuses in

wombs of pregnant women -in a very small section of the total population,

and in circumstances impossible to foresee during the extensive testing

of that drug, originally in France, later in other countries, and before

its official approval by FDA for use in the United States."

Celia's voice was clear, but low-keyed and deliberately not forceful. Her

statement had been carefully drafted and worked on by several people,

though principally by herself and Childers Quentin. She stayed with the

text as she read, merely adding an occasional phrase where appropriate.

"Something else my company wishes to point out is that it has, in all

matters concerning Montayne-at every stage of testing, distribution, and

reporting-complied with the law. Indeed, when serious doubts were raised

about the drug, my company went beyond requirements of the law, and

withdrew Montayne voluntarily, without waiting for a decision by the

FDA."

Celia continued, "I now wish to go back and review the origins of

Montayne in France, where it was developed by Laboratoires

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Gironde-Chimie, a company of excellent reputation and with a long history of

successful . . ."

As well as being precise, the report being delivered was impersonal. That,

too, had been decided after discussions at Felding-Roth headquarters and at

Childers Quentin's offices in Washington.

Quentin had asked Celia, "How do you wish to handle the matter of your

resignation over Montayne?"

"Not at all," she had replied. "My resignation was personal, a matter of

instinct and conscience. Now that I'm back, I'm representing the company,

reporting what the company did."

"And where is your conscience in all that?"

"Still intact, still in place," she responded sharply. "If I'm asked about

my resignation I'll answer honestly. It's simply that I don't propose to

bring it up, simply to make myself look good."

Celia had reminded Quentin, too, of the lack of any scientific grounds for

her resignation-a weakness she had been aware of at the time, and her

reason for not going public.

She now informed the Senate subcommittee, "No doubts whatever about the

safety of Montayne arose until a report from Australia in June 1976. Even

then, there seemed no reason for concern because an Australian government

investigation . . ."

Step by step she traced the Montayne story. The recital took forty minutes,

at which point Celia concluded, "My company has complied with committee

subpoenas by supplying documents confirming all that I have said. We remain

ready to cooperate in any other way, and to respond to questions."

The questions began at once, the first from the committee counsel, Stanley

Urbach, long-faced and thin-lipped, who gave the impression of smiling only

on rare occasions.

"Mrs. Jordan, you referred to the first Australian report that raised

possible doubts about Montayne. That would be seven to eight months before

your company placed the drug on sale in the United States. Is that

correct?"

She calculated mentally. "Yes."

"Mentioned in your statement were two other adverse reports, one from

France, another from Spain, both also occurring before your company's U.S.

marketing of Montayne. Again correct?"

"Not entirely, Mr. Urbach. You called them adverse reports. What they

were-at that point-were allegations which had been investigated by

Laboratoires Gironde-Chimie and declared unsubstantiated."

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The lawyer made an impatient gesture. "If we are quibbling about words, let

me ask you this: Were the reports favorable?"

"No, and perhaps I can save us time. In the pharmaceutical business

'adverse reports' has a specific meaning. In that sense, those from France

and Spain were not."

Urbach sighed. "Would the witness settle for 'critical reportsT

"I suppose so." Celia already sensed this was going to be difficult, and

that she was in for a hard time.

Senator Donahue cut in. "The point counsel is making is perfectly clear.

Were you people-your company-aware of those three reports prior to

Montayne's being placed on sale here?"

"Yes, we were."

"Yet you still went ahead and marketed the drug?"

"Senator, with any new drug there are always negative opinions. All of them

must be examined carefully and assessed . . ."

"Please, Mrs, Jordan. I am not asking for a lecture on the practices of the

pharmaceutical industry. My question requires a simple 'yes' or 'no.' I

repeat: Knowing about those reports, did your company go ahead and sell

that drug to pregnant American women?"

Celia hesitated.

"We are waiting, Mrs. Jordan."

"Yes, Senator, but . . ."

"The answer 'yes' will be sufficient." Donahue nodded to Urbach. "Carry

on."

"Would it not have been better and more prudent," the subcommittee counsel

asked, "for Felding-Roth to have done more investigating of those reports

and delayed the launching of Montayne?"

Celia thought wryly: that had been her argument which, later, caused her to

resign. Remembering her role here, she answered, "With hindsight, yes. Of

course. But at the time, the company was proceeding on scientific advice."

"Whose advice?"

She considered before answering. It had, of course, been Lord's advice, but

she wanted to be fair. "Our director of research, Dr. Lord, but he was

acting on what seemed authentic data from Gironde-Chimic."

"We will ask Dr. Lord about that later. Meanwhile. . ." Urbach consulted

notes. '~Did the decision to go ahead, and not to delay Montayne despite

those adverse . . . excuse me, critical reports have any relation to

anticipated profits?"

"Well, profits are always a factor

376

"Mrs. Jordan! Yes or no?"

Inwardly, Celia sighed. K`hat was the good? Every question was a trap, a

contrived progression toward a preconceived conclusion.

She conceded, "Yes."

"Were those profits critical to your company?"

"It was believed so, yes."

"What were those profits expected to be?"

The remorseless, loaded questions continued. Yet, she found time to ask in

a corner of her mind: Were they so unfairly loaded when touching so very

close to truth? Wasn't there a time, not long ago, when she would have

asked those same questions herself? And wasn't it ironic that she was

appearing here in place of Sam Hawthorne who ought to have had these

questions put to him, but was dead? For the first time since Hawaii, she

was reminded of Andrew's cautioning words: "Ifyou go back . . . the

Montayne mess and responsibility will rub off on you. " As happened so

often, Andrew had been right.

Her ordeal was interrupted by a lunch recess, Senator Donahue informing

her, "Mrs. Jordan, you may stand down, but please be available for more

questions later." The senator then announced, "The next witness after lunch

will be Dr. Vincent Lord."

12

Quentin and Celia ate a sandwich lunch and drank coffee from a thermos in

the rear of a limousine which had been waiting for them outside the Old

Senate Office Building. "It's faster and more private than we'd get

elsewhere," Quentin had said when announcing the arrangement. Now they were

parked on Jefferson Drive, not far from the Smithsonian, with the uniformed

chauffeur pacing to and fro outside.

Vincent Lord had been invited for the limousine lunch, but declined, having

made other arrangements.

"You're being made to look bad, and I mean bad personally," Quentin said,

after a while. "How do you feel about that?"

Celia grimaced. "How would anyone feel? I don't like it."