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Source: DICOBE-00655 – Emerson G – GEORGIA STATE CONV – 1980-10-17.mp3 File: dicobe-00655-emerson-g-georgia-state-conv-1980-10-17.mp3 Duration: 01:02:48
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I didn't get to sit down and really talk with him, nor to hear his AA story. And I wanted to really sit down, drink a cup of coffee, and learn something about him. But he's so popular, everybody was buying for a few minutes of his time, and I didn't really get that opportunity. So finally, just before the meeting today, I said, M., is there anything good you want me to say about you? And he says, partner, anything you say will be better than it used to be.
So that's really about all I know, except that I know he's good AA. And I appreciate him coming and sharing his experience, strength, and hope with us. So if you will now help me welcome Emerson G. from Salem, Virginia. I am M. G. from Salem, Virginia, and I'm a grateful recovering alcoholic. I stand here today full of gratitude that you all were here when I needed you, and accepted me into this great fellowship that has made all this possible for me and my lovely wife to be here in the great state of Georgia.
I want to thank Gene and the other committeemen who also made it possible for me to be invited here. Not too long ago, I was sitting at home looking at my TV, and my friend Ray Charles came on, and he was saying that his song, Georgia, on my mind had been accepted as a state song. And I said to myself, this cat must be crazy as hell. Who would want to go back to Georgia? But let me tell you, in the last two days, and the tours, and the people that I've met here, Georgia will be on my mind a long time.
Savannah and the state of Georgia, and all you people, are something beautiful. You know, I never come to one of these conventions unless I get a funny feeling. You know, when I was a little boy back in Greensboro, one day I was sitting on the front porch and my mama had given me my reward for cutting the grass. And that reward was a bowl of buttermilk and a piece of cornbread. And I remember as I sit there enjoying my cold buttermilk, an old black fly flew and flopped down in my buttermilk.
And I sit there full of anger. I knew I couldn't drink the buttermilk because I'd been taught that flies was dirty. But I sit that buttermilk up on the banister, and as I look back, that's the way I feel here sometimes. I feel like a fly in a bowl of buttermilk. But you know, I left that buttermilk sitting there in the hot of the summer sun, and after a while that old fly crawled out of that buttermilk and laid up there a minute and dried itself off and flew on away, having itself a ball.
And that's what I do when I'm at these conventions. I just fly among all this white blush and have myself a ball. But I didn't come all the way to Savannah to tell you how beautiful it was because you already know. But I came to share my experience, strength, and hope with you, and to talk about this fabulous program that I found when my life was almost at an end. As I'd said before, I was born up in Greensboro, North Carolina, and in 1922, a strange thing happened.
They said that I was born, and some people said I was hatched. I don't know which one. But I can tell you my birth was not popular around Greensboro. You see, in the poor neighborhood where I was born, if a lady had 10 children, she should have some kind of husband. And my mama and the girls around my neighborhood, I believe, played a game, don't marry till you find Harry. And mama never found Harry.
So she had 10 children, and I was the baby of those 10 children.
[00:05:03]
Now that wasn't so bad, but I had a strange family who set us apart from most families. You see, there was a set of twins in my family that looked like Indians. And then I had a brother that looked like a Chinaman. And you know, I look at these A-Raps picture in the paper, I had a sister that looked like an A-Rap. And I was the baby, here I come, the little black one. And mama used to parade us up and down the street, and everybody in Greensboro knew that there was something funny going on down Lula G.'s house.
And they used to tease me. And I think I was born with resentments. This made me have an inferiority complex all of my young life. I had to learn how to fight at an early age, because our family was far, far apart. We wasn't close like most families. I remember when I was seven or eight years old, I always would look for something that I thought that could make me get over this trauma of being brought into the world like this.
When I was around seventeen, I found what I had been looking for. My brother brought some moonshine liquor home and put it under the house, and I noticed that when he would have some moonshine, he had a lot of guts and oomph. He could even talk back to my mother, who weighed 280 pounds. He was relatively quiet on every day until he got this moonshine in him. So I decided to test that newfound miracle that made my brother forget about everything.
And I can recall that day. As I look back now, when I took that first drink of moonshine, it did everything that I ever dreamed of happening to me. After a couple of swigs of that moonshine, I wasn't poor no more. I felt like I could outrun anybody, outdance anybody, outtalk anybody. And I think I made up my mind right then and there, if I can keep me some moonshine, then I'm ready to face this world and forget about this trauma that I've been in all my life.
You know, I had many, many warnings that moonshine and alcohol was no good for me. I believe God was trying to show me at that early age that I should take another route. But you know how us alcoholics are. I firmly believe that I was an instant alcoholic, because I worshipped moonshine and what it did for me. I was in high school by this time. I was bashful. I was ashamed. But I was a big man, and I was a good athlete.
I could do anything. It seemed like I had natural ability. But I didn't have the guts to look people in the face. I didn't have guts to make the big plays. I didn't have guts to even talk to girls. You know, when you're 17, that's the time that the girls start changing their shapes, you know. And most of us start doing a little flirting during that time. But I was never able to talk to girls. But I remember one night I got ahold of two quarter shots of moonshine, and there'd been a little girl down the street.
She was a cute little thing. She had the prettiest knees, long pigtail. And she was just my ideal girl that I thought that if I ever got enough guts to talk, she's the one that I would want to talk to. And there was a little sweet shop down the street. And I remember that night I got those two quarter drinks. I was able to walk up to this chick and say, look here, girl, I like you. And she was shocked.
And I even asked her if she would kiss me. And could I walk her home? That's what alcohol done for me. When I got home, I knew darn well that this miracle drug that I'd found, this moonshine,
[00:10:01]
was what old M. Young had been looking for all his life. And I decided right then and there, I must try to find a way that I can keep this miracle drug so that when I need some oomph, I can reach back and get it. And it'll give me what I needed to face the world. I was in high school. I was on the football team. I was a good football player. But something told me, Em, if you can play football as good as you do without alcohol, boy, if you can get a couple of swigs of that jive maybe over in the third quarter, you're going to be a bad dude.
So I made a deal with the water boy. His name was Pee Wee. And I said, Pee Wee, look, from now on, when I come to a pre-game discussion, I'm going to give you a little vinegar bottle with something in it, and I want you to hide it for me. And when I tell you I need it, you put it in a towel and give it to me. Well, I was 195 pounds, and Pee Wee weighed about 98 pounds wet, so he did what I said to do.
So I remember we went to Charlotte, North Carolina to play a game to determine who was going to play hillside of Durham for the state championship. And it was over in November, and it was cold as the devil that night. And we was losing 6-0. So we went in at halftime, and I remember Coach Nixon was giving us the old razzle-dazzle. He said, you backs ain't blocking, you linemen ain't taking out your—he was giving the old razzle-dazzle.
I wasn't paying that dude no mind at all, because I knew what I had to do. When he got through and our little rest period, I told Pee Wee, look, man, give me my stuff. So Pee Wee slipped me my half a pint. I went behind the screen, and I usually take just a swallow or two, but I remind you once again that this is an important game. And I started to rationalize like all of us alcoholics would do. And I took a half of that thing and decided, look, man, you better drink some more.
And I finished that half a pint. I remember trotting back on that deal at the third quarter, and I felt like a Black Stag. I felt good like a brother should. So in the third quarter, the other team throw the pass, and me and my corn liquor went after it. And I caught that ball, and I started to move out. Couldn't nobody touch me. I was weeding. I was barking. I was looking good. There was only one thing wrong.
I was going the wrong damn way. And I heard one of my teammates say, Em, please, Em, please, no Em. And I heard him over the crowd, and I stopped short of the goal line and reversed that field. Now, you know, any decent alcoholic, what I did, yes, I ran the whole length of that field and made a touchdown. And when I got back in Greensboro the next day, there was a little thing down in the bottom of the sport page, and it said, Em G. runs in 185 yards for a touchdown.
You know, anybody with any common sense would've stopped drinking alcohol right then and there. But not me. I just felt like that I had a little streak of hard luck, and I wasn't about to give up this new miracle drug. The next summer, they built a big fabulous swimming pool there in Greensboro called Windsor Community Center. And I learned how to swim quickly. And in three months, I was taking lifeguard training.
And around August, I made the lifeguard. I was one of the four lifeguards. Well, there was a college there called Bennett College. And boy, such pretty women you ain't never seen. I was the type of drunk that had to always outdo everybody else. And I remember that we started diving lessons, and a guy came in from Raleigh to teach us various dives, jackknifes, backjacks, half-gainers, half-gainers with a twist.
And I started, I was pretty good. So we was going to give an exhibition for these beautiful girls from Bennett College. I remember that afternoon, I put on my black velvet bathing suit, and I asked Mr. Kimbrey the head lifeguard if I could be last. And all the other lifeguards did their little diving.
[00:15:02]
They did a couple of jackknives and a swan or two. But I thought about my newfound drug, and I had about half of a half a pint in the locker room. And I went in and I took my swig of moonshine, and I felt good like a brother should. And after a while they called Emerson G., diving from the six-meter board. That's the high one. And his first dive would be a backjack knife with a half twist. I was going to outdo everybody.
And I remember me and my liquor hit that diving board, and that's all I remember. I forgot that I was supposed to do a backjack with a half twist, but I hit the bottom of that pool and just tore the whole top of my face up. Now, if you think you felt bad in life, you should be down on the bottom of a pool. Polka dot. No gills. I wasn't no fish. I had to come up. Such embarrassment that day I never went through.
They had to take me away from that pool. I was embarrassed. And once again, I didn't contribute this to alcohol. That was the story of my life. I finished school, flunked out of college, went on my way to New York. In 1941, that's when old Hirohito, Tojo, and old Mussolini was raising hell all around the world. And they tell me they drafted 10 million of us to go over and teach them a lesson. They only kept me nine months.
Because me and my liquor did something to that army that ain't worth mentioning. I'm almost ashamed to talk about it. But you know, I hope if we had to fight Iran, they'd screen the draftees carefully and not get too many M. Gilmers in there. Because I believe if they had not gotten me out of that army, we'd have lost the war. When I found out they wasn't going to let me be General MacArthur's assistant, me and my liquor really did some terrible things to that army.
But liquor had become a part of my life. I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, without alcohol. I recall I went to the Roanoke Valley, where I now live, and I'd taken quite a few geographical cures, hoping that alcohol wouldn't do me the same way at all these places. But I know now, regardless of where I went, I had to take M. G. with me. But I went to Roanoke in the Salem area. They call it the Roanoke Valley.
And the VA made a mistake and gave me a job. I'll never know how they kept me there. Because some of the things I did there on that job, I don't see why they didn't fire me. My alcoholism had reached its peak during this time. I'd gotten so that other alcoholics didn't even want to be bothered with me. You know, when one of us gets so that another drunk don't want to be bothered with you, you're in pretty bad shape.
You know, we drunks will drink out of each other's bowels. We'll share each other's food. And they tell me that some of them even share their women. I don't know. But I know one thing. The drunks around Roanoke Valley didn't want to be bothered with me, because I was a mean drunk. I was the type drunk that if we bought a pint of liquor and I thought that you drank a little more than I thought you ought to drink, see, I hit you in the mouth and broke your jaw right then and there.
I couldn't keep a girlfriend. I would go to the pawn shop and get my only suit out and carry a girl out, and if she looked at another guy, I was ready to hit her or fight her. So I was almost an outcast because of my alcoholism. I remember the VA, the supervisors, had told me, Em, you're a good nursing technician, but we can't put up with you and your drunken episodes. I think one time I was right on the verge of being fired, and I'd been out for about three or four days.
You see, I had started working the four-day work week way back then. I never could make that five days.
[00:20:01]
I went in that morning, and they had a little detail that someone had to go to the front to take some records. And when I got back, I noticed the whole staff was in the hallway. Some of the nurses was bleeding. The nursing assistants had blood all over them. One or two of them was getting in the ambulance on a stretcher. And I found out one of our worst psychiatric patients had gotten a metal mopstick and had really worked the staff over.
Well, now, I started to think like any alcoholic would think. Now I can be a hero. If I'm a hero, they wouldn't dare fire me. So I started to think, and I went to the charge nurse, and I said, look, let me go back there. I believe that I can get Mr. X to come out without hurting him. The fireman was there with their mace and the hose and all of this stuff. And the doctor said, no, it's enough people hurt.
And I begged them to let me go back there. Finally, they said, okay. So I went back there, and we had cubicles where there were two beds in a cubicle. And this patient was standing up on one of those beds, and he was cursing at the top of his voice. He still had this mopstick in his hand. And I said, oh, my God, what have I gotten myself into? I said, but I can't go back out there. I've got to do something.
So I got up on the other bed, and the more he jumped, the more I jumped. The more he cursed, the more I'd curse. He'd call me a SOB, and I'd call him a SOB. And we did that for 10 or 15 minutes, and all at once he stopped. And he said, you know something, you're a crazy son of a bitch. But I was able to walk that patient down the hall. And the doctors and the nurses, they wanted to know, what did you do?
How did you do this? And I got commendation, but the main thing is I got them off my back about my drinking. I was always ready to defend my drinking. Drinking got so bad, I started to rationalize, and I said, look now. You're a drink, and you've gone all over the world, and maybe you need to get married. Maybe marriage would give you some responsibility. Maybe you have too much money to spend. And I started to rationalize and think about what kind of wife would it take for me.
And I decided that the girl that I married would have to first be beautiful. Second, she would have to be intelligent. And the third thing, she would have to be obedient. So I started to look for me a wife. And finally I found the lovely girl that's now my wife. And I conned her and convinced this lovely girl that I was not an alcoholic, but I was a heavy drinker. She's now in Al-Anon, and I look at her sometimes now, and I think, you know, that Al-Anons ain't so smart either.
Because she believed me. And in a few months, Ann and I was married. But it wasn't long before Ann found out that old M. Guillermo was not a heavy drinker, but he was a full-fledged alcoholic and a mean one. I think of those days. Ann had four children. And I think what I took this beautiful lady through. And I never talk to a group when she's present, that I don't tell her that I love her, for staying with me during those times.
Because she had three beautiful daughters and a handsome son. And how she stood and saw me call those lovely girls bitches and whores, and call that beautiful, handsome son punk, and didn't leave me, I'll never know. I wanted to know that I love her for it. Because I don't think if she had left me, I would ever have found this fabulous program. Matter of fact, it was during those days I found out that Ann was the only thing in the world that I'd ever loved and cared anything about.
[00:25:01]
I remember Ann steamed around, and she stole money out of my pocket, and I don't know what all she didn't do, but she built our little dream house, I call it. And Ann got the message right away, because while Ann and the girls was upstairs trying to hang up drapes and things like that, I was downstairs building a nine-foot bar. And when Ann asked me what I was doing, I told her I was building this big bar, because me and my friends had a lot of drinking to do.
And I remember the sadness that came over this beautiful woman's face. But my drinking was getting to the place where Ann and the family could no longer tolerate it. And she told me something. She told me, Ann, if you don't do something about your drinking, I'm going to have to leave you. And I remember those days I was full of remorse, because I'd learned to love these girls. I'd learned to love this boy who was a star football player at the local high school.
I loved this little home, because it was the first home that I'd ever known in my whole lifetime. And I knew Ann. I didn't want Ann to leave me. So on my own, I started seeking what I thought was a little help. Now, where does drunks go to get their help? Yes. I went out to my bootleg joint, and I was telling the cats that my family, I was in trouble. Can't some of you cats help me? All I want to do is drink and be like other people, be able to take my lovely wife out and dance and romance, and just have a good time and take care of my family.
And one of my friends who's now dead spoke up, and he said, Em, I've been watching you. You don't know how to drink. He said, Now you come on outside. I'm going to school you, boy. He said, Now before you start drinking next week, he said, I want you to go down to Kroger's store, and I want you to get a bottle of olive oil. And before you start drinking, you drink a couple of spoons full of that olive oil, and when you start drinking, that liquor's just going to slide through you, and it won't have time to get you drunk and crazy.
So when I got paid the next day, I went down to Kroger's store, and instead of getting a pint of olive oil, I got a quart. And instead of drinking a spoon full, I drank a couple of glasses full. And I'm here to tell you, the only thing that olive oil did to me was give me the damnedest case of diarrhea you ever saw. And you know I drank so much of that olive oil, if you see my forehead shining up here today, I washed my face, is that damn olive oil still coming out?
I tried many things. I tried the raw egg treatment. They said that that would put a lining on your stomach. And another guy told me about Antisephine, that a lady down in South Carolina that was supposed to be able to give me some roots to kindly control my drinking. I went to the small loan company, and I got me $25 in my old car, and we took off down 220. It was down below Rock Hill, South Carolina, and I found Antisephine.
And I told Antisephine that when I drink, I don't act right. I want to fight, instead of wanting to make love. Can you help me? And she smiled at me, and she said, I know exactly what you need. She said, you'll come back in a little while. And I went back, and she gave me a little old hussy bag on a string. And she told me to put that around my neck, and don't ever take it off. She said, leave it there.
And she said, you're going to be able to drink like other people. I remember going back home, and I was the happiest guy that ever rode up 220. Long last old M. Gemma's going to be able to drink and go to work, make love to Ann, and take the children on picnics. I remember the next time I got paid, we went down to this little sweet shop called the Piccadilly, and we bought two fifths. That first fifth, I did all right.
All I wanted to do was dance and make, I was having a good time. And I would take that old bag, and I'd rub it. I'd say, work, baby, work. But when we got down in that second fifth, that old feeling came over me. Looked like somebody was making eyes at Ann, and looked like somebody was stepping on my new suede shoes. Somebody was stepping on my new suede shoes and everything, and that was about ten o'clock at night, and I went to jail three times before twelve o'clock.
[00:30:09]
One of these days, I'm going back to see Antisephine and asking for my money back. But you know, during this time, I was making pretty good money at the VA, but I had to get me a part-time job because the girls was taking a lot, because they had started cheerleading and needing those little white boots and all these good things. And I had this part-time job, and I used to admire this guy. He was rich. He had a Cadillac. His wife had a Cadillac, and his son had a Mercedes.
And you know, I noticed this guy. He would come in in the evening, and he would take that old sport coat off, and he would throw it on the couch and slam that Cadillac door. And he'd come in, and the maid would bring him a little glass with two ice cubes in it and bring that Johnny Walker red scotch. And he would take a little sip, and his wife would come and take a little sip. And after a while, they would start pinching and kissing each other. You see, that's the kind of drunk I wanted to be.
And I noticed he wouldn't ever really get down to drinking until he put that smoking jacket on. And I went and bought me a smoking jacket. But the same thing happened. After I got drunk, I still wanted to shoot up the house. I was an alcoholic. This man wasn't. Along this time, Ann was about fed up, and she told me so. And on Sunday evening, this lovely lady would leave about three o'clock, and she would stay about six.
At first, it was very convenient. It gave me about three hours unobstructed drinking time. But you know, at the height of my alcoholism, I made a tragic mistake. Here I had a woman, nine years my junior, that could have just about any man that she desired in the Roanoke Valley. And I had plum forgot there was a thing that you call homework. I forgot that there were certain things that a husband was supposed to do.
See, my drinking was first. And it looked like Ann would get so pretty that she left home on Sunday evening. And I decided to watch and find out where she was going. I got worried. You see, when you ain't doing nothing at home, you get worried about somebody giving you a little help on the outside. So I followed her one Sunday evening, and I found out she went into D.A. Hospital. I couldn't go no closer because I was afraid she would see me.
And they had made me chief steward of the union over there, and I had ten stewards under me, so I gave them an assignment. And I said, now look here, fellas and girls. You all know my car, don't you? Yep. Well, my car and my wife is coming in this gate at three o'clock next Sunday. I want you to find out where she goes. And I said, Monday morning, I want you to tell me. You see, I work with psychotic patients, but I knew they didn't stay crazy all the time.
Monday morning, one of my dear friends came to me and said, yeah, a man came in that gate, and she went over to a building. They called Building 10. And she went in the front door. I said, well, go ahead, ma'am. And then what did she do? Come on, come on. Tell me what she did. And she said she went in the little door and had a sign on it. I said, well, what did the sign say? He said, that sign said Al-Nah.
And I said, well, what the hell is that? And he said, I don't know. And I said, well, you go find out. So he went one way and I went the other, and we found a good chaplain, and the chaplain let us know that Al-Nah was a situation where the loved ones of the suffering alcoholics came together to learn how to cope with life. I started to think, here with a lovely woman spending her Sunday evenings, trying to learn to live with a big drunk like me, at least I could start thinking about my problem and about doing something about it.
The longest time and start doing, giving me the Al-Nah treatment. I don't know whether you all know what that means or not. In case there's any new people here, I'm going to tell you, I think I owe it to you because you just might have a heart attack.
[00:35:03]
You know, after you've been called OSOB for years, and all at once you start coming home and your wife start calling you darling and asking you how you want your hamburgers fixed, you know you could just pass out. And that's what started happening to me. Ann started getting so sweet. She started not even fussing with me. I could go out and have my check and she wouldn't say a word. I could knock a fender off the car, she wouldn't say nothing.
She would just smile. And she started laying the literature around. You know, I used to see that stuff laying on the dresser, but I wasn't about to look at that garbage. But then she started to put it in my clothes. You know, it's hell to be drunk and getting up trying to make it to the hospital on time, and you look in your pocket for a cigarette and there you find two or three pieces of literature.
And you start to put on your shoes, and there's some more literature. And I remember one morning I told Ann, I said, Ann, look, dawg, it's all right for you to go to your Al-Atan or Al-Aaron or whatever you call it, but please quit putting that garbage in my clothes. And bless her heart, she looked at me with those beautiful eyes, and she only smiled. And she kept putting the literature everywhere.
One morning I got up and I was running late. They told me not to be late no more. And I went in the bathroom, tending to my own self's business, and I sit down. And I was looking out the window, and I was tending to my own self's business, and I started to unroll the toilet paper and out fell some literature. And I said to myself, if this beautiful lady will go to this length to get me to read this garbage, I'm going to do it.
And lo and behold, I read that piece of literature, which was the 20 questions, and I said, oh my God, I must be one of them things. And I remember that morning tears streamed down my eyes. I did not want to be classified as an alcoholic. And Ann must have known that I was reading that literature, because when I came out, she asked me if I would do her a favor. She said that you promised me that if I didn't leave you, that you would do anything that I requested.
I am requesting that you come home this evening. I've got two men that I want you to talk to. And don't drink. Try to come home sober. I want you to talk to those two men. And I said, okay, dear, I promise. That day at work, many, many people offered me drinks. We used to church up, maybe get a pint, and two or three of us would sit in the old car and drink it before we went home. But that day I told all my friends, I'm not drinking.
I'm going home to my love. I promised the only person in the world, the only person that I cared anything about, that I was coming home. This was the day that I was defined out, that I couldn't control my drinking. I had boasted to my wife, my boss, the pastor, the lawyer, the doctors, that I can take alcoholic or leave it. I can drink it or leave it alone. But let me describe to you quickly what happened to me that day.
It's only about ten minutes from the medical center to my house, and it seemed like that there were some little men down in the bottom of my belly, and they had on golf shoes. And it seems like the more and closer I got to home, those little men was looking up to me and saying, Em, go by and get a drink. And I said, like hell I will. I'm going home to my love. And it seems like as I went a few more blocks, those little men started to stomp and scrape.
And the pain got so that I can hardly bear it. And they said, Em, you will stop. Go on and get a drink. And I said, like hell I will. I'm going home to my love. And one block from my house, those little men won. I had to go by to get a dollar drink. That day I found out that I was indeed powerless over alcohol,
[00:40:00]
that I couldn't leave it or take it. Alcohol was my master. I remember the remorse I felt that evening when I got home, and these two men were sitting in my living room. And they sit down and they talk to me about this fabulous fellowship of Alcohol Anonymous. They told me and assured me that if I would do what they said, that there was hope for me. I told those men, thank you for coming. I thought that I had the solution.
After they left, I called my lovely wife in and I said, Ann, I'm so glad you're sitting for those two guys. I know what's wrong now. I said, you know, a man that makes as much money a year as I do and can drink that old rotten bootleg joint stuff, I should be sick and crazy. Honey, I've been drinking the wrong brand. From now on, I'm only going to drink Johnny Walker Red Scotch. And I remember the gleam in that Al-Anon's eyes that evening.
She knew that the time was drawing near. She knew that any type of alcohol that old M. G. drank from that day on was going to cause me problems. But you all had taught her to go along with the plan, and she did. And that plan of Johnny Walker Red lasted only two weeks. I used to buy it about a half a gallon, and one Sunday my Johnny Walker Red gave out, and I mixed it with some moonshine, and I had my first case of DTs.
If you ever had DTs, please don't. Because that was a living hell. I remember laying on that floor that evening, after laying there for five or six hours, and my big German Shepherd dog licking my face, I called my wife and I said to her, Honey, I surrender. Please call those two men back. Those two men who are now my sponsors came back and they took me to my first AA meeting over at the Presbyterian Church in Salem, Virginia.
I'll never forget that night. I sit there scared to death, sitting in the back row, and it was a strange thing there. You know us black people, regardless of where we go, we always look around to see if there's any more of us there. And there was nobody there but me and my wife. And I was afraid. I remember on the way home that night I said, Ann, look, honey. Was we at the right place? And she said, yes, honey, that was AA.
And I said, Ann, did you notice that there was no more us there? She said, yes. I said, well, where's all my drunk friends? She said, they just haven't found the way yet. I loved Ann dearly, but I wasn't about to take Ann's word for an important matter like this, so I decided to go see the smartest people in the Roanoke Valley. I went out to my bootleg joint, and I went in and they had a half a gallon of moonshine there, and I hit that table, and I said, hold it, the captain's here, I want to talk to you.
I went up to a meeting last night at the Presbyterian Church. There was a guy standing behind the roster, and he was talking about how rotten his life used to be, what he did about it, and how sweet it was now. And they called it AA. Do any of y'all know anything about that? And one of my dear friends who is now dead, he died from alcoholism last year, he spoke up and he said, Emerson G., you better stay away from that place.
And I said, why, Roughhouse? He said, you know you might be able to have sickle cell anemia, but you can't be no alcoholic. And I said, well, what do you mean? He said, don't you know alcoholism is a white man's disease? I remember that night, I was so happy. I could hardly wait to get home, and I went in and I said, Ann, come here, honey. I ain't no alcoholic. I said, Roughhouse said that a black man can't be no alcoholic.
And I remember the anger that came over that lovely woman's face. She said, to hell with Roughhouse. We going back. I didn't want to lose my love, so I went back here. I heard the guy say, Rarely have I seen a person there who has thoroughly followed our path. And I said, ain't that beautiful? There's some hope for me. And I kept going back. And in a little while, you all started letting me help make coffee.
And one night, they let me take up the collection. And one night they let me take up the collections. I had nobody let me near no money in 30 years.
[00:45:00]
And one night one of the guys, he made a motion that I would be secretary treasurer. Gee, did the ego come up then. Here's a black guy with 50 or 60 white people and they're going to let me keep the money. Gee, I loved that. And I remember my Al-Anon and my kids was getting so proud of me. The neighbors had started speaking to me again. The police had started waving at me again. My big German Shepherd dog had stopped trying to bite me.
The supervisors on the job were speaking to me and I'd received a couple of promotions. Life was getting so good. I remember one day my daughter, it was on her father's day and she hadn't bought me a present. And I heard Aunt Esther, did you buy your father a present? And she said, I forgot it. But she made me a little card. And this is what that card says, and I still have that card. And it said, roses are red, violets are blue.
Daddy, since you quit drinking, we love you. And I was eating this thing up. I just loved it. And one night, one of the white guys and his wife came up and they put their arms around me. And they said, Ian, we love you. And I remember that night I started to shake and I started to sweat. I said, oh my God, this is it. And I said, Ian, what is all this love about? And once again, I wasn't going to take Ian's words, boy.
I went out to see the smallest people in the Roanoke Valley. I went out to where I used to drink liquor and I said, look, fellas, I've been sober almost a year now. And a white guy and his wife put their arms around me tonight and they said, I love me. And one of the guys said, oh hell, I knowed it was going to happen. Now you're going to get killed. I said, don't you know it's impossible for a white man to love a black man?
And old nasty memories started coming back into him and G.'s mind. Because that's the garbage my mother and my people had told me all of my life. But today I want to make a comment about love. Those guys at that liquor joint didn't know what kind of love I was talking about. They thought that I was talking about that old funny kind of love. That old kind of love you make in the backseat of cars.
Or that old funny kind of love they make in Hollywood. Or that old funny kind of love you see on the back of magazines. They didn't know that I was talking about an agoraphy love. A love that's described in the Bible as the kind of love that Christ had for the church. That's the kind of love that I found in AA in Salem. That's the kind of love that I found in every AA meeting that I've ever gone to.
All around this country of ours. That's the kind of love that I'm finding right here in Savannah. That agoraphy love. That kind of love that you have no desire to hate. That kind of love that makes you forgive. That kind of love that makes us not want to see each other get drunk again. That's the kind of love that I found in this fellowship. And I want you all to do me a favor. After I leave here in any way you ever may travel.
If you find any black guy in this vast country of ours. Say that it's impossible for a white man to love a black man. You tell him M. G. said he's a damn liar. It would be hard for anybody to tell me that Tom L. in Lurie, Virginia don't love me. It would be hard for anybody to tell me that Rhodes Mitchell and his lovely wife don't love me. It would be hard for anybody to tell me that Cornelius Foy don't love me.
And McCracken and his lovely wife. And Gene and his lovely wife. All of these are southern gentlemen. And I know that they have this love for me. And all I've got to do is stay close to this program. After I've been in AA a couple of years a strange thing happened to me. I want to share it with you. I was eating all this attention up. Every morning Ann would say doll I love you I'm so proud of you.
If you think that won't send you on your merry way.
[00:50:02]
And my children and everybody was making over me. But them Al-Anons played another trick on me. They said Ann look he's only acting like he should have been acting all the time. Now that'll take the wind out of your damn sails. All at once Ann stopped telling me that she loved me. All at once my daughter stopped making over me. Gee did I resent this. I was angry. I was no star no more. The people in my group they didn't make over me no more.
They expected me to make the coffee and clean up like everybody else. I was no more a celebrity. And I resented this. And I remember one morning my resentments got so strong. I was sitting there at my dining room table overlooking a little patch of woods. And there was a squirrel up in the tree playing with his nuts. And I said you know I wish I was the damn squirrel. And you know you got to be pretty nutty to want to be a squirrel.
But this is after I'm two years sober. And Ann came by me and said what's wrong with you this morning Ann? And I said nothing's wrong with me. She said are you going to work? I said no I'm not going to work. She said what's wrong? I said ain't nothing wrong. And she got her coat and her hat on. She got on the porch. And she looked back in the door. And she said this to me. Maybe if you'll stop half stepping maybe you'll feel better.
And I said maybe if I kicked you I'll break your jaw. And with that she got in her car and speeded away. I was angry that morning. But my sponsor had always told me if you ever get dry drunk, you ever get angry, don't you take a drink until you call me. So I called Fred down at GE and I told him what Ann had done to me. I said Fred, I said I bought her a little car. I said all the girls have got shoes.
I said everybody dresses well. The ice box is full. All the bills are paid. And I've been sober too and I've had years. And this ungrateful witch accused me of half stepping. And he said, well, what did you tell her? And I said she didn't give me a chance to tell her nothing, Fred. This is what my sponsor said to me. Ann, you better listen to him. And I said you go to hell too. Now here's my lovely Al-Anon and my sponsor.
Both of them have betrayed me. So I decided to try a third person. And I called Mr. A.A. Now I know we're not supposed to put nobody up on no pedestal, but all of us have got a favorite A.A. So I called my favorite A.A. And that was Bud M. I don't know how many of you all know Bud M. But I called Bud M. and I told her what this ungrateful witch had done to me. I told him what the sponsor had done to me.
And Bud M. is a guy that you don't curse. Bud M. said, him, I've been watching you. You got the big head, son. You better get back to basics. He told me to go home and get the big book. Let's start reading again. And let's do it like the big book says. I went back that day. I didn't work that day and the next day. And I read the big book. And lo and behold, I found out that once again this fabulous lady, my wife was right again.
I was indeed half-stepping. I had treated you people in A.A. and out and on like kings and queens. Why not? You had saved my life. You had made it possible for me to once again pay my bills. You had made it possible for my family to love me. But the other part of the people, the population, I was treating like dirt. I didn't have time for them. And the big book told me that day that you would apply these principles in all your families.
I had to go back and do that fourth step like the big book said. I had done that fourth step Emerson G. style. But the big book had said write it down stupid and then go to the fifth step
[00:55:01]
and get this garbage out of here. I was close to taking a drink. I can truthfully tell you since that time that I started working this program, one, two, three, four, like the big book has said, I now have been able to enjoy the peace and the serenity that I feel here today. This program and me working these twelve steps, the best of old Emerson G.'s ability, has enabled me to reach a very high spiritual plane.
A spiritual plane that gives me the feeling that I don't ever have to drink again. A spiritual plane that makes me love everybody. This spiritual plane gives me the feeling that I want to forgive instead of retaliate. This spiritual plane reminds me of a little book that Ann had around the house and I read it and it was Jonathan Went to Seagull. You know Jonathan wasn't satisfied staying down there on the beaches fighting over food.
Jonathan wanted to do something constructive and good in life. He decided to learn how to fly. And this book tells me that Jonathan stuck with this flying thing until he was the fastest seagull in history. He could do all of these flips and dives and all of this good stuff. He was never satisfied. I think that's the way I am today about AA. Even though I'm sober, the grace of God, during this program, one day at a time, I want more of this good thing.
They said it's going to get better. Sometime I don't know if it gets much better. I don't know whether I can stand it or not. It's days like this when I have the chance to be around people like you that I know what this program has done for me. These earth people just don't understand us. I owe this program everything. A few weeks ago, I just left the hospital having a polyp taken off of my throat, my vocal cord.
And in a week, the doctor called me to his office, and he said, Em, I got some pretty sad news for you. I want you to know you've got a small cancer, and we're going to have to treat it. And I started to smile. And he said, This is unusual. Most of the time, people get real remorseful and angry. But what this man didn't know, that this program had given me a faith that is unyielding, a faith in that same higher power that arrested the most terrible disease this world has ever known, and that was alcoholism.
And I was thinking if God could take away this curse, this alcoholism from me, what the hell is a little old cancer? And the doctor said, You're a magnificent man. And I told him about having to come here to talk. He said, Em, you can't go. And I said, Doc, I'm committed. And he said, It might be detrimental to your health. And I said, Let's discuss that when the time comes. But Wednesday, I told the doctor that I was going to Savannah.
And he said, If you must, you must. But what he didn't know, that AA had saved my life. And once I had made a commitment to come here to share my strength and hope with you all, nothing could come between me and that commitment. And number two, I remembered that God of my understanding is still in charge. Every day I turn my will and my life over to him. It's been ten years now since he arrested my alcoholism.
I'm already making engagements to speak next year, so I must have faith. to speak next year, so I must have faith that this little old cancer is going away because God intends for me to be happy and healthy. You know, I stand here today feeling good.
[01:00:06]
I stand here today feeling so safe. It's one desire I have for the remainder of my days, and that is to carry the message to the alcoholics that are still out there suffering. And I don't mean coming to speak to groups like this. I think Twelve Steps is more than this. I had the pleasure of going out with Dr. Bob in Salem the other week at one o'clock in the morning, and we went and picked up a poor suffering drunk and took him to the VA hospital. And that was good for me, because I looked at that poor suffering alcoholic, and I said, but for the grace of God, M. G., it could be you. And I want to carry this message, because when I was drunk, the preacher, the lawyers, the supervisors, all of them used to tell me, I drank too much. Why don't you do something about your drinking? And none of them ever told me what to do. And then I found you. It reminds me of a little poem that I like to say, and it goes like this. I'd rather see a sermon than to hear one any day. I'd rather someone walk along beside me than merely show me the way. The eye is a better pupil, more willing than the ear.
Fine counsel is always confusing, but example is always clear. I hope as I walk these highways and byways, in places that the poor drunk is still suffering, they can look at old M. G. and say simply this, if he can do it, I can too. And I hope I'll be ready to carry the message to them like you carry it to me. Today I feel like the light of God surrounds me, the love of God imposes me. The power of God protects me, and the presence of God watches over me.
Wherever I am, right here in Savannah, God is, and all is well. So it is. Thank you.