Aa history Lovers 2004 moderators Nancy Olson and Glenn F. Chesnut page

began being acutely aware of them on Saturday.

The trip was costing me much more than I could afford, so I

wanted to save money where I could. I had hoped to save some

money by having my coffee in my room each morning. But the

coffee pot didn't work. I told them at the desk Friday and they

said they would put a new one in. They did bring up a new one.

But it, too, wouldn't work. So I bought a $1.50 cup of coffee in

the lobby, as I had the day before.

The man selling the coffee was reading a book by Dr. Abraham

Twersky, so I said "Oh, are you in the program?" He said he was

not but he was staying sober by another method. I then started

telling him that I knew Rabbi Twersky, the alcoholism treatment

specialist.

A man was also buying a cup of coffee. He was not wearing a

badge and at first I didn't even know he was there for the

convention. He had just come down for coffee -- perhaps his

coffee maker wasn't working either -- and had not bothered with

his badge or anything else. But he was carrying a large file of

papers.

He, too, was an A.A. member. We sat down to drink our coffee

together in the lobby and I started telling him about A.A.

History Buffs. He said "I feel there is something I should say

to you." Then he opened his file of papers and pulled out all

sorts of wonderful historical documents. He gave me a copy of

Ruth Hock's letter to Bill Wilson, recalling the early days of

A.A.

Our choices of meetings Saturday morning included the same wide

variety of meetings, but I wanted to go to the one called

"Archives: A Collective Vision," because I knew that Charles K.

would be speaking there and I wanted to meet him and, Doug B.,

both on-line friends.

Afterward, I went off to try to hear Clancy I. of California.

Clancy's meeting was too crowded and I couldn't get in, so I

went back to the Convention Center and wandered into the first

meeting that I came upon. The meeting was already in progress. I

soon discovered that it was a Gay and Lesbian meeting, and a

woman from San Francisco was speaking. Her name was "Peacock."

Another of those little "coincidences." I had recently

befriended a lesbian woman alcoholic in Pennsylvania. When I

heard "Peacock" I immediately knew I must buy her tape for my

friend.

She gave a magnificent talk. I was not taking notes but I

remember a few things she said. She said that Clancy I. was her

sponsor. She called him to ask his permission to speak at a

Gay/Lesbian meeting and he responded "Now, you know how I feel

about special interest groups."

"But I really want to do this, Clancy," she replied.

There was a very long pause and then he said: "I have good news

and bad. The good news is that you may speak at the convention.

The bad news is that I will be speaking at the same time."

She responded "That's OK, honey, we won't attract the same

crowd." Her audience roared with laughter.

After hearing Peacock I wanted to catch the 3:30 meeting "Pass

It On - Into the 21st Century." Searcy W. of Texas was speaking

at this meeting. He was Ebby's sponsor. Bill had sent Ebby to

Searcy in Texas and Ebby stayed sober there for some time.

But first I needed some food. After I had some food I decided to

go back to my hotel to rest. I totally forgot that I wanted to

hear Searcy. Another of those little coincidences?

Back in my room I found I couldn't nap, I was too restless. So I

decided to try to reach another of the history buffs who was

staying in the same hotel, Tex Brown of Illinois. I phoned him

and asked if he would join me in the lobby. The inspiration to

call Tex lead to the most exciting part of the convention for

me. Tex was then 83 years old and sober 53 years. He had written

me before the convention saying "I just happened to stumble into

the history forum. I read the post saying that you will be

staying at the Radisson Plaza. So will my wife, Barb, and I. ...

I thought that I might like historians better than archivists. I

guess I need to see what the big boys are like."

Tex got sober Feb. 6, 1947, in Skokie, IL. He was then the

editor of the Area 20 (Northern Illinois Area) service letter,

"NIA Concepts." His delightful wife, Barb, has been sober 21

years. I found Tex a charming, humble, serene, humorous fellow.

He told me some wonderful stories about the early days in the

Chicago area.

Then he scooped me up and took me along with them to sit in the

oldtimers section for the oldtimers meeting at the Metrodome

Saturday night. He seemed to know everybody and made sure that

he introduced me to them all. Among those I met was Mel B. who

has written so much wonderful AA history, and Dr. Jack Norris's

widow.

And what an inspiration all the oldtimers were. Those with more

than 40 years sobriety had been asked to put their names and

sobriety date in a Fishing Hat located at the Convention Center

before 1 p.m. on Saturday.

All the meetings in the Metrodome were simultaneously translated

into Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Polish and

Swedish. Special arrangements were also made for the hearing

impaired. And the HP made sure that the oldtimers meeting would

be truly international. Among the names pulled from the hat were

Mosku from Finland, sober 46 years; Collin from Australia, sober

54 years; and Manual M. from France, sober 40 years.

A little extra time was allowed for the oldtimers from Finland

and France because they were accompanied by interpreters who

repeated in English what they had said. Collin from Australia

complained that they hadn't supplied him with an interpreter,

and there were moments when I wished they had. His Australian

accent was sometimes hard to understand. (Collin visited the

U.S. in 2004 and phoned me from New York. He planned to come to

Virginia, where I am now living, to meet me. But alas I was not

available the only day that he could come to Virginia. It was

not until his phone call that I realized he was the man who had

spoken at the convention.)

Shortly before they started drawing names out of the hat, I was

puzzled to see a procession of about 30 members of the

hospitality committee, wearing their distinctive white caps,

march down the center isle. They then stood in front of the line

of flags below the stage. They drew 15 names out of the hat, and

as each name was called, two of these host committee people

would get on each side of the oldtimer and help him or her onto

the stage. All of this could be seen very clearly on the large

screens around the Metrodome and it was such fun watching them

being escorted up. One of them was wearing a white tuxedo.

Another, whose escorts were two young women, started swinging

them around and dancing with them on the way up.

To make sure that they didn't have another Ruth among these

oldtimers, a man sat on the stage with a large rectangular sign

that said APPLAUSE. When three minutes were up, if they hadn't

stopped speaking, he would walk up behind them with the sign and

the entire convention would break into applause.

The first called to speak was Otto W., 40 years and two months

sober. Otto told how he was visited by two A.A. members while he

was locked up in a mental ward. "They had something I wanted and

I was willing to go to any lengths to get it: MATCHES!" All of

the oldtimers showed this kind of humor.

Marie M., sober 44 years, four months, said a woman had called

her and said she was an alcoholic from A.A. and asked if she

could visit her. "Well, I did not want any alcoholics coming to

MY house." So she said she would go to the A.A.'s house instead.

She rang the door bell and when the A.A. contact opened the door

she announced: "I have two black eyes (as if she couldn't see)."

One of the most inspirational, to my mind (and not because her

name was Nancy and she was from Pennsylvania) was Nancy F.

Nancy, sober 55 years, said there isn't anything you can't do if

you want to after you get sober. "I went to college at 70 ...

and graduated at 80 ... cum laude!"

David Mc. M, sober 43 years, who followed Nancy, said he was 21

when he got sober and was told he was too young to be an

alcoholic. He said he hasn't grown up yet, "but when I do I want

to be just like her," pointing to Nancy.

The last speaker was a tall, handsome black woman, Louise R.,

sober 40 years, who said that they told her if she kept coming

around she would get what they had. So she kept going to

meetings and waiting for them to give her whatever it was they

had.

Finally she asked "When are you going to give me what you have?"

They asked her how long she had been coming to meetings, and if

she had a drink during that period. She had not. "So you have

what we have."

"Here I was walking around with it," she said, "and I didn't

know I had it." She said they also kept talking at meetings

about how anybody who didn't have one should buy the Big Book.

It cost $3.50. Well, she didn't WANT to buy no BIG Book. She

didn't want to READ no BIG book. Finally they announced at a

meeting that anyone who didn't have a Big Book could have one

and pay for it when they could. "They think I can't AFFORD the

Big Book." So after the meeting she walked up to the man and

said she wanted the Big Book. She slapped down a five dollar

bill and said "Keep the change."

All of the oldtimers were very inspiring. They wasn't a dull one

in the lot. Murray M., our history buff from Dublin wrote: "The

old-timers meeting was very special. You could not but be moved

by their expressions of love and gratitude. The humour was

unequaled and I think the entire 15 would have stayed there

sharing for hours if time allowed. The member in the white

tuxedo might have summed it all up when the occasion got to

him."

Sunday morning my coffee pot worked just fine. Guess there was

no special reason God wanted me down in the lobby for my coffee.

I scooped up my new friend, Rich (who had given me Ruth Hock's

letter to Bill) and his roommate and took them with me to the

handicapped second on the Metrodome floor. This was near where I

had been sitting with Tex the night before. I wanted to take

Rich to that section because I wanted to see Tex again and

introduce Rich to him. But we didn't find Tex. He told me in an

e-mail that he and his wife had been late arriving. He had

looked for me, too, because he wanted to give me some

newsletters from his area.

At this closing meeting the 20 millionth copy of the Big Book

was presented to the fellowship of Al-Anon. There are 30,000

Al-Anon groups world wide.

There were three very inspirational speakers. One of them was

Nancy K, the lead singer for a group called "Sweet Water" in the

'60s. Sweet Water was the first group to take the stage at

Woodstock. "But they cut us out of the movie," she sighed. We

roared with laughter. "You know, only A.A.s laugh when I tell

them that. Everyone else says Ahhhhh, poor thing." Nancy got

sober in 1976 in Los Angeles. "I wore a bikini to my first

meeting," she said. But someone told her she would look better

if she were wearing a towel. If I remember correctly, she had a

bad accident, her vocal cords were damaged, and she lost her

ability to sing. She later became an English teacher. But

eventually her voice returned and she was reunited with some of

the Sweet Water group. There are three still alive, "fatter and

with less hair." They entertained outdoors at the 1995

convention, but they forgot to advertise, so there wasn't the

kind of crowd they'd hoped for. I think it was Nancy who said AA

is like taking wedding vows. "For better or worse, in sickness

or in health, till death do us part, I am a part of AA."

John K. got sober on St. Patrick's Day. (How's that for a

miracle. An Irishman getting sober on St. Patrick's Day?) He

told us of attending a funeral of a boy who had died and the

preacher said "the only way we can change the world is to change

ourselves, and now is the time, because for the boy in the box

it is too late." John's daughter smashed up his new car. She hit

a Mercedes. John's sponsor drove him to the scene of the

accident and all he could think of was himself. Why did she have

to smash MY car? How will I get to work, etc. His daughter was

still in the car, and his sponsor said, "Aren't you going to

check on her?" He went over to the car and his daughter said

"Oh, daddy, give me a hug." "I had to be prompted by my sponsor

to hug my daughter," he said. John asked us to remember that

each alcoholic is a multifaceted, wonderful person. And the only

one that doesn't seem to recognize it is himself.

______

One of the highlights for me Sunday morning was the sobriety

countdown. They said this was our 65th anniversary, and asked

any one who had been sober more

than 65 years to stand. "Has anyone been sober longer than

Bill?" No one stood. "Has anyone been sober 65 years? Please

stand -- it you still can." Sixty-four years? Sixty-three? When

they called "Fifty-five years?" One or more stood. "Keep coming

back," everyone shouted.

The persons with the longest sobriety at the convention had 55.

When they got down to 24 hours, two or more stood.

I'm not one who cries easily, but there were many times during

the convention when I fought back tears. But as we

concluded, and the children of Minneapolis came up and sang for

us We Are Family I began to cry. And then when we stood and

joined hands to say the Serenity Prayer, I broke down

completely.

___________

Postscript:

We were coming back from the Sunday meeting and Rich and his

roommate asked me to join them for lunch. We walked around

looking for a restaurant but they were all mobbed, with hundreds

of people lined up outside to get in, so we went back to our

hotel to have lunch.

While we were strolling around we ran into a man who had a bunch

of pheasant feathers sticking out of a sack. Rich started

chatting with him, and this man gave us each a feather. I did

not want a feather, took it to be polite, and planned to throw

it away as soon as I got back to my room. I stuck into the

opening in my handbag.

Then we had lunch at our hotel and Rich stuck his feather in the

vase of flowers on the table. At one point the waiter came over

and started to take the feather away. I said "Don't take that.

it belongs to my friend."

Shortly after lunch, Rich and his roommate left for the airport

to return home. But I was not leaving until Monday morning. I

was tired and decided to spend the rest of the day in my room

reading. But I began feeling strangely restless, so I decided to

go down to the lobby and find a comfortable chair in which to

sit and read.

So I was sitting in the lobby and I got chatting with a woman

who is in Al-Anon. She and her husband, an A.A. member, were

both at the convention.

She asked me where I got the feather, which was still sticking

out of my handbag. I had "forgotten" to throw it away. I told

her that some man we met on the street had given them to us.

Then she showed me her feather. I said "Oh, you must have met

the same man we did." "No, I did not," she answered, with tears

in her eyes.

Then she told me the following story. Her son, who was also in

A.A., died suddenly about six months earlier. The day I met her

would have been his A.A. anniversary. When she and her husband

came to the convention they felt they were bringing him with

them. And she saw many signs that his spirit indeed was with

them.

After sobering up he had become a nurse. He worked as a

"traveling nurse" and worked at one point in New Mexico with

Native Americans. At the convention the first night they were

sitting in the handicapped section and a group of kids came by

with signs saying they were from New Mexico and smiled and waved

at her and her husband. She thought it was a sign from her son.

Then the flag ceremony began and the Indian appeared with his

big staff covered with feathers. She thought of how her son had

loved Native Americans, worked with them, and had at one time

called his Dad to say "They don't have an AA group here. How do

I start one for them?"

Her son (whom she described as a very spiritual, gentle, and

artistic young man) loved feathers, collected them, and made

things from them.

"Then today," she said, "we went up to the third floor for lunch

and in the vase of flowers on the table was this feather. We

knew it was another sign from our son."

Well, I never did throw away my feather. On my computer desk, as

I write, stands a small vase of flowers. A pheasant feather

shoots up from the center.

I am reminded daily of the little anonymous way God works

miracles in our lives.

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++++Message 1701. . . . . . . . . . . . Re: Bert Taylor - Compiled From Old

Posts

From: Mel Barger . . . . . . . . . . . . 3/11/2004 8:19:00 PM

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Hi Everybody,

As I understand it, Bert closed his tailor shop and later worked for Saks

Fifth Avenue, which suggests that he must have been a first class tailor.

Mel Barger

~~~~~~~~

Mel Barger

[e-mail]

----- Original Message -----

From: [e-mail]

To: [e-mail]

Sent: Thursday, March 11, 2004 8:05 AM

Subject: [AAHistoryLovers] Bert Taylor - Compiled From Old Posts

I am continuing to combine old posts, which are then deleted, in

order to make it easier for researchers to search the archives.

The following is excerpted from old posts by Charles K. and Rick

T.

Charles wrote that Bert Taylor was an early AA member who

borrowed $1,000.00 from a Mr. Cockran one of his customers and a

prohibitionist. "The loan was to help buy some time from the

printer until the Liberty Magazine article came out. Once that

article came out we sold some books were able to settle with the

printer and get the remaining Big Books out of hock, so to

speak. He also allowed meetings to be held in the loft in his

shop.

"Now whether the debt was not repaid on time or Bert just fell

on hard times is uncertain, but he did loose ownership of the

shop, but was able to keep his business and he died sober. He

also was one of the first Trustees of the Alcoholic Foundation."

Rick responded to Charles' message:

"Much of this additional history was gleaned in on-site research

through minutes and correspondence at the GSO Archives....

"His $1,000 would have brought him 400 shares in Works

Publishing, and I'm sure he was able to cash in the shares, when

and if any of the loan was needed to be paid. There are scant

records on file of whose and how many shares were eventually

traded in to the

Alcoholic Foundation. The AF Trustees' ledgers remained pretty

thin for many years into the mid-1940s, and only a few shares

were probably ever recorded as 'bought back' by the Board of

Trustees. Bill wrote in 'AA Comes of Age'

about a few buy-backs, which turned out to be traded only at

face value."

Rick said he did not think Bert was a Trustee, but Charles

responded:

"I still believe Bert was a member of the Alcoholic Foundation,

only from what I have read.

"In the August 1947 Grapevine article 'Last Seven Years Have

Made AA self-supporting' Bill writes:

"'Two of the alcoholic members of our Foundation traveled out

among the AA groups to explain the need. They presented their

listeners with these ideas: that support of our Central Office

was a definite responsibility of the AA groups; that answering

written inquiries was a necessary assistance to our Twelfth Step

work; that we AAs ought to pay these office expenses ourselves

and rely no further upon outside charity or insufficient book

sales. The two trustees also suggested that the Alcoholic

Foundation be made a regular depository for group funds; that

the Foundation would earmark all group monies for Central Office

expenses only; that each month the Central Office would bill the

Foundation for the straight AA expenses of the place; that all

group contributions ought to be entirely voluntary; that every

AA group would receive equal service from the New York office,

whether it contributed or not. It was estimated that if each

group sent the Foundation a sum equal to $1 per member per year,

this might eventually carry our office, without other

assistance. Under this arrangement the office would ask the

groups twice yearly for funds and render, at the same time, a

statement of its expenses for the previous period.

'"Our two trustees, Horace C. and Bert T., did not come back

empty handed. Now clearly understanding the situation, most

groups began contributing to the Alcoholic Foundation for

Central Office expenses, and have continued to do so ever since.

In this practice the AA Tradition of self-support had a firm

beginning. Thus we handled the Saturday Evening Post article for

which thousands of AAs are today so grateful.' (Reprint of this

article can be found in 'Language of The Heart' see pages 64-65)

"Also from 'AA Comes Of Age'

"Page 186.........

"'At about this time our trusteeship began to be enlarged. Mr.

Robert Shaw, a lawyer and friend of Uncle Dick's, was elected to

the Board. Two New Yorkers, my friends Howard and Bert, were

also named. As time passed, these were joined by Tom B. and Dick

S. Dick had been one of the original Akronites and was now

living in New York. There was also Tom K., a hard-working and

conservative Jerseyman. Somewhat later more nonalcoholic,

notably Bernard Smith and Leonard Harrison, took up their long

season of service with us.'

"(FYI: This was around the time of the Rockefeller Dinner Feb.

1940, this also shows the alcoholic members of the Foundation

made up of more than just Bill & Dr. Bob. I have a copy of the