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Source: DICOBE-00522 – Frank R – FLORIDA STATE CONF – 1980-08-28.mp3 File: dicobe-00522-frank-r-florida-state-conf-1980-08-28.mp3 Duration: 01:06:46
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And today at the pool when someone found out he was from Fayetteville, Georgia, four people jumped up and one of them demanded an interpreter, and we couldn't find one, but anyway, I'm sure you won't have any problem understanding Frank, and I'm sure he'll have a delightful message. Thank you. My name is Frank R., and I'm a truly grateful recovering alcoholic. I'm going to give you just a couple minutes to get over being nervous about me being here, and then we'll get this meeting started.
I would like to thank the committee for asking me to be with you this evening. It's been a wonderful experience up to right now, and I'm looking forward to after this meeting is over and enjoying the rest of the convention, I really am. I'd like to congratulate someone. I don't know who it is, but the theme of this convention says it's the language in the heart, and people, that's what I'll try to speak to you with tonight. I'll try to speak to you from the heart, and I hope, my prayer is that you'll listen to me from the heart.
This room is full of love tonight, and I believe that the God of my understanding is the God of love. It's full of a bunch of wonderful people, and there's not a reason in the world, and I'm not scared. There's not a reason in the world for me to be scared. I'm nervous. I'm nervous. But I got my sponsor with me tonight. He's sitting over there, and he's going to help me, I know. He's already helped me. He told me yesterday, he said, Frank, there's nothing to be scared of. He said, you know, when you're up there, God's standing with you. I said, I know that. You see, I know that, but I'd forgot that, and I needed that help.
And there's a lot of you out there that have pigeons, and I have a pigeon or two, but I got a special pigeon, and I call it Turkey. And he said he's the only turkey, and he flew down this morning, and I picked my turkey up at the airport, and he's here tonight, to keep me honest. There's a giant of a man that belongs to my home group sitting down here on the front row, or close to the front row, CC, and that man knows how much I love him. And I've seen this giant of a man walk tall when adversity was standing right in front of him.
And I've had my share of adversities in my life, and I guess I'm supposed to tell a joke. I don't know a lot of jokes, but there's a few, and Sherry and I, and Sherry is my beautiful alarm, and on that scale of one to ten, Sherry's a ten. And that's the lady that God chose to get me to a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. And if Sherry never, ever does nothing else in her life for this drunk right here, I could never, ever repay her. And she didn't have no idea what she was doing. All she did was get a lawyer and get a divorce.
And that's what it took, people. That's what it took. But she's here with me tonight, and I love that woman an awful lot, and I think y'all will find that out. I hope you do. But this joke I heard, I heard Sherry and I heard at our first General Assembly back in Savannah in 1972. And the speaker that night was just about as scared as I am right now, or nervous. And he told a joke about fellowship. You know, the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous is something very, very special.
And I think only alcoholics and those God-given alanons that we have can understand what we talk about when we talk about fellowship. But he explained it that night, and he said it was something to this effect that this couple had worked all their life in the city, saving their nickels and dimes. And when they retired, they bought them a little farm out in the country, and they were going to raise some pigs and chickens and live happily ever after.
Now, they bought that farm, and they got them some chickens, and they got them an old pig, an old sow. And they started having lots of little chickens, but the old sow never had no little pigs. And the guy didn't really know what was wrong, so he called the vet, and the vet come out and checked the old sow out. And he told them, he said, Mr. Brown said, what your old sow needs is a little fellowship.
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He said, if you'll take him down to Farmer McDonald's down the road here just a little ways and let him get a little fellowship, it won't be long, you'll have you some pig. So Mr. Brown went out and loaded the old sow up in the wheelbarrow and took him down to Farmer McDonald's and brought her back that evening and left her there in the pen. Got up the next morning bright and early and went out there and seen little pigs, and there wasn't no little pigs. He was sure the vet knew what he was talking about, so he loaded the old sow back up in the wheelbarrow, and he took the old sow back down to Farmer McDonald's and left her all that day, brought her home that evening and put her in the pen.
Next morning he got up, went out to see little pigs, there wasn't no little pigs there. He was sure this vet knew exactly what he was talking about, so he loaded the old sow back up in the wheelbarrow, and he rolled her back down to Farmer McDonald's and left her all that day, and he brought her back that evening. And the next morning he got up and he asked his wife, he said, Honey, how about going out and see if we got any little pigs? She went out and came back in with a smile on her face, and he said, Well, do we have any little pigs? She said, No, honey, but the old sow is up in the wheelbarrow wanting to know where you at.
The fellowship in this program is something else. Now, my dad's not alive today, but I hope my father's looking down today. Because you see, it's a long way from Stewart Avenue in Atlanta, Georgia, to this 24th Florida State Convention. And indeed, it's an honor and a privilege to be down here with you. But in order for me to tell this story tonight, I have to tell you about a man that meant more to me than any man that ever walked the face of this earth, and that was my father. My dad was my crutch, my dad was my enabler, and he almost loved me to death, I think.
I can tell you a little bit about alcoholism today because I've learned a little bit about alcoholism over the last nine years that I've been with you people. But as I was growing up, the first ten years of my life, I was born on Washington Street in Atlanta, Georgia, right close to where the Atlanta Stadium is today. And we was born in an apartment house. Mom said Dad wasn't able to take her to the hospital, and we was poor people.
Dad was a carpenter by trade, and Dad worked hard. And Mom said the first ten years of my life, and I can't tell you much about that because I know nothing about that, but she said the first ten years that I was here on this earth was the happiest ten years her and Dad ever had. Dad worked from sunup to sundown, and she said we ate pork and bean sandwiches about three times a day, and we was happy. There was a lot of love in our house.
I know nothing of this. I know my daddy getting his break a little late in life and going into the construction business, and he built and sold houses in Atlanta, out in Decatur. And Dad started making dollars and cents. He started making good money. And I'm about 11 or 12 years old by this time. And when my dad started making good money, John Barleycorn come into our life. And I can remember my dad coming home from work, and he had been drinking, and most of the time there was a pint under the front seat. And Dad would come in from the job, and Mom would start fussing at him. And my mom is alive today. She lives in a convalescent home in Carrollton, Georgia.
Now, Mom never knew. How about, no, that's not it. My friend upstairs is trying to tell me something. Maybe it's the way I'm shaking. How about that? Is it right now? Still ain't right. How about that? How about that? How about that? That got it? How about that? What would you like me to say down there? All right, as I was saying, my mom is in a convalescent home in Carrollton, Georgia. And my daddy would come in from work, and he'd be drinking. And Mom would tell Daddy, she said, you ought not come home drinking and let the boys.
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I got a younger brother, five years my senior, and my brother's in this program. And he'll be celebrating his seventh birthday in February. But Mom would tell Daddy, she said, you ought not come in drinking and let the boys see you like this. And my dad was a small man in stature, but he was a very proud man. And when Daddy drank liquor, you didn't tell my Daddy what he should do and what he shouldn't do. And my mom never learned that.
And it's invariably led to a lot of fights at my house. Fights that I'm not proud to talk about today, but fights that I was there and saw. And more than once, I've seen my Daddy in a drunken stupor slap my mama around. I've seen my Daddy kick in the TV. I've seen my Daddy get his pistol and threaten to kill himself, locking himself in a bedroom and pulling the trigger. And me and my brother trying to get in to see if Daddy'd shot hisself. I've seen my Daddy take that gun and run Richard and me and my mother out of the house at the point of a gun, threatening to kill us.
And Mama would take us over to Miss Story's, our next door neighbor. And Miss Story would ask my mother one question. She said, R., how come you stay with that man? And she said, Story, the only thing I got to be grateful for is the boys will see what alcohol is doing to their Daddy, and they won't grow up to be like him. Now, people, the only thing I can tell you here tonight is I'm here to share Frank's story, but the things I saw my Daddy do as a little kid were the very things that Frank R. grew up to excel at.
And I'm not proud of that. You see, I didn't know nothing about Al-Anon or Al-Ateem or Alcoholics Anonymous, but I knew my Daddy was a very mean man when he drank liquor. And I knew what my Daddy said he was going to do, he generally did, and that led to a lot of fights, a lot of fights. But there was something else that happened, and I think that's pretty important, too, at this time. Because, you see, my Dad, once he'd come off them drunks, my Dad had a way of making amends. And he made them amends, people, with dollars and cents. And I'm afraid my love was for sale at that point in time.
And I had some friends that we used to go to the Madison Theater there in East Atlanta on Saturday, and they might have 25 or 50 cents in their pocket. Frank R. went with 10 or 20 dollars in his pocket. My Daddy soldered that. When I turned 15 years old, you have to be 16 to drive an automobile in Georgia. When I turned 15 years old, my Daddy gave me the keys to a 54, and it was a clean little 54. And I went out there and I looked at that 54 and I told my Daddy, I said, I'm not going to drive that thing.
I said, if you'll take it and get a black lacquer paint job on it, and get some Venetian blinds in it, and get it rolled and pleated with leather interior, and put some fender skirts on it, I will drive it then. And my Dad went out and fixed that 54 up just exactly like Frank R. had asked for. Now people, I knew nothing in this world about gratitude until I met you people and a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. Because everything in my life, my Daddy sold to it, that I got. Everything was given to me on a silver platter. And consequently, I learned how not to be grateful for nothing. I expected everything, but I couldn't be grateful for nothing.
At 16 years old, he gave me the keys to a red and white 56 Ford convertible. And that was in 1956. And I was quite the thing at Roosevelt High School there in East Atlanta. That's the other side of the tracks in Atlanta. And when you're driving around in a 56 Ford convertible with the top down, and you've got your little drink if you want it, you've got all the women you really want. And I had no problem. I was a real ladies' man in high school. And I thought then for a long time it was because I was a nice looking guy. And then I met you people, and y'all explained that to me.
You see, you've been explaining truths to me ever since I met you. The 12 steps that we talk about in our program, those 12 steps are directed at Frank R.. And I have to work on Frank R.. There's a room full of people here tonight, and you know I really don't get nowhere by taking one person out of their inventory. The only inventory Frank R. has got to take is Frank R.. Hey, it's Frank R.. I gotta look at me. And you people make me look at me. And there's
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a message there for me, and I never could do that. I graduated in 1958 from Roosevelt. Not by, some people come from Yale and some from jail, and I did not go to Yale, but I did go to jail. And I coulda went to any college that dollars and cents woulda got me into. But you see, at 17 years old, being a sound man and sound body and grown up and become a man, my daddy let me make my own decisions. And I assured my father that I had taken his money, all I was gonna ever take, that I had a diploma, I didn't need to go to college, I was gonna get a job, I was gonna go to work, and I wouldn't need no more of his money.
And that's how I started out. This was in 1958. Now, about six months later, I was going with this little girl who was in the 10th grade at Brown. And I'm not gonna do this tonight. I'm just not gonna do it. My wife is here, and she's heard this so many times. And she told me one time after a meeting, she said, Frankie, can you tell your story without talking about all them ex-wives? And it's just not necessary. You see, when I got, I thought I was different till I met you people. And I'll assure you that divorces, it looks like it has a little bit to do with the disease sometimes. I met a lot of brothers and sisters in our college that knows what divorces are. And so I told my daddy that I was gonna get married. I had a job working at Rich's Department Store. I made $42.50 a week at Rich's, and I was doing quite well for myself. And I informed my dad of the idea that I was gonna marry my high school girlfriend. And he said, that's a good idea, son, if that's what you want.
And I did. And dad went out and bought me a three-bedroom brick home in Decatur, put in a built-in kitchen, a paneled den. By this time, I'm driving a brand-new red 59 Pontiac, straight-shift, straight-shift, three two-barrel carburetor. And I moved my new bride into the new house with new furniture and my new automobile, and I could talk to you the rest of the night, people, about responsibility. I knew what responsibility was. You see, I had everything you big people have. Now, I couldn't pay the bills, but I knew how that worked too. You called daddy. And daddy was there to bail me out, and he did many, many times. But I also started drinking. And when I started drinking, I'm not a big man, but I'm an old man. I'm about 140 pounds. But I can drink a pint of liquor, and I become a 300-pound ape. And I think I'm Tarzan, all the ladies are Jane, and the old men are cheetahs.
And I act that way, or I acted that way. And that led to a lot of problems. That led to a lot of fights at my house. I knew what blackouts was. I didn't know what blackouts was. I was having them, but I didn't know what they were. I just figured that was when I drank a little bit too much, and I won't do it next time. But you know, for somebody that calls himself a grown man that gets up in the morning and doesn't have no idea what he said or did the night before, that's just not too good. That's not being a grown man. But that's the way I was acting. This marriage lasted three years, and it ended in divorce. I went to work at Owens, Illinois, Glass, and I'm employed at Owens, Illinois, Glass today. And that's for the grace of God, I'll assure you that. I've been there now almost 15 years. But I got laid off, and when I run out of work, my daddy got me a job at Eastwood Hardware and Builder Supply there in East Atlanta. And dad was the man's biggest customer. He was buying all his building material from Mr. Banderslack. And you see, when your father is the biggest account this company has, his son does just about what he wants to do. And he made me the shipping clerk at Eastwood Hardware and Builder Supply, and that's where I learned how to drink white liquor. Now I'm about 22 by this time, and I'm driving a maroon 61 Pontiac this time with four on the floor, three under the hood, two coming out the rear, and a fifth in the dash. And once again, people, I could tell you exactly what it was all about.
I was a guy, my name was Webster, and I knew everything in the book. I knew, and I was one of those guys that had all the answers once I started drinking. This job lasted for a while, and like I said, this is where I learned how to drink white liquor. And we got a saying in our head one back then, if it ain't white, it ain't right. And I learned how to drink white liquor real early in the morning, about 7 o'clock in the morning, and we'd load the trucks out, and the first truck back would have government liquor, and we'd drink government liquor until about 5 that evening. And I'd drive the car home, and my
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mom would cry. And I'd come in so drunk sometimes that I couldn't hardly get in the house. And my mom would cry. And she said, son, what's happening to you? And I said, damn, mom, I'm working myself to death out there, and you're fussing at me. And mom didn't understand. But my mom and dad preached to me a lot. Now you can imagine my daddy preaching to me. And I looked at him, and I'd seen him do a lot of things a lot worse than I'd done.
And there he is telling me I ought not be that way. So I didn't pay a lot of attention to my dad. And a lot of things people, my mother, told me way back then are things you people tell me right now, things I've heard in a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. My mama told me that it was more blessed to give than to receive. And then I got to you people, and you told me I had to give it away in order to get it. My mother told me that honesty, son, is the best policy. And I get to you people, and you say, does thy own self be true? There's a lot of what my mom taught me as a little boy and as a young man growing up that you people in closed discussion meetings, one-on-one, shared with me that made a little sense. But I couldn't get it, people, with mom and daddy, because they was just preaching to me, and I didn't need nobody preaching to me. I didn't need nobody talking about God to me. You see, I needed to believe in God or against God, I guess. And today, when I got here, I'd like to say that, you know, if you'd have told me about John 3.16, I thought you was talking about the men's room on the third floor. I really did. I knew nothing about John 3.16, but I know about John 3.16 today. And I believe there's an awful lot in our good book that's synonymous with what's in our big book. And my friend upstairs walked very close with me today, and I need him more today than I ever need him in my life.
But I know he's always there. You see, my God works through people. He works through each and every one of you, I said tonight. And for that, I'll always be grateful. I'm grateful that I know that today. But my drinking was getting worse. I was learning about the jails, the DUIs, and my mom said a decent woman wouldn't have nothing left, wouldn't have nothing to do with me. And it was along about that time that the preacher's daughter called. And the preacher, this is a little girl that I went with, my high school girlfriend.
And she's the preacher's daughter at Ormond Park Presbyterian Church. And she was a pretty girl. And she called and said she'd been elected president of the Westminster class, and wouldn't I please come back to Sunday school and church. And that was just right after my mom had said a decent woman wouldn't have nothing to do with me. So I thought that would be a good idea that I go back to Sunday school and church. But once again, people, I went as a little kid because mom and dad made me go. And I went back this time to show my mama that a decent woman would have something to do with me. And you know, I found out something then. I had to cut down just a little bit on my drinking, but I didn't have to drink so much around them Christians. Because they didn't do no drinking at all, and they didn't know about Bob's Hideaway. They didn't know about the whiskey or go-go. And they didn't know all these things that I'd been in. And you know, I could sit around and tell them these tales, and they'd say, wow, you've been there? I'd say, yeah, yeah, sure did. And I'd slow down a little bit on my drinking. I then asked this girl to marry me, and that was marriage number two, and that lasted a little over a year. And I give the Daytona 500 credit for breaking up that marriage. Janice was, I went into the Army, too. I joined the Georgia National Guard. That's the best way I knew to beat the draft. I didn't want to be drafted. And I thought I was going to take an easier, softer way. And I wound up ten years in that damn reserve. I was in Fort Sill, Oklahoma with six days to go, and they POR'd the whole post. Now, that's prepare for overseas replacements. And I was supposed to have been back in Atlanta in less than a week, and these Cuban, I mean, Russian ships was headed to Cuba, and I thought I was going to war. And I tried to tell them I was supposed to go back to Atlanta, but I still got them shot. But I come back, and the only thing out of that marriage, you see, I had tried to be a better man. But once I got back, I went back to the old Frankie, the things that were important to me, and that was the bright lights in the big city and playing a phony, make-believe role. And that's what I did, people. I drank alcohol, and I went into a phony, make-believe world. And thank God, due to this program and you people, I don't have to live like that no more. But that was the only way I knew to live back then. And that marriage ended after a little over a year, and out of that marriage was a little boy. Now, I'm not proud of this, but this is alcoholism as I understand it. A man come in Eastwood Hardware and Builders Supply one Saturday afternoon and congratulated me on the birth of my son. My son was two weeks
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old, and I didn't even know he had been born. You see, that divorce was final seven months after our marriage. And I paid child support. Me and Dad paid child support for about three and a half years, and then the child was adopted. Now, that son of mine was adopted into a good Christian family. He's got a good father. He's got a good mother. And they're pretty happy. I assume they are. I've been told they are. And this is what counts. And the only reason I say that at this point in time is step nine had to be adjusted, and I'll explain to you just a little bit down the road how I was able to do that. But that marriage, as I say, ended in divorce, and I went back to the people that I loved the most. I got a job back at Owens, Illinois, Glass, and that was in 1965, I believe. Here at Owens, Illinois, I met the little lady that I'm married to today. And through the grace of God, a program called Alcoholics Anonymous, and a bunch of wonderful people just like it's in this room tonight, Sherry and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary last March. Now, I'll assure you that Miss R. was not going to put up with Mr. R. for 13 years the way our marriage started out. When I saw Sherry out there at Owens, Illinois, those people are the greatest people in the world. I thought they were then, and I think they are now.
You see, they work rotating shifts out there, and you work seven to three, and you get off at three and you go to Stewart Avenue and Bob's Hideaway and Uncle Tom's and you drink draft beer and you drink liquor and you tell lies and just have a ball. And then you work three to eleven and you get off at eleven that night and you go to Bob's Hideaway or Stewart, Uncle Tom's, or the Martinet, and you drink liquor, tell a lie, and just have a ball. And what was so great was you worked eleven to seven the third week, and you got off at seven in the morning and they had a happy hour down at Uncle Tom's. And from seven to eight, you could get a nickel beer. And I told Sherry, I begged her many nights working eleven to seven, Sherry, honey, let's just go down at one hour, I'm just going to drink a few beers. And you know, after that happy hour from seven to eight, nothing could have got me out of there. And I know that today because you see, the Chinese have a proverb that says, the man takes a drink, the drink takes a drink, and then the drink takes a man. And that's exactly how alcohol did Frank Wright. I would take the first one and then the drink would take one. And then the next time, the drink would take Frankie. And that happened and that went on in my life until 1971. I don't ever want to forget that. I can't afford to ever forget that. And I know we got a twenty-four hour program today, and I won't always remember that. There's no graduation day in a program called Alcoholics Now. But this good looking woman was working out there and she wore them nice looking blue jeans and she looked good. And I asked Sherry, I said, hey baby, how about a date tonight?
And her friend said, Sherry, don't get mixed up with him, he's trouble. And you know, Sherry was right on course. She don't pay much attention to what people tell her and she just said, hey, let's go. And we started dating and we started having a good time. Or I call myself having a good time. We'd go down to the strip and I was bad to gamble too. I always talked about my boat. When my boat gets in, I'm going to pay everybody back and everything going to be all right. And I kept looking for my boat. And I would drink liquor and I'd talk to you about my boat. People, my boat did get in. But it was waving the flags of Alcoholics Now. And all you beautiful people was on that boat. And that's the boat I was looking for, I guess, and I never knew. Sherry and I was dating, we dated for a couple of years. And we went down, no we didn't, we dated for about a year, I guess. And we'd go to Stewart Avenue and I'd get drunk and I'd get in a fight. And I, you know, I used to talk a lot about fighting and CC's heard me. I was bad to fight. Now, I come into Alcoholics Anonymous in 71 with an 8-2-1 record off Stewart Avenue. That's eight losses, two damn near beat to death and one beat slap to death. I don't believe I ever won a fight. And then I get to you people and you talk to me about the insanity of alcoholism. But I'd take this pretty woman to Stewart Avenue and I'd gamble and I'd lose my money and I'd lose her money and I'd get in a fight and somebody'd bust my nose and she'd take care of me. And she'd love me back to hell. And I liked that. And we'd get paid every two weeks back in.
We get paid every two weeks back in at Owens, and we went out there one Friday to pick up our paycheck, and by this time I'm driving a black 63 Thunderbird.
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Now that T-Bird was nice. It was pretty. And we went out there to get our checks, and Cheri got her check. She had some overtime. They sent me to personnel. When I got to personnel, it seems that I'd been garnishing to the tune of a little over $2,000. And people where I drank, there was always some barroom lawyers. Now, I know B.J. wasn't a barroom lawyer that spoke this afternoon, but I always drank with barroom lawyers, and I would listen to these people.
I've never yet, John, ever asked the first one where he went to law school, where he got his degree, but they used to share this wisdom with me. And I was sitting at the Mark Inn. I had moved from Stewart Avenue to the Mark Inn. That's where they got wall-to-wall carpet on the walls. Man, it was downtown, and it was right across the street from the plant. And I was sitting over there one day, and I told them, I said, if I paid everybody I owed, I wouldn't have enough money to buy me one more drink.
And they said, Frankie, don't you know that the Glenwood National Bank and the CNS Bank are big lending institutions? They loan that money for interest. That's how they make their money. And if they don't get your little $100 or $75 off, man, they just write it off as a bad debt. Now, people, I didn't know that. I didn't know that. And I forgot it. I just forgot all about the Glenwood National and the CNS and that money I owed.
And let me tell you, people, that was a crock. They don't write it off. What they do, they turn it over to the attorney. The attorney will turn it over to the judge, and the judge turns it over to Owens-Illinois Glass. And that's how I got my garnish. At the same time, that pretty black 63 Thunderbird, the wrecker pulled up out there in the parking lot. And, people, let me tell you something else, and this is important.
If you don't pay the car notes, they'll repossess the car. And we can talk about a little bit of ego depletion by now, because when my 63 Thunderbird repossessed and my check garnished, they told me after Uncle Sam got his and the lawyer got his, if I worked 80 hours every two weeks, I'd get $14. And I think the second part of step one, it was starting to come true in my life. My life was becoming unmanageable.
My brother, at the same time, was trying to break all the records that I had previously set with drinking and going to jail and wrecking automobiles. My daddy's drinking wasn't getting no better. He was going down here. I had the child support that I was getting in trouble with. And this, at this point in time, is when I proposed marriage to Sherry Wright. She's not smiling either, Pete. And you know what? She said, there ain't a way in the world I'll marry you.
But a good alcoholic takes no fun answer. And I begged and I pleaded and I cried a little bit too, I guess, for a couple of days. And finally she said, all right, I'll marry you. And that's how our marriage started. Now, something happens when you give these women these wedding rings. They change. Yeah, Sherry was my third one, and I know they change. Sherry started asking them funny questions about, what did you do last night?
Why do you run around with the crowd you run around with? Why don't you accept some responsibility and pay some bills? What did you do with your check? All them silly questions. And, you know, I knew how you handled them the same way my daddy handled them. And that led to a lot of heartaches and tears at our house. A lot of fusses and fights. Sherry had a son by her first marriage. He's a fine young man.
He's here with me this weekend. His name's Dean. And Dean, there was one other thing that happened too. And Dean is a good boy. He's always been a good boy. I'm mighty proud of that son. But Dean went off to his grandmother's for a month up in Chicago, Blue Island. And Dean come back there. This has been about four years ago. When Dean come back, he asked me, he said, Dad, can I talk to you a minute?
I said, yes, son. He said, why won't you adopt me? You see, his mother, his grandmother, had spent a whole month up there with him. Telling him just how no good his daddy really was. Or how no good I was.
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Miss Moody thinks today that the only reason I married Sherry was for Sherry's car. And Sherry, that car was a junk anyway, I mean. As a matter of fact, when Sherry and I got married, I owed her $700. And I wrote that one off. Just like that. But anyway, Dean come home and wanted me to adopt him. And that's a gift. That's a gift that you people gave me. You people in this beautiful program. That my son would want to carry my name.
And that made this drunk very proud. In 1971, in October, Sherry, I brought my mother in too. My mother was living with my daddy. And I was afraid my daddy was going to get drunk and kill her. Because daddy's drinking had kept going down. And mama was living with me. So I went and got my mama. And I brought my mama home to live with me and Sherry. And I let her see how Frank R. lived. I let her see me slap my wife around.
I let her see me knock doors down at my house. I let her see me go to jail. I let her see me make such a fool out of myself. And I called myself people helping my mama. And I know today that my mama does not understand a program called Alcoholics Enough. But I do know she's very grateful to you people and what you've done for her boy. If you talked to mom today, she would tell you Oral Roberts is the one that got me sober.
And, you know, I used to laugh at that too, people. But now I kind of, I guess I'm open-minded to the point that I know that mama sent a lot of prayers. And I know she wrote off to Oral Roberts to pray for Frankie. And I think the reason Frank R. is sober today, somebody's prayers was answered. And so I give mama that right. And mama gives Oral Roberts that credit. And that's all right. That's all right.
I can handle that today. But Sherry, after five years of living in this, she got the lawyer. And divorce number three was headed my way. Now, in Atlanta, we got an ad that runs in the Journal of Constitution. And this ad said, if you've got a drinking problem, call such and such a number. People, it doesn't say, call alcoholics anonymous. It said, if you've got a drinking problem, call such and such a number.
And I thank my God for the way that ad's worded. Because, you see, people, if it had said, call alcoholics anonymous, I'm afraid I wouldn't have found you. Because that's the one thing I knew in my life, that I was not no alcoholic. I knew what an alcoholic was. It was that skid row bum that laid in the gutter and begged for wine. And it just wasn't a guy like me that just had a little bad luck every once in a while.
And that's what I did. People picked on me a lot. And I knew that. But this said, call if you've got a drinking problem. And I was ready to talk about a drinking problem. And I called that number, and it was a central office. And I told this lady down there who I was. And I said, I'm calling about the ad in the paper. She said, if you'll give me your name and phone number, I'll have someone to get in touch with you.
I gave her my name and my phone number. And, of course, by this time, I got my own apartment. Sherry and Dean had done left. My mama had done left. And I had the four walls to our little apartment down on Camp Creek Parkway. A few minutes later, the phone rang. And the guy said, my name's Tom T, and I'm an alcoholic. Can I help you, Frank? And I thought, wow, how in the world can a drunk help me now?
I said, Tom, I don't know whether you can or not, but I called about that ad in the paper. He said, do you need a drink? I said, Lord, God, no, I don't need a drink. You see, all alcoholics, the minute their eyes open in the morning, they reach over and grab a bottle and take a drink. And, people, I didn't open my eyes in the morning. I just not, I did not take part in the day's activities after the morning, after the night before.
I couldn't. And I laid in that bed, and I shook. And I was nervous and scared, and I was shaking. He said, Frank, he said, can I come out and talk to you? And I said, would you please? He said, I'll be out there at 4 o'clock. And this was on a Saturday. As soon as I hung up, I called Sherry. She was over to Mother's. She always went over to her mother. Her sister, bless her heart, is not with us tonight.
But her sister was always there to move Sherry out. But when Sherry come back home, her sister never was around. That was mine. And we made a lot of moves in those five years. But anyway, I called Sherry up just desperate. And I think now about our requirement for membership. Our third tradition is a desire to stop drinking. And I'm very grateful that there wasn't a meter on the doors at the Tri-City Group in College Park, Georgia, when Frank R. walked in there his first day in there.
That registered my desire to stop drinking. It wasn't there, people.
[00:40:00]
I had a desire to stop a third divorce. And I believe a lot of Al-Anons get a lot of AAs into Alcoholics Anonymous. I really do. And I know today that this is how my journey started. But I called Sherry. And I said, Sherry, would you please come over? There's a guy coming out from Alcoholics Anonymous to talk to me. And she said, yeah, I'll be over there. I said, well, he'll be there at 4. She said, I'll be there.
At 4 o'clock, Tom showed up. And he didn't look like what I thought you alcoholics looked like. He's about 45 or 50 years old. He had a pair of slacks and a sports shirt on. Had a smile on his face. And he was driving a car, of all things. People in our program called Alcoholics Anonymous. He told me there was a meeting at Tri-City Monday night. And he'd like to take me. And I had one eye on Tom and one eye on the window.
Because, you see, Sherry hadn't got there yet. And she was missing this man's beautiful message that he had. And Sherry finally got there. She was late. And when she come in, I got Tom. And I said, Tom, tell Sherry about this wonderful program. And people, I've made a few 12-step calls now in the last nine years. But I have never, ever called on anybody that was any more phonier than this drunk right here.
And I say that to say this. I really don't think it matters how. We found a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. It really doesn't matter whether our wife drives us, our boss strongly suggests we go, whether our doctor says we better get there, or we just get off our duff and come on in. It really doesn't matter why we get here. But why we stay is what's really important. And I've got to stay in this program, and I've got to stay active for Frank R..
This is my only chance at sobriety. And I know that today. Sherry and I got ready to go to Tri-City that Monday night. And I was nervous, and I was scared, and I was shaking. And I put on a tie. I put on my only suit, and I put on my tie, and we went to Tri-City. And I needed to drink, people. I would have loved to have had a drink right then because I didn't know what I was going into. But I went in the doors of the St. John's Episcopal Church, the Tri-City group.
And that, by the way, is the best home group in the whole U.S. of A. And I hope you all feel that way about your home groups because that's exactly what you told me I was supposed to feel, and I certainly do. And CeCe is agreeing with me down there, so I know I've got to be right. But anyway, I went in the doors of the church that night, and the first person I saw at the coffee pot was a guy I worked with.
And I knew he was a drunk. But, you see, Don just quit drinking, and that's what I was going to do. I was just going to quit when I got 75, 80 years old. I was just going to ask God to forgive me and go on to heaven, I reckon. And then you people learned that. You'd come up and say, Frank, did you ever stop to think of the way you drank? You might not get to live to be 75, 80. That's what you all do.
You keep busting bubbles. And, you know, that was the truth. You spoke truth to me. The speaker that night, you all had a double birthday that night at Tri-City. And neither one of those people at the birthday party was far was even there. They was out of town on business. And you all were celebrating that birthday just like you knew what was happening. Now, you can imagine what I thought. Anyway, something did happen real good.
At the end of that meeting, they gave out some chips. And they said, we offer the white chip to anyone who wants to try this any way of life. And I looked over at Sherry, and Sherry was looking kind of hard at me. And I thought it'd be a good idea if I picked up a white chip. An idea. I picked up a white chip, and something else happened, people. You people applauded. And you made me feel good. And I'm a creature of feelings today, people.
I drank liquor because it made me feel good. But you know what? I replaced alcohol with Alcoholics Anonymous because you people made me feel good. And I'll always remember that. I left that meeting that night shaking hands with a lot of people. And I went across the railroad tracks there to Shoney's, and we made plans to move Sherry back home. And a program called Alcoholics Anonymous had already started working in this drunk's life.
Tuesday, Tom called. Tom said, Frank, there's a meeting in East Point tonight. I'd love to have you go with us. I said, Tom, you don't understand. That meeting I was at last night, I said, you said, Frank, you need to make 90 meetings in 90 days. I said, Tom, I'll see you tomorrow. Wednesday, Tom called back. He said, Frank, there's a meeting at the airport. I said, Tom, I'm going to that meeting I was at last Monday night, tomorrow night.
He said, Frank, you just don't understand. And Tom did not call Frank back. Just don't understand. And Tom did not call Frank back no more. I think Tom might have wrote me off a book right there. But I'll always be grateful for Tom, too. Because you
[00:45:01]
see, there was a drunk that took enough time out of his day on a Saturday afternoon to bring a message, regardless what I did with him, to bring a message to this drunk. And people, that's what it's all about. That's what it's all about. Thursday night, I was telling my mother, if the only way I could live with Sherry was to give up drinking, I'd just soon be dead. Everybody I knew drank and partied and had a good time. And if that was the only way I could live with that woman was to not drink, I'd just soon be dead.
She said, son, you're going to have to decide that for yourself. Sherry bowled on Thursday night back in, and she comes stomping down the steps and said, you going to that meeting tonight? And I didn't know much about honesty at that point in my life. And I said, yeah, I guess so. But if I'd have been honest, I'd have told her something else. I was thinking a lot of other things. But I went to that meeting, and for all intents and purposes, probably the most, if there is such a thing, the most important meeting I ever went to in my life. There was a closed discussion at that meeting that night. There was 25 or 30 of you people. John L. led that discussion. And y'all talked a little bit about the first step and how you got to a program called Alcoholics Know. And the first man that opened his mouth, his name was Frank. And Frank said, my wife drove me in this program. And wow, I looked up, my name was Frank. And I knew Sherry R. had a lot to do with me sitting where I was sitting. But as it went on around the room, you said your names, and you said you were alcoholics. You talked about your DUI. You talked about your broken home. You talked about your financial difficulties. You talked about your jail. And you talked about something else, people, that I only knew as a hurting in the gut. And that was guilt, remorse, and self-pity. When it got my turn, I was one of the last to ask to say anything. And I told you that night, I said, I don't know whether I'm an alcoholic or not. I said, I guess, Sherry thinks I am. And I said, I guess I'm here to find out. And John smiled at me and he said, Frank, ain't nobody here going to tell you you're an alcoholic. We're going to suggest that you make 90 meetings in 90 days. You get you that letter to your over on the table. It's free. You buy you a copy of that big book, Frank. That's our Bible.
And you read that book. And he said, at the end of 90 days, you decide for yourself whether you're an alcoholic or not. If you're not an alcoholic, you're going to save yourself a few dollars. And if you are an alcoholic, Frank, you got a chance on saving your life. And people, that's how the journey started. I made my 30 meetings in 30 days. And I got my red chip. And I was pretty proud of that red chip. That's the first thing in this drunk's life that I'd ever done on my own that I really earned and was really, really proud of. Thirty days, I hadn't had a drink. That's the longest I'd been since I started drinking. And my sister called me from Washington, D.C. And I said, honey, I've joined Alcoholics Anonymous and I hadn't drank a drink for 30 days. She said, Frank, there ain't nothing in the world worse than a sober drunk.
And I thank God sent that message to Frankie. But I kept going to them meetings. And you don't go to meetings in Zone F in Atlanta. You don't go to East Point, Red Oak, Tri-City without them steps. They talk about them steps. And if you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it, you're ready to take a certain step. And you can bet there were some that I bought there. But the steps, as I understand them today, the first three steps are synonymous with how and how it works. That's the honesty, the open-mindedness, and the willingness. The willingness just to try. Just try, Frankie. Do the best you can today.
I was six months sober. I had a blue chip after 90 days. They didn't give out the gold chip there. But six months sober, I was asked to go to Warner Robins to speak to a big meeting. Big meeting. And that ego was way up here. And I was going to Warner Robins to say this state, country, city, town, whatever. I was going down there to tell them how the program of Alcoholics Anonymous works. You people have a lot of love and a lot of patience and a lot of tolerance. And I know that today. But I went down there and I explained the twelve steps six months sober to the gathering. And there was a beautiful old-timer come up to me after the meeting. And he put his arm around me and he said, Frank, let me get you straight on step two. I was screwed up for four years on that step. And ain't it great what you think and don't just blurt out. You know, I'm really grateful for that because, you know, the first thing I latched on to is this individual program. And, you know, we talked a lot about traditions here already this weekend. And Wesley said quite a bit to me this afternoon or this morning about tradition. But the only thing I knew about traditions after six months of sobriety was our leaders are trusted servants. They do
[00:50:01]
not govern. I didn't want to know nothing else. I just wanted to know there wasn't no bosses in this program. And I like that. We don't need no bosses. But step two, I explained to him that when I drank liquor, it drove me crazy. And Chad told me this. He said, you said when you drank, Frank, it drove you crazy. I said, that's right. He said, Frank, and when you didn't drink, you was all right. Is that right? I said, yeah, when I didn't drink, Chad, I was in good shape. Everything was OK. He said, Frank, let me ask you one question. He said, how come for 13 years, once you get out of jail, once you get back in the house, once you get everything straightened out with your wife, once you'd be doing good, how come you went right back and did the same thing over and over and over again? People right then, step two, come clear to Frank Wright. It really didn't matter whether Frankie was drinking or whether I was dry. I was still insane. And I knew that at that point in time.
Step three is just, as I said, the willingness to try. My inventory consisted of nothing no more than being the sorriest S.O.B. that ever got the alcoholic's number. And you let me get away with that for four years. And then one of you come up and wrote to him. You said, Frank, that ain't your inventory. That's your damn ego. You see, you can't even be the sorry S.O.B. You got to be the sorriest. And I knew what he was talking about. There was a big Canadian. His name's already been mentioned here once this weekend. But a big Canadian smoking in Atlanta Roundup. And he talked about some feelings. And he said, you look pretty good on the outside, but how do you feel on the inside? And after four years of sobriety, Frank Wright's got a pencil and a piece of paper. And I started looking at Frank Wright. And I'm very grateful for that. I immediately shared that.
And that fifth step, I don't know about the rest of you, but to me, the hardest thing with the fifth step was sharing it with another person. Now, I could tell God about it, and I could tell Frank about it, but I had to share it with another human being. And my sponsors meant an awful lot to me with that fifth step. Step six was a step that I thought was going to make me Saint Frankie. I was scared to death of step six. And I got to twelve and twelve, and in the twelve and twelve, he said, this is a step that separates the man from the boy. And I just knew that when I was entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character, a bolt of lightning would hit him, a big flash, and I'd be Saint Frankie. And I can't handle Saint Frankie. But that ain't what it was talking about as you explained it to me. Once again, God will remove these defects of character, but God works in his time. He don't work in Frank's time. And that's something I got to remember.
Humility. You people gave me an answer to humility this morning in the workshop. I loved what I heard this morning. You know, they told me when you think you got it, you ain't got it. I knew that. And they told me an alcoholic, humility will set in about three days after rigor mortis. I knew what that was. But I heard a beautiful man this morning from the podium say humility is when somebody else is talking about your humility. It's not you talking about your humility.
When I made that list, and at the top of that list was Frank R., because, you see, Frank R. is a guy really running the gutter. Now, that wasn't the only name on the list, but Frank R.'s name was the first one I put down. And I got some amends to make to this drunk, because it's a miracle. It's only God's grace that I'm here with you tonight. I'm not supposed to be. The last one on this list was this little boy, Clark. And I asked Big John, and some of you out here know Big John. Big John's a big black man from Atlanta. And I often, when I first met this man, I wondered why he drank. He's about 6'9", he weighs about 270 or 280. And I told him, I said, John, if I was big as you, hell, I never would have took a drink. Wouldn't have needed one. And I know today. But I was telling John about this amends that I felt was necessary to make to that boy of mine that doesn't even know me. And he said, Frank, he said, what good are you going to do? He said, what good will you accomplish going to your son's home that you've given up for adoption, going and disrupting a family that's happy, that's living a good Christian life? Just what good are you going to do by making some amends like that? And I knew that John was telling me what I had to do. I had to let go and let God handle it. And I think God is handling it. As I said, I've got a son now. That's my son. And I'm mighty grateful.
I got to tell you, after the first year of sobriety, right at the end of the first year,
[00:55:03]
my dad come out. My dad, this was a big man. This was a Mason, a Shriner. He went York right and Scottish right. He taught Masonry. He was a big shot. He knew all the important people. He kept his son from going to jail many, many times. But this man had wound up on Skid Row in Atlanta at the Justin Hotel. And my daddy come out one Sunday to have dinner with me. Sherry fixed a nice dinner and some banana pudding. And my dad sat in that living room with me. And I had a chance to make some amends to my father. And I told my dad that I was almost a year sober. And I said, Danny, I hope you'll be at my birthday. He said, son, you know I'm going to be at your birthday. He said, I'm mighty proud of you. He said, you know, it's been five years since your old dad had a drink. And my daddy was drinking every day of his life at the Justin Hotel. And I knew that, people. But what's more important than that, I knew a little bit about a disease called alcoholism.
My dad also worried about my mother. You see, my mama was living with me. And my mama left my daddy because there was another man. That's what daddy thought. There never had been another man in my mother's life. Only my father. But it was real to my daddy that she left him for another man. And this used to lead to a lot of fights that I had. And I'd fight my daddy over that. And I'm not proud of that today either. But I told my daddy that afternoon, I said, daddy, there never has been another man in mama's life.
You're the only one she's ever loved. And the only reason she couldn't live with you is on account of your drinking. And he said, you know, son, I believe you mean that. And I said, daddy, I mean it more than anything I ever said. And you know, we had a good afternoon. We got a lot off our chip. And we didn't fuss. And we didn't fight. I took my daddy home that night at the Justin Hotel. And I kissed my daddy before he got out of the car. And I told my daddy I loved him. Now, people, this is something I hadn't done in 20-something years. And I didn't kiss my daddy because he'd just given me a $100 bill. I kissed my daddy because he'd gave me an afternoon to share with him. About 4.30 that next morning, the phone rang. And it was the Justin Hotel. And they said they'd found my dad dead in bed. And I really believe that my friend upstairs, whom I choose to call God, gave me that last day with my dad. And I believe that was just a stepping stone that led me just a little bit closer to my friend upstairs. Now, when my daddy passed away, I didn't think nobody would be at that funeral at Carmichael's in East Point. But that funeral home was crowded.
Daddy wouldn't have knew who you were. But it was full of people. And it was from a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. There were people that loved Sherry and loved Frankie. And they wanted to be with us. And I'll never forget how much that meant to me. And I come back to you people. And you was there waiting with your arms open. And I've been walking with you ever since. And just the love that you find is a love second to none. And after about six years sobriety, I told you people, I just didn't know how to forget anybody. And about that time, I had to go to Emory Hospital. They had found a spur that was pressing into my spinal cord. And I had to lay down in Emory Hospital and let them go in. They cut my throat. Now, I tried for 13 years to get my throat cut on Stewart Avenue. And I wound up with six years sobriety in Emory Hospital. And that little neurologist saying, it won't hurt, Frank. So we're just going to cut it here and go in there and it'll be all right.
And people, I was a little scared. And John F. and Big John come out to see me and they talk to me. And I'm afraid I was guilty at this point in my life of saying, why me? Why me? You see, I'm six years sober and I'm trying to do all the right thing. Why does this got to happen to me? And John told me, he said, Frank, he said, we don't have the right there. Why me? He said, you see, when we asked him why me, we're putting ourself on his level.
And none of us will ever be on his level, Frank. Please remember that. And I found myself on my knees that night, asking my friend upstairs for the strength, just the strength to handle it. And when I got up, I realized that it really didn't matter how it come out. Whether I lived or whether I died really wasn't important. What was important that I knew was going to be all right, it's going to be OK. And I felt comfortable with that. I come through that surgery real well. And in less than two years, this was in 1978 this time.
This was in 1978 this time. In January of 78, and that's the greatest year next to my sobriety that has happened in my life. In 1978 in January, Sherry come home, or she come to work that morning,
[01:00:04]
and she said she had been to the doctor, and the doctors had confirmed what she had suspected, that she was pregnant. Now we had done a lot of praying for that baby. I had done some other things too. But Sherry was pregnant. In March of 78 my eyes went bad, and I wound up back at Emory Hospital. Now that's a good hospital, people. Evidently it's good. It seemed like I'd get there more than I'd like. But the neurologists run a bunch of tests, and they come to my room that March, and said, Frank, we know what your problem is. I said, that's good. What is it?
They said, you've got multiple sclerosis. I said, oh, what is multiple sclerosis? They said, Frank, we really don't know what causes it, and we don't know how to cure it. It affects your nervous system, and it attacks the myelin that wraps the nerves. It affects different people in different ways, and that's about all we can tell you about it. I said, is that all? They said, that's it. I said, well, you know I'm an alcoholic. And I said, nobody knows what causes alcoholism, and nobody sure can cure it. They can arrest it, but it can't be cured.
And I believe here tonight that the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous work for MS, just like they work for alcoholism. They're working that way in my life. There's a young man out here in a wheelchair. His name's Jack. And Jack and I have shared a little bit since I got here. And we know that it's going to be all right, regardless of how it happens. It's going to be all right. You see, God will do for us what we can't do for ourselves. And I'm comfortable with that tonight. In August of 1978, God sent me the most beautiful gift that anybody could ever have. It's Amanda Page, and she's here with us. She's up in the room right now. She don't do too good at these meetings. She's a beautiful girl. She's Danny's darling. That's what she is.
She's Danny's darling. And she means an awful lot. And that's another gift from a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. This is all we've received from you people is blessings. And I want to always, on a daily basis, remember that. That it's only through God's saving grace that we're here with you. I was at a meeting in Chattanooga, and there was a little thing on the wall, and it said, give praise for everything.
For this is the will of God through Christ Jesus concerning you. And I thought, wow, boy, that's good. I've never seen that before. And then a friend of mine that was with me when we was up there, he called me a week or so later, and he said, Frank, get the good book. And I did. He said, read First Theologians, chapter 5, verse 18. And I did. And it said, give praise for everything, for that is the will of God through Christ Jesus concerning you. And I submit to you tonight, people, I give praise for a program called Alcoholics Anonymous and you beautiful people.
I'm going to close this talk now with a poem. I got my first sober New Year's in Alcoholics Anonymous. It's a poem that's been mighty special to me. It was special then, and I don't guess I've ever made a talk that I didn't close at this point. It's called The Other Place. It said, I dream one night I passed away and left this world behind. I started down that lonesome trail, some friends of mine to find. I came to a signboard on the trail, the directions it did tell, keep right to go to heaven, turn left to go to hell. Well, I hadn't been too good on earth, just a hopeless booze and rape. So I knew there at the crossroad, the path I'd have to take.
I started down that rocky path that leads to Satan's place, a fear within not knowing just what I might have to face. Oh, Satan met me at the gate. What's your name, my friend? I said, I'm just old sober Frank, who's come to a very sad end. He glanced through some yellow fire. There's been a mistake, I fear. You're an alcoholic. We don't want you here. I said, I'm looking for some friends, and a smile store his face. If your friends are alcoholics, they're in the other place. So I turned and went the road I'd came till the crossroads I did see, and turned right to go to heaven. He's happy as could be. St. Peter smiled and said, come in, for you I have a birth. You're an alcoholic. You've been through hell on earth. I saw old Dub and old Pete too, Bill C and a friend called Bill, and it sure didn't make me happy, because I thought they had gone to hell. So friends, take warning. Learn something from my trip. You've got a place in heaven if you try hard not to slip. And if someone offers you a drink
[01:05:02]
when you're not feeling well, just tell him you're going to heaven, and he can go to hell. Thank you, Frank. That was a beautiful message, and I want to thank John for asking me to be here tonight, and I want to thank each and every one of you for being here tonight, because if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here. And if there's nothing else, I would like to close in the usual manner and join hands and say the Lord's Prayer.
And to forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and release us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.