Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty

The successful treatment of schizophrenia with new tranquilizers led to the production of less intense versions of the same drug, marketed to a broad range of consumers seeking relief from anxiety. Roche Pharmaceuticals wanted to outcompete an antianxiety product called Miltown—which became broadly popular and had no stigma attached—and pressured its chemists to find a successful formula. A Jewish refugee from Poland, Leo Sternbach, who felt intense loyalty to his employers for settling him in the US, finally succeeded. A new compound that appeared to relax mice “was what Roche had been looking for. They named the new drug Librium, a portmanteau of ‘liberation” and ‘equilibrium.’ To market it, they turned to Arthur Sackler” (54).

Medical journals made immense profits on advertising revenue, but they had a limited audience. To directly advertise to consumers while circumventing restrictions on drug marketing, Arthur and his colleagues pushed for an article in Life magazine about the new drug’s miraculous calming effects on animals at the San Diego Zoo. Librium soon became immensely popular, but Sternbach, the Roche chemist who had invented it, soon produced a new compound that was effective at an even lower dose. Roche replaced its older product via another effective advertising campaign, which recommended the new drug, Valium, for almost every mental and physical ailment, marketing it heavily to women. Sackler, who made sure that his compensation was tied to drug sales, profited immensely:

Valium was the first $100 million drug in history, and Roche became not just the leading drug company in the world but one of the most profitable companies of any kind. Money was pouring in, and when it did, the company turned around and reinvested that money in the promotion campaign devised by Arthur Sackler (58).

Arthur Sackler continued to run multiple businesses, including a newspaper for other doctors, The Medical Tribune, which featured many ads from his pharmaceutical clients. Still, while the newspaper became successful, “the original House of Sackler was built on Valium” (54). Arthur kept his role in the newspaper secret, though he insisted there was no conflict of interest. He had a similar preference for overlap in his personal life, remaining close to his first wife, Else, who lived in the city not far from his offices. This left Marietta alone and isolated in their suburban home on Long Island.

The material success of Librium and Valium meant there was no incentive for moral rectitude: Roche did little to explore whether the medications were addictive, and scolded one doctor for reporting that physical dependence and withdrawal were not uncommon in patients who took the drugs. Roche blamed patients and was dismayed when the federal government explored declaring the tranquilizers controlled substances. By 1973, the company finally agreed to classify Valium as a controlled substance, but by then it also no longer held exclusive intellectual property rights, so the monetary incentive to continue the battle no longer existed. Valium’s addictive properties did not become a major political or social scandal, as it was difficult to persuade people that prescription medication could be harmful. Arthur Sackler maintained his image as a guardian of public health and a member of a noble profession. He and Leo Sternbach insisted that dependency came from the irresponsible behavior of consumers.

Arthur Sackler’s professional successes allowed him to develop new hobbies and passions. As he and Marietta furnished their suburban home, he became curious about a Chinese antique for sale in a local store. He met the former owner, a man named Bill Drummond, who was an antiquities dealer in China while secretly working for the precursor to the CIA, the Office of Strategic Services (OSS). Arthur bought much of Drummond’s stock, priding himself on his refined tastes. Radden Keefe notes that this is not an unusual trajectory for wealthy men in American history—the banker JP Morgan acquired a similar hobby. Arthur Sackler began buying directly from consigners, befriending in particular Paul Singer, a Jewish émigré from Austria. Singer recalled that Arthur was deeply and intensely obsessed with his collection.

Arthur enjoyed negotiating and spending large sums, and soon his home was filled with priceless Chinese artifacts. Marietta was proud of her husband, seeing him as a patron of the arts, but reflected that his obsession might meet a psychological need: “Arthur found safety and comfort in objects; they could not hurt him, they could not make demands on him” (75). Arthur began to donate to universities to subsidize the study of China and engaged in “family branding” of buildings and institutions (71). But he remained devoted to personal anonymity, ensuring that his business interests were never associated with his philanthropy.