June 12 in A.A. History

1931: Rowland Hazard [right] departed on a three-month family trip to Europe. According to the Hazard Family Papers in the Manuscripts Division of the Rhode Island Historical Society, he was in France on July 9, Italy on July 20, and apparently left for England on August 13. There is no evidence to suggest that Hazard visited Switzerland during this trip, making it highly unlikely that he saw Dr. Carl Jung, despite suggestions to the contrary.

1935: Dr. Bob S., who had checked out of his Atlantic City, New Jersey hotel the previous night, entered a drunken blackout that would likely last two or three days.

1941: Ruth Hock [far left] wrote to Henry S., a printer and member of A.A. in Washington, D.C., to inquire about the cost of printing the Serenity Prayer as a wallet card. She had received a clipping [right] of the prayer from Jack C. [near left, c. 1938], a newspaperman and A.A. member. Jack had found the prayer in the “In Memoriam”  section of the 28 May 1941 edition of the New York Herald Tribune. The prayer read:

    Mother—God grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change, courage to change things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Goodby.

    Ruth initially wanted to keep the clipping to include copies in outgoing mail. However, Horace C. had suggested printing the prayer as a card and paid for the initial printing. In response to Ruth’s request, Henry S. printed 500 cards [right: a vintage, undated such card] at his own expense and sent them to her, offering to provide more at no cost.

June in A.A. History—day unknown

1945: Nancy Flynn, the author of “The Independent Blonde” in the second edition of Alcoholics Anonymous, got sober in New York City at 39. Her mother had died when she was three, and her father remarried when she was fourteen. Soon after, her stepmother kicked her out.

    When you’re thrown out, you don’t feel like you’re anything. You know something’s got to be wrong with you or they wouldn’t have thrown you out. And they tell me that, psychologically, I felt abandoned by my mother.

    She had attempted several “geographic” cures, but none were effective. Fearing job loss, she preemptively quit multiple jobs rather than waiting to be fired. Her introduction to A.A. began at the New York City clubhouse on 9th Avenue and 41st Street. Expecting to find a group of down-and-out bums, she dressed casually to avoid appearing superior. To her surprise, she encountered people who resembled “Park Avenue types.” She was particularly impressed to meet a countess (Felicia Gizycka, author of “Stars Don’t Fall” in the 2nd and 3rd editions of Alcoholics Anonymous). Nancy noted that during that period, everyone in A.A. knew each other because they all frequented the same clubhouse. She later remarked,

    And I was so welcome. It was the first time I felt welcome.

    When Nancy first arrived, she was an atheist and wanted nothing to do with the topic of God. However, she eventually began to explore her beliefs, became a Quaker, and took on the role of teaching English to migrant workers. Once sober, she attended high school in her 50s and went to college in her 70s. There, she studied for nine and a half years, graduating cum laude with a degree in behavioral science. Nancy owned a small beauty shop where she often gave permanents to members of Alcoholics Anonymous, regardless of their ability to pay.
    Nancy and another young woman, possibly Marty Mann, were frequently invited to visit hospitals and “drying-out” facilities that catered to the wealthy, as they were both young and “presentable.” (Later, when Marty was involved with the National Council on Alcoholism, she wanted to hire Nancy as a speaker, but Nancy declined.) During these visits, they would wear little black dresses, pearls, and charming hats adorned with flowers. On one occasion, they went to the apartment of a famous actress, who captivated them with such wonderful stories that they completely forgot the purpose of their visit. Years later, Nancy reflected on this experience.

    We didn’t have the nerve to tell her that she was a drunk. Later she did get sober.

Initially, she disliked working with families.

    I was mad at the families. I wouldn’t talk to anybody but the alcoholic. I was so eager to give what I had, I went right from the First Step to the last Step. For me it was just wonderful. I got in with people and I cared for somebody. You see, I had never cared for anybody, not even myself. When you care for somebody, you begin to heal yourself. You don’t even know it.

    She frequently sought Dr. Silkworth’s advice.

    If we were in trouble, we’d go to Dr. Silkworth. If we were in a situation and we didn’t know how to get out of it or were afraid we might get drunk, we could talk it over with him. He was a very simple, wonderful man. He said to me once, “The day that you can sit down and just be honest with yourself in this situation, you will know what to do.” That was the kind of a man he was.

    Every day, Nancy visited the clubhouse from its 11:00 AM opening until it closed at night; it was the only place where she felt safe. For the first five years, she did nothing but attend A.A. meetings because she didn’t know what else to do. For the next fifteen years, she also participated in a women’s meeting, founded by Marty Mann, held on 58th Street in midtown Manhattan, in the home of a woman whose husband was an alcoholic.