33rd Anniversary Dinner — New York, Oct 7, 1967

The stockings for the proceedings tonight, and to keep them filled with the grateful spirit that radiates so abundantly here tonight, I’d like to introduce Reverend Belford, who will honor us with staying the invocation. Reverend Belford. Let us stand, please. Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for all of the blessings Thou hast bestowed upon us and upon all mankind. We express especially our gratitude for the insight and perseverance of those who founded Alcoholics Anonymous, for the new life made possible for countless thousands, and for the fellowship shared one with another. And now, as we are about to partake of Thy bounty, we ask Thee to bless these Thy gifts, our youth, us, Thy loving spirit, and to make us ever mindful of the needs of others. Amen. And on this, while you are enjoying your appetizers, so go ahead and eat while I’m introducing them. First, we want to be reminded, especially the members of the press, of our swell tradition, which is anonymity. Ever reminding us to place principles above personality. So we will ask you all to please respect the anonymity of the names you hear and the faces you see here tonight, outside of this room. Thank you. We’d now like to mention that there are approximately 2,850 people gathered here tonight. And a planned dinner dance meeting such as this just didn’t pop out of nowhere and come into being without some real, concentrated, conscientious effort. Effort on the part of many alcoholics, not only in the metropolitan area, but people from practically all over the United States. And I am referring now to the 33rd Annual Dinner Committee, a dedicated group of volunteers who sacrificed many hours of their personal time to work on this committee the past few months, so that they could coordinate the many preliminary duties conducted with this beautiful affair, which has manifested itself here tonight, as you see it right now. With your permission, I’d like to ask all the dinner committee members present to stand up and be recognized, so that we can offer our heartfelt thanks and gratitude to them all in appreciation for the truly great job they did. Would you all stand up, members of the 1967 Dinner Committee meeting? Also, it is my pleasure at this time to introduce another group of really dedicated people in the field of alcoholism recovery, who are sitting here on the dais. These are people who unselfishly operate behind the scenes to help the alcoholic who still suffers, and to keep the message of sobriety streaming out into the whole metropolitan area. For such a loosely knit organization as AA is well noted for, it is amazing how efficiently productive their combined teamwork efforts produce the fantastic results that they actually do. So, please do not applaud until everybody on the dais has been introduced. On my far right, reading in towards the center, is Jim F., a member of the Arrangements Committee. Please lower your applause until after the dais has been entirely introduced. Thank you. Fonny S., the fantastic co-chairman of this Dinner Committee. George B., the treasurer of the Intergroup Association. Mr. and Mrs. Ralph A., Ralph is the president of the Intergroup Association. His wife, Helen. Doris H., the hardworking secretary of Intergroup. The Reverend and Mrs. Belford, who just conducted the invocation. Jim S., who will be introduced later as a speaker tonight. My wife, Leanne, who I used to think was the cause of all my drinking. And on my far left, reading in towards the center, we’ve got one boy missing, still out on the front table selling tickets, I guess. Joe C., he’s an invaluable member of the Intergroup staff. Jean E. and her husband, Chick. Jean is on the staff of Intergroup, too. Ellen C., who is on the staff of Intergroup. She’s also out helping Joe on the front table. Pat O., the secretary of this Dinner Committee. Monty M., who will conduct the benediction. And then comes our two great celebrants, Bill and Lois, from whom you will all hear more later on. But last but not least is Kirsten T., to be introduced later as a speaker. Stand up, please. Thank you and have an enjoyable dinner. Now there will be a ten-minute intermission. Please return to your seats within ten minutes. It is now 8.15. The annual meeting will start promptly at 8.25. Just ten minutes from now. Don’t miss the opening of this meeting as it will be something that you’ll long remember. Ten minutes. It will be human-shaping and human-traditional. And our own Bill will take over now and explain it. Bill. Hi, folks. We again gather together in gratitude beyond expression for this great wonder. Yes, this whole real miracle that has befallen us of AA. We celebrate that so many, now counted by tens of thousands, have passed out of their darkness into the light of a new understanding. As Lois and I get older, become ever more deeply meaningful. For reasons you understand, we can no longer move about among you. So this yearly chance to partake in a meeting is something for the greater satisfaction. I thank all of you, especially those who have come from so far. Lois and I remember the many beautiful messages that have been sent here. We say our thanks to each and all of you and to those on this platform who have prepared the way for making the best AA dinner yet. Next I would like to present Lois. You know, these are times for reminiscence. Happy reminiscence for the most part, but one goes beyond the happy times into the time of darkness when we were alone, each in his cave, and the only person who stood in protection and who was a barge of utter isolation was so often that of our partner. So I present you as the one who stood by me then, and ever since, Lois, who would like to say her thanks. Applause Thank you so very much. And greetings to you all. I just want to add my few words of thanks and gratitude to Bill. In the early days of AA, I thought I was very grateful, and all these 33 years, that gratitude has been growing and mounting, so now it seems as if I couldn’t hold it all. I thank you all, both Al-Anon and AA, for carrying the message so beautifully as you’ve done through all these years. Thank you. Applause Again, I say this is a time for grateful and happy remembrance. And on these occasions, I particularly like to remember my own partner, my first partner in this undertaking with AA, Dr. Bob, and his well-loved wife Ann, in whose house I was sheltered while the first AA group took place in Athens in the summer of 1935. Up to then, it had seemed that the light had shone, but that the candle was flickering, that it might go out. It was then that I met Dr. Bob. He seemed, in fact, as though it were yesterday. I had been down there in the lobby of that hotel, having failed in another enterprise, a business enterprise, that had promised him much. There had been hard work among the officers around New York. Nothing had happened. I began to fear for my own society, and through the providence of one of our close friends, who’s not here tonight, Henry Edison, I believe, I met Dr. Bob. And I can see Dr. Bob and Ann as they sit in the doorway on that afternoon in June 1935. Dr. Bob was shaking. He said he couldn’t stay but a little while. And I said, well, I guess that means we should search him. Henry said it’s reasonable to put him into the library. I’m there with him to talk. And then I fear I had been clean. I had been exhorting. I had been persuading. But now that I was in danger, I knew that I needed this man, Dr. Silver, just as much as he needed me. And it was then that what we today know as the language of the heart, both spoken and unspoken, began to be a reality. And something passed between us. And there was a fusion. And the candle was passed to Dr. Bob. I remained in action for two or three months that summer, living with he and Ann. And I helped him as he passed the first candle to our fourth prospect. Known in our AA parlance as the man on the bed. And he got up and took up his bed and he walked. And he went back into the arena of life as though he had been in that apartment. Many times in the past four months, AA number three was never to drink again on the first group that had been formed. The passage of the illumination hand-to-hand, symbolized by the candle, there has been no greater exemplar of that than Dr. Bob. Surely it is the least we can say when we declare him to be the prince of all 12 separates. And you will remember how in succeeding years, he and that foolish but wondrous nun, Sister Ignatius, carried the AA message to 5,000 alcoholics in Akron, Ohio and in Environ at St. Thomas Hospital. So then, I think it is more fitting to recall this because from him took off uncounted succeeding generations of AA. Had he and still more of old-timers not kept the faith, we would not be foregathered here tonight. Still in remembrance of him and those who lived in our pioneering times, members and good friends alike, I would now like to light a candle and pass it to the first patient. And we will see the patient in turn show its own illumination. Thank you. And now, in memory of Dr. Bob, and of all those old-timers throughout the length of our fellowship and its breadth who have taken their departure over the grave to rise, once we must one day pass all of it, may we bow our heads in a moment of gratitude in which the language of the heart can be spoken between us and them without sound. So poignantly put it, the demons of the race of the locusts are gone. And Jim so simply reminds us, there is a God and there is a grace. On these occasions, it is usually my custom to try to hit, by a brief word of fiction, the high point running the length of our history. At this time, I think I would like to follow the pattern of our two dear friends who have just spoken. I would like to tell you my own story. First, in terms of the race of the locusts, on the reasons I now speak of this. And then, in turn, on my belief that I know there is a God and there is a grace, and why the outcome for me and so many is because of that. Our chairman, too, remarked upon the wonderful friend that I had from the start. And he might have added, even before I was even a gleam in the eye among any of us. The thing that characterized all of these friends, who have donated their skills to us, has been this. That in each case where selling contributions were made, all of these men and women were spiritually centered and animated. As a backdrop for my personal tale, I would like to go back and sketch just one historical situation out of which our fellowship sprang. Many of you have heard me tell this story before. How an alcoholic called Rowan, a prominent businessman, here in America, progressively getting alcoholic, one treatment, one so-called cure after another, no result. And how finally, at his refuge of last resort, he went to Europe and literally cast himself upon the cure of our great friend, the sage, Dr. Carl Jung. You will recall Dr. Carl as one of the three first pioneers in the art of psychiatry. But the thing that distinguished him from his two earlier colleagues, Jung and Adler, was the fact that he was spiritually animated. Something that used to make all the difference to each and every one of us. Now he is, and will make the difference of all yet to come. The patient Rowan, under treatment for a year, felt that the hidden strength of his motivation at death had been revealed to him. And he truly believed that with this deeper understanding of his psychology at death, that he was in true liberty. And he left Dr. Jung happy, confident. And in one month he was back in simple shape. And he said to the doctor, Dr. Carl, you were my course of last resort. What shall I do now? Is there no other resource? And then that very wise and noble and humble and spiritually animated man simply said these things. Rowan, I truly believe that you were one of those patients that my art might help. And that’s why we worked so long. But I now have to tell you that my art can do nothing for you. You ask if there is any other resource. And I can only say this. I’m out of mind, here and there, now and then. People like yourself have got their release into freedom through a spiritual awakening, a spiritual experience, a conversion into life. All that said, Rowan, I am a religious man. I was a veteran in the church. I still have faith in God. But assuredly he has no ground for faith in me. But, said the doctor, I am speaking of something that goes just beyond faith. It is another dimension. It is the dimension of an experience in grace that will alter your motivations and restore you to sanity. So, said the patient, how do I find such an experience? And you replied, frankly, I don’t know. You just place yourself in the congenial religious atmosphere and cast yourself upon whatever God you may know. And perhaps the awakening will come. But these awakenings do not come too often. This is the best I can suggest. So Rowan did place himself among the astral groups of their time. Subsequently came to America. And as he practiced very simple precepts, precepts which might have been drawn from almost any sound religion, he found an unaccountable relief from his ascension. And you know how he came to my own sponsor, Evans, who was allowed to be put away by the town fathers in Vermont. Because he had run his car, his father’s bright new shiny car, through the side of a house. And had calmly stuck his head out the door there in the kitchen and asked the quivering ladies for a cup of coffee. Now then, that is the line of succession from Dr. Carl Young to us, to your Rowan, to your Abby, then to me, then to Dr. Bob. And then, the table being set, the candles began to be lighted. Now then, there is a beautiful aftermath of this story. I never realized that a very great man in spiritual dimensions, Carl Young, was until in 1961. I wrote him a very belated letter of gratitude for the part he had played in originating in society without calling him out. And in my letter, I think I wrote very much upon the spiritual awakening as the thing about which all of our activities gravitate and conspire to produce. This was the last year of his life. Nevertheless, he sat down and he wrote me a letter. It looked a lot like he had tapped it out with one finger. It is one of my most cherished possessions. Lord framed it, and it will always be with us. Now let us mark very carefully what this man says in the language of the time and in profound love and understanding. He said, Dear Mr. Wilson, your letter has been very welcome indeed. I had no news from Roland anymore and often wondered what had been his fate. Our conversation, which he has adequately reported to you, did have an aspect of which he did not know. The reason that I could not tell him everything was that in those days I had to be exceedingly careful of what I said. I found out that I was misunderstood in every possible way. Thus I was very careful when I talked to Roland. But in the deeper sense that I really thought about it was the result of experiences with many men of his kind. Roland’s craving for alcohol was the equivalent, on a low level, of the spiritual thirst of our being’s fulfillment, which expressed in mediaeval language means the union with God. But how could one formulate such an insight in a language that is not misunderstood in our day? And then he continues. The only right and legitimate way to such an experience is that it happens to you in reality and it can only happen to you when you walk on a path, a path which leads you to a higher understanding. You may be led to that goal by an act of grace and by personal and honest contact with friends or through a higher education of the mind beyond the confines of mere rationalism. I am strongly convinced that the evil principle now prevailing in this world leads this unrecognized spiritual need of ours into perdition if it is not counteracted either by real religious insight or by the protective wall of human immunity. An ordinary man, not protected by an action from above and isolated in society, cannot resist this power of evil, which is aptly called the devil. However, the use of such words allows so many mistakes that one can only keep aloof from them as much as he can. These are the reasons why I felt I could not give a full and sufficient explanation to Roland. But now, much later, I am listing it for you, with you, because I conclude from your very decent and honest letter that you have acquired a point of view above the misleading platitudes one usually gives about alcoholism. You see, alcohol in Latin is called spiritus, and you use this same word for the highest religious experience as well as for the most depraving poison. The helpful formula, therefore, is spiritus contra spiritum, which I think freely translates means the bottle against the divine spirit. Thanking you again for your kind letter, I remain yours sincerely, C.G. Jung. As I said at the outset, the old man was in the final months of his life, and he added this most affecting postscript, a quotation from one of the Psalms. As the heart panteth after the water book, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. This was the measure of the man who meant everything to us when he was still an embryo. Now let me cut back to my story. My first recollection was lying in a crib and seeing a very high mountain. Apparently already I had got the climbing instinct, and I thought to myself, shall I ever climb so high as this? Another recollection at seven years. I am different. I am altered. I cannot compete with the other boys. A recollection at ten years. Sitting with my fifth sister on what we thought was going to be a picnic. Mother told me that she and father had parted company forever. Tensitive, isolated as I always was. This seemed like a most terrible rejection. We had lived in a small Vermont town. Mother went off to learn to be an occupant. I came under the care of my grandfather. My next recollection was his encouragement of me to try to excel. So to triumph over my awkwardness and my failure to compete, I decided I would be an athlete. I began to dream tremendous dreams of power. Even then, as with many a small boy, I thought of being the President of the United States. So it went with athletics. So it went in the boating school. Now these were just not ordinary ambitions, legitimate aspirations to be secure in the good will of one’s fellows, to make a contribution to life, to be somebody. Oh no, this went far deeper. This was an insensate, utter demand upon myself to win, to triumph. Not to be a part of, but to dominate. Some of this drive began to succeed. I became President of the class. I was pitcher on the ball team. I was surveyed by one of the leagues. I was head of nearly everything in the boating school. I even took up music, one I couldn’t carry a tune to the great amusement of my grandfather. No matter what it was, I had to be on top. This became a cracking experience. My first encounter with absolute utter, and what seemed to me, to be final defeat. As I said, I had fell often, close, and I still felt this way about girls. But then I fell in love with the minister’s daughter, my first concern. So my cup was full. Here was romance, here was security, in there was superiority. And then, one morning, the principal got up in his chair, with a very sorrowful face, and he said, I don’t quite know how to say it, but Bertha Bamford died terribly last night. And the impact of that awful shock lingered for years. My first experience with utter and absolute defeat. What was the reaction? It was an utter slam. I withdrew into myself. I failed to graduate. There was a depression that seemed to be undue. I felt that life was over. You can see this was not a proper reaction for a youth like me. He would have soon been with another companion, but not me. I’m carrying the torch. But then the companion did come, and she was lost. And once again I said, go on again. I’m beginning the same process once again. World War broke out. I’m in the military school, and at twice I’m in the army. And there I got a big guilt complex. Why? Because when at twice they’re giving me of the Air Force, the infantry, or the heavy artillery, which is the safer one, I took the artillery. I never got over that until another experience came in the hold of the Lancashire as it entered the Irish Sea. And I was on watch below. And there was a crash, and I was sure the ship was struck. And there was a panic. And I was instructed to shoot if it got bad. And when I found I could do it, all of a sudden another great wave of exfiltration, even though the damn ship was apparently going down. Well, it wasn’t. It wasn’t good after all. The next experience, we were about to go over the Channel. We’re in Camford, Winchester, England. One day I’m in town. I wandered into old Winchester, England. And there were very rough, tough-looking doughboys, half-dwarfs. I thought about the Channel front. Again, there was a sinking sensation, but very briefly, just for a moment. I was caught up. There was something about the place. There was a great fear. Again, this is all obliterated. The water comes and goes. I come back to New York. I find myself in Wall Street. So I shifted my goal from the presidency of the United States to the presidency of the United States Steel Corporation. And the drive for prestige, glory, money, power, was gone. But during the war, I had taken that first drink. This was in New Bedford. How well I can remember it to think. How very sure I am that it meant more to me than a mere relaxation. Because it lowered, indeed it took down, that strange barrier isolating me from my fellow men, I could communicate in what I thought was the language of the time. Of course, I was merely bragging of my ambition. And soon the boom mounted, and then the bust came. And as you see, the economy of the United States is a boom-and-bust phenomenon, and I turned into such an economy myself. I was seen busting. The big slide was on. The drinking increased. And now I did not drink to stimulate my grandiosity. I drank to cover up my depression. And then there was a great opportunity, even in the bottom of the depression. By this time, the perpetuity of war became almost complete. She was actually supporting me. Here was a chance out. My new associates knew of my drinking proclivities, and they gave me a share in the syndicate, a generous one. For no money at all, I merely contributed services for the contract stipulated. That it would have been a man if I took so much as one drink. Well, yes, in life I set great store by contract. I honestly thought that when I signed my name to that document that the drinking troubles would have faded away. And yet, inside of three months, I am drunk again. And by this time, this meant one, often two, and three bottles of bathtub in a day. And by then I had begun to make those trips to the hospital. And by then, I had met another spiritually animated man, Dr. Silkworth. Unlike Carl Jung, he was in an obscure position. But he was spiritually centered. He had the vision. He declared to all comers, after twenty years of almost absolute deceit in trying to help alcoholics, that he did love alcoholics. And everyone who came that way, to him, fell in. And a few did recover. And just like Rowland in Jung’s case, he thought I did. And then the day came when it was clear that I wouldn’t be. That I couldn’t be. By this time, he had defined alcoholism as a sickness of the soul, a sickness of the emotions, coupled to a sickness of the body, which he loosely described as an allergy. These views of his are now to be seen in a foreword to the book Alcoholics Anonymous, called The Doctrine of Kindness. And this was to be incorporated into the synthesis that is AA. But again, like Jung, he was obliged to say to me, Andrew Lloyd, on a peaceful day in the summer of 1934, I am afraid that Bill will have to be committed. There is nothing that I can do for him or anything else that I know. Words of great humility from a professional. So that was the sense. I was scared into sobriety for two months. Then came the day. Lloyd had to work. It was a holiday, but I went to Staten Island to play golf. Unaccountably, I was taken drunk again. Entirely disturbed. I had stopped in a saloon for a sandwich. I was fully informed about alcoholism, the obsession that condemns us to drink, and the physical deformity that sensitizes us so we shall surely die or go mad if we do. Yes, I knew this formula. Where was the formula when the bartender came along and planked a glass down in front of me and said, It’s Armistice Day. Have one on the house. This clear inability to recall the penalty. It wasn’t there. I picked up the glass and threw it. Then I realized what I had done, what I thought. And you well know what I thought. I thought, well, I’ve taken one, so I might as well have a few more. The next morning, Lloyd found me in the area way at 182 Clinton Street, where we were barely hanging on. The bank rented the house for $20 a month because Lloyd’s parents had left a mortgage so big that the house couldn’t be sold. So there I was. Indeed, this was the end of the line. So I settled down, dispersing up gin money, and around the clock I sat in the kitchen, uneven laid in bed with a gin bottle. One afternoon the telephone rang. Andy was on the wire. I had long classified him as a hopeless alcoholic, but everyone was in New York obviously sober. My immediate thought, let’s get at me over. We’ll have a few drinks. We will talk about the good old days. Ah, a more significant thought that one. We will talk about the joys of the past. We will forget the President. We will not remember in our cups that the future was unbearable. So everything. And I was happy. I thanked and looked out through the grating as I opened the door, and immediately I sensed about him something was different. He came in and sat across the table from me. I pushed over a glass of gin, spiced with a lot of pineapple juice, so it was worth the fight to work it. And he shook his head and grinned. I said, what do you mean, Eddie? You’re not drinking? Well, he said, not for today. Well, we started to visit a little, and of course I’m extremely curious. I said, tell me about this. No drinking business. So he told me. He said, I’ve got religion. Like Jim said. He didn’t spell it out. I know there is a God and I’ve got grace. Well, I had been raised pretty much as an agnostic. I deserted congregation Sunday school at about 11, because number one, I couldn’t play ball on Sunday and go to Sunday school. Number two, the most onerous of all requirements, I was expected to shine at the temperance place. So that was the end of my religious education. Then I’d gone in for a time. So I said to Eddie, would you mind telling me, as politely as I could, what brand of religion you’ve got? And in very good nature, he said, well, I wouldn’t call it exactly a brand. It’s pretty old vetted stuff. Few have heard it before. But you know, I fell in with a bunch of these Oxford movies. It’s non-denominational. Each guy has his own theology. Mine’s pretty simple. But you know, the fellow who brought me into this was an alcoholic. And he had been released from his obsession of drinking through the groups. And then Eddie proceeded to give me my first information about what Carl Jung had said. And then Eddie said, you know, he said, this program’s pretty simple. He said, you know, you get honest with yourself. You quit living alone till you get honest with people around you. You make restitution for those you have harmed. You try the kind of doing that demands no reward. Either an approval of proceeds or you need money. And then you put in whatever God you think there is. Or if you think there isn’t any, then you ask help from a higher power. If there is one, just as an express. Well, certainly there was nothing so new about this. Or was there? Yes, there was something new because these ancient life-saving principles were this time being transmitted into me at great depth because we were both dwellers in this strange world of alcoholism. And he also began to talk about his relief, the feeling that he wasn’t booze-pointing anymore, that when he fell into the company of Roland and a couple of other drunks in the Oxford group at that time, and he began to be willing to be honest and to make some restitution and be helpful to people and so on, how this feeling of being released had come. Ah, this explains then the quality of our sister pride, which I had sensed when he came in the door. Now then, these words fit me at great depth because in no waking hour afterwards, more a week or two, could the vision of any relief be erased from my mind. And people began to be very resentful. Here was Dr. Sulfich, who had defined alcoholism, the obsession that condemns you to drink against your will and interest, even under the structure, the bodily sensitivity that guarantees madness and death. And here came you, via Hazard, and Ebby, confirming this. For my God, science, had declared me to be hopeless. And so here came Ebby with hope. Oh yes, it wouldn’t be too hard to get on it, perhaps. It wouldn’t be too bad to make restitution. One would pay almost any price. But I couldn’t buy the God thing. I just couldn’t do it. So I felt terribly trapped. I felt even worse than when the Lord had never come. But then, as the days of drinking wore on, I said, but this thing I can’t define. But I’m Yankee. We folks mustn’t have any of this emotional relationship. I wouldn’t really dare try this without going up and seeing good old Dr. Sulfich and letting him sober me up so that I can think it over. So up I went. I entered the hospital waving a bottle, and that had kind of put me on top at the minute. So I shouted in a loud voice, Doc, I got something this time. And he looked at me very sadly and said, I’m afraid you’ll pass, so you should go upstairs and get to bed. Now I have come to the hospital, way ahead of the VTs. In only two or three days, I was out of all sedation and so on. But the more this consciousness came back to me, the worse I felt. And the depression deepened and deepened. And the dilemma, which I have just posed, closed its jaws on me unbearably. And one morning, Abby turned up, unexpected, honest enough. My first thought, gee, I’m so glad he’s come. Then another reassurance, well, he certainly practices what he preaches. Really, why should he come up here and see me at this time of day when he should be working? So Abby was a man of prudence. He said nothing about his recovery. Again, we just talked about old times. And he put me in a way where I had to ask him to repeat once more what he said over that pitchers table. Well, he said, you know, you get honest with yourself. You make yourself survey. You talk it out with the other guy. You quit living alone. You begin to get straight with the world around by making restitutions. And you ask whatever higher power there is, even if it’s just an experiment, to help you do these things that you may find the grace to be released mouthfuls. Quite simple. Quite a matter of fact. And all he politely said was, come on, this is it. This is Putin. No pressure. No danger. So he finally took his leave. And now the jaws of the dilemma really quite. And when I hear an all-time lie, and I can only suppose that the last seconds of my prideful absence are any part of the belief that there was a single thing I could do for myself alone was for the moment rubbed out. And I found myself as a child utterly alone in complete darkness. And I cried out as a child, expecting little. Indeed, expecting nothing. And I simply said, if there is a God, will he show himself? And then I was granted one of these instantaneous illuminations, the sort of thing that really defies description. I was teased with great joy and ecstasy beyond any possible expression. In the mind’s eye, it seemed to me I stood on a mountain. I was taken there. I hadn’t found it. And then the great thought burst upon me, go, you’re a free man. This is the God of the free. And then I was filled with the consciousness of a Titan. And still on the bed naturally, a great peace still over me. And I was with it. I don’t know how long. But then the dark side put in an appearance. And it said to me, perhaps, Bill, you are hallucinating. You’d better call in the doctor. So the doctor came. And haulingly, I told him of this occurrence. And then came great words for Alcoholics Anonymous. The little man had listened, the nonce looking at me so benignly with those blue eyes of his. And at length he said, Bill, no. He said, you’re not crazy. I have read about this sort of thing in the books. But I have never seen one firsthand. I don’t know what it is you have, Bill. But what it is, it must be some great psychic event. You had better hang on to it. It’s so much better than what had you only an hour ago. So I commenced to hang on. And then I knew there was a drive. And I knew there was a way. And through all of my 52 cents, I have continued to feel, if I may presume to say so, that I do know this thing. Then at first, being trained as an analyst, of course, I began to ask myself, why did this happen to me? And why has it so seldom happened to drunks before? Why shouldn’t this be the heritage of any drunk? And while wondering, the next day, again, appears Evans. And he had in his hands a message from another great man, William James. The message came to me in a book called Varieties of Religious Concerns. And I read the thing avidly, cover to cover. And naturally, I found experiences corresponding with my own. I found experiences, however, that were very gradual. I found experiences that occurred outside of any religious association. But they all, nearly all of them, had these common denominations. These experiences capable of transforming motivation. All weren’t involved in any explanation by an association, a discipline, a faith, or what have you. These gifts of grace, whether they came in a rush or very gradually, were all founded on a basis of hope. The recipients were people who in some controlling areas of life found themselves in a situation that could not be got over, around, or under. Their deceit had been absolute. And so was mine. And then I wondered about that deceit. And I realized what a part my God of science, as personified by Carl Jung and Dr. Silkworth at Plato, of transmitting to me the very bad news that the chance of recovering on your own unaided resource, or merely by medication, or by simple grace, was just about nil. How this information was retransmitted to me by Abby as it had come to Jung. This was deflation at best. This had made the way, had made me ready for the gifts that came. Now actually, although this is the great experience of my life, I do not think it in any way superior, or in a sense, in a substantial way, very different at all than the experiences that all A.H. had of the transforming experience, the spiritual awakening. They’re all of the same, I think, divine peace. So, with this had come the possibility of a chain reaction, because I realized that nothing had happened until the messages had been transmitted to me, probably at great depth, by another alcohol. So therefore, the thought of one alcoholic talking to another, just as Oxford group people were talking to each other. But in our special language of the heart, maybe that was the transmission belt. So I began to work among alcohols. I went to a few Oxford group meetings, to the missions. Dr. Silkworth let me work with people in the hospital, at risk to his reputation. And lo and behold, nothing happened. Because some of my old rondeoxes came back, I had thought my experience was something very special. The old leader began to believe again. I was actually heard to say, that I was destined to pick all of the drunks in the world, quite a large group. Naturally, nothing happened. Until again, the deflation came. It came on that day, when in the Mayflower Hotel, I was first tempted to take a drink. When I first realized that even in trying to help other alcoholics, I had been preserving myself, and maintaining that original gift. Now, if it was wise to be maintained, I must find another alcoholic. So, when Smithy and I, sat down for the first time face to face, this was a very different atmosphere. I said, Bob, I’m speaking because I need you, as much as you could possibly need me. I’m in danger of flipping back down the drain. So, here is the story. Here is the nature of the illness, as explained by Dr. Silcox. One drunk talking to another. This information sunk in deep with Smithy. After one sip, he sobered, never to drink again. In all years to come. But I took Bob six years, before he lost the obsession to drink. Unlike me, where I was entertained. And what a great benefaction that was to our career. Because it drove him to work with other alcoholics, as the only sure protection that he had. And this was reinforced by his love of trying to help his fellow human beings. Indeed, that’s why he has become a physician in the first place. So, this is my story. I’m the beginning of our story. I would like to conclude with another great figure, whose words come to us down through the centuries. His name is Francis. Said he, Lord, make me a channel of thy peace, and where there is hatred, I may bring love. That where there is wrong, I may bring spirit of forgiveness. That where there is discord, I may bring harmony. That where there is error, I may bring truth. That where there is doubt, I may bring faith. That where there is despair, I may bring hope. That where there are shadows, I may bring light. That where there is sadness, I may bring joy. Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted. To understand than to be understood. To love than to be loved. For it is by self-forgetting that one finds. It is by forgiving that one is forgiven. And it is by knowing that one awakens to eternal life. Applause Well, this AA meeting is over, but I’m sure it won’t be forgotten. Evenings like this are just not forgotten, and I think they’re treasured. I want to thank our speakers for a very impressive AA meeting tonight. Jim, Kirsten, Bill. I’d like to make a little announcement that there will be dancing from now until 1 a.m. to Lester Lannan’s wonderful orchestra. His orchestra is bigger and better than ever this year. And when the meeting is over, just go out into the main promenade hall and go down one flight to the Rhinelander Ballroom. It’s all set up for your pleasure. People on the balcony, just go out into the main hall and go down two flights. Hot coffee and cold soft drinks are available there on a pay-as-you-go basis. Applause Also, there are tickets to this meeting available, and if you want one, come to the end table right down here on my right and ask for Frank C. He will take care of you. I want to thank you all for coming tonight and helping to make this evening a great success. We usually close our AA meetings with a large prayer, but tonight being a special occasion, we have asked our good friend, Monsignor McEnn, to lead us and say the benediction. Monsignor McEnn. Applause If you could kindly stand, please. Almighty God, we reverently and thankfully call down your blessing upon this happy gathering. Reverently, because by your mercy alone are we able to invoke your holy name, and thankfully, first of all, because we live in a land where the name of God can be publicly honored, and secondly, because through your grace we have recovered from a serious illness. In particular, we beseech your blessing upon our well-renowned good friend, Senator’s charming wife, and bless also the fellowship of AA, that it may continue to offer lasting sobriety and happiness to those who need and desire it. Finally, dear Lord, may your divine assistance always be with us, and may the souls of our beloved dead, especially that of Dr. Bob, those in AA, those who have died and are dying in Vietnam, rest in peace. Amen. Now could kindly join me in offering the Lord’s prayer as well. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Forgive us our sins and our temptations, and forgive us our evils, for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever. Amen.