Arthur Hailey - Strong Medicine

Celia said pointedly, "Don't you mean developing 'me-toos'? Copying the successful drugs of our competitors? Playing molecular roulette by changing them just enough so we can't be sued for infringing someone's patent?" Sam shrugged.”If you choose to use our critics' language, maybe SO-,, "Speaking of critics, isn't it true they accuse us of wasting research effort on 'me-too' drugs, effort we ought to use in more productive, beneficial ways?" "And isn't it time you realized this industry is criticized for everything?" An edge of sharpness crept into Sam's voice.”Especially by people who don't know or care that 'me-too' drugs keep companies like ours afloat when nothing much is happening in science. There have always been gaps. Do you know that after vaccination for smallpox began to be used successfully, scientists took another hundred year% to find out why it worked?" Though the conversation depressed Celia, she discovered afterward that other pharmaceutical companies were experiencing the same dry period, with little that was new or exciting being developed. It was an industry-wide phenomenon which-though no one knew it then-would last until the 1970s, eventually proving Sam an accurate prophet. Meanwhile, through most of 1963, Celia continued to work successfully as director of sales training. Until November.

"I sent for you," Sam told Celia on an afternoon in late November, with the two of them seated in his oak-paneled office, "to tell you you're getting a new assignment. And, oh yes, it's also a promotion.”

Celia waited. When Sam said nothing more, she sighed and smiled.”You know perfectly well I'm dying of curiosity, but you're going to make me ask the question, so I will. Okay, Sam: what's my new job?" "General manager of over-the-counter products. You're to be in overall charge of Bray & Commonwealth. Teddy Upshaw, who used to be your boss, will now report to you.”

Sam smiled.”Celia, I hope you're suitably happy and impressed.”

"Oh, I am! I really am, Sam. Thank you!" He looked at her shrewdly.”Amid that enthusiasm, do I detect a reservation?" "No reservation.”

Celia shook her head decisively.”It's just that... Well, the fact is, I know nothing about our over-the-counter business.”

"You're not unique," Sam said.”I used to have the same gap in knowledge until I served a couple of years in 0-T-C territory. In some ways it's like going to a foreign country.”

He hesitated.”Or crossing the tracks to another side of town.”

"The I - ess reputable side?" "Could be.”

What the~ both knew was that Felding-Roth, like other big pharmaceutical firms, erected a wall between the prescription drug portion of its business, which was considered prestigious, and its O-T-C activities which frequently were not. On each side of the wall all activities were separate. Each side had its own administration, research staff, and sales force; there was no liaison between the two. This policy of separation was why Felding-Roth kept alive the name Bray & Commonwealth-originally a small, independent drug house. It had been acquired by Felding-Roth many years earlier and was now concerned solely with non-prescription products. In the public mind Bray & Commonwealth had no connection with Felding-Roth, and the parent company preferred it that way. "Bray & Commonwealth will be an educational experience," Sam told Celia. "You'll learn to care about cough remedies, hemorrhoid ointments and shampoos. Also, O-T-C is part of the whole drug scene-a big part, and it makes a bundle of money. So you have to know about it, how it works, and why.”

He continued, "Something else is that you may have to suspend your critical judgments for a while.”

She said curiously, "Would you explain that?" "You'll find out.”

Celia decided not to press the point. "There's one more thing I should tell you," Sam said.”The Bray & Commonwealth division has been stagnating and our O-T-C line needs new initiative, new ideas.”

He smiled.”Maybe the ideas of a strong, imaginative, occasionally abrasive woman-Yes, what is it?" The last remark was to his secretary, an attractive young black woman who had come in and was standing at the open doorway. When she failed to answer immediately Sam said, "Maggie, I told you I didn't want to be-" "Wait!" Celia said. She had seen what Sam did not-that tears were streaming down the secretary's face.”Maggie, what's wrong?" The girl spoke with an effort, words emerging between sobs.”It's the President... President Kennedy has been shot... in Dallas... It's all over... on the radio.”

Hurriedly, with a look combining horror and unbelief, Sam Hawthorne snapped on a radio beside his desk.

Forever after, like most others of her generation, Celia would remember precisely where she was and what she was doing at that terrible moment. It was a shattering, numbing introduction to the apocalyptic days which followed, a time of ended hopes and deep dejection. Whether Camelot had been real or illusory, there was a sense of something lost for always; of a new beginning which suddenly went nowhere; of the impermanence of everything; of the unimportance of lesser concerns including-for Celia-her own ambitions, and talk and thought of her new job. The hiatus ended, of course, and life moved on. It moved on, for Celia, to the head offices of Bray & Commonwealth Inc., wholly owned subsidiary of Felding-Roth Pharmaceuticals, located in a four-story plain brick building a mile and a half from the parent company headquarters. There, some two weeks later, in her new modest but comfortable office, she met with Teddy Upshaw, the division sales manager, to review over-the-counter products. Through the preceding week Celia had immersed herself in papers-financial statements, sales data, research reports, personnel files-all relating to her new appointment. As she read on, she realized what Sam Hawthorne had told her was true. The division had been stagnating under uninspired leadership. It did need new initiative and ideas. At the beginning of her talk with Upshaw, Celia said, "Teddy, a plain, blunt question. Do you resent my sitting here and your having to report to me? Does it matter that our roles have been reversed?" The whippetlike sales chief appeared surprised.”Matter? My God, Celia, I couldn't be happier! You're what this division needed. When I heard you were moving over, I felt like cheering. Ask my wife! The night after I got the news, we drank your health.”

Teddy's energetic, bouncing head punctuated his remarks.”As to resenting you, no my dear, I'm just a salesman-a damn good one, but that's all I'll ever be. But you've the brains to give me something good, a whole lot better than what we have, to sell.”

Celia was moved by the reaction.”Thank you, Teddy," she said.”I like you too. We can be good for each other.”

"Damn right!" "You've been on both sides of this business," she pointed out. "Prescription drugs and O-T-C. Tell me what you see as differences between them.” "It's pretty basic. O-T-C is mostly hype.”

Teddy glanced at papers spread around the office.”I guess you've discovered that from studying costs.”

"Just the same, I'd like to hear your version.”

He looked at her inquiringly.”Confidentially? No holds barred?" She nodded.”That's the way I want it.”

"All right then, look at it this way. As we both know, a prescription drug costs millions to research and takes five, six years before it's ready for selling. With an O-T-C item, you need six months or less to formulate the stuff, and the cost is peanuts. After that the big money goes for packaging, advertising, sales," "Teddy," Celia said, "you have a knack of getting to the core of things. " He shrugged.”I never kid myself. What we're selling around here ain't from Louis Pasteur.”

"Yet overall, the industry's O-T-C drug sales are shooting up and UP.”