Dr. Feelgood (12 page)

Just a few short months after his inauguration, the young President Kennedy, now firmly addicted to Jacobson’s medication, faced two tough tests: the Bay of Pigs invasion, which had been initiated under President Eisenhower, and the Vienna Summit with Nikita Khrushchev. The president knew that the Soviet premier would be looking to exploit any weakness and any vulnerability that he could. Kennedy had to be strong, vigorous, and resistant to any threats. JFK needed all the help he could get.

Given the president’s medical history and the efficacy of Max Jacobson’s treatments, not to take the doctor with him on the trip to meet with Soviet premier Khrushchev was unthinkable. However, Jacobson and his wife would not be traveling on Air Force One with the president, but rather on an Air France flight. There was too much risk of press scrutiny, the White House said, with the prying eyes of reporters wanting to know who was traveling with the presidential party on Air Force One on this all-important but very tough trip. Even though Kennedy felt prepared and had had many discussions with his secretary of state Dean Rusk about how Khrushchev might behave, the president was nevertheless nervous. And why shouldn’t he be? The Vienna Summit, which Kennedy had first proposed in February 1961, would be held in the shadow of the failed invasion of Cuba.

The Bay of Pigs invasion of April 17, 1961, was an unmitigated disaster, a miscalculation by the CIA that put the new president, who had green-lighted the operation, at a severe disadvantage when facing Khrushchev across a conference table. The plan was doomed from the start because, although the preparations for the invasion were supposedly put into motion in complete secrecy, the operation was quickly the topic of conversation among the Cuban exile community around Miami. It didn’t take long for Castro’s intelligence service to learn of the plan.

Khrushchev was publicly outraged, but secretly believed that the young president who had stumbled so badly could easily be pushed around. Thus, Kennedy, needing to be strong, had asked Jacobson to come along, hoping that what the doctor did for him in the debates would sustain him in his face-to-face meeting with an angry and brutal Soviet premier.

If Jacobson initially thought that this trip and the days leading up to it would go smoothly, he would be proven wrong. Not too long before he left the country, he and his friend Mike Samek came back to Jacobson’s office late one night to find that the place had been ransacked. Samek later described the scene of devastation: Vials of liquid had been overturned, furniture moved around, and confidential patient files strewn everywhere. It didn’t take Samek long to figure out what had happened. It was the KGB (the Russian Committee for State Security), he told Jacobson. The KGB, knowing that Kennedy was Max’s patient, was looking for information on the president’s physical and mental condition. They knew who Jacobson was, Samek said, and knew what drugs Kennedy was taking.

Jacobson was outraged. Someone had violated the sanctity of not only his relationship with JFK, but also the relationships of all his patients. He remained silent as he prepared for his trip, though.

Before their flight took off, Jacobson received a call that the president wanted to see him before his departure on Air Force One. While Nina waited at the airport hotel, Jacobson went to the terminal where the president’s plane was waiting. Before he reached the plane, he was intercepted by a large man who identified himself as a detective. The detective demanded to know Jacobson’s identity.

According to Jacobson’s diary (unpublished), the brief conversation went as follows: “I’m a doctor. And I have an appointment with President Kennedy.”

The detective was highly suspicious. “You’re coming with me.”

In his most authoritarian tone, Jacobson replied, “If your future means anything to you, you had better take me to your supervisor who can identify me. The president’s plane is already delayed by ten minutes.”

The detective wasn’t swayed, and he led a furious Jacobson down the corridor.

Fortunately for Jacobson, the detective’s captain met them in the corridor, identified Jacobson on the spot, and confirmed his appointment with the president. By this time, a gaggle of curious reporters had converged, and the Secret Service had to form a blockade to keep them away from the president.

Once on board Air Force One, Jacobson explained that his lateness was due to an overanxious detective. Kennedy waved it off. He had bigger things on his mind. On the flight from D.C. to New York, he said, his back had given him trouble. He was worried and wanted Jacobson to prevent any complications that might arise during the long flight to Paris. The doctor gave the president another injection, left the plane, and made his way through the reporters surrounding the gate without answering any of their questions. When Jacobson and Nina boarded their plane, they soon realized they were the only passengers, and for the next six hours, they watched the flight attendants entertain themselves.

The Jacobsons arrived in Paris the following morning and were driven to the L’Hotel Napoleon, where they were to stay during the president’s visit.

Jacobson was soon called to the Palais D’Orsay, the hotel reserved by the French government for visiting dignitaries, where he found the president’s entourage in high spirits after President de Gaulle’s dinner reception. When Jacobson saw Mrs. Kennedy, he noticed that she was very talkative and friendly, in contrast to her usually reserved behavior in Jacobson’s presence, even when he was treating her with injections to relieve the pain of her migraines.

At the same time, he noticed an irregularity in an otherwise perfect molding in a corner of the room. He suspected a hidden camera and called Jackie’s attention to it by pointing while putting a finger to his lips. She nodded in acknowledgment, and Jacobson made his way to the president’s private room.

The president seemed very composed and greeted Max warmly, asking whether the Jacobsons had had an enjoyable flight. Then JFK became more serious and said, “I need to see you early in the morning.”

Even in Paris, Max would later comment, the secret relationship between him and JFK had to be maintained. The next morning, he took a taxi to the Palais D’Orsay, and French soldiers allowed him to pass through to the floor where the president’s private rooms were located. There he was stopped by the huissier, the head of the supervisory personnel at the Palais, who was ceremoniously dressed in an ornate cut-away uniform covered with ribbons and medals and wearing a huge sword at his side. “What are you doing here?” the huissier demanded.

“I have an appointment with the president,” Jacobson told him. The huissier stared fixedly at the small attaché case the doctor carried in his left hand.

“What are you going to do there?” the huissier asked, never taking his eyes off the attaché case.

Jacobson answered, “I have been told that questions are only indiscreet if they are answered.”

“Are you going to cut his hair?” the huissier asked.

“I could try that,” Jacobson replied. “But I don’t think I could do a good job.”

The door to the room suddenly opened, and George, the president’s valet, appeared in the doorway and said, “Doctor, the president is waiting for you.”

Monsieur le Huissier retreated with apologies.

Jacobson administered Kennedy’s morning injection, carefully noting the president’s response. The dosage had to be accurate— not too much, or the president would appear as if he were in a stupor, nor too little, or the drug would not alleviate Kennedy’s fatigue or stress. After the injection, Kennedy said that he wanted the Jacobsons to accompany him on Air Force One for the rest of the trip because he needed the doctor by his side at all times.

On the day of their departure to Vienna, the Secret Service arranged for Jacobson to sit in the front seat of one of the first cars in the president’s motorcade. Jacobson heard a familiar voice from the backseat. It belonged to Dr. Janet Travell, the official White House physician, who resented Jacobson’s presence, his proximity to the president, and the medications she was sure were harmful to the president. Her level of resentment was more than apparent. It had been obvious to him when they encountered each other in the corridors of the Palais D’Orsay and Travell had pointedly turned away to avoid acknowledging him. He knew it would be inappropriate to make a scene in public, so he told the driver he’d forgotten his raincoat at the Palais and jumped out of the car. He went directly to the Secret Service in charge of the motorcade. “I don’t appreciate your sense of humor! Get me into another car,” he demanded.

The route to the airport from the hotel was lined with cheering crowds. Kennedy, with all his youthful vigor, was a hero to not only the French, but also the new generation of people who had emerged from a war-torn Europe. What the Europeans didn’t know about Kennedy’s fragile condition didn’t hurt them, but Jacobson was thrilled that he had been able to give the Europeans a reason to cheer.

At the airport, the Jacobsons were ushered aboard Air Force One. It was an honor to be placed close to the president’s private quarters among many important dignitaries, not the least of which were secretary of state Dean Rusk and the president’s military aides. It was a responsibility, too, because Jacobson knew that the president relied on having him and his medical kit close at hand whenever he felt at the end of his physical tether.

The tension aboard the plane gradually built as Air Force One circled Vienna and slowly made its approach. At the private debarkation point, the cabin doors opened, and the president deplaned, surrounded by his Secret Service detail, after which then the rest of the passengers were able to leave.

There were two motorcades carrying the Kennedy entourage from the airport. One motorcade followed Jacqueline Kennedy to her private engagement with Nina Khrushchev. Jackie was nervous about this but was prepared for delicate diplomacy. Jacobson’s motorcade followed the president to the private residence of the American ambassador, a beautiful house in the Semmering, where the Summit meeting with Premier Khrushchev was to take place. The route to the mountains was lined with cheering crowds. There was hope in the atmosphere, and Max could feel it as the motorcade made its way through the American-flag-waving onlookers.

No sooner had the president’s party arrived at the ambassador’s residence when Jacobson was hurriedly ushered up to the president’s room. Kennedy told him, “Khrushchev is supposed to be on his way over. The meeting may last for a long time. See to it that my back won’t give me any trouble when I have to get up or move around.” The doctor administered a heavy dose of methamphetamine to ease Kennedy’s stress, give him energy, and build his confidence.

As it turned out, the president had been misinformed, and Khrushchev arrived much later, after the amphetamine began to wear off. Just before Khrushchev’s arrival, JFK demanded another injection. Jacobson thought twice about it, but he could see the concern on the president’s face and stuffed his professional feelings down. Although too many injections of amphetamines could have a deleterious effect, Jacobson told himself that this was the president of the United States, and the free world hung in the balance as Khrushchev’s party assembled for the sit-down.

Jacobson waited in the wings, in case he needed to administer more injections. He passed the time looking out at the beautiful landscape of the Semmering Mountains and the large crowds of onlookers hoping to see the arriving dignitaries, the American president and the Soviet premier.

As the hours passed, Jacobson began to worry. Suddenly, the president appeared in the doorway. His face was sullen and fatigued, and he was clearly nervous.

“How are you feeling, Mr. President?” Jacobson asked him.

The president hesitated, then answered, “May I be at least permitted to pee first?” Kennedy’s speech was slurred. When he returned, he asked for another shot. “I need it to get me through to the end. It’s almost over. I need to feel good.”

Jacobson demurred. “You’ve already had too much. Too much will cloud your thinking.”

“But I need the edge,” Kennedy said. “This guy’s making all kinds of demands. He thinks he can push us around.”

Reluctantly, Jacobson opened his attaché case. “This has to be the last time,” he told the president. “No matter what happens, I can’t let you have a serious overdose.” And he gave President Kennedy one final injection of methamphetamine before sending him back to face Khrushchev.

A short time later, Kennedy came back to the anteroom where Jacobson waited. His complexion was brighter, even though he looked as though he’d been in a real fight. “Feeling fine,” the president said. “You can go back to the hotel. We’ve finished here.”

What Jacobson could not have known was just how badly the meeting had gone. In a private conversation with secretary of state Dean Rusk on the way back from the meeting, Kennedy tried to explain how Khrushchev had treated him like a weak and indecisive child, even though Kennedy had tried to be as accommodating as possible. It was the failure of the Bay of Pigs, at the very least, that might have showed Khrushchev that Kennedy was afraid to take him on. That, and Kennedy’s performance, overdosed on a drug that Khrushchev knew all about because of the KGB raid on Dr. Jacobson’s office, played directly into the Soviet premier’s strategy to demand that the German reunification situation be settled within six months or else it would mean war. What would happen if the news leaked that the new president had been pushed around by Khrushchev? Whereas Eisenhower had stood up to the Russians even as he sought to avoid a nuclear war, Kennedy felt existentially threatened. Dean Rusk might have believed that despite all the preparation in advance of the summit, Kennedy was still underprepared. How much of his performance was the result of Max’s multiple injections?

Just how despondent was Kennedy after the Vienna summit? While still at the ambassador’s residence, Kennedy sat down for an interview with the
New York Times
’s correspondent James Reston. Kennedy was very frank when Reston asked him how things went. Kennedy’s strategy, of course, was to get his version of the story out first so as to preempt any leaks from hostile journalists. He trusted Reston and wanted to convey just how menacing the situation was with the Soviets.