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Junkie
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Winston Churchill: Failure?
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"Churchill often suffered from fits of depression, which could last for weeks. But these bouts did not slow him down. He acted as if he was driven and denied himself rest or relaxation. It was like he was afraid to slow down or stop. Part of this drive was to satisfy his tremendous ego.
When circumstances forced him from his positions of power and activity, Churchill fell under the black cloud of depression. This happened to him when he left the Admiralty in 1915, when he was out of office during the 1930's, when he was defeated in the election of 1945, and then again after his final resignation. He nicknamed his depression his "Black Dog."
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Abraham Lincoln: Failure?
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Without question Lincoln was subject to periods of melancholy throughout his life. His own term for it was "the hypo" (short for hypochondriasis). Lincoln was probably a believer in the doctrine of fatalism. Additionally, he was somewhat superstitious. However, his ability to cope with whatever depression afflicted him, especially late in life, was enormous. Using various means....work, humor, fatalistic resignation, or even religious feelings....he generally did not allow the depression or melancholy to interfere with his work as President. He overcame this depressive aspect of his personality with a powerful inner strength and will.
Although most of Abraham Lincoln's written references to depression were in a series of 1841-1842 letters to Joshua Speed, Lincoln's most profound quote on his own personal depression comes from another source. On January 1, 1841, Lincoln broke up with Mary Todd (the woman he would marry in November of 1842). Afterwards, in January of 1841, he entered a period of depression. He was absent from the Illinois state legislature from January 13th to 19th due to illness which was almost certainly due to some sort of melancholy (which most likely was due to his ending his relationship with Mary).
On January 23, 1841, Lincoln wrote a letter to John T. Stuart, his first law partner. In the letter, Lincoln stated:
I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth. Whether I shall ever be better I can not tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me.
People who knew Lincoln noticed his gloominess. William Herndon, Lincoln's third law partner, described Lincoln as follows: "He was not a pretty man by any means, nor was he an ugly one; he was a homely man, careless of his looks, plain-looking and plain-acting. He had no pomp, display, or dignity, so-called. He appeared simple in his carriage and bearing. He was a sad-looking man; his melancholy dripped from him as he walked. His apparent gloom impressed his friends, and created sympathy for him - one means of his great success. He was gloomy, abstracted, and joyous - rather humorous - by turns; but I do not think he knew what real joy was for many years....The perpetual look of sadness was his most prominent feature."
Francis B. Carpenter, an artist who lived in the White House for part of 1864, said of Lincoln, "I have said repeatedly to friends that Mr. Lincoln had the saddest face I ever attempted to paint." Joshua Speed said of his first meeting Lincoln, "As I looked up at him I thought then, and think now, that I never saw a sadder face." Fellow lawyer, Henry C. Whitney, who traveled the legal circuit in Illinois with Lincoln, thought that "no element of Mr. Lincoln's character was so marked, obvious, and ingrained as his mysterious and profound melancholy." Even as a boy growing up in Indiana, friend James Grigsby said Lincoln would "get fits of blues, then he wouldn't study for two or three days at a time."
Robert L. Wilson served in the Illinois legislature with Lincoln. Regarding Lincoln's gloominess, Wilson wrote:
In a conversation with him about that time (1836), he told me that although he appeared to enjoy life rapturously, still he was the victim of terrible melancholy. He sought company, and indulged in fun and hilarity without restraint, or stint as to time. Still when by himself, he told me that he was so overcome with mental depression, that he never dare carry a knife in his pocket. As long as I was intimately acquainted with him, previous to the commencement of the practice of the law, he never carried a pocket knife, still he was not a misanthropic. He was kind and tender in his treatment to others.
Those around him noticed that Lincoln could go from a happy state to a gloomy one very quickly. Fellow attorney Jonathan Birch said of Lincoln in court, "His eyes would sparkle with fun, and when he had reached the point in his narrative which invariably evoked the laughter of the crowd, nobody's enjoyment was greater than his. An hour later he might be seen in the same place or in some law office near by, but, alas, how different! His chair, no longer in the center of the room, would be leaning back against the wall; his feet drawn up and resting on the front rounds so that his knees and chair were about on a level; his hat tipped slightly forward as if to shield his face; his eyes no longer sparkling with fun or merriment, but sad and downcast and his hands clasped around his knees. There, drawn up within himself as it were, he would sit, the very picture of dejection and gloom. Thus absorbed have I seen him sit for hours at a time defying the interruption of even his closest friends. No one ever thought of breaking the spell by speech; for by his moody silence and abstraction he had thrown about him a barrier so dense and impenetrable no one dared to break through. It was a strange picture and one I have never forgotten."
What were the roots of Lincoln's depression? A definitive answer is impossible. It could have been heredity. Whitney said, "His melancholy was stamped on him while in the period of gestation. It was part of his nature." Some of Lincoln's cousins may have suffered from depression, and there are indications his parents suffered from bouts with the blues. Others feel a lonely and depressive youth contributed to his later melancholy. Growing up on the frontier young Lincoln was unique in his interests in politics, reading, etc., and his intellectual power partially isolated him from his peers. Additionally, he suffered through the deaths of his younger brother, mother, and older sister. A few have speculated that his depression was rooted in his lowly upbringing and feelings of insecurity when he was around people from a richer social order. Herndon felt Lincoln's depression may have dated to Thomas Lincoln's cold treatment of his son. Father and son were indeed estranged. Abraham did not visit Thomas when he was informed his father was dying nor did he attend Thomas' funeral in 1851. Thomas Lincoln died never having met Mary Todd Lincoln, seen his grandchildren, or even visited Springfield where his son's family lived.
Not only did Abraham Lincoln suffer from serious bouts of depression, but he also tried to give advice to others he knew were suffering. Lincoln's depressions, whether they lasted for hours, days, weeks, or months always came to an end. Knowing this, he was able to encourage others. It would seem his own experience led him to believe that depression was not a permanent condition.
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Ludwig van Beethoven, musician:
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Ludwig van Beethoven wrote "...my misfortune pains me doubly, in as much as it leads to my being misjudged. For me there can be no relaxation in human society; no refined conversations, no mutual confidences. I must live quite alone and may creep into society only as often as sheer necessity demands; I must live like an outcast. If I appear in company I am overcome by a burning anxiety, a fear that I am running the risk of letting people notice my condition...such experiences almost made me despair, and I was on the point of putting an end to my life - the only thing that held me back was my art. For indeed it seemed to me impossible to leave this world before I had produced all the works that I felt the urge to compose, and thus I have dragged on this miserable existence..."
- from Emily Anderson, The Letters of Beethoven, Vol. 3
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Boris Yeltsin, former President, Russian Federation:
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Yeltsin's drinking and periodic disappearances would not, of themselves, be basically significant, if they did not relate to his intermittent depressions. He is quite open about these. In The Struggle for Russia, Yeltsin states candidly that he suffers from "debilitating bouts of depression." He adds that he has had to endure "grave second thoughts" after major policy decisions, as well as frequent bouts of "insomnia and headaches in the middle of the night." Yeltsin also admits that he experienced "tears of despair," when confronting "the sadness at the appearance Moscow and other Russian cities."
Yeltsin's successive depressions have a very realistic root in the compounded setbacks and frustrations that have marked the career of this impatient man. As he puts it, he has suffered deeply from "the harassment campaign at the [Russian] Congress sessions, the entire burden of the decisions made, the hurt from people close to me who did not support me at the last minute, who didn't hold up, who deceived me."
Considering the alternating setbacks, comebacks, denunciations, public acclaim and derision Yeltsin has experienced, it is not surprising that he should be subject to what we may term VIP Depression-a condition that has been observed among several heads of state, but which remains difficult to define or confront.
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Billy Joel, singer
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Career: Singer, songwriter and pianist Billy Joel is one of the few pop artists to have Top Ten hits in the '70s, '80s, and '90s. He has won six Grammys and is a member of both the Songwriter's Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Although now semi-retired, he continues to write and perform.
Depression: In a book by Hank Bordowitz entitled "Billy Joel: The Life and Times of an Angry Young Man" it was revealed that Joel has battled for years with depression and alcoholism and tried to commit suicide by drinking furniture polish. He is quoted as saying, "I drank furniture polish. It looked tastier than bleach." Prior to the attempt, he left a suicide note, which later became the lyrics to "Tomorrow Is Today".
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Brian Wilson, lead singer/songwriter (Beach Boys)
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Following a breakdown Wilson descended into mental illness and drug abuse in the late Sixties and 1970s. He partially recovered to try a career as a solo artist in the 1980s, with limited success. His efforts were both encouraged and hampered by the influence of his psychologist, Dr. Eugene Landy. Partially due to Landy's extreme control over Brian's life, Wilson quit working with the Beach Boys on a regular basis after the release of The Beach Boys in 1985. Landy's illegal use of psychotropic drugs on Wilson and his interference in all of his affairs was finally legally ended by Brian's brother Carl.
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Dick Cavett, comic, talk show host, Yale graduate
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He has openly discussed his bouts with clinical depression in recent years, an illness he has had to deal with since his freshman year at Yale. He was the subject of a 1993 video produced by the Depression and Related Affective Disorders Association called A Patient's Perspective. He was sued in 1997 by a producer for breach of contract when failing to show up for a nationally syndicated radio program (also called "The Dick Cavett Show"); Cavett's lawyer confirmed to the Associated Press at the time that Cavett left due to a manic-depressive episode.
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Jim Carrey, comic, actor
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There have also been other personal struggles, including depression.
"I was on Prozac for a long time. It may have helped me out of a jam for a little bit, but people stay on it forever. I had to get off at a certain point because I realized that, you know, everything's just OK," says Carrey.
"There are peaks, there are valleys. But they're all kind of carved and smoothed out, and it feels like a low level of despair you live in. Where you're not getting any answers, but you're living OK. And you can smile at the office. You know? But it's a low level of despair. You know?"
Instead, he says he doesn’t take anything. "I rarely drink coffee. I'm very serious about no alcohol, no drugs. Life is too beautiful."
Now, he draws his strength from the spiritual side of his life. And despite a rare Los Angeles downpour, he insisted on taking Kroft to his secret spot where he goes to shut out the rest of the world. It took a five-minute climb up a trail on his property to reach his destination.
"This is my spot. This is the center of the universe," says Carrey. "This is where I hang out with Buddha and Krishna and you know, all those guys."
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Mike Wallace, award winning journalist
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Could you tell us a little bit about your struggle with depression, which you have made public.
I had done a story about depression on 60 Minutes early on. I didn't know anything about it, really. I found out about a California fellow who ran a large corporation, who had been Secretary of Defense or Assistant Secretary of Defense. He had it all. He talked to me about it and said, "Suddenly, I found myself in a deep depression. What was I depressed about?" Josh Logan was on that, and he too had a manic depression. So we put the piece on the air. Then, when I was on trial for my life effectively, during the Westmoreland trial, when he sued CBS and me and a variety of other employees of CBS for $120 million because we told the truth about the story called "The Uncounted Enemy" of Vietnam deception. I sat in the cold and drafty Federal courtroom in Foley Square in New York for about five months, and the plaintiff puts on his case first in a libel suit. He has sued for $120 million bucks. To be called "liar, cheat, fraud," et cetera, and in a libel case nothing is barred. Little by little by little, I found myself getting spacey, and unable to sleep and unable to eat, and I mean really, what in the dickens is going on? What happened, obviously it took me a little time to find out, was that I was in a classical, clinical depression. I mean it really was a tough one. I was copeless; not just hopeless, but copeless. I tried to keep on working, because I was ashamed of acknowledging the fact that I was depressed. You don't use that word.
What year are we talking about?
The broadcast was '82, the trial was '84.
I finally got to see a psychiatrist, and he said, "Mr. Wallace," and I said "Yes, Dr. Kaplan," and today, 20 years later, it is still Dr. Kaplan and Mr. Wallace. I see him every six months or so for a lube job, so to speak. He said, "You are suffering from a depression. We can treat it." Et cetera, et cetera. So what happened was he fed me something called ludiomil and talked to me. That's in my estimation quite important, that you do separate therapy along with pharmacological therapy. He talked to me, and little by little by little he found out -- he didn't really know what it was that I did at that time -- finally he said to me, "You know something, Mr. Wallace," -- this was after about a month of therapy -- "What you have to do is to get ready, number one, to answer the kind of questions that you like to ask people, because they are going to ask you that on the stand. Then you have to get ready to lose, because if you lose, you think your life is gone. Well we're going to try in these sessions to get you ready for that." Of course he was absolutely right. But what the ludiomil did was make your hands shake, among other things. It dried your mouth, everything. But I could just see myself sitting on the stand five yards from the jury with a glass in my hand and my hand shaking and the jury saying, "Well, any guy whose hand is shaking that way is obviously guilty." In any case, because we were superbly represented, the case was made and he went away. He dropped the lawsuit.
I didn't want to talk about the stigma of depression. Finally, one night I was on the Bob Costas Show, back when he did Later on television, about 1:30 in the morning. In the middle of it, I suddenly realized, "Hey, the people who are watching at this time of night are people who can't sleep." So I decided those are the people that I used to be, and that is the first time I began to go public about it. It lifted an extraordinary burden. Since that time I have talked about it fairly openly for the reason that it can be helpful for other people to say, "Well look, here's a guy who was at the bottom of the heap, miserable, and look, he has it back. He is surviving."
There's no shame in having it.
There's about as much shame as getting Scarlet Fever. No, there is no shame whatsoever.
Tipper Gore also went public in the last couple of years. Her depression was also triggered by an event in her life, a very serious injury to one of her children. That is something a lot of people don't realize, that there can be a triggering incident. That doesn't mean it's not clinical depression.
Or genetics can trigger it. A shocking event, the loss of a job, the loss of a marriage, there are all kinds of things. It may be latent in you. As I look back, I believe my mother probably had a tendency to that. But it can be treated, if people would pay attention to it, and when they are given some kind of medication, stick with it. Find the right recipe and stick with it. Sometimes it takes a little while to catch.
We ask our interviewees what the American Dream means to them. You have spoken to so many different people from so many walks of life in the years you have been broadcasting.
What does that phrase mean to you today, "The American Dream?"
Well, it's such a wonderful country. The American Dream is the privilege of being able to realize what you are capable of, at least what you believe you are capable of, and to test yourself, and nobody is going to get in your way. Maybe if you are black it's not so easy, for some people it is not so easy, for certain minorities, for women. It is the extraordinary freedom that comes with opportunity, to try to make of yourself what you would like to make of yourself.
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Vincent van Gogh, artist
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A servant who worked for the Van Gogh family when Vincent was a child described him as an, "odd, aloof child who had queer manners and seemed more like an old man," than the child he was. Vincent was a disappointment to his mother, and eventually to his entire family, even his beloved brother Theo Van Gogh who supported him financially for the 10 years that he worked as a painter.
In his many letters, it is clear that Van Gogh was aware of his depressive tendencies, and that he had experienced them most of his life. After one of his mental crises he wrote "Well, even in that deep misery I felt my energy revive, and I said to myself: in spite of everything I shall rise again, I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing, and from that moment everything has seemed transformed in me." Van Gogh seemed to utilize the incredible high spirits, which always followed his severe depressions, as a source of his creative energy.
In 1886, at the age of 33, Van Gogh went to Paris and mingled with Toulouse-Lautrec, Gauguin, Seurat, and other painters who were later considered among the best. His painting techniques were influenced by these impressionists, and their use of bright colors and their choice of less sentimental subject matter altered the direction his style of painting would take. Unless depression overcame him, he carefully avoided his tendency to paint dark canvases and subjects who were weighted down with the drudgeries of life.
However, after two years of working among the Parisian artistic community, Van Gogh's delicate nervous system began to collapse. His friendship with Paul Gauguin was in Van Gogh's own words, "electric," but like all of his other relationships it was doomed by Van Gogh's inability to comprehend normal social relationships. On December 24, 1888, an argument ensued between them. Van Gogh unsuccessfully attacked Gauguin, then mutilated himself by cutting a large piece off of his ear (See his famous painting below in which he depicts the injury), he wrapped the severed ear in paper, and gave it to a startled prostitute whom he had befriended. When his brother learned of this incident, he had Vincent institutionalized for two weeks in Arles, France in 1888. This was followed by several more breakdowns in 1890.Vincent's sister, Elizabeth Van Gogh, described his demeanor as a child. He was "intensely serious and uncommunicative, and walked around clumsily and in a daze, with his head hung low." She continued by saying, "Not only were his little sisters and brothers (he was the oldest of 8) like strangers to him, but he was a stranger to himself."
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