Strong Medicine (79 page)

Felding-Roth's advertising agency-still Quadrille-Brown of New York-bwegan

a costly, exhaustive study during which existing brand names were examined

and new, suggested ones brooded over, with many being rejected. Finally,

after several months of work, a top-level review session took place at

Felding-Roth headquarters. On the company side it was attended by Celia,

Bill Ingram and a half-dozen others.

A small agency contingent was headed by Howard Bladen, now president of

Quadrille- Brown, who attended, as he expressed it, "a lot for old time's

sake." Before the proceedings, Celia, Ingram and Bladen reminisced about

the session sixteen years before, when they had all met, and which resulted

in the "happy-momma plan" for New Healthotherm, still a steady O-T-C seller

and revenue producer.

Storyboards and easels were set up in the boardroom to display eight

suggested names, each presented in succession, in several type styles.

"Among possibilities we've narrowed down," an agency account executive

announced, "are names which relate to the brain or human understanding."

These followed and were: Appercep, Compre, Percip, and Braino. The first

three, it was pointed out were derived from "apperception,"

"comprehension," and "percipience."

The fourth name was speedily withdrawn when Bill Ingram commented on its

similarity to a household product-Drano.

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"I'm embarrassed," Bladen said, "and how we all missed that, I'll never

know. But no excuses. I apologize."

Then there were names which, the account exec said, "suggest something

brigbt-shining with high intelligence." Those were: Argent and Nitid.

Two others were: Genus and Compen. The second, it was said, implied that

the drug would "compensate" for what might otherwise be missing.

An hour's discussion ensued. Bill Ingram liked Appercep, disliked Nitid,

was lukewarm about the others. Three people on the company side favored

Argent. Bladen expressed himself a supporter of Compen. Celia held back,

listening to the others, letting the arguments flow, reflecting at one

point on the thousands of dollars all this was costing.

It was Bladen who eventually asked, "What's your opinion, Mrs. Jordan?

You're one who's had some splendid ideas in the past."

"Well," Celia said, "I've been wondering why we don't call our new drug

Peptide 7."

Only Ingram had the seniority, and knew Celia well enough, to laugh

aloud.

Bladen hesitated, then a slow grin crossed his face. "Mrs. Jordan, I

think what you've suggested is nothing short of brilliant."

Celia said tartly, "Just because I'm the client doesn't make it

brilliant. It's simply sensible."

After the briefest further discussion, it was agreed that the product

name of Peptide 7 would be Peptide 7.

A year flew by.

Clinical trials of Peptide 7, moving much faster than anyone expected,

had proved outstandingly successful in Britain and the United States.

Older patients responded positively to the drug. No adverse side effects

appeared. Now, all accumulated data had been sent to the Committee on the

Safety of Medicines in London, and to the FDA in Washington.

After careful discussions both at Harlow and in Boonton, involving Martin

Peat-Smith, Vincent Lord, Celia and others, it was decided not to seek

an official "indication" of the antiobesity effect of Peptide 7. This

meant that while the known weight-reducing effect of the drug would be

disclosed in information given to physicians, Peptide 7 would not be

recommended for that use.

Some doctors, it was realized, might prescribe it for that purpose.

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However, if they did it would be the doctors' own responsibility, not

Felding-Roth's.

As to a sexual stimulant effect, while repeated tests on animals showed

that such an effect existed, it had not been sought during human testing,

and was listed as inconspicuously as possible in all submitted data.

In both cases the thinking continued to be: Peptide 7 was a serious drug,

intended to retard mental aging. Any "frivolous" uses would detract from

this important role and diminish the drug's reputation.

In view of the flawless results from clinical testing, and the fact that

extra indications were not sought, it appeared unlikely that official

approval of Peptide 7 would be long delayed.

Meanwhile, work on the Irish plant and changes at Puerto Rico were near

completion.

At Harlow, Martin, while keenly interested in the outcome of clinical

trials, had left the details to the medical staff. He was working on

modifying Peptide 7, exploring the possibilities of making other brain

peptides, a spectrum which the earlier success had opened.

Martin and Yvonne were still living together. In January 1980, Yvonne had

taken her A level examinations and, to her own and Martin's great joy,

passed with A's in all subjects. She had also taken, and passed, the

Cambridge Colleges' Examination, this because she had applied to Lucy

Cavendish College in that university, and been accepted, subject to exam

results. The admissions prospectus had pleased Yvonne with its reference

to a "society for women, with a particular concern for those whose

studies have been postponed or interrupted."

In September, having resigned from Felding-Roth, she began attending Lucy

Cavendish where she would read Veterinary Medicine.

It was now October and she had become accustomed to driving daily to and

from her Cambridge classes, an hour's journey.

Apart from her studies, a source of pleasure to Yvonne was the blossoming

royal romance between the Prince of Wales and "Lady Di," as all of

Britain now called her. Yvonne tirelessly discussed the subject with

Martin. "I said all along that if he waited, he'd find an English rose,"

she declared. "And so he has."

Martin continued to listen to Yvonne's gossipy news, which now

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included the Cambridge University scene, with affectionate amusement.

During January of the following year, as President Reagan was inaugurated

four thousand miles away, a license to market Peptide 7 in Britain was

granted by the Minister of Health. Two months later, approval for United

States use of the drug was announced by FDA. Canada, as it often did,

followed the FDA lead.

In Britain, the drug was scheduled to go on sale in April, in the United

States and Canada in June.

But in March--before its marketing anywhere-an event occurred that

confirmed earlier fears and placed in jeopardy, it seemed, the entire

future of Peptide 7.

It began with a telephone call to Felding-Roth's Harlow institute from

a London newspaper, the Daily Mail. A reporter making the call sought to

speak with Dr. Peat-Smith or Dr. Sastri. When informed that neither was

available that morning, he left a message which a secretary typed out and

placed on Martin's desk. It read:

The Mail has learned you are about to unveil a miracle drug

which will rejuvenate people sexually, cause them to lose

weight, and make the middle-aged and old feel young again.

We will have a story in tomorrow's paper and would like a

statement from your company as soon as possible today.

When Martin read the message it was a half hour before noon, and he

reacted with shock and fear. Was some damn newspaper, concerned only with

printing a sensational one-day story, about to lay in ruins all his work

and dreams?

His immediate impulse was to telephone Celia, and he did-at home. In

Morristown it was 6:30 A.m., and she was in the shower. Martin waited

impatiently while she dried and put on a robe.

At the sound of Celia's voice, he relayed what had happened and read out

the reporter's message. His tone conveyed his anguish. Celia was

concerned and sympathetic, but also practical.

"So the Peptide 7 sex thing is out in the open. I always thought it would

happen."

"Can we do anything to stop it?"

"Obviously not. The report has a basis of truth, so we can't deny it

totally. Besides, no newspaper will give up that kind of story, once they

have it."

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Martin, sounding unusually helpless, asked, "So what shall I do here?"

She told him, "Call the reporter back and answer questions honestly, though

be as brief as possible. Be sure to emphasize that the sexual results have

been observed in animals only, which is a reason we are not recommending

the drug for sexual use by humans. The same applies to use for weight

loss." Celia added, "Maybe, that way, they'll run a short item which won't

get much notice anywhere else."

Martin said gloomily, "I doubt it."

"So do 1. But try."

Three days after Martin's call, Julian Hammond reported to Celia with a

summary of media attention to Peptide 7. The public affairs vice president

began, "It's as if that first British news story opened a floodgate."

The Daily Mail had headed its report:

SCIENTIFIC BREAKTHROUGH

Soon!-A New Miracle Medicine

To Make You Sexy, Younger and Slim

What followed played up the acknowledged sexual effect of Peptide 7, but

glossed over the fact that, so far, it had been officially recorded in

animals only. The word "aphrodisiac," which Martin and others at

Felding-Roth had dreaded, was used several times. Even worse, from the

company's point of view, the newspaper had somehow learned about Mickey

Yates and interviewed him. A photograph headed, "Thank you, Peptide 7!"

showed the elderly Yates beaming after boasting of his revived sexual

powers. Beside him, his wife, smiling demurely, had confirmed her husband's

claim.

Something else in the news report, not known previously by Felding-Roth

officials,-was that several others among the Harlow Peptide 7 volunteers

had experienced unusual sexual stimulus. They, too, were named and quoted.

Celia's dim hope that the story might be confined to one newspaper proved

merely a hope, and nothing more. Not only was the Mail's story picked up by

the remainder of the British press and television, all wire news services

flashed it overseas. In the United States, instant interest was aroused,

with Peptide Ts sexual and antiobesity effects being mentioned in most

newspapers and discussed on TV.

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From the moment the story broke in the United States, FeldingRoth's

switchboard was swamped with calls from press, radio and TV seeking details

about Peptide Ts release. Though reluctant to respond to what was felt to

be a wave of harmful sensationalism, the information was given. There was

no alternative.

Few callers inquired about the true, anti-mental-aging purpose of the drug.

Following the tide of media calls came a second one: questions from the

public. Most concerned only the drug's sexual or weightloss properties, and

callers were read a short statement to the effect that Peptide 7 was not

recommended for such uses. Phone operators reported that the answer did not

appear to satisfy.