Tobacco Lawyers Grill Whistle-Blower Over Diary

A slender, hand-written diary recounting colorful details of tobacco whistle-blower Jeffrey Wigand’s struggles within the Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp. has come under intense scrutiny in the company’s bitter lawsuit against Wigand.

The 43-page diary, which surfaced publicly this week at Wigand’s marathon deposition in Louisville, describes the frustrations of the tobacco industry’s highest-ranking defector, while portraying an industry consumed by fear of legal catastrophe.

In one anguished entry in 1991, Wigand wrote: “I have come to the feeling and knowledge that we are nothing but merchants of death and will not make the effort, while totally feasible, to reduce the risks associated with an addictive habit.”

Another time, he wrote: “Some of what I have seen, heard and witnessed are just plain criminal.”

But lawyers for B&W;, the third-biggest U.S. cigarette maker, have challenged the authenticity of the diary, claiming that a vengeful Wigand, angry at losing his $300,000-a-year job as vice president for research and development, fabricated entries years after the fact to support a stream of false allegations. They have not substantiated the claim, but got Wigand to acknowledge one inaccurate date in the diary.

“Our belief is that that diary is entirely made up,” said Gordon Smith, an attorney for B&W.;

Adding an element of mystery, Wigand’s lawyers say the original two-volume diary disappeared earlier this year from the house Wigand and his estranged wife had shared until January. A photocopy of the first volume, covering Wigand’s first three years at B&W;, was provided to company lawyers by Justice Department prosecutors. Wigand, a witness in a continuing criminal probe of the tobacco industry, previously had provided that portion of the diary to the Justice Department.

Wigand, 53, who holds a doctorate in biochemistry and who worked for B&W; from 1989 until 1993, has gone public with allegations that B&W; lied about the risks of addiction and disease from smoking and sought to conceal scientific research from potential litigants. B&W;, maker of Kool, Lucky Strike and other brands, has hotly denied Wigand’s allegations and called him a liar.

In testimony this week at his deposition, which is being conducted on the 25th floor of the Brown & Williamson Tower, Wigand called the journal a “reflective diary” of thoughts and conversations he recorded within weeks of their occurrence.

The diary paints a picture of an energetic but naive executive who was not prepared for the fortress culture of the country’s most politically and legally embattled industry.

Many of the entries describe philosophical clashes and plain bad chemistry between Wigand and two senior B&W; senior executives: assistant general counsel J. Kendrick Wells III and the late Thomas E. Sandefur Jr., president of B&W; when Wigand was hired and chairman at the time he was fired.

Wigand described Wells as “an idiot” who constantly interfered with the flow of scientific information in his efforts to avoid a paper trail of documents about the hazards of smoking.

Sandefur he dismissed as “an intellectual pygmy” who opposed work on safer cigarettes out of fear of increased liability for conventional smokes.

Mundane and gossipy entries appear too. “The big man is here again from U.K.,” he wrote when Sir Patrick Sheehy, former chairman of BAT Industries Inc., the corporate parent of B&W;, was visiting Louisville from England. “Sheehy is so into himself and exhibits the worst eating manners I’ve ever witnessed of a man at his level.”

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Soon after being hired, Wigand described a trip to Kansas City for briefings by lawyers at Shook, Hardy & Bacon, which has been defending cigarette liability claims since the 1950s.

“Their strategy is one of not acknowledging that there is a relationship between smoking, i.e., tar and disease,” Wigand wrote. “I don’t [agree] . . . as there is too much data/hard science that links it to illness. They will have to work a lot harder to brainwash me.”

He added: “They [Shook Hardy lawyers] were not overly enthused about my ideas on a safer cigarette.”

Lawyer interference in scientific work soon became a regular theme. Wells “wants and is dictating what science we need to do and how we do it,” Wigand complained at one point.

“[He] only wants science that does not get at facts.”

After a September 1989 meeting in Vancouver, Canada, of scientists from BAT companies, Wigand was outraged when Wells, who did not attend, edited and shortened the conference minutes.

“I’ve never seen a company with so much lawyer involvement in scientific matters,” Wigand wrote. “Perhaps I made a mistake coming here!”

To avoid interference by the legal department, Wigand wrote of having a BAT colleague in England fax scientific papers to his home.

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“This manner of doing business is so dishonest,” he wrote, but added: “I should talk . . . Alan [the colleague] faxes me research documents for my review and comment at home that do not make it into B&W; files.”

During the 1960s and ‘70s, BAT funded extensive research in Europe on the effects of nicotine--work that remained secret until 1994 when stolen B&W; documents were leaked to Congress and the media.

Remarkably, Wigand’s diary says the research was kept secret even from him, despite his role as B&W;’s top scientific manager.

Within weeks of his arrival at B&W;, Wigand voiced surprise at the lack of studies on nicotine. “I’m somewhat appauled [sic] that there hasn’t been extensive research into nicotine,” he wrote.

A few months later, he had a different concern. “I am confident now that there are studies that were conducted prior to [my arrival] that I have not been allowed to see or read,” Wigand wrote.

“I do not understand all the secrecy--if it was done [I’d] like to see it--in fact I’m entitled. . . . It is like playing with half a deck or they just don’t trust me yet.”

In aggressive questioning Thursday, B&W; lawyer Bruce Sheffler said it is revealing that Wigand could not name or provide the papers he said he got by the back channel of his home fax machine. Wigand testified he had destroyed them by agreement with his English colleague, “who clearly understood that there were things B&W; did not want to have on their premises.”

“When it comes down to prove the claims, you suddenly have amnesia,” Sheffler snapped.

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Sandefur, one of the tobacco CEOs who testified before Congress in 1994 that he did not believe nicotine was addictive, is quoted in the diary as saying that “nicotine is our business” and “tar is the negative baggage.” B&W; denies such conversations took place. Sandefur died earlier this week of aplastic anemia, a blood disease.

According to the diary, Wigand’s support for safer smokes and his effort to remove a hazardous additive from a brand of pipe tobacco were sore points with Sandefur.

Sandefur “has emphatically told me to give up on this safer kick or else,” according to an entry in late 1990. “I need to get my tail in gear with some headhunters.”

But Wigand remained at B&W; until he was fired in March 1993.