Strong Medicine (5 page)

most of his boyhood and who, though not well off, had somehow scraped

together-without help from either of his parents-the money to sustain

Andrew through college and medical school. It was only after her death,

when the pathetic remnants of her estate, worth a few hundred dollars,

lay exposed in a lawyer's office, that he realized how great the

sacrifice had been.

As it was, at the wedding Celia had taken Andrew's mother in stride.

Assessing the situation without anything's having to be explained, Celia

had been cordial, even warm, though not phonily effusive. Afterward, when

Andrew expressed regret about his mother's bizarre behavior, Celia

responded, "We married each other,

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darling, not our families." Then she added, "I'm your family now, and you'll

get more love from me than you've ever had in your life before. "

Today on the beach Andrew was already realizing this was true.

"What I'd like to do, if you agree," Celia said, continuing their

conversation, "is go on working through most of my first pregnancy, then

take off a year to be a full-time mother. After that I'll go back to work

until the second pregnancy, and so on."

"Sure, I agree," he told her. "And in between being loved and getting you

pregnant, I plan to practice a little medicine."

' ' 'You'll practice lots of medicine, and go on being a fine, caring

doctor."

"I hope so." Andrew sighed happily, and a few minutes later fell asleep.

They spent the next few days learning things about each other which they

had not had time for previously.

One morning over breakfast, which each day was delivered to their bungalow

by a cheerful, motherly black woman named Remona, Celia said, "I love this

place. The island, its people, and the quietness. I'm glad you chose it,

Andrew, and I'll never forget it."

"I'm glad too," he said.

Andrew's first suggestion for their honeymoon had been Hawaii. But he had

sensed a reluctance on Celia's part and switched to what was originally a

second choice.

Now Celia said, "I didn't tell you this, but going to Hawaii would have

made me sad."

When he asked her why, one more piece of geometry from the past slipped

into place.

On December 7, 1941, when Celia was ten years old and with her mother in

Philadelphia, her father, a U.S. Navy noncommissioned officer-Chief Petty

Officer Willis de Grey-was in Hawaii, aboard the battleship USS Arizona at

Pearl Harbor. During the Japanese attack that day, the Arizona was sunk and

1, 102 sailors on the ship were lost. Most died belowdecks; their bodies

were never recovered. One was Willis de Grey.

"Oh yes, I remember him," Celia said, answering Andrew's question. "Of

course, he was away a lot of the time, at sea. But when he was home on

leave the house was always noisy, full of fun. When he

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was expected it was exciting. Even my little sister Janet felt it, though

she doesn't remember him the way I do."

Andrew asked, "What was he like?"

Celia thought before answering. "Big, and with a booming voice, and he made

people laugh, and he loved children. Also he was strong-not just

physically, though he was that as well, but mentally. My mother isn't; you

probably saw that. She relied on my father totally. Even when he wasn't

there he'd tell her what to do in letters."

"And now she relies on you?"

"It seemed to work out that way. In fact, almost at once after my father

died." Celia smiled. "Of course, I was horribly precocious. I probably

still am."

"A little," Andrew said, "But I've decided I can live with it."

Later he said gently, "I can understand about the honeymoon, why you

wouldn't choose Hawaii. But have you ever been thereto Pearl Harbor?"

Celia shook her head. "My mother never wanted to go andthough I'm not sure

why-I'm not ready yet." She paused before continuing. "I'm told you can get

close to where the Arizona sank, and look down and see the ship, though

they were never able to raise it. You'll think this strange, Andrew, but

one day I'd like to go to where my father died, though not alone. I'd like

to take my children."

There was a silence, then Andrew said, "No, I don't think it's strange at

all. And I'll make you a promise. One day, when we have our children and

they can understand, then I'll arrange it."

On another day, in a leaky, weatherbeaten dinghy, while Andrew struggled

inexpertly with the oars, they talked about Celia's work.

"I always thought," he commented, "that drug company detail men were

always, well, men."

"Don't go too far from shore. I've a feeling this wreck is about to sink,"

Celia said. "Yes, you're right-mostly men, though there are a few women;

some were military nurses. But I'm the first, and still the only, detail

woman at Felding-Roth."

"That's an achievement. How did you manage it?"

"Deviously."

In 1952, Celia reminisced, she graduated from Penn State College with a

B.S. in chemistry. She had financed her way through

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college in part with a scholarship and partly from working nights and

weekends in a drugstore.

"The drugstore time-passing out prescription drugs with one hand and hair

rollers or deodorant with the other-taught me a lot that proved useful

later. Oh yes, and sometimes I sold from under the counter too."

She explained.

Men, mostly young, would come into the store and loiter uneasily, trying

to get the attention of the male druggist. Celia always recognized the

signs. She would ask, "Can I help you?" to which the reply was usually,

"When will he be free?"

"If you want condoms," Celia would say sweetly, "we have a good

selection." She would then bring various brands from under the counter,

piling the boxes on top. The men, red-faced, would make their purchases

and hurriedly leave.

Occasionally someone brash would ask if Celia would help him try the

product out. To which she had a stock answer. "All right. Whenever you

say. I think I'm over my syphilis by now." While some may have realized

it was a joke, clearly no one wanted to take a chance because in each

instance she never saw the questioner again.

Andrew laughed, gave up rowing, and let the boat drift.

Armed with her-B.S. degree, Celia explained, she applied for a job with

Felding-Roth Pharmaceuticals as a junior chemist. She was accepted and

worked in the labs for two years.

"I learned some things there-mostly that unless you're a dedicated

scientist, lab work is dull and repetitious. Sales and marketing were

what interested me. They still do." She added, "It's also where some big

decisions are made."

But making a change from lab work to selling proved difficult. Celia

tried the conventional route of applying and was turned down. "I was told

it was company policy that the only women employed in sales were

secretaries."

Refusing to accept the decision, she planned a campaign.

"I found out that the person who would have to recommend a change in

policy, if it happened at all, was Sam Hawthorne. You met him at our

wedding."

"Your boss, the regional sales maestro," Andrew said. "The one who's

stamped approval on our having two kids."

"Yes-so I can keep on working. Anyway, I decided the only

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way to influence Hawthorne was through his wife. It was risky. It almost

didn't work."

Mrs. Lilian Hawthorne, Celia discovered, was active in several women's

groups and thus, it seemed, might be sympathetic to another woman's

career ambitions. Therefore, in the daytime when Sam Hawthorne was at

Felding-Roth, Celia went to see his wife at home.

"I'd never met her," Celia told Andrew. "I had no appointment. I just

rang the bell and barged in."

The reception was hostile. Mrs. Hawthorne, in her early thirties and

seven years older than Celia, was a strong, no-nonsense person with long,

raven-black hair which she pushed back impatiently as Celia explained her

objective. At the end Lilian Hawthorne said, "This is ridiculous. I have

nothing to do with my husband's work. What's more, he'll be furious when

he learns you came here."

"I know," Celia said. "It will probably cost me my job."

"You should have thought of that beforehand."

"Oh, I did, Mrs. Hawthorne. But I took a chance on your being up-to-date

in your thinking, and believing in equal treatment for women, also that

they shouldn't be penalized unfairly on account of their sex."

For a moment it looked as if Lilian Hawthorne would explode. She snapped

at Celia, "You have a nerve!"

"Exactly," Celia said. "It's why I'll make a great saleswoman."

The other woman stared at her, then suddenly burst out laughing. "My

God!" she said. "I do believe you deserve it."

And a moment later: "I was about to make coffee, Miss de Grey. Come in

the kitchen and we'll talk."

It was the beginning of a friendship which would last across the years.

"Even then," Celia told Andrew, "Sam took some persuading. But he

interviewed me, and I guess he liked what he saw, and Lilian kept working

on him. Then he had to get the approval of his bosses. In the end,

though, it all worked out." She looked down at the water in the dinghy;

it was now above their ankles. "Andrew, I was right! This thing is

sinking!"

Laughing, they jumped overboard and swam ashore, pulling the boat behind

them.

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"When I began work in sales, as a detail woman," Celia told Andrew over

dinner that night, "I realized I didn't have to be as good as a man in my

job. I had to be better."

"I remember a recent experience," her husband said, "when you were not only

better than a man, you were better than this doctor."

She flashed a brilliant smile, removed her glasses, and touched his hand

across the table. "I got lucky there, and not just with Lotromycin."

"You take your glasses off a lot," Andrew commented. "Why?"

"I'm shortsighted, so I need them. But I know I look better without

glasses. That's why."

"You took good either way," he said. "But if the glasses bother you, you

should consider contact lenses. A lot of people are beginning to have

them."

"I'll find out about them when we get back," Celia said. "Anything else

while I'm at it? Any other changes?"

"I like everything the way it is."

To get where they were, they had walked a mile from their bungalow, hand in

hand down a winding, crudely paved road where traffic was a rarity. The

night air was warm, the only sounds the chirrup of insects and a cascading

of waves on an offshore reef. Now, in a tiny, roughly furnished caf6 called

Travellers Rest, they were eating the local standard fare-fried grouper,

peas and rice.

While Travellers Rest would not have qualified for the Michelin Guide, it

served tasty food for the hungry, the fish freshly caught and prepared in

an ancient skillet over a wood fire by their host, a wiry, wizened Bahamian