An Injection of Marketing
To help sell its drugs, Horizon blankets specialist physicians with marketing and peer-to-peer appeals. Its payments to physicians for things like consulting, speeches, and meals totaled $8.7 million in 2021, compared with the $10 million it paid them for research, federal records show. By contrast, Seagen, a biotech company of roughly the same size, paid doctors a total of $116 million, with nearly $112 million of that pegged for research. Riedel said Horizon’s marketing and educational approaches were “necessarily unique” because of the challenges of treating rare and neglected diseases.
Walbert launched Horizon in 2008 in the Chicago area by combining and refashioning generic drugs into single pills. Duexis, Horizon’s first drug, is a mixture of generic Motrin and Pepcid. Its Vimovo combines generic Aleve and Nexium. In a 2017 article, a ProPublica reporter described being prescribed Vimovo for a shoulder injury. It cost him nothing, but his insurer was billed $3,252 for pills that together cost about $40 for a month’s supply in generic form. Horizon sold more than $57 million worth of Vimovo that year.
In 2014 and 2015, respectively, Horizon picked up two relatively new drugs that had no generic versions: the immunosuppressant Actimmune and Ravicti, which treats a rare genetic disorder. Soon Horizon was charging more than $50,000 a month for each, placing Actimmmune fourth and Ravicti second on GoodRx’s 2020 list of the most expensive U.S. drugs.
Horizon’s net sales soared from $20 million in 2012 to $981 million in 2016; Walbert’s pay package followed suit, topping an astronomical $93.4 million in 2015 in salary and stock. Stock analysts questioned the long-term soundness of a strategy of simply selling old drugs for mind-boggling prices, but Walbert was using the cash to refashion the company as a rare-diseases franchise.
His approach would make Walbert a darling of pharmaceutical investors and his board, which lavished him with over $20 million in compensation each of the past three years. While most biotechs and startups borrow heavily from venture capital to do science and have no idea how to develop and market a drug, Walbert got cash coming in quickly. “He did it backwards,” said Annabel Samimy, an analyst at Stifel Financial Corp. “Horizon built commercial platforms before they got into drug development.”
Generating “robust sales of what sounded like not very interesting drugs” allowed Walbert “to start a company on not very much,” said Oppenheimer analyst Leland Gershell. All the while, Horizon funded and cultivated the patient advocacy groups that can help lobby for a drug to be approved by the FDA and placed on insurers’ formularies, the lists of drugs health plans cover for patients.
Capitalizing on His Own Illness?
As Walbert and his spokespeople often point out, Walbert and his youngest son suffer from a rare disease, and Walbert also has an autoimmune disease. Walbert won’t name the diseases, but has said he’s taken the anti-inflammatory injectable Humira since 2003 — the year he led that drug’s commercial launch as a vice president at Abbott Laboratories. Humira has become the bestselling drug in history, with about $200 billion in all-time global sales.
In 2014, Walbert moved Horizon’s headquarters to Ireland, which nearly halved its tax rate. A year later it gained control of Krystexxa, and in 2017 it bought, for $145 million, a failing company that produced Tepezza, a drug for thyroid eye disease, which causes unsightly eye bulging and pain.
Tepezza quickly became a blockbuster, with $3.6 billion in total sales in 2021 and 2022. The company conducted additional clinical research on both Tepezza and Krystexxa, but it also spent heavily promoting these and other drugs to specialists who could prescribe them.