Lying by Intimation as the Alcoholic’s Native Tongue — the Kind of Lie You Don’t Catch Yourself Telling – Alabama C.

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About This Speaker Tape

Alabama C. (born Evelyn) speaks at the St. Andrews Speaker Meeting in Saratoga, California on November 20, 1982, a week shy of her 30th AA anniversary. A Southern woman raised in a good Methodist home, she started drinking at 16 to show off around older peers and spent the next 23 years building a career as a full-blown alcoholic. She married a mining engineer, played company hostess, and used his position, her brothers' money, and a talent for lying by intimation to protect her drinking while racking up fake diagnoses at hospitals across the country.

She describes getting to her first AA meeting in North Hollywood in a navy suit, pearls, and white gloves, stopping on the way for two bottles — one for the meeting, one for the hospital — because she arrived without the only requirement: a desire to stop. She didn't identify with the 502s or the Lincoln Heights jail stories and sat in judgment of a man who admitted to federal prison time. Years later she would marry exactly such a man, a sober alcoholic who wrote the same kind of bad checks she had written across the Waldorf, the Pierre, and the Roosevelt.

Her real bottom came after breast surgery when her brother Dan, coached by the Al-Anons, told her the family was releasing her with love — stay sober or die in the drunk tank with the winos. She drank a case of whiskey alone, was carried into a detox over an empty store in a snowstorm, and went insane for five days and nights while a man named Walt prayed aloud that Higher Power would restore her to sanity. In a dirty bathroom with the door ajar she heard Higher Power tell her she could be sober and sane a day at a time — and the miracle, she says, was that she believed it.

The tape closes with her learning self-respect at 76 cents an hour as a store clerk, a failed marriage made out of loneliness, a tarnished halo deflated by old-timer Dick D., and the lesson that the only difference between her and the prostitute upstairs was that Alabama didn't know she could tell and didn't need the money.

It was recorded on November the 20th, 1982, at the St. Andrews Speaker Meeting Group, Saratoga, California. The speaker, Evan Alabama Crothers of North Hollywood, California. Please observe the traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous and do not play this...
It was recorded on November the 20th, 1982, at the St. Andrews Speaker Meeting Group, Saratoga, California. The speaker, Evan Alabama Crothers of North Hollywood, California. Please observe the traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous and do not play this recording for entertainment or commercial purposes. And please do not break the anonymity of the speaker or any member at any public level. The original record and this copy were both made by Buck Daniel at 1332 St. Inez Way, Sacramento, California. Zip 95816. I want to introduce our speaker tonight. And I didn't know what her name was until tonight, but her name was Evelyn C. But she's known to everybody all over the country as Alabama. Give her a big hand. Good welcome. Good evening, fellow alcoholics and friends. My name is Alabama Crothers, and I'm a grateful, happy alcoholic. My real name is Evelyn, but I didn't like her. She did things that I was ashamed of. And she was a drunk. And Alabama is a sober alcoholic. And when it came to taking my inventory, it was much easier for Alabama, the sober alcoholic, to look at that sickness. And I had a great woman called Evelyn. And I've kept the name because I like being sober. I'm so happy to have been invited to come up here tonight. But I say that everywhere I go. I'm particularly happy that I know where I am. And that I came on the same night that I was invited to come. And in the morning when I wake up, I'm going nowhere I am. And that's the switch for a drunk like me. They have a saying in Texas that if you don't give your sobriety date, you might not have one. And it's with pleasure that I tell you that come the end of November, that I will have been sober 30 years. And I'm impressed. I'm impressed what God... that Alcoholics Anonymous and the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous can do for a woman who was dying of drunkenness. I'm impressed at how my life has been changed. And I think that was changed by emulating those of you who came before me. And trying to work with those of you who are new. I'm delighted that we've got people under a year sober. Because after you've got a year sober, you possibly have taken all 12 steps. And you know how to stay sober. But I love working with the new people. I've been able to, especially with our new generation. I don't think there's any age difference in AA. I'm 69. I don't feel it. I've been told I don't look it. And I can keep up with any of you. But again, that's the miracle of AA. That's the miracle of AA. And this program of recovery. But it has been very, very helpful to me to work with the new people. Because I find that they are far more honest about what they did than I was. And what they felt that I was able to express. And what they did. A new girl might be taking her inventory with me. And she tells something that she has done. And I didn't put it in my inventory. And God knows I didn't want anybody to ever know it. And I get goosebumps. And I have to sit right there and just make her wait. And say I did it too. And I left it off of my inventory. But I can't make amends. Because they say not to make amends when it would injure them or others. And in case you're new and you don't understand what that is. And you haven't got a sponsor. I wouldn't go to a man's wife and tell him I slept with him. I think that would be called injuring them or others. But I'm so grateful for the new people that are coming in to AA. I spoke at the Portland Young People's Convention. And I identified in feelings with every one of them. But I didn't get here from drinking a little chilled wine. Or burning the toast. I learned to cook after I got sober. I had a love affair with Al Cohen. And I remained true to it. And it jilted me. I didn't cheat with the pills and the Boreal to hide. And all of those funny cigarettes and things. Because you got a good love affair going. You remain true to it. And I did. But by the time it jilted me. I was so sick that I didn't know I didn't jilt it. It kept telling me it was going to take me where it used to. And do for me what it used to do. And I've been sober consistently. And I've been sober for a long time. I've been sober a considerable period of time before I found out alcohol can't talk. I carried on long conversations with it. And I knew that a nice lady that was raised in a good southern Christian home wouldn't have had the thoughts I had. And so I knew that it was the alcohol that was thinking that. I painted it all on the bottle. And then I found out. Alcohol can't think. And I was certain that I would not have done the things while drinking that I did without the transportation of the booze. And I found out alcohol can't act. And that was sad for me when I found all of this out. Because it meant. It meant that I was responsible for what I had done and what I had thought. And that the best news I ever had in my life. Was that I could drink. Was that I could be sober on a lifetime basis. A day at a time. The worst news that I've heard since I've been in AA. That when I'm not drinking, alcohol's not my problem. And that just leaves one thing. I'm the problem. And that's the reason I keep coming back. A lot of people ask me if I have to go to as many AA meetings as I go to. I wouldn't know. I go to them because I like to go to AA meetings. And I was a greedy drunk. I drank like a pig. My brother says that pigs even know when to stop. But I'm equally as greedy in AA. I am so afraid if I miss a meeting. That you go say something about how you work your program. And how you stay sober. And that maybe you have a secret that I don't know. And maybe it could enhance my life if I'd been there to hear it. And. So I just go to an awful lot of meetings. But all of my friends are there. And since. But I was a daily drinker. And a periodic drunk. And it wouldn't hurt me if I went to AA every day. I certainly stay in contact with AA every day of my life. Because I'm comfortable with you. But since I've learned to be comfortable with you. I have become comfortable with me. I like me. I respect me. I have human dignity now. And that makes me like and respect you. And it's made it easier for me to get along with people who are not alcoholics. I hear people talk about those people out there on the bricks. I don't find them a bit different from us. Except that they might not all be alcoholics. I see a lot of them that are. But they may not all be alcoholics. But I don't hold that against them. It requires a lot of work to become an alcoholic. A lot of work. And I was willing to give it my time. I started drinking when I was 16. That was puppy love. And tried to show off around my peers and so forth. I graduated from high school in a group that was about. All of them were about two to three years older than me. And I wanted them to know that I was as old as they were. And I could do anything they could do. And I really was just showing off. I lied about my drinking from the very first. My mother asked me what we did at the spend the night party. And I said I don't know what the rest of them did. I got drunk. But I laughed and weeped at her. And Mama said, Evelyn, you must quit talking like that. Sometime people are going to believe you. I found it worked with my husband. I tell him the truth. And he thought it was so far-fetched. He thought it was so far out that he thought I was kidding. I lied by intimation, in other words. And it's the worst form of lying I know. If you tell a direct lie, you know, you catch yourself at it. But I had lied so long by insinuation or intimation that I didn't know I was a lie. I don't know about you, but when I had started taking my inventory, I didn't know my character defects. I just plain didn't know them. And my sponsor just said, start with the word lie. I didn't much like him saying that. And I said, but really, I tell the truth. I have been known for my integrity. What I found out was I was frank to the point sometime of being rude. And I found that frankness and honesty just doesn't have anything in common. And then he said, write down that you're a thief. And I said, Walt, I haven't stolen anything since I stole nickels or dimes, you know, laying around the house. And got whipped, fired, and I quit that. And Walt said, I'm not talking about cash register honesty, Alabama. I'm talking about honest stealing other things. He explained to me that I had used hospitals like hotels when there possibly were dangerously ill people that needed the bed. The bed. He explained to me that I took up a lot of doctors' valuable time lying to them. And psychiatrists and psychologists. And I said, but I paid them. And he said, but you, they could have been working with somebody that might have been honest with them. Well, they would have known as much as I did if I told them everything. And I wanted them to tell me which days were making me drink so much. You know, I blamed everything I did on the hospital. I blamed everything I did on other people. Our situations. Our conditions. Because I didn't want to accept the responsibility for the things that I had done that was certainly far from ladylike. And that I broke the standards that I set to live by. That's what really hurts. You know that our parents were raised a generation ahead of us. I thought that theirs were pretty old fashioned. But if you break your own standards, that's when it's tough. And that's when that soul sickness I had started setting in. My sponsor had to help me with some other inventory too. Oh, he told me it was stealing when you went out with a married man. And I said, I don't understand it. I didn't intend to keep them. And my problem was this. I wasn't interested in the man per se so much. What I was interested in, I liked to go to the nicer places. And in my day and age, you had to be escorted to go in the places that I wanted to go. And I just, if I was in a strange city, well not strange, but in a city without my husband after he died. I just simply called up people that I knew and asked them to take me out. And he said, but they possibly spent, these places that you are talking about are very expensive. And he said, they possibly spent money on you that their wives and children needed. And I couldn't make Walt understand, quite understand, that I didn't call anybody that couldn't afford all of us. I married a mining engineer who was manager of a gold mine. And I have been called a gold digger. And that's a nice word. I started, I told you, drinking at 16. And I told you that at 22 I became kind of serious about it. By the age of 28, when the Saturday Evening Post article came out, I identified. And I knew I was an alcoholic. And I knew there was a name for me. But you know, I spent 11 more years denying it. To me and to doctors and to other people that I was an alcoholic. And you know why I denied it? Because alcoholics can't drink. And I didn't want to quit drinking. I was in and out of so many hospitals that I can't even tell you the number of times that I've been in them. I can't even remember the cities, let alone the name of the hospitals. And they didn't take alcoholics in those days. So I had to go in under false diagnosis. And what I'd do, I'd listen to people who were rushed to hospitals and ambulances and in intensive care. And ask them what the symptoms were. And then when I got alcoholic pneumonia, I felt that I was going into DTs. I'd call the doctor. And I always, we moved a great deal when my husband was doing consulting work in the mining field. And I always tried to socially meet the, uh, uh, oh, the doctor there. Oh, the doctor there. The doctor there. The one that's in charge. Uh, chief of staff. Because I wanted to be able to be hospitalized yesterday. Not when somebody decided I could be. And I'd call them and I'd give them some new symptom they hadn't heard of before about me. And, you know, they'd send ambulances at me and rush to the hospital to meet me if they weren't already there. And I've had a lot of surgeries. And I'm afraid I over described. I'm not sure, but what I've had things removed that weren't necessary. But see, what I really wanted, what I really wanted, I knew something was wrong with me. And I knew what it was called. But what I really hoped for, that they were going to find something like a brain tumor, uh, thyroid problems, or something that they could remove by surgery. And let us pave them. And I'd be okay. I'd be able to drink then like normal people. And I'd be able to act then like normal people. I would have had settled for anything other than alcoholism. Anything other than that. I'm not sorry I became an alcoholic now. Because the way I was living, I wouldn't have lived to be this age. And also, I wouldn't have found this good life. Uh, I was raised in a good home. A lot of us were. Uh, I didn't drink because I was shy. I was never shy. I didn't drink because I couldn't mix at parties. I always mixed. I was born high. I didn't drink because I needed that high. I drank, first because I was an alcoholic. And after I had that first drink, that wasn't enough. And secondly, when I first started drinking, it acted as a depressant for me. And I felt like I was just about like the other people around me. Because I knew I had a lot of energy. I'd known that all of my life. I'm very glad I have energy now. I'm very thankful for the energy that I have that God's given me. Uh, but then I felt a little bit uncomfortable. Because I, I knew I was going to die. Uh, but then I felt a little bit uncomfortable. I never wanted to, you know, if we were playing a game, I never got tired. I'd play bridge all night. I was obsessive about everything I did. Uh, I had some fears as a child, but I never knew what the hell I was afraid of. Uh, it was all the unknown fears. But when my fears really came was after I started drinking. And then the, I've even feared that I would be in war. When I had the most that I'd ever had in my life. And I'll tell you something. Since I've been sober, there have been some times that I wasn't real sure where the rent was coming from. Or the grocery bill was coming from. But I haven't wanted for anything since I've been sober. And I don't fear that I will ever want if I will put one foot in front of the other and do the best I can today. The best I can today. In fact, I don't have any fears today. I just plain don't have. I, I, God gave me good judgment. I don't walk right into a gun or anything like that. But I, when I was drinking, I remember diving in the water after a rattlesnake, not a rattlesnake, a water moccasin. And I did things that absolutely people with, uh, you know, good sense don't do. And then I had trouble accepting the fact that God could do it. And the fact that God could restore me to sanity. I didn't believe I was insane except when I was drinking. It was hard for me to tell the difference between legal insanity and the insanity when somebody had as much trouble with their drinking and has been as sick as I have. I'm one of those people that took an abuse about five times and drank on top of it. Once I went in a coma. But I thought it was an exceptionally bad, uh, uh, I thought it was an exceptionally bad, uh, uh, hangover. And of my own accord, took the anabuse again after I got out of that hospital. I thought I was different from you because, uh, I'd never been in a state hospital. And I heard a lot of you say you had. And I found out that St. John's Psycho in Santa Monica is just like a state institution except that you pay more. I just wasted my money. Uh, that's, that's one of the reasons I'm here. Uh, that's, that's one of the reasons I'm here. One of the reasons I went for a living. And looking back in some old checks before my brother took them away from me. The reason he took them away from me is that he found me in bed with a bottle of ink and a fountain pen. I think I'd been trying to fill it. And I turned it over on all of the checks that I had. And I was crying when he got there. And, you know, those crying checks were gone when we were drinking. I enjoyed being a mother, uh, you know, by this time. And my brother took all those checks and, uh, locked them up and said he'd keep them for seven years. So if anybody says that I still owe them, that he could look through them, or his secretary could, and, uh, and see if I actually did. I had found that I had seven doctors that I was paying at one time. Six of them were specialists. Uh, one would send me to the other. They'd take, uh, they'd file a form. They'd take, uh, the thyroid test. They'd take it, uh, they took it seven days straight. And they never got the same results any days. What they didn't know, it depended on how much and how late I drank whiskey that night in the hospital before they made the test. And they would go send me to John Hopkins. And, uh, there was a thyroid specialist there. They felt certain that was my problem. And, you know, one of the nurses told the doctor, I told me she was going to tell him if I didn't. And I begged her to tell him. And she said, you're going to tell him. I'm going to sit there until you do. That I was drinking the whole time I was in the hospital. And the tests weren't accurate. And so he added to the letter that he had written to John Hopkins, Please examine the possibility that Mrs. Brown may be an alcoholic. Oh, I'm not that good to go to John Hopkins for them to examine the possibility that I might be an alcoholic. I tore up the letter and I called John Hopkins and broke the appointment. I did anything to protect my drinking. Drinking had become my life. At first I lived to drink and then I drank to live. I married when I was 22. I married the only man I'd ever been, wanted to be married to in my life. The only man that I had truly ever loved except for him. I never loved except family love and platonic love. And he had told me just before we married though, he had a party for his staff and I drank too much as usual. And I knew, I was sitting with my back to the fire in the dining room. And I had all this whiskey and I knew I was going to fall in my plate. So I grabbed my chest and said, oh my heart, as I hit the plate. This is in front of my husband's staff. And he said on the way home that he, you know, just couldn't marry me if I was going to drink like that because it was very important that he have a wife that could go where he was going. He was a number of years my senior and had really already was well known in the mining field. And I said, well, that's your problem. I had enough to drink. It didn't seem important at all to me whether I married him or not. And either fortunately or unfortunately, I have never known if I would have quit drinking if he had stuck to his word that he wouldn't marry me unless I did. He came back that night and apologized and asked me to forgive him for saying that. And I said, it's okay. And as soon as he left, I turned over and went to sleep. Forgot it. I became company hostess. I think I'll tell you about my first day aid meeting since we had so many people. Now North Hollywood is my home group and I think it's the finest group in the world. And I hope you feel that way about your group. I found the more I give of myself to my group, the better I like the group. So if you don't like your group, not happy in it, I don't like others say go find you another group. I'll say take your inventory and find out what you're not giving to your group. You just can't possibly give of yourself to a group and not like it. You know, I found that out. But I didn't like North Hollywood when I went the first time. I was in Dr. Shower's Drive. That was a drying out joint. I had never been in a drying out joint before. I had told you I went in other hospitals. And there was a man named Marvel C who died sober, who hadn't been sober very long. And he came back to the joint and asked the doctor if he could take some of us the next week on Tuesday night to the beginners meeting at North Hollywood. I think that's the best I can do. I think that's the finest group in the world. I love the beginners meeting. And I raised my hand because that doctor did not understand that I did not want that medication or that Peralta high. And I told him I wasn't going to take it. And he said, how do you get sober? And I said, well, I take it off with alcohol. And he said, we'll give you an ounce every six hours. But you and I both all know that. That wouldn't keep you out of DTs or convulsions. Now, I've never had a convulsion. But you don't know when you're going to get them. And I certainly had DTs and I didn't want to go in DTs. And I'm having a hard time getting sober there without the right amount of whiskey. And another thing he didn't know, that I tapered off so easily and back on so easily, I never knew when I quit and started. And I was so upset. And I called, I certainly wanted to make a good impression when I went to AA. And I called Las Vegas and asked them to call their manufacturers that I needed an understated navy blue suit to wear to this meeting, a very important meeting I was going to. They sent out to the drying out joint an original suit. It's the last original suit I've had. I wore it for years when things were tough. I wore that and my pearls and my little hat with the veil down over my eyes, which was needed. And my white gloves. And on the way over, I asked Arvo to stop for a bottle. And he said, I'm not going to buy you a bottle. I said, nobody asked you to. I'll buy the bottle. You just stop at the whiskey store. And he said, but the doctor took your checkbook and your money. He always does. You know, Arvo had been in the same situation. He was in the same situation. And I said, nobody ever takes all of my money. I gave him what I wanted to. And I just always used my bar for a pocketbook, you know, and carried my big money. And I also used it to carry my bottle. I had breast surgery two times. And each time, I knew that it was self-inflicted if it was malignant. I wore a big cape or either big fur collars to hide it. You know, and I knew that a policeman wouldn't touch me there. And that he'd have to get a policewoman. I could get rid of it by then. And I also knew the doctor wouldn't. That he'd have to call a nurse. And by that time, I could sleep on it or something, you know. Put it under the bed or something. Well, anyhow, Arvo decided. I said, just put me out, Arvo. I'll take a cab back to the hospital. But I'm going to get two bottles. I'm going to get one for the meeting. And I'm going to get one for the... ...uh... ...hospital. And I think he decided it was better to take me than not to take me. I went to that first meeting without the only requirement necessary to be... ...to get sober. I had no desire to stop drinking. None whatsoever. First place, I didn't like the fact it was in a church. Or it looks like a church. I think it was an Episcopal school. I didn't like that because... ...I had loved God and Jesus. And the Methodist church. And loved them very much. And then we had this revivalist come through preaching hellfire damnation. If you drank whiskey... If you played cards... I've been playing cards since I was a kid. Even about three or four. I could play poker at seven. And... I was just trying to learn to inhale at that time. I was about seventeen when this happened. And, let's see, if you danced with a man you weren't married to... And if you smoked, danced, played cards, and drank, you'd go to hell. And he wanted me to sign a pledge that I would never do any of these things. And the God that I loved and understood... My father drank. I knew some nice people that drank. And I didn't believe they were going to hell. And I believed that he had an evil mind if he thought you couldn't dance with a man you weren't married to. And I told my mother about it. Every time, this whole week that this revivalist came through... This whole week that this revivalist was in town... I couldn't go anywhere that he didn't stop me and say, When are you going to sign the pledge? And this man made me feel guilty because he told me I was the leader in this little community. And that the other young people would do what I did. And all of them had signed it in the Methodist church of the age that he asked to. Except me. And that I was a junior steward in the church. And I wouldn't sign it. And I tried to explain to him, I don't believe that you have to put in writing to God... What you're going to do. I think he knows what's in my heart. And my daddy said, Now quit going to the church because my mother loved it so much. And they held a meeting to decide whether to ask me to remove my letter from that church. And then I found out they voted against it. And I said, Why? And my cousin told me they voted against it because without your daddy's money they can't support it. And I didn't feel good. And I didn't feel good about religion then. And still I knew that it wasn't the Methodist church. Intellectually I knew. It was that minister and a few of the narrow-minded people in the church that it wasn't the church. But I was never comfortable in the church anymore. And I was... Emotionally I couldn't handle it. And I think that this possibly was one of the worst things that happened to me until later on in my drunkenness. And... I didn't like the fact that it was in the church. Oh, I forgot to tell you that by the age of 28 I joined the Episcopal church which believes in doing all these things in moderation, that it's okay. But the thing of it was I was not moderate in any of the four things. You know, if I do one of them I'm going to do it to obsession. And... I wasn't too comfortable in that. And then I had become even more uncomfortable. Because I was living in the town of Boulder City, Nevada, which is a smaller town. And I didn't want the people in this town to think that I was bad. So I decided that every time they asked for anything at the ladies' meetings, missionary meetings and so forth, that, you know, if they said they needed money for this, that, or the other, for the altar or something, I'd just donate it. And my husband and I would donate it. And I would try to say it in all humility. What I'm doing is politicking. I want to be a member of that altar guild because they only choose the finest people in the town to be a member of the altar guild. And I think I can buy respectability. And after I was...after they invited me to be a member of the altar guild, then I hated me for being phony. I really...that's the first thing that I had to get out of my chest when I got sober. And I asked to speak to an Episcopal rector because I didn't know where this rector was. I didn't know where this rector was that...who was rector of the church when I had done this. And he said, did you drink while you were preparing the altar? And I said, no. But sometime I didn't quit until 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning and was over there at 8 in the morning. And I was still under the influence. And he said, you know, you haven't hurt the church at all. And maybe you stayed sober those few hours you wouldn't have otherwise. And he said, would you be willing... If you could ever contact this priest, would you be willing to tell him what you told me? And I said, yes, I would like to. And he said, you don't have to tell him. It's okay if you're willing to. And if you ever have the opportunity, you better take it with you. I also took some more of my inventory with this priest because my husband had become a chronic gambler. And I didn't know because... Nothing had been sold but it had all been mortgaged to the hilt. We had some real good stock. Real good. I thought I was fixed. We were fixed for life. And we had lived there about 3 years. And he had lost a great deal of our stock. I had to sell it when he died and, you know, just to retain a little bit of it. And then I got hard up after I was sober about 10 years. And I sold the stock. The most I got for any of it was 36. And it went to 100 and stuff. And I sold it. I got for any of it was 36 and it went to 100 and split. God knew I wasn't ready for that money. That I couldn't manage it then. That I couldn't manage it then. But anyhow, I told him about income tax evasion. And I said I just couldn't play it. You see, we bought that stock when the companies were just being founded. We got it real cheap. And it was valuable stock. And I couldn't afford to pay the income tax. So I filed my income tax in Missouri instead of Nevada and just didn't mention any of that stock being sold. And, oh, I did crazy things. But I'm going to get back to my first meeting. And I'm going to get sober, I promise you, if I have to stop right now and do it before I quit. But what happened was there are some of the same people still at North Hollywood. And they're saying about the same things they said then at those beginners meetings. But I didn't identify with them. Because I listened. You see, my mind was, I was not open, but my pores were. And I didn't listen for the feelings. Instead, I listened to the actual facts. And they talked about 502s and I didn't even know what one was. And I punched Arvo and he said, drunken driving. I said, I've never had one. He said, no, you flew here. I went back to tell Arvo at the age of 23 that not for status similar at all that my husband hired a man as houseboy and chauffeur. Because he liked for me and the car to get back together. And he liked for me to come back when I planned to. I got lost sometimes. I don't know about you. But, uh. I had a certain amount to drink. And if somebody said, let's go here. It seemed unpractical to me that you would go there. You know, I've been on a train going to one place and meet people on the train. I met a group of wives and their husbands that had just come back from overseas. And they wanted me to go to Chicago with them. And do you know, I entertained the thought of going to Chicago instead of Kansas City. With them. Because they were going to have a party there to welcome these men home. And I felt really that I'd be patriotic in doing it. I just never could figure out what to say in the telegram. You know, met people. Going home with them. You know. But I did some of those things. Later. What happened was I heard people say they'd been in Lincoln Heights. And they'd look at each other and wink and laugh. And I thought it must be a men's club of some kind. I perched off and said, what is it? And he said, it's a big jail facility. And I sat there in judgment and thought, I wouldn't talk about it if I'd been there. And I surely wouldn't. And then, folks, I tell you, I was so embarrassed for a man that got up there. I don't know his name. He got up there and said he had been in the federal penitentiary. And I want to tell you something. I wasn't ashamed that he'd been in the federal penitentiary. But I was ashamed he didn't know better than to tell it at a social gathering. That's how phony I was. And I never met anybody that had been in the federal penitentiary. And I'm not going to have time to go through all the marriages and so forth. But three and a half years from then, after I'd been sober two and a half years. I married a man who had been in the federal penitentiary. A prince of a man. A prince of a man. Sober. And do you know that he got there doing exactly the same things that I did? He wrote big, bad checks. Well, so did I. So did I. But my husband covered them in his lifetime, and when he died, my brothers and my father and my mother took over covering them until the family members, and they're called the Al-Anons, told them about releasing me with love. I said that in a sarcastic manner, but I want to tell you something. The family members are really responsible for my being here tonight. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and my family believed they were right. But that didn't stop me from writing the big, bad checks. And maybe some of those family members' husbands covered them. I was younger then. And they got covered. And I did checks for over $1,000. $1,000 wasn't good. And tell the people it wasn't any good, and they'd cash it. Or accept it for, you know, my hotel stay or something. I spent a lot of money. God must have intended for me to get rid of all I could get my hands on. I was the kind of, because he'd know what I could, see, I could buy my way in so many places, and, you know, and have nurses around the clock and all of these things. I was the kind of drunk that if I was in a dry state, and I didn't know a bootlegger, and I needed a drink real bad, I'd charge a plane to go to a wet state. You know, and I thought anybody would do it that could afford it. You know, I really did. That money and I were parted. I'm grateful for that now. I wasn't for a long time. I couldn't forgive myself for doing, for spending it in such a, reckless manner. I was checked in the Waldorf Astoria and the Roosevelt Hotel at the same time and staying at the Pierre. This is my last drunk, big drunk away from home. I don't know why. I don't remember being in the Waldorf, but my brother said I owed him over a thousand dollars. And I said, how did you know? And he said, they called me. And I said, why would they call you? I'm an adult. He said, you put your register down that you represented my company. And he said, I told them you didn't represent me or my company anywhere. And he said, I said, what'd they say? He said, they asked me if you would pay it, if you would make the check good. And I said, I don't know. So far, she has. He said, what I told him was that when I got sober enough to draw my name to a check, I'd do so. And when I felt like traveling, I'd leave their hotel. And when I got home, if I could find the key to the safety deposit box, I'd see if I had anything in there I could sell and cover the check. And he said, I will not repeat in front of people what else you said to them. But he said, you were very emphatic. And I don't remember. And I've been in the Waldorf two or three times. And I prayed if I have any amends that I need to make concerning the Waldorf Astoria. They've been paid. But concerning them. The chairman of the board at the bank paid that one. Mother told me later that he wanted to marry me. I didn't ever hear it. But he covered the check. But I paid back all of this. And it left me a little bit strapped. But there was always, you could write some more bad checks. Jim was killed in an automobile accident after I'd been sober a year and a week. I mean, we'd been married a year and a week. I was sober three and a half years then. There's no way, no way that I could have stayed sober through this. But you and God and I did. You were right there. You were right there. And you were there as long as I needed you. And there were two men in that group that a couple of weeks later, and I had become the mother by now, that said they wanted to go home. They came home with me after the meeting that they wanted to talk to me. They asked me if I had eaten any solid food yet. And I said, I can't swallow it. They said, well, we're going to a restaurant. We'll cut it in small pieces and we'll spoon feed you if need to. But you're going to eat tonight. We got all night. And you know, they literally made me eat a steak and a baked potato. Then they said, if you are not comfortable in the clothes you have on, you better go in and change into a robe or something, because we're going to be, we're going to be here quite a while. And those men told me I had become a martyr. And they told me it was most unbecoming for a sober woman. And they told me that what I should be doing was getting down on my knees and thanking God that Jim and I had that year and a week together. They both told me they had never had a relationship like Jim and I had. And they might never have one. And they said, even though you didn't talk about it, we all at the club were aware, this was in Bakersfield, aware that you and Jim had something special. And I believed them. Do you know that I walked into the car, these two men to the car, at 7.30 in the morning with my neighbors going to work in my robe? And I didn't give a darn, because I knew these men were right. And the first thing I know, another man in the group calls me and tells me about a girl that can't possibly stay sober. And I know that she's not going to stay sober in the home she's living in, that the family does not understand her illness. And would I please until they could find somewhere else to put or take her in my home. See, they knew what I needed to get out of self was to help another alcoholic. And I started then doing it, and I haven't quit since then. I haven't quit since then. And I'm so grateful to God for people that love me enough to tell me the truth. And people that love me enough to send somebody to me that I might be able to tell the truth. And people that love me enough to try to help. I'm so grateful for all of this. I went to AA in California. I went to AA in Missouri. I went to AA in New York. I went to New York to visit a man that had asked me to marry him and to meet his family. And when I got there, his mother was deaf. And I heard her say to one of the daughter-in-laws, she's a lovely southern belle. I want to tell you, when I left before, I was asked to. The bell had quit chiming. I didn't know the man too well. And I thought he drank like I did. But he just drank like that at parties. And I'm out of the whiskey I took to drink between drinks in my suitcase. I'm out of that whiskey. The family's off visiting somebody. And we've been listening to a ball game. And I'm afraid I'm going in DTs. And I tried, I said, let's call, let's have a drink. And he looked at me. He looked at his watch. And he said it was too early. God, I never cared whether it was day or night or noon. You know, when I wanted a drink, I had to have it then. And I really had thought I ought to marry that man. He was well to do. And I lay there that him trying to rationalize that maybe that when he was traveling, I could just get drunk and be sober when he got home. You and I know that no way could I guarantee that I'd ever get sober again if I stayed. And I thought I'd drink it. And he insisted that we would not go have a drink. So I went in and called a taxi and went and got me a bottle and made a long trip for it because we went out in Connecticut in the summer place. And do you know that man took that bottle away from me? He was strong. And I picked up a Coca-Cola bottle with the cap still on it. And I threw it across the room, aiming it at his head in front of his dear little, mother. He pulled the chair up and protected himself. And I just said, would you drive me to New York before they asked me to leave? And I got sort of mixed up in New York, too. I told you about the hotel situation. But I met a man. I can't remember who introduced me to him. And this man asked me to marry him. And I don't know how long I knew him. I have no idea. And I said that I thought they had a waiting period in New York. Somehow or another, I was a little bit fed to get married to this man. And besides, I didn't have a proper trousseau. And this man pulled out money like you can't believe out of his... You know, sane people who allow bank accounts don't carry that kind of money. In the mining field, some of these people that... among the ten richest people in the world that own stock in these mining companies, they didn't carry money like that. And I pulled myself up to my full height and looked him straight in the eye and explained to him that ladies did not accept money to buy clothing for men they weren't married to. And I was so proud when I could tell my sponsor this. I wanted him to know that I had some principles. But what I didn't tell my sponsor for a long time was I pulled myself up to him and said, I pulled myself up out of his bed. That's the kind of phony I was. I'll just tell you the half-truth. You know, and the time came when I knew I'd never get well if I didn't tell God and one other person the exact nature of my wrongs. I'm sitting across the table from this man having champagne, and he looks at his watch and said, we best hurry. And I said, what's our hurry? And he said, he doesn't want to miss the plane. And I said, well, I don't know where we're going. And I said, can't we take a later one? And he said, no, it would make us late in Miami to make the marriage plans. I give you my word of honor that I studied his features carefully. I remembered where I met him and what I told you already. And that's all I remember about him, period. But I couldn't remember his name. I just couldn't remember his name. I told him that I was going to, excuse myself and go to the bathroom, come back and finish my champagne, and I was going to get to the hotel and get back. And that he could go ahead and have lunch or breakfast or whatever we were having because he didn't have as much to pack. I found out when I went to the ladies' room that there was another street exit to this restaurant. I hailed a cab and asked them, take me as far away from there as you could go without going into the ocean. And I've never seen him since. I've kind of watched out for him. farm, when I go to prisons to speak, at AA meetings, especially international conventions, and also if I go to Camarilla and places like that. I feel like he must be out there somewhere. Things have gotten tough, and I thought it was a shame, really, I didn't marry him once or twice, you know, when I realized I was going to have to go to work. Well, just going right along, my brothers found me in New York. They couldn't keep up with me because I'd keep my rooms, and I would check into a hospital, the Knickerbocker Hospital, and you know, get detoxified, and they just couldn't find me. But finally they found me, and a doctor and a nurse was in the room with them. They asked them, my brother asked them, put me on a plane. They said they didn't know whether they could get me on a plane as drunk as I was or not. And my brother said, well, I know how to do it. You know, I know how to do it. You know, you had to walk out on the field then in New York to get on a plane. You got somebody to push her, and somebody to walk her in a wheelchair, and you wheel her out to the steps, the ramp, and you wheel her out there, and you put a fifth in a paper sack, and you let her see you doing it, and whoever, wherever she is to sit, put that on that seat, and I guarantee you she'll walk up those steps and walk. Straight to that bag. And that's what happened. And when they got me home, they had my largest nephew meet me, and I sort of fell in his arms, and he said, Aunt Evelyn, I'm sorry I came stopping off to buy you any food, but your brother said to drive you directly to Sedalia. That was over a hundred miles, and I'm dying for a drink. And he said that they want to see you at their office as soon as I can get you there. And they told me that they were going to have to have me incarcerated and declared incapable of managing my own affairs. And I said, but you know when I'm not drinking, I can prove I'm not insane. And they said, yes, but there are two doctors that love you enough, they'll sign the papers, because they'd like for you to have some time to think and decide what you want to do with your life. And they told me they didn't want me in their homes anymore, that they didn't want their children to see me drunk, and that I had embarrassed their wives. Every social gathering we were invited to, and they didn't want me to go to those and embarrass their wives any longer. And I knew them in it, but you don't like to incarcerate your sister on an insanity charge. It doesn't look good. And I knew they wouldn't do it unless I forced them to do it. And they just ignored me. By then they are talking to the Al-Anons. But what happened was... The doctor told me I had to have another breast surgery. And a while ago I said two, it was three hours to have altogether. And so I called my brother, that had released me, and I told him. And he said, we want some more opinions. And they sent me to two more specialists, and all agreed that they'd best operate. And the family gathered around with money, guaranteed the bill, and lured me to a hospital. And they said, you know, I'm not going to be able to live with you for all this time. And I said, okay, we're going to do this now, and you're going to have to pay for it. And they said, no. And they said, no, I'm not going to be able to live with you for all this time. And I said, no, I'm going to have to pay for it. and love, and flowers. They even brought me home-cooked food to the hospital. And I could see that look in their face. Poor Evelyn. She's known about these lumps a long time, and she possibly thinks she's dying of cancer, and that's the reason she drank so much. I knew God wasn't going to let me die a respectable death like that, that he was going to make me live and suffer, and that's what happened. It wasn't malignant. They kept me there three weeks to build me up so I wouldn't have to drink. And before I was to be released from the hospital, my brother Dan, and God do I love that man, had been talking to the Al-Anons again. He came over and he said, I never loved you as much as I love you right now because I know how sick you are. The doctor says if you are too little, it means not any more drinking. And he says, I have come after talking to the major, members of the family, to ask you to forgive us for keeping you alive if you don't want to live. We have come to the conclusion that every adult has a right to live or die, and we're going to give you yours back if that's what you want. If you want to live, we'll go to any lengths to help you if you are not drinking. But if you take one drink, we mean everything we say. We don't want you in our homes. If you stay sober long enough, we'll either put you in a small business or send you back to college and let you get your degree. We'll go to any lengths to help you, but that means absolutely no whiskey. He says, I talked to the policeman. I told him to quit making the run for your whiskey. I told him to arrest you just like any other common drunk in this town and put you in the jail with the winos. And don't waste your nickel calling me because I'm not going to bail you out. And you know, I knew he meant it because he wept openly in front of these doctors and nurses. He just wept openly. And he told me later that he thought he was saying goodbye forever to me because he felt that I was going to die. I left that hospital believing I could stay sober on my own. Now, I don't know why I believed this, but I never had wanted to before. And I found I couldn't do it by midnight. It was so lonely. It was okay in the hospital. I did. I did not send out for bottles with people around me, surrounding me. But when I got home, it was so lonely in that apartment. And my head started working again. All of the things I had become started keeping me from sleeping. And I started drinking. I've never had a slip, folks, in this entire year. I don't even believe in slips. I drank because I'd rather have drunk than to not drink. I couldn't keep from drinking. I was drinking on my own. And you don't call it a slip when you order a case of whiskey and you're not expecting company. I drank. That was 30 years ago this week. I don't know how much I drank, how many days I drank, but they figured it out when the people that took me out of there and went up to clean my apartment. They figured out that I drank two fifths a day. The refrigerator was full of food. It was boiling. And apparently I had eaten nothing as far as they could tell. I did not call for help, but a girl from AA called me and insisted she was coming over to see me. And she came over there and she talked me into going home with her. Both she and her husband were alcoholics. And people like you came to help her take care of me that night. I don't remember a word that you said. I may have not even heard what you said. But I remember you saying, I remember how you looked. I see that look on all of your faces in this room. And all night long, I tried to remember what that look was called. Because I knew I had had that look at one time in my eyes and my face. I now know that it's the look of people who are serene, that have human dignity and have purpose in living. And I had lost all of these things. The most important gifts that God had given me, I had already lost. And the next morning, I told Earl that I wanted to be sober more than I wanted anything else in the world. And Earl asked me was I willing to go to any lengths and would I do what they told me to do. And I said yes. They couldn't get me in any hospital because I'd been to all of them around there. And there were no detoxification centers in those days for women. And they told me about a little place over an empty store, back of a club room, where volunteers from AA detoxified men. And maybe, just maybe, they would take me in. Because there was a man there named Walt that knew more about detoxification than any other AA member they knew. And they took me in a snowstorm. We stopped by the highway patrolman. Traveling at your own risk. And these people took me to this little place. And I was carried in head first because they fed me. And they gave me a glass of whiskey to keep me alive on the way. And when I got there, there were no rugs on the floor, no drapes at the windows. And I'd never been in a place like that. But you know, it was beautiful to me because again, there were people like you there to greet me. And I was so happy that I was going to be like you. But I wasn't. I went insane. I fluctuated from sedentary to insanity for five days a night. And this man named Walt had been just like me. And they had found him trying to beat his brains out in jail. And a doctor named Dr. Nathan, who was a sober alcoholic and was to treat over 5,000 alcoholics before he died, was called in. Walt called him in and said that I was just like that Walt was. Walt told me that the women couldn't handle me. That they just didn't have the experience. And he said, can you trust me and know that I love you like a brother? And I said, Walt, I understand what you're saying. And he said, oh, damn, if you'll try, I'll stay with you. I'll stay with you if you'll try. Five days and nights that man just rested in the lounge chair when he wasn't doing something for me. They called in Dr. Nathan. And he gave me all the new things to relieve the pressure from my heart and from my brain and to treat the alcoholic neuritis and everything else that was wrong with me. And it didn't work. It didn't seemingly wasn't working. Walt prayed aloud every day that God would restore me to sanity on a lifetime basis, a day at a time. He told me my family was praying for me and that AA groups were praying for me that didn't even know me. And the churches were praying for me. And he said, Alabama, the doctor says there's not anything else he can do, that he's done everything that he knows how to do. And he says, I don't know anything else I can do. do for you. But he said, maybe you could do something for yourself. Have you asked God to restore you to sanity and remove the obsession for you to drink on a lifetime basis, a day at a time? And I said the prayer after him. And in the dirty bathroom, the 12 men and I were using to get sober in with the door ajar because I was insane. I heard God say, and please don't be frightened, you wouldn't have heard anything if you'd been there. I heard God said to me that I could be sober and I could be sane on a lifetime basis, a day at a time. But folks, that wasn't even the miracle. I knew very shortly thereafter that what I heard was what I had prayed and what Walt had prayed for me for five days and nights. The miracle was that I believed it. I believed it the last part of November in 1952. I have never ceased believing that I could be sober and I could be sane on a lifetime basis, a day at a time. Very slowly, I started getting well. The family had been told not to send me any money for a year and my money was tied up in the court battle. And my sponsors told me I had to go to work. They sent me out to work clicking in a store, a match in it. Seventy-six cents an hour, but I bet you I'd be able to get a job. And I was a little bit worried. I was a little bit worried. I was a little bit worried. I was a little bit worried. I was a little bit worried. And the day after that they asked me to come and seen what the community serving is doing for my family beans here. And they told me that I could be a�� a half pack or whoever is in the community serving here. I was 119 a week. And that is a large amount of food andTen察, erased me out here. And they told me what the population eaten.And the students were throwing in a long 336 automatic bars. And that was not сколько, but I was only struggling through. And the point raised to me the reason why that was. I want to be one of the most important people here, but he wanted me to do something different. Since I have come home, he does not know how long hours I have to stay on the cat وجi.In 100 Ona Meine eens belli, years spend going through. Ansuations did not a job in any store they had, and told me they were grooming me for head buyer and for that department for all 50 some odd stores. And I thanked them and said, I need to go to California. I learned some self-respect. I didn't like going to work, but they told me to act as if I did. And I don't know when the acting started and when I learned to like it. I'd love to tell you that from then on that I have just walked the path to happy destiny without making any mistakes. I've made every mistake you make except drinking, but thank God it was something I could do about it. I married out of loneliness, and sex and Alcoholics Anonymous is not the basis for a good marriage. It takes more. My motivations were wrong for getting married, and it didn't work, and I thought I was a failure, and you told me I just failed to make something work where the motivation wasn't good. I'm not afraid to live alone now because I like me. And I respect me, and you taught me how to do this. I wore a halo for just a short period of time when I was still in Independence, Missouri in my first year. And I went down to the club, and these people had all seen me insane and knew my story. And I said, boys, I can't sit down and talk to you now. We didn't have any women to speak of in this group. These boys waited to talk to me because I'd missed my meetings that I was out working. And I said, I can't sit down and talk to you. I didn't. This time we're taking women there. I've got to go upstairs and see the poor sick girl that came in at noon today. And I was a halo on, and if you've never seen an alcoholic wear a halo, I hope you don't experience it because it tarnishes readily. And they have a habit of sliding down and blinding us. And I came down from seeing this girl. And I said to these boys that saw me and knew me, Oh, fellas, I am so glad I didn't go to the lengths the poor girl upstairs went to. You know the Pies boys. Dick DeWyno said to me, Alabama, what she done, you ain't done. I said, Dick, she told every one of us the day at noon when they brought her in here that she was a prostitute. I had to whisper the word. I couldn't say it. And Dick looked at me with Al-anon eyes. And he said, Alabama, ain't you ever going to get honest? Can't we teach you the meaning of self-honesty? And I said, Dick, I don't even know what you're talking about. And he said, I believe you, Alabama. Don't you know that the only difference in you and that gal upstairs is you didn't need, you didn't know you could tell me. You didn't sell it. And besides, you didn't need the money. So, folks, I'd like to tell you, no matter what honors that may have come my way and what jobs I may have held, when on my 30th birthday and every birthday that is to come up, I never want to forget what a phony I was. But with God's help, I can look at me as I am, because I don't do the things I used to do. And with your help and God's help and the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous, I will be sober a day at a time, because I know it's God's will. Thank you.

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