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® BY STEWART ALSOP

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© A VACATION REPORT

May 26, 1962

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ARTICLES

George Romney: The G.O.P.’s Fast Comer

Diplomatic Delicacies ....... -
He BeNneOICtINeESS\ hses ghey
Gamblers Anonymous. .........
Racing’s Haunted Driver ..... .
Bermuda: Where the Girls Are. . .

FICTION
PAartiSanvue cceteo.pecma wee tees: :
Kallerton Highs aren acca ieee one
Operation Lost Souls ......
DEPARTMENTS
Bettersia gener.
Speaking Out: Should We ee ner Die?.
ReoplezonsthesWayaU piss sn ce: panion-
Post: SCrptsiiweare tee scone
Hazel ear esr noe cites «
Ee Gitoralere ra opr ay Sty ates

Alsop on Romney. In the fall of 1960 The Saturday

By Stewart Alsop

, By Patricia Cahn
. By Ernest O. Hauser
By Stanley Frank
By Larry Merchant
By Tom Congdon

. By Michael Shaara
By William Wister Haines
By James Mitchell Clarke

. By Vincent Collins, M.D.

15
22
30
Ad
62
73

28
36
66

“OK, George, OK. I suppose you’re right. But dam-

Evening Post gave a dinner in Detroit fora group of mit, do you a/ways have to be right?” Romney had
leading auto executives. Contributing editor Stew- been conspicuously right, of course, in his crusade

art Alsop spoke briefly about the political scene,

for the compact car, which led to the resurgence of

and his remarks provoked an intense discussion American Motors. Whether he will go on being right
between George Romney and an executive of an- in his newcareer as a politician remains to be seen.
other automobile firm. Finally Romney’s adversary But we believe GEORGE ROMNEY: THE G.O.P.’s
threw up his arms in a mock gesture of surrender Fast Comer will convince you that George Rom-

and said in an almost pathetically plaintive tone: ney is

Other By-Lines. Dr. Vincent Collins of Winnetka,

“‘a remarkable political phenomenon.”

story—in Greece, shortly after passing through the

Illinois, maintains it is time for many sacrosanct section of Yugoslavia in which PARTISAN takes

precepts of the medical profession to undergo ma- place...
. Patricia Cahn, wife of and chief cook (Command Decision, The Winter War) worked for
dito’ three years with “grunts” and “pole buddies” very
began sampling diplomatic delicacies when she was_ much like those in KILLER ON HIGH. . .

jor surgery...
for Chicago-based associate editor Robert Cahn,

. California novelist William Wister Haines

. James

Washington correspondent for Women’s News Mitchell Clarke, West Coast editor of Aero News,

Service. ..
resident of Paris and author of THE BENEDICTINES,
has written Post articles on three other Roman

. Contributing editor Ernest O. Hauser, makes his Post debut with OPERATION Lost SouLs.

The Cover.oh, no! He can’t expect to show the

Catholic brotherhoods—the Dominicans, the house at this hour. But he does. Bright Eyes the

Jesuits and the Franciscans. . .

. New York free- realtor just happened to be nearby with these nice

lance reporter Stanley Frank says he gambled more folks and he’s sorry he didn’t make an appoint-
writing and research time on GAMBLERS ANONY- ment, but as longas he’s here would it be all right if
mous than on any of the 138 other Post articles he showed them around? That’s Bright Eyes’ story.

he has written. ...
column for the Philadelphia Daily News. ... As-

Larry Merchant writes a sports But the glint which artist George Hughes has
painted in Bright Eyes’ eyes suggests an ulterior

sociate editor Tom Congdon, whom we dispatched motive: Bright Eyes theorized that this surprise

to Bermuda fora report on frolicsome Ivy Leaguers,
is Yale (A.B,, 53) and Columbia (M.S., °56). .. .

attack, when the real estate is in a real state, will
fluster both Alice Bluegown and the nice young

Michael Shaara teaches creative writing at Florida folks. Thereupon they will sign an agreement of
State University, wrote PARTISAN—his first Post sale just to terminate the mutual embarrassment.

Modeled after
where psychia

STANLEY FRANK

By

Sher ) g
fronted forty people at the Mayfair
Hotel in Los Angeles and said,
“My name is Edwin. I’m a compulsive
gambler. The night before I attended my
first meeting of this kind eighteen months
ago, my lawyer put me in a psychiatric
hospital in Palo Alto. He was afraid I'd
commit suicide before I was sent to
prison. I had embezzled eight thousand
dollars and written six thousand in bad
checks to cover my gambling debts. Pre-
viously I had borrowed twenty thousand
from finance companies. My wife had
left ae ay family had disowned me, and
Ihad d business
associates to get money for my gambling
mai

“I was thirty-four and earning twenty
thousand dollars a year as the West Coast
sales manager for a big outfit, but my
wife and daughter lived like a family on
relief. I hadn*t been solvent in fifteen
years.

ie ps! caer = Palo Alto said
they couldn’t help me. Nobody ever had
given me any hope I ei) stop gambling,
ia ; = here. I eee bet a nickel
sin night, and i more years I
Ww ah ae paid all my debts ‘But I'll attend
these meetings as long as I live, because
know I'll always be a compulsive gambler
at heart. I'd rather die than go through
that torture again.
tall, gaunt man with haggard eyes
that betrayed his tension told a similar
group at the 23rd Street branch of the
-C.A. in New York, “My name is

forged a check to get out of a jam with a
bookie. I was put on probation for three
years—after some of the fellows here in-

God for the sentence. I’m learning how to
live like a human being. My wife says
she’ll come back to me with our two kids
if I lick my insanity wid cnmblg, That's
one bet I’m going to w

Gambling: a Mental Illness

Such confessions are heard every week
in twenty-four cities from ers of
Gamblers Anonymous, an organization
with what seems to ) be the first eflectiv
therapy fo -
tal illness related to alcoholism ¢ and Ban

diction

Since 1957, when the movement was
founded in Los Angeles by Jim W., an
alumnus of Alcoholics Anonymous, some
7000 troubled men and women have
been introduced to the G.A. program.
Most of them are unwilling to admit pad
need help and drop out after a few se:
sions; but G.A, says it has 800 con-
verts who have curbed completely their
passion sg gambling. Although this
seems to be a poor batting average, it is
considered pi ell by psychiatrists;

Alcoholics Anonymous. this
trists fail in helping compulsiv e gamblers lick the habit.

arch treatment aa compulsive gam-
bling is hardly k n in private practice.

service in promoting public awareness
that obsessive gambling is a sympt
deep-seated neurosis. Compulsive eam

who refuse to buckle down and earn a
decent living—the identical attitude to-
ward chronic drunkards a generation
ago, before Alcoholics Anonymous was
launched. G.A. is struggling to change
this public image.

The urgent need for G.A. is reflected
by the rapid growth of the organization
in the last two years and the increasing
een acal of letters received by the general

ce office asking for information. (In-
hie msiang be addressed to Gamblers
nonymo P.O. box 17173, Los An-
geles 17, Calif, or P.O. box 1498, New
York, N. Y.) Local chapters, usually
listed in the telephone directory, have
been established in New York, Boston,
Philadelphia, Chicago, Cincinnati, Mi-
ami, Seattle, Las Vegas, Arlington, Vir-
ginia; and in California at Los Angeles,
San Francisco, Oakland, Sacramento,
Hollywood, Chico, West Covine, Beverly
Hills, Bakersfield, Culver City, Gardena,
San Jose, Downey, Redding, Santa Bar-
bara and San Mateo

A comparison of G. A. with Alcoholics
Anonymous underscores a significan’
point. In 1940, A.A.’s fifth year of opera-
tion, it had 1500 members, G.A.’s current
total. Today, A.A. enlists 300,000 of the
estimated 5,850,000 men and women in
the United States who lose control of
themselves when they drink. Many au-
thorities believe the destructive effects of

read.

never have met a compulsive gambler or,
at least, don’t know that they have. Un-
like arb addictions, gambling leaves no
obvious scars. The typical victim is an
engaging extrovert who tells amusing
stories with a flair cultivated by ee
up glib lies to borrow money to feed his
betting fever. His intelligence is above
average; he often earns a good salary,
for a time. He grabs bar tabs, tips lay-
ishly and is generous with favors for
casual acquaintances. They rarely suspect
his convivial front is a pathetic cover- -up
of the mess he has made of his own and
his sry s life.

A. charges no dues or initiation fees,
but it is a wry joke among veteran mem-
bers that their club is the most expensive
in the world to join. Individual gambling
losses exceeding $100, 000 through the
years are not unusual. The toll in emo-

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5
&
me
=z
3
a.
°
<4
°
cy
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ieee
5
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vorced, and most of the remainder are on
the verge of it, Their neglected children
are deeply hostile. Many oer men are
facing | criminal prosecutio

At a recent meeting in vi Angeles,
newcomers told typically harrowing sto-

Gamblers Anonymous

new organization succeeds

ries. A woman said her husband would di-
vorce her and sue for the custody of their
three children if she continued to go to
Gardena, a suburb where poker parlors
are permitted to operate twenty hours a

y. “I've tried to keep away from that
hellhole,” she cried. “Oh, God, how I've
tried, but cards are like a drug to me.”

A seventy-year-old man said in a heavy
Greek accent, “My gambling drove my
wife to her grave. Last week it drove my
daughter to a mental institution.” He
turned his head to muffle a sob. “I am the
one they should put away. For fifty years
this curse has been on me. If I can purge
it from my soul, maybe I will smile again
someday, like the rest of you.”

May be he will, but the odds are against

im. “ our experience that anyone
who walks through the door has one
chance in eight to get the monkey off his
back,” said Jim W., a soft-spoken man of
forty-nine. ““We succeed only with people
who have hit rock bottom in misery and
degradation. Those we fail to Teach may
have goo because
they're frightened or depressed, but they
really don’t want to stop gambling.”

Violent Urges to Bet

Jim refiected for a long moment. “It’s
terribly hard to give up something that’s
been the entire focus of your life. I haven’t
made a bet since October, 1954, but I
still get violent urges to play a horse or
take a flier at the crap tables in Las Vegas.
Psychiatrists say compulsive gambling is
a disease that is never really cured.

“We Bene a man has passed ie crisis
if he comes to meetings for six months,
but we've had bad disappointments with
backsliders. Two fellows w
‘dry’ for a year had relapses ae and
they’re hooked worse than ever no
When that happens, I feel like chucking
the whole thing as a lost cause. And then
someone who appeared to be a hopeless

ase makes a complete recovery, re-
viving my faith in the oldest principle in
human relations: People with similar
problems can help each other.

G. Ss learned t © prepare members
for a difficult transition from the private
world of fantasy every compulsive gam-
bler invents.

“The gambler often concocts elaborate
schemes for helping people—to justify,
subconsciously, his despicable conduct,”
Jim W. explained. “I alwa S was on
poedical kick. At ais i wanted money

“€

Then I was going to pect my rela:
tives’ pile have none of my
Own—to staff my hospital in Africa, At
the a, ~~ I] was hallucinating like
crazy, I had plans to endow a 6 founds.
tion to find the cure for can

“Those wild
felt I was viol
Spent money for an
bling. Whenever we J

ideas were so a to me |
ating a sacred trust when |
ything except gam-
Ose a member who

has made a sincere effort to quit gam-
bling, he usually goes back to it for the

mera) Ww here there’s no yesterday andes

orty- -five-year-old Los Angeles
woman, who must be unique in medical

€
thority on gambling’s insidious hold. A
one time she was under psychiatric treat-
ment for five pease Irma al-

Lic}

ing.
Sagi was the hardest habit to
”’ she said. ‘“‘My other brainstorms—

around after I
Seago out fast, but gambling had
whipped. I was like a zombie; I never
heard people when they nok to me. All
ven excruciating siiiical aint does

is the documented case of a San Fran-

after she had been delivers of a baby by
C . Led ee oA

i etre pemag hours until she
nthe most Haat study of this obses-
been by Dr.

made by
any Aa a ees psychiatrist
Tk 1 em

two years. His file of : sixty case sthigteties
field

oa was virtually sacenicredl until a few

=<

“Stated j in simple terms, a compulsive
gambler has iselings ot Rooms. stem-
to}

centered woman who dinsGitagea’e affec-
tion, intensifying the child’s sense of
insecurity ae resulting i ina dependency

“That $ ass ee background of many

Pie, “they equate money with love

higher level, Gambling i is an outbreak of
prt that have accumulated since
chi hoo

he
G.A, aes I met ata Bid meetings
and SOUups therapy sessions had lost so

Jim W. (right, masked by

a copy of the group’s handbook)
Sounded G.A. in 1957.

“We succeed only with people
who have hit rock bottom.”

absurd id dae aan a even yokels
recognize as sucker b:

“Do compulsive guntles subcon-
ead Hey to lose?”’ I asked Doctor
Perlov

se,” he replied. “Every
obsessive addiction is self-destructive.
The compulsive gambler wants to lose
money to punish himself for using it to
purchase love. He compounds his guilt
by making his family suffer for his cor-
rupt conduct, yet he will break his neck
doing favors for total strangers to gain
the approval he wants so desperately.”

The technique used by G.A. for resolv-
ing this conflict once was dismissed as
mere autosuggestion. Psychologists now

le it produces a spiritual Bate
which gives members the uplift of a
religious movement. Actually at the meet-
ings there are many references t ie
pt: ‘God directed my footsteps to

”.,,“Lthank God this iris
was created to save my life.” iS Sig-
nificant that very few ee gam-

come affiliated with a congregation.

Confessions From Members

G.A. meetings open on a solemn note

and make amends to everyone he has
. The remainder of the session,

which lasts about two hours, is devote
to recitals of past experiences by mem-
bers of the organization.

It is impossible for someone who is not
a compulsive gambler to comprehend the
profound effect of this simple formula, I
can only report the astonishing personal-
ity changes I have seen, even within forty-
eight hours. I arrived in Los Angeles the
same day a man we'll call Tom came from
a Migwener rn city.

a man approaching forty, was so
distraught when Jim W. brought him to
his first meeting that he literally cringed
behind his sponsor for protection, like
a terrified child. Except for a few whis-
pered questions to Jim, Tom did not
utter a word all evening, ie nights later
he was in a state of exulta

A fantastic thing hae: hawnaned to
me,” he shouted. “I was a compulsive
gambler for twenty-two years and a
miserable excuse for a human being, |
lost $165,000 and three good businesses
Which my wealthy father had bankrolled
for me, He spent a fortune sending me
lo psychiatrists—without results,

“IT was at the end of my rope when |
Saw a news story about G,A, That was the

epee —

Ea

_—

44

Gamblers Anonymous

| . Peer reaniZ
| led after Alcoholics Anonymous, this new Org .
Modeled : rs lick the habit,

where psychiatrists fail in helping compulsive oamble

By STANLEY FRANK

he personable young executive con-
| fronted forty people at the Mayfair
Hotel in Los Angeles and said,
“My name is Edwin. I’m a compulsive
gambler. The night before I attended my
first meeting of this kind eighteen months
ago, my lawyer put me in a psychiatric
hospital in Palo Alto. He was afraid I'd
commit suicide before I was sent to
prison. I had embezzled eight thousand
dollars and written six thousand in bad
checks to cover my gambling debts. Pre-
viously I had borrowed twenty thousand
from finance companies. My wife had
left me, my family had disowned me, and
I had lied to fifty-one friends and business
associates to get money for my gambling
mania.

“I was thirty-four and earning twenty
thousand dollars a year as the West Coast
sales manager for a big outfit, but my
wife and daughter lived like a family on
relief. I hadn’t been solvent in fifteen
years.

“The psychiatrists at Palo Alto said
they couldn’t help me. Nobody ever had
given me any hope I could stop gambling,
until I came here. I haven’t bet a nickel
since that night, and in two more years I
will have paid all my debts. But I’ll attend
these meetings as long as I live, because I
know I'll always be a compulsive gambler
at heart. I'd rather die than go through
that torture again.”

A tall, gaunt man with haggard eyes
that betrayed his tension told a similar
group at the 23rd Street branch of the
Y.M.C.A. in New York, “My name is
Arthur. I’m a compulsive gambler. I was
a mailman for fourteen years, until I
forged a check to get out of a jam with a
bookie. I was put on probation for three
years—after some of the fellows here in-
tervened for me. I'll go to prison if I gam-
ble while I’m on probation, and I thank
God for the sentence. I’m learning how to
live like a human being. My wife says
she’ll come back to me with our two kids
if I lick my insanity for gambling. That’s
one bet I’m going to win.”

Gambling: a Mental [ness

Such confessions are heard every week

in twenty-four cities from members of

Gamblers Anonymous, an organization
with what seems to be the first effective
therapy for compulsive gambling—a men-
ta] illness related to alcoholism and drug
addiction.

Since 1957, when the movement was
founded in Los Angeles by Jim W., an
alumnus of Alcoholics Anonymous, some
7000 troubled men and women have
been introduced to the G.A. program.
Most of them are unwilling to admit they
need help and drop out after a few ses-
sions; but G.A. says it has 800 con-
yerts who have curbed completely their
passion for gambling. Although this
seems to be a poor batting average, it is
considered phenomenal by psychiatrists:

successful treatment of compulsive gam-
bling is hardly known in private practice.

G.A. is also performing an important
service in promoting public awareness
that obsessive gambling is a symptom of
deep-seated neurosis. Compulsive gam-
blers generally are branded dissolute bums
who refuse to buckle down and earn a
decent living—the identical attitude to-
ward chronic drunkards a generation
ago, before Alcoholics Anonymous was
launched. G.A. is struggling to change
this public image.

The urgent need for G.A. is reflected
by the rapid growth of the organization
in the last two years and the increasing
number of letters received by the general
service office asking for information. (In-
quiries should be addressed to Gamblers
Anonymous, P.O. box 17173, Los An-
geles 17, Calif., or P.O. box 1498, New
York, N. Y.) Local chapters, usually
listed in the telephone directory, have
been established in New York, Boston,
Philadelphia, Chicago, Cincinnati, Mi-
ami, Seattle, Las Vegas, Arlington, Vir-
ginia; and in California at Los Angeles,
San Francisco, Oakland, Sacramento,
Hollywood, Chico, West Covine, Beverly
Hills, Bakersfield, Culyer City, Gardena,
San Jose, Downey, Redding, Santa Bar-
bara and San Mateo.

A comparison of G.A. with Alcoholics
Anonymous underscores a _ significant
point. In 1940, A.A.’s fifth year of opera-
tion, it had 1500 members, G.A.’s current
total. Today, A.A. enlists 300,000 of the
estimated 5,850,000 men and women in
the United States who lose control of
themselves when they drink. Many au-
thorities believe the destructive effects of
gambling are almost as widespread.

This disclosure may startle people who
never have met a compulsive gambler or,
at least, don’t know that they have. Un-
like other addictions, gambling leaves no
obvious scars. The typical victim is an
engaging extrovert who tells amusing
stories with a flair cultivated by dreaming
up glib lies to borrow money to feed his
betting fever. His intelligence is above
average; he often earns a good salary,
for a time. He grabs bar tabs, tips lav-
ishly and is generous with favors for
casual acquaintances. They rarely suspect
his convivial front is a pathetic cover-up
of the mess he has made of his own and
his family’s life,

G.A. charges no dues or initiation fees,
but it is a wry joke among veteran mem-
bers that their club is the most expensive
in the world to join. Individual gambling
losses exceeding $100,000 through the
years are not unusual. The toll in emo-
tional bankruptcy is devastating. About
one third of the applicants have been di-
vorced, and most of the remainder are on
the verge of it. Their neglected children
are deeply hostile. Many of the men are
facing criminal prosecution.

At a recent meeting in Los Angeles,
newcomers told typically harrowing sto-

ries. A woman said her husband would di-
vorce her and sue for the custody of their
three children if she continued to go to
Gardena, a suburb where poker parlors
are permitted to operate twenty payht
day. “I’ve tried to keep away from tna
hellhole,” she cried. “Oh, God, how lve
tried, but cards are like a drug to me.

A seventy-year-old man said in a heavy
Greek accent, ““My gambling drove my
wife to her grave. Last week it drove my
daughter to a mental institution. He
turned his head to muffle a sob. “I am the
one they should put away. For fifty years
this curse has been on me. If I can purge
it from my soul, maybe I will smile again
someday, like the rest of you.” ;

Maybe he will, but the odds are against
him. “It’s our experience that anyone
who walks through the door has one
chance in eight to get the monkey off his
back,”’ said Jim W., a soft-spoken man of
forty-nine. ‘“We succeed only with people
who have hit rock bottom in misery and
degradation. Those we fail to reach may
have good intentions temporarily because
they’re frightened or depressed, but they
really don’t want to stop gambling.”

Violent Urges to Bet

Jim reflected for a long moment. “‘It’s
terribly hard to give up something that’s
been the entire focus of your life. I haven’t
made a bet since October, 1954, but I
still get violent urges to play a horse or
take a flier at the crap tables in Las Vegas.
Psychiatrists say compulsive gambling is
a disease that is never really cured.

“We figure a man has passed the crisis
if he comes to meetings for six months,
but we’ve had bad disappointments with
backsliders. Two fellows who had been
‘dry’ for a year had relapses recently, and
they’re hooked worse than ever now.
When that happens, I feel like chucking
the whole thing as a lost cause. And then
someone who appeared to be a hopeless
case makes a complete recovery, re-
viving my faith in the oldest principle in
human relations: People with similar
problems can help each other.”

G.A. has learned to prepare members
for a difficult transition from the private
world of fantasy every compulsive gam-
bler invents.

“The gambler often concocts elaborate
schemes for helping people—to Justify
subconsciously, his despicable conduct ”
Jim W. explained. ‘‘] always was ona
medical kick, At first ] wanted money
to becomea doctor like Albert Schweitzer
Then | was going to educate my rela-
tives’ children—I have none of i
Own—to staff my hospital in Africa re
the end, when | was hallucinating like
crazy, I had plans to endow a found:
tion to find the cure for cancer, ba
_ Those wild ideas were so real to me |
felt I was violating a sacred trust when |
spent money for anything except gam-

ing. Whenever we lose a member who

ation succeeds

has made a sincere effort to quit gam.
bling, he usually goes back to it for the
same reason. He escapes to his dream
world, where there’s no yesterday and no
tomorrow.”

A forty-five-year-old Los Angeles
woman, who must be unique in medica|
literature, spoke with hair-raising ay.
thority on gambling’s insidious hold. At
one time she was under psychiatric treat.
ment for five addictions—narcotics, al-
coholism, obesity, nymphomania and
gambling.

“Gambling was the hardest habit to
lick,” she said. ““My other brainstorms—
the booze, dope, overeating and running
around after I was divorced—were
straightened out fast, but gambling had
me whipped. I was like a zombie; I never
heard people when they spoke to me. All
I had on my mind was horses.”

Even excruciating physical pain does
not deter a gambler craving action. There
is the documented case of a San Fran-
cisco woman who went to Reno a week
after she had been delivered of a baby by
Cesarean section and played slot machines
for fourteen consecutive hours until she
had a hemorrhage.

The most definitive study of this obses-
sive behavior has been made by Dr.
Harry Perlowitz, a Brooklyn psychiatrist
who gave G.A.’s New York members
free treatment in group therapy for nearly
two years. His file of sixty case histories
is the most extensive, by far, in a field
that was virtually unexplored until a few
years ago.

“Stated in simple terms, a compulsive
gambler has feelings of rejection stem-
ming from early childhood,” Doctor
Perlowitz said. ‘Every one I’ve ever seen
grew up in a disturbed family environ-
ment. His parents were divorced or so
incompatible that he was denied the love
a child needs for emotional stability.
Another common characteristic is a
Strong suggestion of the Oedipus com-
plex—undue attachment for the mother.
Usually she was a domineering, self-
centered woman who discouraged affec-
lon, intensifying the child’s sense of
insecurity and resulting in a dependency
relationship which has continued into
adult life,”

That's the classic background of many
neurotic people. Why do some of them
turn to gambling?

‘To buy love,” Doctor Perlowitz ex-
Plained. “They equate money with love
because they have no confidence they can
maintain personal relationships on 4
higher level. Gambling is an outbreak of
anxieties that have accumulated since
childhood,”

Pa raised a fascinating point. The

4A, members I met at a dozen meetings
and group-therapy sessions had lost S°
fonsistently that the law of averages
Seemed to have been revoked for them.
Small Wonder, In reminiscing, they al-

luded constantly to bets on long shots and

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Jim W. (right, masked by

a copy of the group’s handbook)
founded G.A. in 1957,

“We succeed only with people
who have hit rock bottom.”

absurd propositions that even yokels
recognize as sucker bait.

“Do compulsive gamblers subcon-
sciously play to lose?” I asked Doctor
Perlowitz.

“Yes, of course,” he replied. “Every
obsessive addiction is self-destructive,
The compulsive gambler wants to lose
money to punish himself for using it to
purchase love. He compounds his guilt
by making his family suffer for his cor-
rupt conduct, yet he will break his neck
doing favors for total strangers to gain
the approval he wants so desperately.”

The technique used by G.A. for resolv-
ing this conflict once was dismissed as
mere autosuggestion. Psychologists now
concede it produces a spiritual unity
which gives members the uplift of a
religious movement, Actually at the meet-
ings there are many references to the
Deity—‘God directed my footsteps to
G.A.”... “I thank God this organization
was created to save my life.” It is sig-
nificant that very few compulsive gam-
blers previously have attended church:
after joining G.A., they frequently be-
come affiliated with a congregation.

Confessions From Members

G.A. meetings open on a solemn note
with an oral reading of the twelve steps
in the recovery program, which Jim W.
copied directly from Alcoholics Anony-
mous. Each member admits he was un-
able to control gambling and professes
his belief that a higher power can restore
him to a normal way of life. After that
catharsis, he promises to take a searching
moral and financial inventory of himself
and make amends to everyone he has
harmed. The remainder of the session,
which lasts about two hours, is devoted
to recitals of past experiences by mem-
bers of the organization.

It is impossible for someone who is not
a compulsive gambler to comprehend the
profound effect of this simple formula. I
can only report the astonishing personal-
ity changes I have seen, even within forty-
eight hours. I arrived in Los Angeles the
same day a man we'll call Tom came from
a Midwestern city.

Tom, a man approaching forty, was so
distraught when Jim W. brought him to
his first meeting that he literally cringed
behind his sponsor for protection, like
a terrified child. Except for a few whis-
pered questions to Jim, Tom did not
utter a word all evening. Two nights later
he was in a state of exultation.

“A fantastic thing has happened to
me,” he shouted. “I was a compulsive
gambler for twenty-two years and a
miserable excuse for a human being. |
lost $165,000 and three good businesses
which my wealthy father had bankrolled
for me. He spent a fortune sending me
to psychiatrists—without results.

“I was at the end of my rope when I
saw a news story about G.A. That was the
first. act of fate that brought me here. Did
you read about the plane that crashed in
Chicago a few days ago killing all seventy-
eight people on board? I was a standby
on that flight.” He raised a clenched fist.
“God kept me off that plane so I could be
saved by G.A. I hope He strikes me dead
if I ever make another bet.”

Gamblers’ Neglected Wives

Weekly chapter meetings are con-
ducted in two adjoining rooms, but they
are at opposite poles psychologically. In
one room there is a heady atmosphere of
camaraderie and redemption. Next door,
resentment and skepticism are the pre-
vailing moods. There the members’ wives
are told how they can help to implement
G.A.’s recovery program—but the
women frequently are also in urgent need
of guidance to solve their own emotional
problems aggravated by years of neglect,
humiliation and privation.

The women were remarkably out-
spoken in discussing their anxieties and
intimate details of their marriages at
sessions I was permitted to attend. Some
wondered whether their bad judgment in
choosing a husband betrayed flaws in
their own characters. Others berated
themselves for driving the men to gam-
bling with their nagging and financial
demands. (These self-accusations often
are groundless. A compulsive gambler
usually is hooked by the habit long before
he is married.)

Fully 80 percent of the women I polled
said they would have got divorces long
ago except for their children. Every one
was bitter against her husband for shirk-
ing his responsibilities and exposing her
to the mortification of having to ask
relatives and friends for money to pay
bills. Numerous references to the break-
down of marital relations, always a sequel
of compulsive gambling, reflected deep
affronts to femininity which would not
be forgotten quickly—if ever.

The withdrawal pains from gambling
can be as severe as an alcoholic’s abrupt
abstinence from liquor. The urge to make
a bet is so insistent that all sorts of dodges
are practiced to fight off temptation.
Sports pages of newspapers are thrown
away immediately to avoid looking at the
racing entries. Nickels and dimes are
spent needlessly to thwart sudden im-
pulses to call a bookie.

Since compulsive gamblers rarely cul-
tivate hobbies or intellectual interests,
they are at loose ends after giving up the
only activity that ever absorbed them.
Many drift back to betting in sheer bore-
dom, but a sizable number transfer their
obsessive drive to G.A. Some zealots in

every chapter spend several nights a week

indoctrinating applicants, riding herd on
faltering members and publicizing the
organization. Jim W. has given up his
construction business (‘‘I never was suc-
cessful, anyway’’) and has taken a part-
time job as a bookkeeper, so that he can
devote thirty hours a week to meetings,
setting up new chapters and answering
the more than 2000 letters that he re-
ceives annually.

Although G.A. does not get as many
emergency calls as Alcoholics Anony-
mous from overwrought members during
the tapering-off period, its troubleshoot-
ers put in more time behind the scenes,
straightening out the incredibly tangled
affairs of newcomers. Every new member
is so deeply in debt that he sees gambling
as his only chance to get even. If G.A.
does not show him another way out of
his difficulties, he will continue to gamble
with mounting desperation.

The first step is to compile a list of all
his creditors and the court orders against
him. One rule is adhered to rigidly: A
fugitive from a criminal charge must sur-
render to the district attorney, or G.A.
will have nothing to do with him. If he
agrees, the organization uses its good
offices to have him put on probation so
that he can repay the money he has em-
bezzled, stolen or swindled.

The troubleshooters tackle the ticklish
job of persuading creditors to waive civil
suits and salary garnishments and accept
small, long-term remittances on debts.
This may involve negotiating with a
dozen banks and finance companies that
have given a man loans. The chances are
he also owes money all over town for mer-
chandise bought on the installment plan
and pawned for ready cash. The coopera-
tion G.A. receives when it explains the
circumstances to businessmen is hearten-
ing. Last year the New York and Los An-
geles chapters were rebuffed by reputable
firms on less than thirty of 400 appeals
for special consideration.

After the immediate financial pressures
on aman are relieved, a committee draws
up his budget for the long haul. As much
as 60 per cent of his weekly salary may be
earmarked for payments on his debts. Al-
lowances are made for men with large
families and small incomes, but they are
required to give at least twenty dollars a
week tocreditors, an obligation that means
years of grinding penny-pinching.

One case I saw from start to solution in
New York involyed routine G.A, proce-
dure. A twenty-six-year-old jewelry sales-

man we'll call Harry, who had been in
hiding to evade arrest for forgery, ap-
peared at a special meeting arranged by
his wife. Harry had opened a bank ac-
count with a phony check for $2000, then
immediately cashed fifty-two small checks

ring the paddoc

totaling $4000 at branches of the bank

before his spurious deposit bounced. The
money went faster than the horses gine
ing his bets. He then bought with 3
checks about $1000 worth of cameras
which he hocked, to keep in action.

Harry’s wife burst into tears when he
entered the room. During the two weeks
he had been on the lam, he had developed
a nervous tic and a stammer. A three-man
board informed Harry they would help
him only on condition that he surrendered
to the D.A. the next day. .

G.A. was instrumental in getting him
released on $500 bail, an.extremely low
bond considering his felonies. After wait-
ing two weeks to see whether Harry was
making a sincere effort to reform, the
board called eight companies and told
them Harry would repay the money he
owed in monthly installments if they
dropped the charges against him. All
eight agreed to play ball.

Not all of Harry’s troubles were cleared
up so easily. News of his scrape black-
balled him in the jewelry trade, forcing
him to take a job driving a truck for
eighty dollars a week. He then was sum-
moned to another conference, where he
was told he would have to pay back $150
a month until his debts were squared.

“If you say so, that’s the way it’s got
to be,” Harry said. The court gave him a
suspended sentence and put him on pro-
bation for three years. That was six
months ago. At last report Harry was
meeting his payments punctually.

Gambling as Escape

Probably no movement based on a con-
cept of group dependency ever started
with a smaller nucleus. Jim W. comprised
the entire “group” for three years. Jim
had been a compulsive gambler all his
adult life, and he was also a heavy drinker.
In 1950 he joined Alcoholics Anonymous,
and a year later, when his drinking was
curbed, he married a member of A.A.
Soon, however, he resorted to more vio-
lent bouts of gambling to escape the re-
sponsibility of supporting a wife.

The guilt that had been building up in
him exploded one night in October, 1954,
He was at a crap table in Las Vegas with
his last twenty-five dollars when he was
overwhelmed by a feeling of repugnance
for himself. He drove back to Los An-
geles and told his wife he was
with gambling.

“I had heard that story before,” she
says, “but I believed him, Ten years in
A.A, had taught me to recognize the
turning point in a compulsive person who
has reached the bottom of his misery,”

Jim had suffered no great distress in
giving up liquor, but the ordeal of getting

through

; Piehit,
canning theit dop LRA ee
i ; ke at a California trac kK.
Compulsive horseplay
a psychiatrist, make
order to punish themse

sheets, railbirds

ers, SAYS
sucker bets in
lves by losing.

through a day without the stimulus of
betting was much worse than he expected,
His wife suggested he adopt A.A.’s tech-
nique of talking out his tensions with an-
other gambler. He persuaded th ree horse-
players on his street to meet him in a tool
shop once a week. They quit after two
sessions.

He then went through a period of two
years, trying to persuade others to join
him in group therapy. Finally in 1957
Jim won his first sincere disciple. Sam, a
young insurance salesman on the verge
of a nervous collapse from the debts
and domestic. troubles piling up on
him, grasped Jim’s philosophy, and he
stopped gambling. They met every day
to discuss the formation of a group, but
after four months that objective still
seemed remote.

A tragedy led, in roundabout fashion,
to the big breakthrough. Paul Coates, of
the now defunct Los Angles Mirror, do-
ing a follow-up story on a gambler who
had been driven to suicide by debts, called
Sam, who had known the man. When
Sam mentioned his association with Jim,
Coates wrote a column advising readers
interested in combating compulsive gam-
bling to get in touch with Jim. Later he
did a TV program, with Jim and Sam ap-
pearing as masked guests. The show
brought a response of fifty letters. Jim
hired a room and informed everyone who
had written him that a meeting would be
held on September 13, 1957.

Five persons showed up; the follow-
ing week only three returned. But on its
first anniversary G.A. was safely off the
ground with forty members.

Achapter in San Francisco was launched
in 1958 by a public-relations man with
valuable entrees to national publicity.
The first story he placed, in a syndicated
Sunday newspaper supplement, resulted
in a handsome dividend. A compulsive
gambler in New York, who also was a
member of A.A., got in touch with Jim,
asking for advice on starting a branch.
On January 29, 1960, forty-seven persons
responded to a brief notice of a meeting
in the New York Daily News. The move-
ment in New York has expanded into five
chapters. During the past two years it has
spread to many other cities.

Several foundations have offered to
subsidize G.A., but Jim steadfastly de-
Clines such assistance. ‘The minute we
had money there would be a temptation

to help members out of jams, and that
would be the end of us,” he explained. “A
compulsive gambler must work out his
reformation the hard way—strictly
through his own efforts. If things are
made easy for him, he'll go right back to
the horse tracks and the gambling tables.”
THE END

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