Chapter 1: Alcoholic Anonymous Number Three
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Pioneer member of Akron's Group No. 1, the first A.A. group in the world. He
kept the faith; therefore, he and countless others found a new life.
ONE OF FIVE children, I was born on a Kentucky farm in Carlyle County. My
parents were well-to-do people, and their marriage was a happy one. My wife,
a Kentucky girl, came with me to Akron where I completed my course in law at
the Akron Law School.
My case is rather unusual in one respect. There were no childhood episodes
of unhappiness to account for my alcoholism. I had, seemingly, just a
natural affinity for grog. My marriage was happy, and I never had any of the
reasons, conscious or unconscious, which are often given for drinking. Yet,
as my record shows, I did become an extremely serious case.
Before my drinking had cut me down completely, I achieved a considerable
measure of success, having been a city councilman for five years and a
financial director of a suburb later taken into the city itself. But, of
course, this all went down the drain with my increased drinking. So, at the
time Dr. Bob and Bill came along, I had about run out my strength.
The first time that I became intoxicated I was eight years old. This was no
fault of my father or mother, as they were both very much opposed to
drinking. A couple of hired hands were cleaning out the barn on the farm,
and I was riding to and fro on the sled, and while they were loading, I
drank hard cider out of a barrel in the barn. On the return trip, after two
or three loads, I passed out and had to be carried to the house. I remember
that my father kept whiskey around the house for medical purposes and
entertainment, and I would drink from this when no one was about and then
water it to keep my parents from knowing I was drinking.
This continued until I enrolled in our state university, and at the end of
the four years, I realized that I was a drunk. Morning after morning I awoke
sick and with terrible jitters, but there was always a flask of liquor
sitting on the table beside my bed. I would reach over and get this and take
a shot and in a few moments get up and take another, shave, eat my
breakfast, slip a half pint of liquor in my hip pocket, and go on to school.
Between classes I would run down to the washroom, take enough to steady my
nerves, and then go on to the next class. This was in 1917.
I left the university in the latter part of my senior year and enlisted in
the army. At the time, I called it patriotism. Later I realized that I was
running from alcohol. It did help to a certain extent, since I found myself
in places where I could not obtain anything to drink and so broke the
habitual drinking.
Then Prohibition came into effect, and the facts that the stuff obtainable
was so horrible and sometimes deadly, and that I had married and had a job
which I had to look after, helped me for a period of some three or four
years, although I would get drunk every time I could get hold of enough to
drink to get started. My wife and I belonged to some bridge clubs, and they
began to make wine and serve it. However, after two or three trials, I found
this was not satisfactory because they did not serve enough to satisfy me.
So I would refuse to drink. This problem was soon solved, however, as I
began to take my bottle along with me and hide it in the bathroom or in the
shrubbery outside.
As time went on, my drinking became progressively worse. I would be away
from my office two or three weeks at a time, horrible days and nights when I
would lie on the floor of my home and reach over to get the bottle, take a
drink, and then go back into oblivion.
During the first six months of 1935, I was hospitalized eight times for
intoxication and shackled to the bed two or three days before I even knew
where I was.
On June 26, 1935, I came to in the hospital, and to say I was discouraged is
to put it mildly. Each of the seven times that I had left this hospital in
the previous six months, I had come out fully determined in my own mind that
I would not get drunk again---for at least six or eight months. It hadn't
worked out that way, and I didn't know what the matter was and did not know
what to do.
I was moved into another room that morning and there was my wife. I thought
to myself, Well, she is going to tell me this is the end, and I certainly
couldn't blame her and did not intend to try to justify myself. She told me
that she had been talking to a couple of fellows about drinking. I resented
this very much, until she informed me that they were a couple of drunks just
as I was. That wasn't so bad, to tell it to another drunk.
She said, "You are going to quit." That was worth a lot even though I did
not believe it. Then she told me that these two drunks she had been talking
to had a plan whereby they thought they could quit drinking, and part of
that plan was that they tell it to another drunk. This was going to help
them to stay sober. All the other people who had talked to me wanted to help
me, and my pride prevented me from listening to them and caused only
resentment on my part, but I felt as if I would be a real stinker if I did
not listen to a couple of fellows for a short time, if that would cure them.
My wife also told me that I could not pay them even if I wanted to and had
the money, which I did not.
They came in and began to give me instruction in the program that later
became known as Alcoholics Anonymous. There was not much of it at that time.
I looked up and there were two great big fellows over six-foot tall, very
likable looking. (I knew afterwards that the two who came in were Bill W.
and Doctor Bob.) Before very long we began to relate some incidents of our
drinking, and pretty soon I realized that both of them knew what they were
talking about, because you can see things and smell things when you're drunk
that you can't other times. If I had thought they didn't know what they were
talking about, I wouldn't have been willing to talk to them at all.
After a while, Bill said, "Well, now, you've been talking a good long time,
let me talk a minute or two." So, after hearing some more of my story, he
turned around and said to Doc---I don't think he knew I heard him, but I
did---he said, "Well, I believe he's worth saving and working on." They said
to me, "Do you want to quit drinking? It's none of our business about your
drinking. We're not up here trying to take any of your rights or privileges
away from you, but we have a program whereby we think we can stay sober.
Part of that program is that we take it to someone else who needs it and
wants it. Now, if you don't want it, we'll not take up your time, and we'll
be going and looking for someone else."
The next thing they wanted to know was if I thought I could quit of my own
accord, without any help, if I could just walk out of the hospital and never
take another drink. If I could, that was wonderful, that was just fine, and
they would very much appreciate a person who had that kind of power, but
they were looking for a man who knew he had a problem and knew he couldn't
handle it himself and needed outside help. The next thing they wanted to
know was if I believed in a Higher Power. I had no trouble there because I
had never actually ceased to believe in God and had tried lots of times to
get help but hadn't succeeded. Next they wanted to know would I be willing
to go to this Higher Power and ask for help, calmly and without any
reservations.
They left this with me to think over, and I lay there on that hospital bed
and went back over and reviewed my life. I thought of what liquor had done
to me, the opportunities that I had discarded, the abilities that had been
given me and how I had wasted them, and I finally came to the conclusion
that if I didn't want to quit, I certainly ought to want to, and that I was
willing to do anything in the world to stop drinking.
I was willing to admit to myself that I had hit bottom, that I had gotten
hold of something that I didn't know how to handle by myself. So after
reviewing these things and realizing what liquor had cost me, I went to this
Higher Power that, to me, was God, without any reservation, and admitted
that I was completely powerless over alcohol and that I was willing to do
anything in the world to get rid of the problem. In fact, I admitted that
from then on I was willing to let God take over instead of me. Each day I
would try to find out what His will was and try to follow that, rather than
trying to get Him to always agree that the things I thought up for myself
were the things best for me. So, when they came back, I told them.
One of the fellows, I think it was Doc, said, "Well, you want to quit?" I
said, "Yes, Doc, I would like to quit, at least for five, six, or eight
months, until I get things straightened up, and begin to get the respect of
my wife and some other people back, and get my finances fixed up and so on."
And they both laughed very heartily and said, "That's better than you've
been doing, isn't it?" Which of course was true. They said, "We've got some
bad news for you. It was bad news for us, and it will probably be bad news
for you. Whether you quit six days, months, or years, if you go out and take
a drink or two, you'll end up in this hospital tied down, just like you have
been in these past six months. You are an alcoholic." As far as I know that
was the first time I had ever paid any attention to that word. I figured I
was just a drunk. And they said, "No, you have a disease, and it doesn't
make any difference how long you do without it, after a drink or two you'll
end up just like you are now." That certainly was real disheartening news,
at the time.
The next question they asked was, "You can quit twenty-four hours, can't
you?" I said, "Sure, yes, anybody can do that, for twenty-four hours." They
said, "That's what we're talking about. Just twenty-four hours at a time."
That sure did take a load off of my mind. Every time I'd start thinking
about drinking, I would think of the long, dry years ahead without having a
drink; but this idea of twenty-four hours, that it was up to me from then
on, was a lot of help.
(At this point, the Editors intrude just long enough to supplement Bill D.'s
account, that of the man on the bed, with that of Bill W., the man who sat
by the side of the bed.) Says Bill W.:
Nineteen years ago last summer, Dr. Bob and I saw him (Bill D.) for the
first time. Bill lay on his hospital bed and looked at us in wonder.
Two days before this, Dr. Bob had said to me, "If you and I are going to
stay sober, we had better get busy." Straightway, Bob called Akron's City
Hospital and asked for the nurse on the receiving ward. He explained that he
and a man from New York had a cure for alcoholism. Did she have an alcoholic
customer on whom it could be tried? Knowing Bob of old, she jokingly
replied, "Well, Doctor, I suppose you've already tried it yourself?"
Yes, she did have a customer---a dandy. He had just arrived in D.T.'s, had
blacked the eyes of two nurses, and now they had him strapped down tight.
Would this one do? After prescribing medicines, Dr. Bob ordered, "Put him in
a private room. We'll be down as soon as he clears up."
Bill didn't seem too impressed. Looking sadder than ever, he wearily
ventured, "Well, this is wonderful for you fellows, but it can't be for me.
My case is so terrible that I'm scared to go out of this hospital at all.
You don't have to sell me religion, either. I was at one time a deacon in
the church, and I still believe in God. But I guess He doesn't believe much
in me."
Then Dr. Bob said, "Well, Bill, maybe you'll feel better tomorrow. Wouldn't
you like to see us again?"
"Sure I would," replied Bill, "Maybe it won't do any good, but I'd like to
see you both, anyhow. You certainly know what you are talking about."
Looking in later, we found Bill with his wife, Henrietta. Eagerly he pointed
to us saying, "These are the fellows I told you about; they are the ones who
understand."
Bill then related how he had lain awake nearly all night. Down in the pit of
his depression, new hope had somehow been born. The thought flashed through
his mind, "If they can do it, I can do it!" Over and over he said this to
himself. Finally, out of his hope, there burst conviction. Now he was sure.
Then came a great joy. At length, peace stole over him and he slept.
Before our visit was over, Bill suddenly turned to his wife and said, "Go
fetch my clothes, dear. We're going to get up and get out of here." Bill D.
walked out of that hospital a free man, never to drink again.
A.A.'s Number One Group dates from that very day.
(Bill D. now continues his story.)
It was in the next two or three days after I had first met Doc and Bill that
I finally came to a decision to turn my will over to God and to go along
with this program the best that I could. Their talk and action had instilled
in me a certain amount of confidence, although I was not too absolutely
certain. I wasn't afraid that the program wouldn't work, but I still was
doubtful whether I would be able to hang on to the program, but I did come
to the conclusion that I was willing to put everything I had into it, with
God's power, and that I wanted to do just that. As soon as I had done that,
I did feel a great release. I knew that I had a helper whom I could rely
upon, who wouldn't fail me. If I could stick to Him and listen, I would make
it. I remember when the boys came back, I told them, "I have gone to this
Higher Power, and I have told Him that I am willing to put His world first,
above everything. I have already done it, and I am willing to do it again
here in the presence of you, or I am willing to say it any place, anywhere
in the world from now on and not be ashamed of it." And this certainly gave
me a lot of confidence and seemed to take a lot of the burden off me.
I remember telling them too that it was going to be awfully tough, because I
did some other things, smoked cigarettes and played penny ante poker and
sometimes bet on the horse races, and they said, "Don't you think you're
having more trouble with this drinking than with anything else at the
present time? Don't you believe you are going to have all you can do to get
rid of that?" "Yes," I said, reluctantly, "I probably will." They said,
"Let's forget about those other things, that is, trying to eliminate them
all at once, and concentrate on the drink." Of course, we had talked over
quite a number of the failings that I had and made a sort of an inventory,
which wasn't too difficult, because I had an awful lot of things wrong that
were very apparent to me. Then they said, "There is one other thing. You
should go out and take this program to somebody else who needs it and wants
it."
Of course, by this time, my business was practically nonexistent. I didn't
have any. Naturally, for quite a time, I wasn't too well physically, either.
It took me a year, or a year and a half, to get to feeling physically well,
and it was rather tough, but I soon found folks whose friendship I had once
had, and I found, after I had been sober for quite some little time, that
these people began to act like they had in previous years, before I had
gotten so bad, so that I didn't pay too awful much attention to financial
gains. I spent most of my time trying to get back these friendships and to
make some recompense toward my wife, whom I had hurt a lot.
It would be hard to estimate how much A.A. has done for me. I really wanted
the program, and I wanted to go along with it. I noticed that the others
seemed to have such a release, a happiness, a something that I thought a
person ought to have. I was trying to find the answer. I knew there was even
more, something that I hadn't got, and I remember one day, a week or two
after I had come out of the hospital, Bill was at my house talking to my
wife and me. We were eating lunch, and I was listening and trying to find
out why they had this release that they seemed to have. Bill looked across
at my wife and said to her, "Henrietta, the Lord has been so wonderful to
me, curing me of this terrible disease, that I just want to keep talking
about it and telling people."
I thought, I think I have the answer. Bill was very, very grateful that he
had been released from this terrible thing and he had given God the credit
for having done it, and he's so grateful about it he wants to tell other
people about it. That sentence, "The Lord has been so wonderful to me,
curing me of this terrible disease, that I just want to keep telling people
about it," has been a sort of a golden text for the A.A. program and for me.
Of course, as time went on, I began to get my health back and began to be so
I didn't have to hide from people all the time---it's just been wonderful. I
still go to meetings, because I like to go. I meet the people that I like to
talk to. Another reason that I go is that I'm still grateful for the good
years that I've had. I'm so grateful for both the program and the people in
it that I still want to go. And then probably the most wonderful thing that
I have learned from the program---I've seen this in the A.A. Grapevine a lot
of times, and I've had people say it to me personally, and I've heard people
get up in meetings and say it---is this statement: "I came into A.A. solely
for the purpose of sobriety, but it has been through A.A. that I have found
God."
I feel that is about the most wonderful thing that a person can do.