Duke D. shares his remarkable journey through early AA history, beginning with his last horrific drunk in New Orleans in 1949. After leaving a ship in disgrace in Galveston, he rode a bus to New Orleans — the city that never closes its bars — and checked into a cheap hotel to drink himself to death. After three failed attempts at suicide by alcohol, he remembered the love and fellowship he'd experienced during an earlier brush with AA, picked up the phone, and surrendered. Two men came to get him, brought him to the Dumaine Street Clubhouse near the French Market, and dried him out the old-fashioned way — walking the floor, sipping soup, shaking it out on a cot upstairs.
The pivotal moment came when a woman named Catherine asked him to hand over his half-jug of Old Crow, promising they'd give him a drink only if he went into DTs. Duke choked up recounting the moment he said, "I want you people to teach me how to not drink." His sponsor Marvin convinced him to stay ashore for 90 days rather than ship back out, and Duke supported himself unloading trucks at the French Market for a dollar a day while living in an eight-dollar-a-week rooming house near Tulane.
Duke then traces his pioneering work in AA International — carrying the message to alcoholics in ports around the world as a merchant seaman. He tells vivid stories of finding AA in San Juan through a tiny newspaper ad on a bus seat, visiting a lone member named Willie in Portugal who got sober after a chance encounter on a Lisbon cobblestone street, and co-founding the first AA group in Havana around 1951 with a tobacco broker named Lee S. He shares a story from England about a saxophone player who unknowingly carried the message to a man in an upper bunk of a flophouse — the intended recipient never made it, but the eavesdropper got sober and stayed sober for years.
Duke closes with two stories from his home group in Daytona Beach: a newcomer whose three-year-old daughter finally ran to him instead of hiding behind the drapes, grabbing his cheeks with her peanut butter hands and saying "Daddy, I love you," and Pete, a can-collecting street drunk who gave a cop a fake name and accidentally matched a wanted criminal. Throughout, Duke emphasizes that these coincidences are evidence of a higher power at work — not theories, but facts, visible to anyone who stays tuned in.
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