I'll See You In Your Dreams (19 page)

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So, Heinrich wanted Freud to help him legitimize drugs as the solution to mental illness?”

“Yes, he continually reminded Dr. Freud how many more patients he could run through in a day, and time was money. Of course, it’s obvious that Heinrich had a vested interest in making heroin even more accepted as the ultimate wonder drug, which, of course, would potentially make himself and Bayer the most respected and wealthy entrepreneurs in history.”

“How did Freud take to this?” Sam inquired.

“Dr. Freud and his cohorts tried it a time or two, but Freud preferred cocaine. They all agreed heroin was certainly a needed wonder drug, and its benefits to cure morphine addiction were enough to get them to add their endorsements to the growing list of doctors jumping on the bandwagon.”

Sam cut in. “It seems heroin is already popular. Why would they need Freud, who has little credibility?”

“Well, yes, heroin seems to be in every child’s cough medicine nowadays, and all those suffering from consumption rave about its cough-suppressing qualities. I see all the ads in the nursing bulletins from pain relief to respiratory relief. Every ad touts it as not habit forming, but we hear among us nurses that that may not be true. Researchers, especially in the U.S., are claiming it is addictive, but there are over a hundred-eighty other reports from around the world approving its use. America is the largest market, and rumor is that the American Medical Association is going to put its stamp of approval on it.”

“Do you think it’s habit forming?” asked Sam.

“Actually, I do. There’s a nurse in our group who recently returned from New York and she said there are people so addicted that they won’t work and just sell junk to get more. They call them junkies. So, I wouldn’t use it or recommend it, but I may be wrong, seeing as how so many doctors prescribe it,” said Elsie.

“How does Ludwig fit into all this?

“Well, he and Heinrich, and believe it or not, little Eddie, are always in deep discussions on how Freud’s material can be used to increase sales and form more effective ads.

“Heinrich Dreser is a crabby loner whom few can stand to be around. So he sees the value in Ludwig’s ability to manipulate using some of Freud’s material.”

“What material, as an example?

“Well, he’s impressed at the underlying common denominator of ‘fear’ that he thinks is the key selling point of the century. He raves on and on about Freud missing the boat when he thinks sex is the common denominator. Ludwig thinks fear even underlies sex as a stronger motivator. Sex, he says, is a strong desire, but fear rings the cash register. According to Ludwig, it’s in the dark side of the mind that compulsive control can be achieved. Sex is only the icing, but fear is the cake; to quote Ludwig.”

“It doesn’t seem like fear would be a good ad,” Sam interjected.

“Oh yes, I said that exact thing to him and he laughed and then said that fear must underlie the ad for best results. Ludwig said it is like life. There are the positive aspirations of finding love, wealth, and health. Underlying these are the fears of not finding them. Sex may sell, but fear makes them pull out the cash, Cha-ching, according to Ludwig.”

“Does Freud approve of Ludwig’s use of his material?” asked Sam.

“Dr. Freud has his nose buried in making psychoanalysis work. He is oblivious to anything going on around him. That’s why Ludwig blabs on and on to me. I’m the only audience with which he has to display his self-described genius. Well, there is Heinrich and Eddie, but they’re not always around like I am. He loves it that I listen so intently, and I must confess I’m fascinated by his warped mind. It’s like watching a storm, scary but riveting,” said Elsie.

“Did Ludwig ever form any charitable organizations?” asked Sam.

“It’s amazing that you said that. You’ve done your homework. Yes, that was the last thing Ludwig and Heinrich were in excited discussions about. They were ecstatic about the value of charitable organizations to cover for their schemes to move drug sales to stellar heights. They were delighted as they realized that their motivations would be above question. They were certain that if they set up the right trusts and philanthropies that they could eventually sell out to John D. Rockefeller, who was interested in his father’s old business, snake oil salesman.”

“Rockefeller’s father was a snake oil salesman?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yes, he was. William Avery Rockefeller was the billionaire’s father who went by the name of Dr. Livingston. In Germany he was well known. He advertised that he could cure anything, es
pecially cancer. He made a huge amount of money selling sugar water, and these deceptive techniques were not lost on John D.

“His neighbors, who accused William of horse thieving, burglary, arson, and counterfeiting, also found out he was a bigamist for over thirty years. William and John D. Rockefeller were Ludwig’s heroes. Having a conscience was for losers and weaklings.
Ludwig believed in this mantra.

“Oh, my goodness.” Elsie looked up and down the street for tongue waggers that m
ight report her break to Dr. Freud.  “Please come in, and I’ll fix you some tea.” Sam followed her into Freud’s building. She guided him to the library and motioned him to a seat. “I will make us some tea.” She disappeared into a room at the back.

Sam looked around at the red velvet chairs and stood to look at the pictures on the wall. There was a picture of Freud and his daughter and in another was Freud with a group of colleagues. He could see the couch in an adjoining room where patients poured out their fears and aspirations in hopes of conquering one and realizing the other. It was eerily quiet except for the clanking of a teapot being readied in the other room.

Sam pondered Freud’s quest to alleviate the mental suffering of his patients. He at least believed that help was possible. Psychiatry had long given up and was only kept alive by possible military use and the public desire to hide the different ones. Certainly that use was not to help the individuals, but to control them. It seemed almost divinely inspired that virtually all their methods failed; otherwise, the entire public would be subjected to psychiatric control.

Sam recalled a discussion at Oxford where the origin of the title psych-iatry was defined to be psych or soul or spirit and iatry to be doctor of. So a psychiatrist was meant to be a doctor of the soul. Too bad they abandoned that for mind. It seemed to Sam that mind was just a collection of experiences, both good and bad. The mind had to have someone to record those experiences and replay them or look at them. That’s what some call the soul, the projectionist, not the film. That seemed to Sam to be the starting place where the cause and solution of mind problems would be found, the recorder and looker, origin, not consequence.

Elsie entered the room carrying a silver tray with a teapot and two cups. She poured each of them a cup and took a seat.

“Where were we, Sam?”

“Hmmm, oh yes, Ludwig’s heroes, the Rockefellers, and I was about to ask the whereabouts of Ludwig?” Sam pretended not to know.

“America! He is off to put his scheme into action!”

“Why America?”

“Well, the vast amount of money Heinrich was earning, impressed Ludwig, and his vision of creating drug distributors and a partnership with Heinrich, was thrilling to him. His ship had come in, and he felt his way with words and acting ability would make even William Rockefeller proud. Social prestige and wealth was soon to be his, and he was certain of that. Ludwig would do anything to make it happen!”

“Wow, that sure paints a vivid picture of Ludwig!”

“That’s just the half of it. Words can’t portray the workings of Ludwig’s mind.”

“Have you heard of Paul Hawthorne?” Sam enquired.

“Yes, birds of a feather flock together. He wrote to Dr. Freud about hypnosis and its possibility of controlling someone. Ludwig, of course, intercepted those letters and answered them himself as Freud’s colleague. They corresponded fairly fervently after that until one day Ludwig announced he had a sponsor in America, and he was moving to California.”

Sam interrupted Elsie. “How do you know such detail of Ludwig’s plans and intentions?”

Elsie laughed.

“My lord, he chatted incessantly to me about his grand scheme. I was flattered that he was willing to tell me everything. Now I realize that he needed a sounding board. It was as though I was a mirror for him to talk to
himself
. I think he must have felt that my lower station as a maid would make me safe to talk to.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, as a maid I’m not in direct, personal communication with Dr. Freud or anyone who would find out his plans. I know my place as a maid and a nurse. I like it really. It is sort of like being invisible. It seems I’m privy to the secrets without being noticed. I suppose that’s why Ludwig opened up to me. I admired his brilliant, but scheming mind, and he knew that. I listened, but didn’t judge or comment.”

“So, what were the plans with Paul?”

“He told me Paul’s father was a judge and well connected in that town in California, and it would be the perfect place to start his, network, as he called it. He planned to establish himself as an authority on drugs and the mind and build a network of drug sales that he hoped to sell out to Rockefeller.”

“Was Paul aware of Ludwig’s plans?”

“Oh, yes, I received a letter from Ludwig, after his move to America, raving about having found the equivalent of a long lost brother. He was going to make Paul his partner.”

“One last thing, Elsie. Since you’re a trained nurse, and obviously a keen observer, do you think psychoanalysis achieves results?”

“As much as I want to see some of these disturbed people get relief, I must say that I don’t suspect there’s any lasting result judging from those who return here often. It seems to me that there is too much attention on making the patient fit in to the theories. I think the patients try desperately to help Dr. Freud by going along with his conclusions. They want relief, and they want his approach to work. It’s like Dr. Livingston and his snake oil. Some swear cures by his sugar water. I think that’s why Dr. Freud is so enamored by cocaine. It does get almost instant results despite the possible long-term and much bigger problems it creates. It is sad, really.”

“So your conclusion is that psychoanalysis doesn’t work?”

“I believe it would if they would actually listen more closely to help the patients discover the problem themselves. I’ve listened outside Dr. Freud’s parlor as he psychoanalyzes them. I have often wanted to open the door and tell him to shut up and listen. He listens, and then tells them what their problem is. That is the huge mistake. They’re trying to make the patient fulfill their theory instead of solving the problem. If only they would help them discover the bully in their life.”

“Bully in their life?” asked Sam with great interest.

Elsie laughed. “Here I am playing psychiatrist, but having nine brothers and sisters, it’s pretty obvious that when some sort of bully is in your life, it makes you crazy. They’re always trying to force their opinion on you and must control you at all costs. Some of my sisters have married such hooligans and they’ve gone from carefree and bright to fearful and nervous.

“One of my brothers-in-law is a particularly cruel bully. He is not outwardly gruff, but is in devious control of my sister. He corrects her speech constantly. He makes belittling remarks on virtually everything she does. It has made her completely dependent on his opinion on everything. He has a myriad of labels on virtually everything she does, foolish: immature, weak, and his favorite, hysterical, when she tries to argue against his assessments. She can no longer think any thought of her own and is getting more and more into thinking, thinking, and thinking.

“She now doubts herself completely. She’s starting to seem crazy to some as she talks to herself in critical ways and is becoming quite forgetful. She wasn’t that way until she married her bully.

“She should have followed our father’s advice,” said Elsie.

“What was his advice?” asked Sam.

“He advised us all through school that we had to fight back against bullies, and that bullies were always cowards deep down. He admonished us that even the bruises we might receive in fighting back were far less than the complete mental destruction that a bully would leave us in. The only other recourse was to stay away from them completely. Fight or flight!”

“Sounds like good advice,” added Sam.

“I guess that is my critique of Dr. Freud and his approach. It uses too many bully techniques like labeling certain behaviors as mental illness instead of as the result of being bullied. Also, trying to make the patient agree with a theory as though it were undisputable fact is exactly what most bullies do. So, Freud and his colleagues are just one more in a line of bullies, even if that isn’t their intention.”

“It seems your father’s wisdom wasn’t lost on you.” Sam smiled.

“Thank you, Sam.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

As Sam walked away from Freud’s office and the enlightening Elsie, he pondered his newfound information. He realized he had to expose Ludwig and break his web of deceit before the approaching deadline of Tillie’s rape and the succeeding events. Of course, it was impossible to tell exactly what might transpire because of the changes in the past.