It was 2017. We had hauled the CEOs of a bunch of pharmaceutical companies into the Oval Office so that President Trump could berate them about their drug prices. (Always a good time.)
Somehow, the word “vaccine” came up in the conversation. When that happens in the president’s presence, then, now, last month, and probably next week, like clockwork, he always starts telling the same story. A woman who worked for him at the Trump Organization back in the day. Her two-year-old son, who was “perfect, beautiful, magnificent, flawless.” Then he got a shot and he was “just gone. Gone. Never the same. Beautiful boy. Then, just gone.”
The CEOs all shrank back and turned the response to this story over to their colleague Ken Frazier, then-CEO of Merck, a prominent vaccine manufacturer. I don’t remember what he said. I’m sure it was the usual safe-and-effective incantation.
The president had an instinct. I had the credentials. What I didn’t have was an answer.
(continues)
>It was 2017. We had hauled the CEOs of a bunch of pharmaceutical companies into the Oval Office so that President Trump could berate them about their drug prices. (Always a good time.)
>
Somehow, the word “vaccine” came up in the conversation. When that happens in the president’s presence, then, now, last month, and probably next week, like clockwork, he always starts telling the same story. A woman who worked for him at the Trump Organization back in the day. Her two-year-old son, who was “perfect, beautiful, magnificent, flawless.” Then he got a shot and he was “just gone. Gone. Never the same. Beautiful boy. Then, just gone.”
>
The CEOs all shrank back and turned the response to this story over to their colleague Ken Frazier, then-CEO of Merck, a prominent vaccine manufacturer. I don’t remember what he said. I’m sure it was the usual safe-and-effective incantation.
>
The president had an instinct. I had the credentials. What I didn’t have was an answer.
(continues)
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