Biography:
American hero, a man who emerges from the button-down corporate world
as a socially conscious protagonist in a story so dramatic that it became
a winning motion picture, "The Insider," in which Russell Crowe played
the role of Jeffrey Wigand. A biochemist, Dr. Wigand achieved national
prominence in 1995 when he became the highest-ranking former executive to
reveal company protocol about the effect of smoking on public health. In a
ferocious battle with the big-money powers of the Tobacco industry, Dr.
Wigand made every attempt to get around a signed confidentiality agreement
with the industry that he would not divulge anything that he had learned
while in tobacco employment, until he was subpoenaed by the Grand Jury to
divulge the dirty little secret that insider information knew for years:
cigarettes kill people. Every year, 425,000 Americans die of
smoking-related illnesses. Wigand had evidence that the tobacco industry
knew that tobacco was addictive, in spite of the fact that they stated
otherwise in front of Congress, and that they added carcinogenic
substances to enhance the impact, considering cigarettes a "nicotine
delivery device."
An average-looking man with a somewhat rounded face and body, Wigand
describes himself as a "plodder." He wears silver-rimmed aviator
glasses, which he takes off frequently to rub his eyes. He has coarse
silver hair, a small nose, and fighter's thick neck from his days as a
black belt in judo. According to Wigand's brother James, a Richmond
Virginia, endocrinologist, "If they think they can intimidate and
threaten him, they have picked on the wrong person!" A workaholic
with a stubborn depth of character, his pride at being a corporate
executive making $300,000 a year turned into rage against a level of
corruption which he found intolerable.
The son of a mechanical engineer, a dad who stressed independence,
Jeffrey Wigand grew up in a strict Catholic home in the Bronx, the oldest
of five children. Both parents were severe and he recalls that his mom
raised them by the book and not the heart. As a kid, he had to control his
anger when he felt that he was tolerated rather than understood and as a
teenager, his rebellion accumulated. A gifted student, he flourished in
the quiet atmosphere of science labs and planned to study medicine, until
he exploded at home and announced that he was dropping out of college to
join the Air Force.
In 1961, Wigand was posted to Misawa, an American base in Japan where
he worked in the base hospital O.R. He learned Japanese and, a jogger at
college, became acquainted with martial arts. Back in the States, he
continued his education at the University of Buffalo School of Medicine
and Biomedical Sciences, earning his doctorate with distinction. He began
work at a health-care company.
Wigand met Linda, a legal secretary, in 1970 at a judo class. They
married the following year and seven months later, Linda developed
multiple sclerosis. Wigand took a job testing medical equipment in Japan.
He was fluent in the language and in a top position. Though Linda was
disintegrating physically, she wanted their child, daughter Gretchen in
1973. Wigand searched the world for specialists, but he emotionally
withdrew from his wife and baby as a form of self-protection. When they
returned to the States, they separated.
He met his second wife, Lucretia, in 1981 at a sales conference at
Ortho Diagnostic Systems, a subsidiary of Johnson & Johnson, where he
was a director of marketing. He was, he later remembered, attracted to her
cool demeanor and willowy good looks. Lucretia was a sales rep, the
daughter of two doctors. They married in 1986.
Wigand moved up the corporate ladder into more responsible positions
and work stress. A perfectionist, his tendency to say what was on his mind
did not endear him to management. At the same time, he played his cards
close to his chest, at times not even telling Lucretia what was going on.
After 17 years in the health-care field, Wigand went to work for Brown
& Williamson, the tobacco company, in December 1988 with an initial
assignment of developing a new, healthier cigarette to put into a
competitive market. His department budget was more than $30 million and he
had a staff of 243. They moved to Louisville, bought a two-story red-brick
house and he took up smoking and drinking. They had two daughters, Rachel
and Nikki. Jeffrey and Lucretia tried to fit in but socially and at work,
his feisty, urban, confrontational personality grated. He found his lab
outdated and saw no evidence of health standards in the tobacco research.
Even in the '60s, documents were beginning to claim that cigarettes were
addictive and caused cancer but Wigand claimed he did not learn of these
studies until later. He was the corporate man, highly paid and ambitious.
Wigand soon learned that in the tobacco-patter, "increased biological
activity" was code for cancer and other diseases. Notes were not allowed
at certain meetings and status reports that included medical findings were
screened. The litigation department had a budget in the millions to keep
any case from proving that a smoker was damaged from the use of the
product. The B&W personnel kept closed ranks and Wigand soon learned
to trust no one.
After a year at B&W, Wigand became aware of studies done by the
company in Switzerland of smoking dangers. He began to keep an extensive
scientific diary. When he questioned the C.E.O. about safety standards and
advertising to juveniles, the subject was dismissed. Profits from the sale
of cigarettes and snuff to kids under 18 amounts to more than $200 million
a year. Increasingly troubled, Wigand withdrew into a stolid isolation. To
Lucretia's questions, his answer was a terse "Fine." His temper was
edgy. Moreover, he and Lucretia's first daughter had spina bifida that
required spinal surgery, adding stress at home.
In 1991, his evaluation at work read that he had "a difficulty in
communication." He was becoming a problem with his questions and
criticism. In late 1992 he objected to the use of coumarin in cigarettes
when it was proved to cause cancer in rats and mice and was told that the
removal would impact sales. His anger began to focus and take shape, and
Wigand concentrated his research on the properties of additives. On
3/24/1993, Wigand was fired and escorted from the building, with his diary
and papers confiscated.
Here is where his dilemma becomes agonizing. Wigand could not provide
for his daughter’s medical bills without coverage and in order to get
his severance benefits, he signed a confidentiality agreement that he
would not divulge company policy. In September, B&W sued Wigand and
suspended his health insurance and severance benefits, contending that he
violated his confidentiality pledge by discussing the terms of his
severance with another company executive. They were aware that Wigand had
been called to testify as part of a 1993 U.S. Justice Department
investigation into Philip Morris' "fire safe" cigarette program.
They tightened their hold by insisting that Wigand sign a tougher
agreement of nondisclosure.
A producer of "60 Minutes," Lowell Bergman (who was played by Al
Pacino in the film) met with Wigand while producing a story on Philip
Morris' "fire safe" cigarette. Bergman asked Wigand to help him
interpret secret internal Philip Morris documents anonymously sent to him
in late 1993.
On 2/28/1994, ABC's newsmagazine, "Day One," broadcasted a
story contending that Philip Morris "spiked" the nicotine
content of its cigarettes. On March 27, “60 Minutes" aired its
story on the Philip Morris' research, the full impact of which was killed
by Philip Morris for fear of negative legal ramifications. During the
course of the story's production, Wigand was reportedly paid an estimated
$12,000 for his time and expenses as a consultant. In July, The Justice
Department opened a criminal investigation into possible perjury by seven
top tobacco company executives who testified at April 14 congressional
hearings that "nicotine is not addictive." Wigand was named as
an expert defense witness for ABC. On August 3, after a summer of
indecision, Wigand and his wife agree to an interview with Mike Wallace on
"60 Minutes."
On August 21, ABC News agreed to a carefully worded apology for it
"Day
One" report on 2/28/1994 that said Philip Morris and R.J. Reynolds
controlled and manipulated nicotine levels to addict smokers. ABC also
agreed to pay all legal fees – an amount that totaled some $15 million,
rather than face a libel suit that would cost a great deal more.
Through September, producer Bergman held meetings with Mike Wallace,
company executives and CBS lawyers to review his investigation, bursting
to report his story but afraid of meeting with crippling lawsuits from big
tobacco.
They had a $15 billion gun pointed at their heads. Parts of the Wigand
transcript leaked to the New York Daily News. Wigand reportedly said that
B&W Tobacco Corp. had vetoed plans to make a safer cigarette and
continued to use a flavoring in pipe tobacco known to cause cancer in lab
animals. Moreover, he supposedly said the company's former CEO Thomas
Sandefur was guilty of perjury when he told Congress that nicotine was not
addictive.
Wigand agreed to talk to The Wall Street Journal with his name not
quoted, which printed essentially the story that "60 Minutes" found
too hot to tackle, that internal reports showed that leading U.S.
tobacco companies enhance nicotine delivery to smokers by adding
ammonia-based compounds to cigarettes, chemicals that increase the potency
of the nicotine inhaled. In 1996, the Journal won a Pulitzer Prize for
this story. On November 9, The New York Times reported that CBS lawyers
ordered "60 Minutes" not to air the Wigand interview. Three days
later, Mike Wallace went on the air with the following statement: "We
at '60 Minutes' – and that's about 100 of us who turn out this broadcast
each week – are proud of working here and at CBS News, and so we were
dismayed that the management at CBS had seen fit to give in to perceived
threats of legal action against us by a tobacco industry giant. We've
broadcast many such investigative pieces down the years, and we want to be
able to continue. We lost out, only to some degree on this one, but we
haven't the slightest doubt that we'll be able to continue the '60
Minutes' tradition of reporting such pieces in the future without
fear or favor." November 29: At the request of anti-tobacco
plaintiffs' lawyers, Jeffrey Wigand provided a deposition in a civil
action against tobacco manufacturers brought by the state of Mississippi.
The state sought reimbursement for the cost of treating smoking-related
illnesses over the years. Wigand supported previously publicized
contentions that Brown & Williamson lawyers improperly controlled
research programs in an effort to limit potential liability in injury
lawsuits filed against the company.
1994 was a year of hell for Wigand. He was out of work and being
threatened and slandered. He was drinking heavily and his marriage was
suffering badly from the fallout of his public battle as well as the
illness of his daughter. One night in October 1994 when Jeffrey and
Lucretia were both drinking, worried about losing their medical coverage
and stressed by the harassment in their lives, they had a huge fight with
the kids screaming and the police on the way. Whatever happened that
night, they both blame B&W for placing an unbearable strain on their
marriage, one that led to a later divorce. The Wall Street Journal obtained
a copy of the Mississippi deposition and published it in full on their web
site on 1/26/1995. By now, there was no longer any way to stop the
critical substance of Wigand's testimony and on 2/04/1996, Mike Wallace
released the full story on "60 Minutes."
In 1995, Wigand took a job teaching Japanese at a fraction of his
former salary. In front of his class, Jeff Wigand is transformed. He is
open and generous, and the class responds with noisy delight. He moved
into a two-bedroom apartment in Louisville and seemed happy.
Accusing its former vice president of theft, fraud, breach of contract
and other offenses, Brown & Williamson sued Dr. Wigand: the lawsuit was
dismissed as a condition of the 6/20/1997 historic settlement between the
Attorneys General of 40 States and the tobacco industry.
He has received numerous awards and public recognition for his action
in revealing tobacco company research and marketing practices and he
continues his efforts to reduce teen tobacco use through a non-profit
organization he formed, Smoke-Free Kids, Inc.
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