But he found that there was a Higher Power which
had more faith in him than he had in himself. Thus,
A.A. was born in Chicago.
I GREW up in a small town
outside Akron, Ohio, where the life was typical of any average small town. I was very
much interested in athletics, and because of this and parental influence, I didn't drink
or smoke in either grade or high school.
All of this changed when I went to college. I had to adapt to new associations and
associates, and it seemed to be the smart thing to drink and smoke. I confined drinking
to weekends, and drank normally in college and for several years thereafter.
After I left school, I went to work in Akron, living at home with my parents. Home life
was again a restraining influence. When I drank, I hid it from my folks out of respect
for their feelings. This continued until I was twenty-seven. Then I started traveling,
with the United States and Canada as my territory, and with so much freedom and with an
unlimited expense account, I was soon drinking every night and kidding myself that it
was all part of the job. I know now that sixty per cent of the time I drank alone
without benefit of customers.
In 1930, I moved to Chicago. Shortly thereafter, aided by the Depression, I found that I
had a great
deal of spare time and that a little drink in the morning helped. By
1932, I was going on two or three day benders. That same year, my wife became fed up
with my drinking around the house and called my dad in Akron to come and pick me up. She
asked him to do something about me because she couldn't. She was thoroughly disgusted.
This was the beginning of five years of bouncing back and forth between my home in
Chicago and Akron to sober up. It was a period of binges coming closer and closer
together and being of longer duration. Once dad came all the way to Florida to sober me
up, after a hotel manager called him and said that if he wanted to see me alive he
better get there fast. My wife could not understand why I would sober up for dad but not
for her. They went into a huddle and dad explained that he simply took my pants, shoes
and money away, so that I could get no liquor and had to sober up.
One time my wife decided to try this too. After finding every bottle that I had hidden
around the apartment, she took away my pants, my shoes, my money and my keys, threw them
under the bed in the back bedroom and slip-locked our door. By one a.m. I was desperate.
I found some wool stockings, some white flannels that had shrunk to my knees, and an old
jacket. I jimmied the front door so that I could get back in, and walked out. I was hit
by an icy blast. It was February with snow and ice on the ground and I had a four block
walk to the nearest cab stand, but I made it. On my ride to the nearest bar, I sold the
driver on how misunderstood I was by my wife and what an unreasonable person she was. By
the time we
reached the bar, he was willing to buy me a quart with his own
money. Then when we got back to the apartment, he was willing to wait two or three days
until I got my health back to be paid off for the liquor and fare. I was a good
salesman. My wife could not understand the next morning why I was drunker than the night
before when she took my bottles.
After a particularly bad Christmas and New Year's holiday, dad picked me up again early
in January, 1937, to go through the usual sobering up routine. This consisted of walking
the floor for three or four days and nights until I could take nourishment. This time he
had a suggestion to offer. He waited until I was completely sober and the day before I
was to head back for Chicago, he told me of a small group of men in Akron who apparently
had the same problem that I had but were doing something about it. He said they were
sober, happy and had their self-respect back as well as the respect of their neighbors.
He mentioned two of them that I had known through the years and suggested that I talk
with them. But I had my health back and besides, I reasoned, they were much worse than I
would ever be. Why, even a year ago, I had seen Howard, an ex-doctor, mooching a dime
for a drink. I could not possibly be that bad. I would at least have asked for a
quarter! So I told dad that I would lick it on my own, that I would drink nothing for a
month and after that only beer.
Several months later dad was back in Chicago to pick me up again, but this time my
attitude was entirely different. I could not wait to tell him that I wanted help, that
if these men in Akron had anything
I wanted it, and would do anything to get it. I was completely
licked by alcohol.
I can still remember very distinctly getting into Akron at eleven p.m. and routing this
same Howard out of bed to do something about me. He spent two hours with me that night
telling me his story. He said he had finally learned that drinking was a fatal illness
made up of an allergy plus an obsession, and once the drinking had passed from habit to
obsession, we were completely hopeless, and could look forward only to spending the
balance of our lives in mental institutions or to death.
He laid great stress on the progression of his attitude toward life and people, and most
of his attitudes had been very similar to mine. I thought at times that he was telling
my story! I had thought that I was completely different from other people, that I was
beginning to become a little balmy, even to the point of withdrawing more and more from
society and wanting to be alone with my bottle.
Here was a man with essentially the same outlook on life, except that he had done
something about it. He was happy, getting a kick out of life and people, and beginning
to get his medical practice back again. As I look back on that first evening I realize
that I began to hope, then, for the first time; and I felt that if he could regain these
things, perhaps it would be possible for me too.
The next afternoon and evening, two other men visited me and each told me his story and
the things that they were doing to try to recover from this tragic illness. They had
that certain something that seemed to glow, a peace and a serenity combined with happi-
ness. In the next two or three days the balance of this handful of
men contacted me, encouraged me, and told me how they were trying to live this program
of recovery and the fun they were having doing it.
Then and then only, after a thorough indoctrination by eight or nine individuals, was I
allowed to attend my first meeting. This first meeting was held in the living room of a
home and was led by Bill D., the first man that Bill W. and Dr. Bob had worked with
successfully.
The meeting consisted of perhaps eight or nine alcoholics and seven or eight wives. It
was different from the meetings now held. The big A.A. book had not been written and
there was no literature except various religious pamphlets. The program was carried on
entirely by word of mouth.
The meeting lasted an hour and closed with the Lord's Prayer. After it was closed we all
retired to the kitchen and had coffee and doughnuts and more discussion until the small
hours of the morning.
I was terribly impressed by this meeting and the quality of happiness these men
displayed, despite their lack of material means. In this small group, during the
Depression, there was no one who was not hard up.
I stayed in Akron two or three weeks on my initial trip trying to absorb as much of the
program and philosophy as possible. I spent a great deal of time with Dr. Bob, whenever
he had the time to spare, and in the homes of two or three other people, trying to see
how the family lived the program. Every evening we would meet at the home of one of the
members and have coffee and doughnuts and spend a social evening.
The day before I was due to go back to Chicago, a
Wednesday and Dr. Bob's afternoon off, he had me down to the office
and we spent three or four hours formally going through the Six-Step program as it was
at that time. The six steps were:
1. Complete deflation.
2. Dependence and guidance from a Higher Power.
3. Moral inventory.
4. Confession.
5. Restitution.
6. Continued work with other alcoholics.
Dr. Bob led me through all of these steps. At the moral inventory, he brought up some of
my bad personality traits or character defects, such as selfishness, conceit, jealousy,
carelessness, intolerance, ill-temper, sarcasm and resentments. We went over these at
great length and then he finally asked me if I wanted these defects of character
removed. When I said yes, we both knelt at his desk and prayed, each of us asking to
have these defects taken away.
This picture is still vivid. If I live to be a hundred, it will always stand out in my
mind. It was very impressive and I wish that every A.A. could have the benefit of this
type of sponsorship today. Dr. Bob always emphasized the religious angle very strongly,
and I think it helped. I know it helped me. Dr. Bob then led me through the restitution
step, in which I made a list of all of the persons I had harmed, and worked out ways and
means of slowly making restitution.
I made several decisions at that time. One of them was that I would try to get a group
started in Chicago; the second was that I would have to return to Akron to attend
meetings at least every two months until I
did get a group started in Chicago; third, I decided I must place
this program above everything else, even my family, because if I did not maintain my
sobriety I would lose my family anyway. If I did not maintain my sobriety, I would not
have a job. If I did not maintain my sobriety, I would have no friends left. I had few
enough at that time.
The next day I went back to Chicago and started a vigorous campaign among my so-called
friends or drinking companions. Their answer was always the same: If they should need it
at any time they would surely get in touch with me. I went to a minister and a doctor
that I still knew and they, in turn, asked me how long I had been sober. When I told
them six weeks, they were polite and said that they would contact me in case they had
anyone with an alcoholic problem.
Needless to say, it was a year or more before they did contact me. On my trips back to
Akron to get my spirits recharged and to work with other alcoholics, I would ask Dr. Bob
about this delay and wonder just what was wrong with me. He would invariably reply,
"When you are right and the time is right, Providence will provide. You must always be
willing and continue to make contacts."
A few months after I made my original trip to Akron I was feeling pretty cocky, and I
didn't think my wife was treating me with proper respect, now that I was an outstanding
citizen. So I set out to get drunk deliberately, just to teach her what she was missing.
A week later, I had to get an old friend from Akron to spend two days sobering me up.
That was my lesson, that one could not take the moral inventory and
then file it away; that the alcoholic has to continue to take
inventory every day if he expects to get well and stay well. That was my only slip.
It taught me a valuable lesson. In the summer of 1938, almost a year from the time I
made my original contact with Akron, the man for whom I was working and who knew
about the program, approached me and asked if I could do anything about one of his
salesmen who was drinking very heavily. I went to the sanitarium where this chap was
incarcerated and found to my surprise that he was interested. He had been wanting to
do something about his drinking for a long time, but did not know how. I spent
several days with him, but I did not feel adequate to pass the program on to him
alone. So I suggested that he take a trip to Akron for a couple of weeks, which he
did, living with one of the A.A. families there. When he returned, we had
practically daily meetings from that time on.
A few months later one of the men who had been in touch with the group in Akron came
to Chicago to live, and then there were three of us who continued to have informal
meetings quite regularly.
In the spring of 1939, the Big Book was printed, and we had two inquiries from the
New York office because of a fifteen-minute radio talk that was made. Neither one of
the two was interested for himself, one being a mother who wanted to do something
for her son. I suggested to her that she should see the son's minister or doctor,
and that perhaps he would recommend the A.A. program.
The doctor, a young man, immediately took fire with the idea, and while he did not
convince the son, he turned over two prospects who were anxious for
the program. The three of us did not feel up to the job, and
after a few meetings we convinced the prospects that they too should go to Akron
where they could see an older group in action.
In the meantime, another doctor in Evanston became convinced that the program
had possibilities, and turned over a woman to us to do something about. The girl
was full of enthusiasm and she made the trip to Akron too. Immediately on her
return we began to have formal meetings once a week, in the autumn of 1939, and
we have continued to do this and to expand ever since.
Occasionally, it is accorded to a few of us to watch something fine grow from a
tiny kernel into something of gigantic goodness. Such has been my privilege,
both nationally and in my home city. From a mere handful in Akron we have spread
throughout the world. From a single member in the Chicago area, commuting to
Akron we now exceed six thousand.
These last eighteen years have been the happiest of my life, trite though that
statement may seem. Fifteen of those years I would not have enjoyed had I
continued drinking. Doctors told me before I stopped that I had only three years
at the outside to live.
This latest part of my life has had a purpose, not in great things accomplished
but in daily living. Courage to face each day has replaced the fears and
uncertainties of earlier years. Acceptance of things as they are has replaced
the old impatient champing at the bit to conquer the world. I have stopped
tilting at windmills, and instead have tried to accomplish the little daily
tasks, unimportant in themselves, but tasks that are an integral part of living
fully.
Where derision,
contempt and pity were once shown me, I now enjoy the respect of many
people. Where once I had casual acquaintances, all of whom were fair weather
friends, I now have a host of friends who accept me for what I am. And over
my A.A. years I have made many real, honest, sincere friendships that I
shall always cherish.
I'm rated as a modestly successful man. My stock of material goods isn't
great. But I have a fortune in friendships, courage, self assurance and
honest appraisal of my own abilities. Above all, I have gained the greatest
thing accorded to any man, the love and understanding of a gracious God, who
has lifted me from the alcoholic scrap-heap to a position of trust where I
have been able to reap the rich rewards that come from showing a little love
for others and from serving them as I can.