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            March 16, 1998
            The Selling of Impotence
            Impotence is a much bigger problem than doctors used to think, and 
            new pills are on the way to treat it. But hype about the drugs may 
            be hazardous to your wealth--and may obscure health risks of the 
            second sexual revolution. 
            David Stipp and Robert Whitaker
            Reporter Associate: Alicia Hills Moore 
            Plus: 
                The Rise and Fall of an Impotence Stock 
                Sex Quiz for Men 
                 new chapter in the history of impotence began in 1983, when a 
            57-year-old British physician named Giles Brindley stepped from 
            behind the lectern at a Las Vegas medical conference, dropped his 
            pants, and showed his erect penis to hundreds of colleagues. 
            Brindley had just presented work on injectable drugs to treat 
            impotence and was displaying an erection he had induced by injecting 
            his own penis. The results were quite good. Says an attendee: "I was 
            wondering why this very smart man was giving his talk in a jogging 
            outfit. Then he stepped from behind the podium. It was a big penis, 
            and he just walked around the stage showing it off." 
             Brindley knew he was making medical history. But he couldn't have 
            foreseen that his demo would eventually trigger a stampede to create 
            pharmaceutical treatments for what is now called erectile 
            dysfunction (ED). Today new treatments are appearing in the market, 
            and many others are moving through clinical trials. Pfizer's Viagra, 
            the first pill for ED, is expected to be approved by the FDA this 
            spring, and already analysts are predicting it could generate annual 
            sales as high as $4.5 billion, which would make it the world's 
            top-selling drug. All this has led to a blaze of attention for 
            impotence treatments: In a recent cover story Newsweek trumpeted the 
            promise of the new drugs as "better loving through chemistry." 
            But there is another side to the story that is going untold. The 
            saga of the latest breakthroughs is also a fascinating tale of how 
            the medical establishment may redefine a condition in a way that 
            greatly increases the number of people "afflicted"; how Wall Street 
            may adopt hyped statistics to weave a gold-rush tale of 
            multibillion-dollar markets; how pharmaceuticals companies may 
            recruit influential doctors as consultants until there are few 
            independent experts left; how physicians' safety concerns about new 
            therapies may remain whispers that the public--and investors--are 
            unlikely to hear. It's also a tale of how a Texas startup called 
            Zonagen rode the hype to a remarkable valuation, wooing investors 
            with press releases that omitted disappointing clinical results and 
            misled stockholders about its patent protection. Its story provides 
            a rare look at how the best face is put on new medical 
            treatments--and how the investment community may be taken in. 
            Injections Replace Snake Oil
            The impotence-curing business has always been one of medicine's 
            shadiest niches. Hundreds of bizarre remedies, from boar gall to 
            tiger-penis soup, have won believers through the ages--desperate 
            males are easily fooled by placebo effects, which can temporarily 
            ameliorate mild impotence. A century ago men even mail-ordered 
            electrified jockstraps in hopes of jump-starting their inoperative 
            parts. Drug companies with sober public images to maintain tended to 
            view impotence remedies, like aphrodisiacs, as taboo. 
            Brindley's interest in this medical backwater began almost by 
            chance. In 1982 his curiosity was piqued by a colleague's contention 
            that certain drugs that lowered blood pressure could also cause 
            impotence. Brindley, who suspected they might have just the opposite 
            effect, went home and tested his hypothesis by injecting his penis 
            with some of the drugs. The results were striking. Detailing his 
            findings with clinical precision in several classic research papers, 
            he noted that a drug called papaverine could induce "an unrelenting 
            erection lasting for hours." 
            The drugs that Brindley studied were mainly older blood-pressure 
            medicines. When injected, they relax smooth muscles wrapped around 
            penile arteries, causing them to dilate. That increases blood flow 
            to the penis, the first stage of an erection. As the organ's inner 
            chambers fill, veins that normally drain them are squeezed against a 
            sheath of surrounding tissues, allowing the penis to become fully 
            engorged--picture a bathtub filling with the faucet on and the drain 
            plugged. Muscles constricting the chambers also relax, aiding 
            engorgement. If any part of the sequence is disrupted--say, by 
            clogged arteries or damage to nerves--impotence can ensue. Brindley 
            showed that wrenching the faucet wide open with drugs could make the 
            whole faulty plumbing system work. 
            Few U.S. doctors knew of his research, however, until his 
            unforgettable demo at the medical conference. It was intended to 
            preempt skeptics, and it worked brilliantly: Within months 
            urologists across America were prescribing injection therapy. Says 
            Dr. Alvaro Morales, an authority on impotence at Queen's University 
            in Kingston, Ontario: "We have to be very grateful to Brindley." 
            One urologist in the audience the day Brindley dropped his pants was 
            Adrian Zorgniotti. A New York University professor, Zorgniotti saw 
            that Brindley was paving the way to new commercial as well as 
            medical horizons. The professor started research of his own, 
            tinkering with cocktails of blood-pressure-lowering drugs. His idea 
            was that the chemicals might work synergistically, allowing men to 
            inject smaller doses that would minimize side effects such as 
            priapism--an erection that lasts more than four hours, potentially 
            causing tissue damage. In 1985 he reported good results from a mix 
            of papaverine and phentolamine. 
            As a result of such research, urologists began treating impotence 
            patients with a mix of three drugs: papaverine, phentolamine, and 
            prostaglandin E1. The cocktail approach is still widely used. "By 
            tailoring the dosages and mix of drugs in an injection, a man can 
            even fine-tune the duration and rigidity of his erections," says 
            Seth Koeppel, CEO of Men's Health Centers, a chain of ED clinics 
            based in Boca Raton, Fla. Porn-film actors were reportedly among the 
            first to master such fine-tuning. 
            However, Zorgniotti and other specialists knew that this therapy 
            would have limited appeal as long as the drugs had to be delivered 
            through scary needles. (The fine-gauge needles reportedly cause 
            little pain.) Administering ED drugs by another route would open up 
            much greater commercial possibilities. 
            The obvious solution would be a pill. Take one at bedtime and 
            voilą!--a man could boast an erection of Brindley-esque vigor. But 
            researchers believed that if they tried to deliver the old 
            blood-pressure medicines in a pill, the compounds would be broken 
            down too quickly by the stomach and liver to act on penile arteries. 
            Refusing to give up, Zorgniotti pondered lollipops laced with 
            erection-boosting drugs for absorption into the bloodstream via oral 
            tissues. That sounds silly, but the basic idea wasn't. Eventually, 
            in 1993, he applied for a patent that covered melt-in-your-mouth 
            phentolamine. 
            By the early 1990s, the use of injection therapy began to attract 
            drug-industry interest. Lilly, Syntex, Pfizer, and Upjohn all 
            quietly investigated impotence remedies. Pfizer's Viagra seemed 
            especially promising. But Wall Street didn't notice the area's 
            promise, and many big drugmakers remained uneasy about the seedy 
            history of sex medications and skeptical about the size of the 
            potential market. Says Harin Padma-Nathan, a Santa Monica, Calif., 
            urologist who consults with industry players about impotence drugs: 
            "The companies had to be convinced this was a serious area of 
            medicine." 
            An Impotence Epidemic
            News that would catapult impotence into prominence was on the way, 
            thanks to a team that included the Paul Revere of impotence, a 
            Boston University urologist named Irwin Goldstein. Gregarious and 
            highly quotable, Goldstein is known for his prolific research and 
            brash assertions. (He recently stirred a ruckus by claiming that 
            bicycle riding can cause the disorder.) In 1987, Goldstein and his 
            colleagues began the first definitive study on the prevalence of 
            impotence. Their statistical conclusions were as startling as 
            Brindley's lectern stunt. 
            In their research, which was part of a federally funded survey 
            called the Massachusetts Male Aging Study, Goldstein and his 
            colleagues examined impotence through a new lens. The classic 
            definition for impotence had always been, crudely put, the inability 
            to get it up. But rather than merely asking men whether they were 
            unable to have erections, the Bostonians posed questions like "How 
            satisfied are you with your sex life?" In effect, they redefined 
            erectile dysfunction as a matter of degree, properly assessed with 
            subjective questions (see Sex Quiz for Men). They created a "mild 
            ED" category to include men who may be able to get erections but do 
            not feel they can maintain them long enough for "satisfactory sexual 
            performance." 
            "That statement has a lot in it," says Dr. David Ferguson, an 
            independent expert on erectile dysfunction from Grayslake, Ill., who 
            consults with companies developing ED drugs. "It puts the problem in 
            the eye of the beholder. Who decides what is satisfactory? The 
            patient and the patient's partner. [Impotence] used to be looked at 
            as an all-or-none phenomenon." 
            Drawing on the Massachusetts study, the National Institutes of 
            Health estimated that an astounding 30 million American men suffer 
            from ED, triple the number previously regarded as impotent. After 
            detailing their numbers in a landmark 1994 report in the Journal of 
            Urology, Goldstein's team ran up the flag: "Impotence should be 
            considered as a major health concern," they concluded. 
            To hear the experts tell it, ED was now an epidemic. A majority of 
            men over 40 were now seen as suffering from erectile 
            dysfunction--yet fewer than 5% were seeking treatment. The 
            Massachusetts research paved the way for newspaper articles in which 
            men were urged by urologists to get beyond their embarrassment and 
            see their ... urologists. 
            This pattern is emerging as a hallmark of the marketing of new 
            treatments. Medical crusaders draw attention to a disease by 
            broadening its definition to include the most mildly affected 
            patients. That boosts demand for new medicines--even for people who, 
            in an earlier era, wouldn't have been considered sick. Much as 
            Prozac has helped turn even ordinary bouts of the blues into a brain 
            disorder treatable with drugs, the new ED drugs promise to 
            medicalize age-related sexual decline, blurring the line between 
            disease and discontent. Says University of Pennsylvania urologist 
            Gregory Broderick: "We may feel comfortable with our sex lives now, 
            but what if there were a tablet that we knew would make it a little 
            better?" 
            The expanded definition of ED has also led to wild estimates of the 
            future incidence of the condition. Last fall the American Foundation 
            for Urologic Disease launched a national "impotence awareness" 
            campaign funded by Vivus, the maker of a recently approved impotence 
            treatment called Muse. The campaign began with a press release 
            citing a staggering statistic: Due to the aging of the population, 
            it stated, some 47 million U.S. men are expected to suffer from ED 
            by 2000. That might seem a bit strange: There are only about 52 
            million American men over 40 today. Confronted with the math, a 
            spokeswoman for the foundation, an offshoot of the American 
            Urological Association, says the high estimate may have been a 
            mistake. 
            The statistics have gone on to provide foundation for analysts' 
            bullish market reports. Just crunch a few numbers yourself: Say an 
            erection-boosting pill would be taken two times a week by a typical 
            man with ED, roughly 100 doses a year. Say it's priced at $10 a 
            dose--a reasonable buy for one of the best things in life. Assume 
            just one in five men with ED uses it. Ca-ching! Annual U.S. sales of 
            more than $4 billion. Here is how analyst David Saks of Gruntal & 
            Co., quoted by Reuters, sized up the potential for Pfizer's Viagra 
            pill for ED: "I hereby make the outrageous claim that Viagra will 
            become the world's biggest drug success story, bigger than anything 
            that has ever been seen." Added Viren Mehta of Mehta & Isaly on 
            Viagra's potential: "Any number is possible." Among the ideas that 
            excited some analysts was the possibility that millions of men and 
            women with no medical need for the new drugs would take them to 
            enhance sex, vastly amplifying sales. (Women also have erectile 
            tissues.) 
            And so, by last fall, the story came together. The market for an ED 
            pill is huge, perhaps the biggest ever, and miracle pills are at 
            hand. By October, Pfizer's stock had risen more than 75% in 1997, 
            partially in anticipation of Viagra's entry into the market. 
            Zonagen, a tiny biotech company with an ED pill called Vasomax that 
            was producing mixed results in clinical tests, saw its valuation 
            climb to more than $500 million. Vivus' stock soared to almost $42 a 
            share, giving it a market value of $1.5 billion. MacroChem, a small 
            company in Lexington, Mass., which is developing an anti-ED gel to 
            rub on the penis, saw its stock top $14 a share, almost triple its 
            price a month earlier. 
            Urologists Who Help Sell 
            ED experts, after years of trying to pique public interest, found 
            themselves hotly sought after last year. One doctor who has popped 
            up everywhere is Goldstein. In June, he was quoted in Playboy 
            proclaiming, "We're in the midst of an exciting revolution, a new 
            area of sexual medicine called sexual pharmacology." In August, 
            ABC's Good Morning America featured him in a segment on Viagra. 
            "It's a dream," he told viewers. "The practitioners in this field 
            ... didn't think [an ED pill] was possible." In September the 
            Pittsburgh Post-Gazette quoted him on his belief that there will 
            indeed be considerable recreational use of Viagra. "I can see 
            college kids putting it in their partners' drinks," he said. 
            What few TV viewers or newspaper readers may have realized is that 
            Goldstein is a paid consultant to many companies developing ED 
            drugs. He consults with Pfizer, Zonagen, MacroChem, Harvard 
            Scientific, and Senetek, among others. "I'm very interested in 
            impotence. If there's a company working in the area," he says, "I 
            try to be a consultant to it." 
            It would be unfair to characterize Goldstein or other ED experts 
            hired by the industry as shills. Helping patients is usually a top 
            priority among consulting doctors, and those most favored by the 
            industry tend toward missionary zeal to improve treatments. 
            Goldstein, in particular, deserves credit for waking up doctors to 
            the fact that impotence causes untold suffering, wrecks marriages, 
            and blights millions of lives. 
            But once doctors become paid consultants, marching counter to the 
            corporate drumbeat may prove difficult. In many cases, they sign 
            nondisclosure agreements that block them from divulging data that 
            might conflict, say, with a company's carefully crafted statements 
            about new drugs. 
            In the impotence arena, independent, unbiased reviews of new 
            therapies are especially hard to find. Says Dr. Jeremy Heaton of 
            Queen's University: "It isn't possible to go to anybody in this 
            field right now for a neutral opinion." (For the record, Heaton is 
            an adviser to TAP, a joint venture between Abbott Laboratories and 
            Takeda Chemical Industries of Japan, which is developing an oral ED 
            drug called apomorphine.) Another urologist, who declines to be 
            named, is even blunter: "In my opinion, all these pills are being 
            hyped unmercifully." 
            In some instances physician-consultants even invest in the companies 
            they serve. Ferguson, the expert from Illinois, helped develop 
            Zonagen's strategy for testing Vasomax and is a consultant to other 
            companies as well. But when media reports cite him on the promise of 
            the new ED therapies, they don't typically mention that he owns 
            stock in Zonagen and other ED companies. Questioned by FORTUNE about 
            these investments, Ferguson is quite forthcoming, listing them 
            company by company; he adds that the problem, if there is one, is 
            that reporters never ask: "If there has not been disclosure, it's 
            because the issue has not been raised." 
            Physicians who moonlight as consultants are part of the modern 
            medical landscape. But the medical community is beginning to 
            acknowledge that there's a price. A disturbing study in January in 
            The New England Journal of Medicine revealed that 96% of medical 
            experts who published studies or other articles supporting the use 
            of certain controversial blood-pressure drugs had financial ties 
            with companies that make them, while 37% of those who wrote articles 
            critical of the drugs had such ties. 
            Are certain risks getting little attention in the excitement about 
            new ED drugs? The great unspoken fear surrounding many ED 
            medications is the danger of heart attacks during sex. Many cases of 
            incipient heart disease have been discovered by doctors doing 
            workups on men whose sex lives had crashed; recent research suggests 
            that ED is a leading indicator of heart disease. (It seems that 
            small arteries supplying the penis get narrowed by fatty deposits, 
            hindering erections, before larger cardiac vessels are plugged up 
            enough to cause trouble.) The new ED therapies could both mask this 
            critical warning sign and also tempt aging men to put heavy, 
            unaccustomed demands on their hearts while trying to relive lusty 
            scenes of youth. The worst nightmare for developers of sex pills and 
            other impotence therapies, says Heaton, is that the craze for ED 
            pills will lead to a rash of "coital coronaries." 
            Investors, of course, might like to hear of such risks before 
            betting on an impotence-drug fad. As the recent debacle involving 
            diet drugs showed, when hordes of people are prescribed potent 
            medicines like candy, little-known side effects can appear. The 
            heart-valve defects apparently caused by slimming pills like 
            dexfenfluramine prompted the withdrawal of the drugs from the 
            market, bringing a booming $300-million-a-year business to a halt. 
            Yet coital coronaries have gotten scant mention in media reports on 
            the new ED drugs. 
            One Startup's Story
            No company exemplifies the risks of the impotence game better than 
            Zonagen. Its pill, Vasomax, is regularly named among the 
            front-runners in the ED race, and Schering-Plough, a 
            $6.7-billion-a-year drug company, recently agreed to help develop 
            and market the drug. Zonagen's stock has been an investor roller 
            coaster, more than quadrupling in value last year after a string of 
            upbeat company announcements and media reports, before being 
            hammered by shortsellers. 
            Formed in 1987 with backing from prominent venture capitalists and 
            Ross Perot, the company, in The Woodlands, Texas, had an 
            unpropitious start. A contraceptive for pets it tried to develop 
            didn't pan out, and a plan to devise a similar product for humans 
            was iffy at best. In 1992, Joseph Podolski, an engineer who had 
            managed operations at Monsanto, was named CEO. The following year 
            Zonagen completed a $7.4 million initial public offering and then 
            went shopping for a product that could turn things around. 
            In early 1994, it zeroed in on one: For about $300,000 it bought 
            Adrian Zorgniotti's patent for orally absorbed phentolamine as a 
            treatment for ED. Acquiring the patent from the elderly physician, 
            who died three months later, seemed a stunning coup. In a 1993 study 
            Zorgniotti had reported that a third of 69 impotent men who let 
            phentolamine tablets dissolve in their mouths had strong erections, 
            vs. 13% who took a placebo--compelling for a proof-of-principle 
            experiment. Zonagen also retained a prominent Mayo Clinic impotence 
            expert, Dr. Ronald Lewis, as a consultant. Overnight it seemed 
            poised to lead in the race to develop an oral drug for ED. 
            However, when the company tested Zorgniotti's idea, says Podolski, 
            patients complained that phentolamine held in the mouth was 
            extremely bitter. Rather than walking away--Zonagen had little else 
            going for it by this time--the company took a fateful gamble: It 
            abandoned the melt-in-the-mouth approach to pursue a swallowed 
            phentolamine pill, which it named Vasomax. 
            As the company switched strategies, it also switched advisers. 
            Lewis, like Zorgniotti after his early experiments, doubted that 
            swallowed phentolamine would work--stomach acid and liver enzymes 
            would neutralize it. Without using risky large doses of the potent 
            blood-pressure drug, says Lewis, now at the Medical College of 
            Georgia, "I couldn't see how Vasomax would lead to high enough blood 
            levels" to boost erections. Soon he was off the team. "They read my 
            skepticism and figured I wouldn't be out there pushing," conjectures 
            Lewis. Zonagen disagrees, saying it replaced Lewis with experts 
            associated with a contractor it hired to do clinical trials. They 
            included Goldstein and Ferguson. 
            Like any biotech or drug startup, Zonagen faced a daunting financial 
            challenge in developing Vasomax. It would need to raise significant 
            capital to compete with industry giants that regularly spend more 
            than $100 million developing a single product. Part of the challenge 
            involved science; part involved keeping investors excited. At the 
            latter, Zonagen proved particularly adept. 
            Soon after it started developing Vasomax, Zonagen began issuing 
            upbeat releases about its clinical tests. After racing through a 
            first phase of safety tests, the company announced in May 1995 that 
            it had begun a "phase II" efficacy trial in Germany. Phase II 
            results often make or break a drug: If they show little or no 
            efficacy, a startup like Zonagen typically can't proceed--investors 
            won't be willing to place the hefty bets needed to finance larger 
            phase III trials, which typically cost tens of millions of dollars 
            and which the FDA requires to firmly establish that a drug is safe 
            and effective. 
            The German study involved 177 impotent men. Each was asked to try to 
            achieve vaginal penetration on three separate occasions after 
            receiving Vasomax or a placebo--those succeeding at least once were 
            deemed to have responded positively. In March 1996, Zonagen 
            announced Vasomax had worked well: "Positive" results in the German 
            study would soon be followed by a phase III trial, said the press 
            release. Focusing on a subset of the German data, it noted that one 
            group of patients had shown a striking "50% improvement in efficacy 
            over placebo with no side effects." 
            But like a profit-and-loss statement missing the bottom line, the 
            rosy release made no mention of the study's overall result--which 
            Zonagen did not disclose until eight months later, in a Securities 
            and Exchange Commission filing. The news wasn't good: The German 
            trial had failed to show statistically significant efficacy. 
            Podolski defends Zonagen's press release as an accurate disclosure 
            of promising early data. 
            Zonagen plunged ahead. In 1996, it rushed Vasomax into phase III 
            trials, one in Mexico and two in the U.S. To investors the move into 
            phase III trials was a good sign; Zonagen's drug was moving toward 
            approval. In June the company had more good news: It announced in a 
            press release that the U.S. Patent Office had approved its patent 
            "covering the use of Vasomax as a treatment for erectile 
            dysfunction." 
            That announcement might have surprised the late Dr. Zorgniotti. The 
            patent that had been approved was his, which covered 
            melt-in-the-mouth phentolamine pills but not the swallowed kind that 
            Zonagen was now testing. (In fact, statements in the patent cast 
            doubt on whether a swallowed pill would be effective.) 
            For a patent to protect Vasomax, the company had filed a separate 
            application, which the release said was pending. Zonagen 
            subsequently disclosed that the patent office rejected the second 
            application, a decision the company is trying to get reversed. In a 
            recent interview, Podolski concedes, "You can say today no patent 
            specifically covers Vasomax"; he claims the company's issued patent 
            "broadly covers" the drug. He adds that the second application 
            initially failed because its claims were too broad but that he 
            expects it to be issued soon. 
            Zonagen's spin-doctoring in its 1996 announcements may have been a 
            matter of survival. Its auditors soon warned that it would need 
            additional capital to continue developing Vasomax and to stay in 
            business. Aided by the upbeat press releases, Zonagen steered away 
            from the brink. Its stock price doubled, reaching $12 a share in 
            mid-1996, and Zonagen raised $16.9 million in a private placement of 
            preferred shares to fund its phase III trials. Investors didn't 
            appear to notice its dubious patent position or the mediocre phase 
            II results. 
            By the end of 1996, Zonagen had begun telling investors that it was 
            racing to submit a new drug application to the FDA by midyear 
            1997--a timetable likely to leapfrog Pfizer's submission for Viagra. 
            The early submission would, at least in theory, enable Zonagen to 
            become the first company to market with an oral pill for ED, a 
            critical advantage for grabbing long-term market share. 
            The company also said that its Mexican trial had yielded 
            statistically significant results: Of 148 men, 62% using Vasomax 
            achieved orgasm during intercourse, vs. 42% who had taken a placebo. 
            The company said it planned to seek marketing approval in Mexico 
            during the first few months of 1997 and that by summer it would be 
            knocking on the FDA's door. 
            For Zonagen, what happened next was beyond the wildest dreams of 
            most small companies: In April 1997, the Texas edition of the Wall 
            Street Journal, quoting analysts, stated that the company was "six 
            months to a year" ahead of Pfizer in the race to develop an oral 
            impotence drug. Investor's Business Daily also ran a glowing report. 
            Suddenly Zonagen, a no-name startup with 35 employees, was being 
            hailed for whipping one of the world's mightiest drug companies in 
            the high-stakes ED race. Zonagen's stock climbed above $20, more 
            than double its price three months earlier. 
            Keeping pace with Zonagen's rapid strides on Wall Street, its 
            clinical team completed the two U.S. trials with lightning speed. 
            The first was conducted in a little over six months and yielded more 
            good news: Last May the company announced that 40% of men had 
            responded positively to Vasomax, vs. 17% on placebo. Up went the 
            stock price again. 
            Zonagen was beginning to seem unstoppable--unless you were paying 
            close attention. The results in its second U.S. trials were less 
            than rosy (some 34% responded positively, compared with 21% on 
            placebo), but that didn't dent investors' fervor. In June the 
            company filed with the SEC to make a secondary stock offering; 
            investors poured in another $72.3 million. By fall they had driven 
            the company's market valuation to more than $400 million. An 
            investor who had purchased stock in November 1996 would have seen 
            his or her investment more than quadruple in value in less than a 
            year. 
            Investors jumping on the Zonagen bandwagon should have asked a 
            crucial question that ought to be asked about all new drugs: How 
            safe is it? Vasomax raises a burning issue that applies to all 
            impotence pills: How can a drug delivered via the bloodstream dilate 
            penile arteries without similarly affecting blood vessels throughout 
            the body, risking severe side effects? After all, even localized 
            injections of "vasodilating" drugs in the penis occasionally cause 
            sudden bodywide drops in blood pressure, accompanied by dizziness 
            and fainting. Why wouldn't an oral ED pill knock guys out? 
            In its press releases on its clinical trials, Zonagen said that in 
            the largest trial at the highest dose, 80 milligrams, side effects 
            were "within expectations," including just two "serious" adverse 
            events. At a lesser 40-milligram dose, it said the pill had caused 
            no serious side effects. (Podolski points out that since Vasomax is 
            designed to boost natural erection processes during arousal, rather 
            than induce an erection regardless of sexual excitement, as 
            injections do, blood levels of the drug do not have to be very high 
            for it to work.) 
            All that was encouraging and about as much detail as any drug 
            company divulges regarding safety at this early stage. But there is 
            more to the story. From the beginning Zonagen and its 
            consultants--along with the FDA--had been concerned about the drug's 
            safety, says Ferguson. The company was clearly mindful of side 
            effects in the way it conducted its U.S. clinical trials. Before 
            they began, its investigators administered doses of Vasomax to 
            patients and disqualified anyone who showed significant adverse 
            effects. According to Ferguson, no fewer than 44 of more than 500 
            volunteers were eliminated at the outset of the largest trial. The 
            "adverse events" they experienced included a racing heart, 
            dizziness, and low blood pressure. 
            Asked about that, Podolski acknowledges that the men were dropped 
            from the trial and that a racing heart was the most common side 
            effect. But, contends Podolski, "these weren't serious events." 
            Moreover, he adds, those side effects occurred only at the 
            80-milligram dose; Zonagen intends to market only lower-dosage 
            40-milligram pills. 
            Drug companies usually don't disclose all the details about a 
            medicine's safety until it has been thoroughly reviewed by the FDA. 
            Butsafety concerns can slow a drug's approval and lead to label 
            warnings that could potentially limit its use--factors that can 
            affect a company's prospects and its stock. In fact, when Zonagen 
            approached the FDA last fall with a plan to put Vasomax on the 
            agency's fast track, officials replied that Zonagen would need to 
            submit more safety data. A few weeks later the agency granted 
            Pfizer's similar request for expedited review of Viagra. Now it 
            appears Zonagen's drug won't reach the market until many months 
            after Pfizer's does, if ever. 
            Zonagen's practice of staying with upbeat news worked for most of 
            last fall. The company saw its stock rise strongly, as the impotence 
            drug play on Wall Street built to a fever pitch. Zonagen's share 
            price climbed as high as $45.75, making the company worth more than 
            $500 million. 
            But in late October the stock market took a nosedive, hammering ED 
            players along with many other stocks. Soon after, the ED niche was 
            slammed even harder from another direction: Hyperinflation of its 
            stocks had created an irresistible target for shortsellers, who 
            borrow and sell a company's shares, betting they can replace them 
            with cheaper stock bought after a price plunge. Zonagen, in 
            particular, loomed large on their radar screens. 
            On Nov. 17, Zonagen trumpeted its best news yet: Schering-Plough had 
            agreed to put its deep pockets and marketing muscle behind 
            Vasomax--the drug giant would pay $10 million for licensing rights 
            to the drug, with another $47.5 million to follow as it clears 
            regulatory hurdles. A day later the upbeat announcement was 
            overshadowed by a scathing report issued by New York shortseller 
            Manuel Asensio, who argued that Vasomax "has no commercial value." 
            Shortsellers were soon circling Zonagen like piranhas--by year-end 
            its stock price plunged below $20. Other stock bubbles were soon 
            deflating too--Vivus' share price, for instance, dipped below $10 by 
            year-end. 
            Here Comes Viagra
            Of all the companies in the ED race, Pfizer seems least affected by 
            the doubts. Its stock, after a short dip in November, is trading at 
            an all-time high. Its pill, Viagra, is expected to be launched 
            within a few months, beginning the raciest chapter of the impotence 
            story--and another colossal surge of hype. 
            By the fragmentary accounts of doctors overseeing its clinical 
            trials, Viagra works and has few side effects. In one study of men 
            taking fairly hefty doses of the drug, 79% of patients, most with 
            relatively severe ED, reportedly had good responses, vs. 29% on 
            placebo. Viagra's main side effects seem to be headaches and 
            occasional indigestion. 
            Researchers say Viagra's novel mode of action may explain why it 
            appears to work better than Vasomax. The drug slows the action of a 
            chemical in the penis that quells erections. Activated during 
            arousal, the chemical normally helps end the erection after sex. By 
            blocking it temporarily, Viagra can boost erections with few side 
            effects. 
            Still, high doses of Viagra reportedly can cause some worrisome side 
            effects, including dizziness and temporary disturbance of color 
            vision--some men have trouble telling blue from green after taking 
            the drug. Moreover, some doctors criticize Pfizer and its 
            consultants for revealing only selected data from the clinical 
            trials. Pfizer declines to comment, pending FDA action on its 
            application to market Viagra. And even doctors who feel the drug is 
            being hyped expect that the FDA will approve it soon and that it 
            will likely become a huge seller. 
            That prospect has brought renewed glow to small players that stand 
            to capture a piece of the huge ED pie. Vivus recently launched a 
            national advertising campaign for Muse with an estimated budget of 
            more than $5 million. At press time the company's stock price had 
            risen some 35% from its year-end low. Even Zonagen, with 
            Schering-Plough behind it, has bounced back some--the stock traded 
            recently at $22 a share, and its product isn't out of the race. The 
            niche also may be bolstered this year by good news about TAP's 
            apomorphine: Urologists say the drug, which has gotten little 
            attention, has produced promising results in clinical trials that 
            appear solid. 
            Better treatments for impotence do appear to be on their way; like 
            all drugs, they will offer a mix of benefits and risks. More stories 
            will appear in the media that tell mostly of the benefits. That's a 
            message less of science than of marketing, but it's the one that 
            investors and consumers, at some risk, will probably embrace. 
            
            
            
            Co-author Robert Whitaker is editor of CenterWatch, a newsletter 
            that reports on the clinical trials business. 
            
            
            
            The Rise and Fall of an Impotence Stock
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            Sex Quiz for Men
            How science uncovered an impotence "epidemic"
            From recent reports on impotence, you'd think it was spreading like 
            the flu. In fact, what qualifies as erectile dysfunction (ED), as 
            doctors call it, has changed. It used to mean being unable to 
            sustain an erection during intercourse. But many experts felt this 
            overemphasized mechanics--there's more to sexuality than plumbing, 
            after all. So a groundbreaking study published in 1994 expanded the 
            meaning, asking men nine questions about their sexual vigor. A 
            selection: 
            How satisfied are you with your sex life? 
                How satisfied are you with your sexual relationship with your 
                present partner or partners? 
                How satisfied do you think your partner(s) is (are) with your 
                sexual relationship? 
                Has the frequency of your sexual activity with a partner been: 
                as much as you desire? 
                    less than you desire? 
                    more than you desire? 
                    If your answers add up to "dissatisfied," you may qualify as 
            suffering from ED. You would not be alone. Media reports now 
            regularly state that 20 million to 30 million men in the U.S., and 
            perhaps 140 million worldwide, have trouble achieving erections--and 
            only 5% get treated. To developers of ED pills, such numbers are 
            extremely sexy. 
    
            
             
    

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