Celia, while receiving less personal publicity, found her status at Felding-Roth changed in not-so-subtle ways. Previously she had been an anachronism, to some a source of curiosity and amusement-the firm's sole saleswoman who, despite an initial and unexpected accomplishment in Nebraska, still had to prove herself over the long term. Not any more. Her handling of Lotromycin, and the continuing publicity which delighted FeldingRoth, had put both the drug and Celia squarely on the road to success. Within the company her name was now well known to top executives, including Felding-Roth's president, Eli Camperdown, who sent for Celia a day after her return to work. Mr. Camperdown, a lanky, cadaverous industry veteran in his mid-sixties, who always dressed impeccably and was never seen without a red rose in his buttonhole, received Celia in his ornate office suite on the eleventh floor-executive country-of the Felding-Roth building in Boonton. He attended to the amenities first. "My congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Jordan. I hope you'll be happy.”
He added with a smile, "I also trust that from now on your husband will prescribe nothing but Felding-Roth products.”
Celia thanked him and decided the remark about Andrew was merely facetious, so let it go without pointing up her husband's independence where drugs and medicine were concerned. "You have become something of a legend, young lady," the president continued.”Living proof that an outstanding woman, occasionally, can be every bit as good as a man.”
"I hope, sir.”
Celia said sweetly, "that someday you won't feel the need for that 'occasionally.' I believe you'll see many more women in this business, and some may be even better than the men.” For a moment Camperdown seemed taken aback and frowned. Then, recovering his geniality, he said, "I suppose stranger things have happened. We'll see. We'll see.”
They continued talking, Camperdown asking questions of Celia about her merchandising experiences. He seemed impressed by her informed, straightforward answers. Then, pulling a watch from a vest pocket, the president glanced at it and announced, "I'm about to hold a meeting here, Mrs. Jordan. It concerns a new drug we intend to market soon after Lotromycin. Perhaps you'd care to stay.” When she agreed that she would, the president called in a half-dozen male staff members who had been waiting outside in a secretary's office. After introductions they all moved to a conference area of the office suite, seating themselves around a table with Camperdown at the head. The newcomers included the director of research, Dr. Vincent Lord, a recently recruited, youngish scientist; an elderly vice president of sales who was shortly to retire; and four others, including Sam Hawthorne. With the exception of Sam-the only one Celia had met previously-the others regarded her with frank curiosity. The new drug under consideration, Camperdown explained for Celia's benefit, was not a product developed by Felding-Roth, but had been obtained under license from a West German company, Chemie-Grinenthal. "It is a sedative, one of the safest ever discovered," the president declared, "and it produces a normal, refreshing sleep without unpleasant morning-after grogginess.”
The product had no significant side effects, he continued, and was so safe it could be given to small children. The sedative was already on sale, and popular, in almost every major country except the United States. Now, Felding-Roth was fortunate in having the American rights. The name of the drug, Mr. Camperdown added, was Thalidomide. Despite Thalidomide's proven safety record, trials of the drug on humans were required in the United States before its sale would be approved by the Food and Drug Administration.”In the circumstances, with all that first-rate foreign data," Camperdown grumbled, "it's a silly, bureaucratic requirement, but we have to live with it.”
A discussion followed about where and how the U.S. trials of Thalidomide would be carried out. The director of research, Dr. Lord, favored recruitment of fifty or so physicians in private practice who would g1ve the drug to patients, then report results which Felding-Roth would submit to FDA.”There should be a mix of general practitioners, internists, psychiatrists, and obstetricians," he declared. The vice president of sales demanded, "How long will all that ngmarole take?" "Probably three months.”
"Could you make it two? We need this product on the market.”
"I think so.”
Someone else, though, expressed concern about the trials being so widespread. Wouldn't they be simpler and reporting be faster in a concentrated environment such as a hospital? After several minutes of discussion Camperdown interjected with a smile, "Perhaps our young lady guest has some thoughts on the subject.”
"Yes, I have," Celia said. All heads turned toward her. She spoke carefully, aware that her presence here was unusual, even privileged; therefore it would be foolish to spoil the opportunity by seeming too assured or brash. "One thing that could be worrisome," Celia said, "is the suggestion that obstetricians prescribe this drug. This means pregnant women would be taking it, and it's usually advised that pregnancy is not a time for experimenting in any way.”
Dr. Lord interrupted testily.”In this case that doesn't apply. Thalidomide has been widely used in Europe and elsewhere, and those taking it have included pregnant women.”
"Just the same," Sam Hawthorne put in quietly, "Mrs. Jordan has a point.”
Celia continued, "A question which might be asked is this: Who are the people who have the most trouble sleeping, and therefore need a sleeping pill? Well, based on my experience in detailingvisiting hospitals and institutions, as well as doctors-I'd say old people, especially geriatric patients.”
She had the group's attention. Several around the table nodded agreement at the last remark. Dr. Lord, his face set stiffly, did not. "So what I'd recommend," Celia said, "is that our testing of Thalidomide be done in one or two old people's homes. If it's of any use, I know of two of them--one in Lincoln, Nebraska, the other outside Plainfield in this state. Both are well run and efficient, and would keep good records. In both places I've met the doctors in charge and would be glad to contact them.”
When Celia had finished there was an uncertain silence. Eli Camperdown broke it. The Felding-Roth president sounded surprised. "I don't know what the rest of you think, but what Mrs. Jordan has just suggested sounds to me like very good sense.”
Having been shown the way, others added their agreement, though Dr. Lord remained silent. Celia immediately sensed an antagonism between herself and the director of research which would persist into the future. Soon after, a decision was made that Celia would telephone her institutional acquaintances next day and, if they seemed cooperative, the Research Department would take it from there. As the meeting broke up, Celia left first, amid smiles and friendly handshakes. A week or so later, having done what was asked, Celia learned through Sam Hawthorne that trials of Thalidomide at both of the old people's homes would soon be under way. At the time, it seemed the end of a minor incident.
Amid the pressures of their professional lives Andrew and Celia found time to look at houses for sale. One, which Celia found and liked, was at Convent Station, a residential suburb in Morris township, where homes were spaced widely apart and lawns and trees proliferated. As she pointed out when she called Andrew, the house was only two miles from his office and even closer to St. Bede's Hospital.”That's important," Celia declared, "because I don't want you to have to drive a long way, especially when you have night calls and may be tired.”
The location would mean a ten-mile commute for Celia on the days she went to Felding-Roth at Boonton, but since most of her sales calls were in other parts of New Jersey, the distance was not important. But the house, which was a large, unoccupied, neglected, whiteframe colonial, shocked Andrew when he saw it. He protested, "Celia, this broken-down old barn isn't for us! Even if we patched it up, which looks impossible, what would we do with five bedrooms?" "There'd be. one for us," his wife explained patiently, "then one each for the children, and after they're born we'll want live-in help, so that's one more.”