1908:
In August, Bill W.’s grandfather, Gardner Griffith, had challenged him to
become the first non-Aboriginal to create a functioning boomerang
[right: a boomerang]
. Now, on a cold afternoon after six months of dedicated work—during which,
as Bill put it, he
… did nothing else… but whittle on those
infernal boomerangs. [Finally] I sawed the headboard out of my bed to get
just the right piece of wood, and out in the old workshop at night by the
light of the lantern I whittled away.
With his grandfather standing beside him at the edge of the churchyard,
Bill prepared to throw his latest attempt at a boomerang. It soared “around
the churchyard in front of the house” before curving back toward them. To
avoid being decapitated, they both lunged forward. The boomerang crashed
against a nearby headstone. They sat up, and Bill whispered, “I did it. I
did it.” He jumped to his feet and let out a banshee scream “that could have
been heard in Manchester. ‘I did it…’”
1916:
Bill W. returned to Norwich University [left: buildings on campus, c. 1911?]
, still classified as a freshman. His roommate, a sophomore, informed him
that the sophomores planned to “get” the freshmen. Since Bill had attended
the previous year and most of his friends were sophomores, he was invited to
observe. At first, the initiation seemed harmless; freshmen were paddled
with straps and staves. However, things escalated quickly when the entire
freshman class appeared armed with clubs and bayonets. It took considerable
effort to disarm them, resulting in smashed heads, broken bones, and several
students ending up in the infirmary.
The next morning, the commandant held a trial and decided to expel eight
sophomores he identified as the ringleaders. In response, the other
sophomores insisted that if eight were to be expelled, then all should face
the same fate, and they signed a statement to that effect, including Bill.
The following evening, it was announced that the entire sophomore class
would be suspended indefinitely. Some of Bill's friends argued that he
wasn't truly a sophomore and had only been a bystander. However, Bill
maintained that he had signed the paper, given his word, and chose to walk
out with the others.
1923:
Bill W. failed a class on Equity and subsequently left Brooklyn Law
School
[right: Brooklyn Eagle Building, home of Brooklyn Law School, 1923]
.
1939:
The “well-known” psychiatrist, Dr. Howard from Montclair, New Jersey
(probably Dr. James W. Howard
[left]
) proposed changes to the multilith manuscript of the Big Book,
Alcoholics Anonymous. According to Bill W.,
He pointed out that the text of our book was
too full of the words “you” and “must.” He suggested that we substitute
wherever possible such expressions as “we ought” or “we should.” His idea
was to replace all forms of coercion, to put our fellowship on a “we ought”
basis instead of a “you must” basis.… I argued weakly against it but soon
gave in; it was perfectly apparent that the doctor was right. Dr. Silkworth
and Dr. Tiebout gave us similar advice…
Jimmy Burwell told a different story:
Dr. Howard… became greatly interested and
enthusiastic, but was highly critical of several things in the book, for
after reading it he told us there was entirely too much “Oxfordism” and that
it was too demanding. This is where the disaster nearly overtook us,
for it nearly threw Bill into a terrific mental uproar to have his baby
pulled apart by an outside screwball psychiatrist, who in our opinion knew
nothing about alcoholism.
After days of
wrangling between Bill, Hank, Fitz and myself, Bill was finally convinced
that all positive and must statements should be eliminated and in their
place to use the word “suggest” and the expression “we found we had to.”
1940: Sterling C. from Little Rock, Arkansas, had gotten sober in 1935 by
following the plan outlined in Richard C. Peabody's
The Common Sense of Drinking. For six months, he had worked with
Harlan N. to help him stay sober. In October 1939, after reading Morris
Markey's article “Alcoholics and God” in Liberty magazine, the two of
them wrote to A.A. in New York City to request a copy of the Big Book,
Alcoholics Anonymous. Unfortunately, the book was sent to Harlan, who
was drunk at the time, and it was returned.
Later, Sterling's boss, Foster Vineyard, read about Rockefeller's dinner
for A.A. in Time magazine and informed Sterling. This prompted
Sterling to request another Big Book, this time having it sent directly to
him. Harlan would soon sober up and then help Bud G., who was incarcerated
in the “nut house” (i.e., State Hospital) for his drinking problems. Bud
would read the Big Book three times and underwent a remarkable
transformation. His psychiatrist, Dr. Nick Hollis, would be so impressed
that he would order a second copy of the book.
In June, Sterling, Harlan, and Bud G., would found Little Rock's Central
Group, the first A.A. group in Arkansas.
1940:
The Alcoholics Anonymous group in Detroit, Michigan, which had started with
three alcoholics and one non-alcoholic, had grown to seven members and
started meeting in the basement of a non-alcoholic couple, the Bensons, on
Taylor Avenue. This location was affectionately referred to as “Benson's
Basement.”
The group later relocated to
4242 Cass Avenue, where it became known as the Downtown Group.
1945:
The A.A. Grapevine published “Points of View: Arkansas Style,”
written by Bud G., a founder of A.A. in Little Rock, Arkansas.
It all began in March, 1940, in the mind and heart of a
Little Rock (trumpet playing) insurance executive, an alcoholic who had
been dry for five years after reading Peabody and practicing an unlabeled
brand of A.A. He had had very little success with fellow alcoholics and
when he read the first notice of A.A. he sent for the book.
He roped in a furniture salesman (without wares) and a broken down
(young) newspaperman who had buried himself (for keeps he thought) deep
in the oblivion of the State Hospital for Nervous Diseases.
These pioneers in what Bill calls the “mail order section” went to local
newspapers and obtained a modest notice in each; rented a Post Office box;
began contacting ministers, police and court officials, and exploring
flophouses, poolrooms, courts.
Business was brisk.
Within a few
weeks the membership included 25 men and two women.
The troubles began early. Some of the men got the idea that they had
joined a wet nursing organization and proceeded to turn it into one; the
women turned out to be less alcoholic than unattached. One by one the
members sloughed off.
Result: three
months after founding, four charter members remained, two shaky.
At this time, prospects were given only the book, the weekly meeting, the
offer of association, and were more or less on their own. One of the
charter members drafted a program which, after several overhaulings
dictated by tryouts, became known as The Little Rock Plan, or the
Approach Program. The sole motive behind it was to improve effectiveness
of the group's service to alcoholics.
1949:
The first Alcoholics Anonymous meetings in Glasgow and Edinburgh, Scotland,
were established with significant contributions from Sir Philip Dundas
[right]
, the head of one of Scotland’s oldest clans. In 1948, the Alcoholic
Foundation had registered him as a loner in Campbeltown. Earlier that
February, Sir Philip, a Scottish gentleman farmer, had gone to an
International Christian Leadership conference in the United States, where a
group of businessmen were working to integrate faith into industry by
creating breakfast prayer clubs. He believed that engaging in such positive
endeavors might help him stay off the drink. Bill W. later wrote,
At the very first session he met an old time
Philadelphia A.A. member, George R., who gave him A.A. right off the
spiritual main line. The head of one of Scotland’s most ancient clans
sobered up on the spot. He took A.A. back to his native heath, and soon
alcoholic Scots were drying up all the way from Glasgow ship chandlers to
society folks in Edinburgh.
Later in February 1948, the Foundation sent
a letter to A.A. members in London, describing him as
… an alcoholic who stopped drinking some
four years ago on spiritual principles, but on his own and before he heard
of A.A
1949: Dr. John P. joined Alcoholics Anonymous and got sober. His story, “The Professor and the Paradox,” appeared in the second and third editions of the Big Book, Alcoholics Anonymous.
Born in Atlanta, Georgia, John was recognized for his thick Southern accent. He described himself as naturally shy, sensitive, fearful, envious, and resentful—traits he believed contributed to both his successes and challenges. These characteristics motivated him to earn a Ph.D. and to publish extensively, partly as a way to compete with or defy others.
Professionally, John served as an English professor for 21 years at the University of Alabama before moving to Kent State University in Ohio. He became a social drinker in his early twenties without immediate problems, but his drinking escalated under life’s pressures, eventually leading to full-blown alcoholism after graduate school.
John’s alcoholism resulted in significant consequences, including a harrowing incident where he became “violently insane” during a drunken episode and ended up in jail—this served as his turning point before joining A.A. In his writings and talks, he humorously explored the ironies of alcoholism and recovery, outlining four central A.A. paradoxes:
- We surrender to win.
- We give away to keep.
- We suffer to get well.
- We die to live.
John was known for his wit and insight in A.A. discussions, and he updated his story for the January 1968 issue of the A.A. Grapevine, highlighting the necessity for personal change beyond merely quitting drinking. He believed that recovery in A.A. involved transforming self-centeredness, honestly working through the Twelve Steps, and addressing emotional shortcomings.
In summary, Dr. John P. was a respected academic and writer whose personal battles with alcoholism, engaging personality, and contributions through A.A. talks and writings left a lasting impact within the fellowship.