2. Dr. Bob’s Nightmare

A Co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. The birth of our Society dates from his first day of permanent sobriety, June 10, 1935. To 1950, the year of his death, he carried the A.A. message  to  more  than  5,000  alcoholic  men  and

1. Pioneers Of A.A.

   Dr. Bob and the twelve men and women who here tell their stories were among the early members of A.A.’s first groups. Though three have passed away of natural causes, all have maintained complete sobriety for periods ranging from fifteen

29. Now We Are Thousands

      WHEN this book appeared in April 1939 there were approximately 100 A.A. members. Two thirds of them were at Akron, Ohio, or nearby communities in the northern part of that state. Most of the remainder were in or near New

28. The Rolling Stone

      AFTER the breaking up of our home, my Father went west and took up his work and became fairly successful.  Then it was decided that I should be sent to a preparatory school so to a midwestern school I was

27. An Artist’s Concept

“There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which can not fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance-that principle is contempt prior to investigation.”-HERBERT SPENCER“       THE above quotation is

26. An Alcoholic’s Wife

      I HAVE the misfortune, or I should say the good fortune of being an alcoholic’s wife. I say misfortune because of the worry and grief that goes with drinking, and good fortune because we found a new way of living. 

25. On His Way

      IN EARLY youth I believe I had some of the tendencies which lead to alcoholism. I refer to attempted escapes from reality.  At fifteen and sixteen, although free at home to drink small amounts of beer and wine, I drank

24. Hindsight

      FIRED! Still, I got a new and better job. One which gave me more time to relax and where drinking was permitted during working hours. People were beginning to criticize my drinking habits and I scoffed at them. Hadn’t I

23. The Car Smasher

      DURING the first week of March, 1937, through the grace of God, I ended 20 years of a life made practically useless because I could not do two things.  First, I was unable to not take a drink.  Second, I

22. Another Prodigal Story

“HELLO, Pal.”  “Hello, Buddy!”  “Have a drink?”  “Got one!”  “Come over on the next stool I’m lonesome. Hell of a world.”  “You said it, brother,-hell of a world.”  “You taking rye? Mine’s gin. God, I’m up against it now!”  “How’s