The Man Who Sobered Bill Wilson Tells His Own Story in This 1961 Recording – Ebby T.

Ebby, from Dallas, Texas.
Thank you.
Yeah, I'm sold on San Francisco.
You can say that.
I had two charming ladies take me on a tour today.
And they certainly did a fine job.
I saw everything I wanted to see in a short time.
I had lunch at the Cliff House and saw the Embarcadero
and Fisherman Dwarf from the top of the mark.
We covered a lot of ground.
And it's nice to be here.
I've been asked to go over the early ground of A.A.
And to do so, I've got to give you some of my background as a young man.
I was born and raised in Albany, New York.
Some of you know the capital of the state.
And my father and mother had a...
always had a...
rented a summer cottage in Manchester, Vermont,
which is only 60 miles away.
And it was a short trip up there by train,
and later on,
by automobile.
Although I remember the first time that we made it,
in a car that we half-built ourselves
in our foundry and machine shop,
it took three days.
And then they wound up on a hill
four miles south of the village
that broke down for the third or fourth time.
And I had to be hauled in by a team of horses.
And I can see the local constables saying,
Get a horse! Get a horse!
I can still hear them.
I can see my father and my older brothers coming in.
And it was there that I met Bill Wilson
in Manchester, Vermont,
where I went to school in Albany,
but I'd formed a great friendship
with the minister's son,
and he went to the local school up there.
It's a high school.
And he persuaded me,
and I in turn sold a bill of goods to my family,
to stay up there a winter
and go to the school up there.
And I had met Bill casually before,
but I got to know him very well that winter,
and we became good friends.
And that's where our friendship started.
And of course, he married Lois Burnham,
who had a summer cottage
directly across from ours on the main street of the town.
And I knew her from childhood.
In fact, she's a little older than I am.
She can remember me when I was in the baby carriage.
And so that takes us up to
to the time that I knew Bill Wilson.
And my last year in school,
which turned out to be my last year
because I got drinking and was expelled.
Well, I wasn't exactly expelled,
but the principal of the school wrote my father,
a letter that summer
that he didn't think they could do anything more for me,
which is practically the same.
So I just didn't show up that fall,
and my father put me to work in his iron foundry.
And my drinking was then somewhat regulated.
I would hold it down to Saturday nights,
although I'd get drunk.
I was never to tell what I was going to do.
I might drink some of the older men under the table,
and I might get drunker in the hoot aisle
on three or four drinks and raise the devil
and have a hard time.
But I...
I generally managed to keep it on Saturday night.
I knew as a young man, I think,
that one of them, Bill and I, went to school.
We talked the situation over
because the condition was in both our families.
My father drank too much, my brothers did,
and I could only figure that I was just the same as they were
in makeup, temperamental makeup,
and I'd probably go the same way.
But one time in Albany,
I walked into the bar room in the hotel tonight
and I ordered a glass of beer.
It was the finest glass of beer I ever had.
I tasted it and I said,
this is for me.
Just that one beer,
just a little warm feeling it gave you.
And I used it because I had no confidence as a young man.
In the gathering of people,
I was all right with one or two of my cronies,
but when I got on the gathering,
I...
I was lost.
And I found that alcohol would overcome that
and I'd become more or less the life of the party.
And I think that's what I wanted to be.
I wanted to be kingpin in everything I did, probably.
And yet,
I wasn't quite good enough.
And that alcohol brought me up to the point
where at least I thought I was.
But it began to get pretty bad as the years went on
and Saturday nights drunk
progressed into one or two nights during the week.
And when the Christmas holidays came around
and the Debs came out and the dances and all that,
I didn't get much work done.
And the father got to drinking pretty heavy.
And it went from bad to worse.
And I was in a lot of trouble.
Lots of hot water and lots of trouble.
That's so that I'd go on and drunk and couldn't get off it.
I remember taking the first drink in the morning
and I started the ball rolling right back in the bottle again.
Well,
let's skip a lot of the blow-by-blow description
and get up to 1934.
I was living alone in the house in Manchester.
My father and mother were both dead.
And strange as it may seem,
we'd never bought a house up there until 1923.
And my mother died in 1927 and my father in 1929.
And I was living there alone
and I was drinking to beat the devil.
My brothers were all married
and they'd taken most of the furniture
and they'd left some stuff for me
and I lived there.
And I was trying to paint the house alone.
And I had a ladder.
I didn't have sufficient equipment
and I was too shaky to get up on that ladder.
And I was making a mess of things generally.
I'd been arrested a couple of times
for drunkenness out around the town.
And three times in Vermont
there's a mandatory sentence.
A six-month sentence in the state prison.
So these fellas came along,
a couple of them that I'd been drinking with,
used to drink with,
known them for years,
and they collared me down at the house one day
and they started talking to me
about this Oxford group they'd become interested in.
And I listened because they made sense.
I know that the...
I don't think that they were alcoholics
in the sense that I am.
They both drank heavily.
But I think that they could...
they were...
they were more or less power-hungry,
though, both of them.
One was a New York stockbroker
and he just wanted to have the world
by the horns where he could run it.
But they talked a lot of sense to me
and they left a book with me
and they said,
now,
you've been trying to run your life your own way,
down on your luck,
not getting anywhere,
drinking yourself to death.
Why don't you try to turn your life over to God?
Well, that made sense to me
and I sobered up for a few days
and
I wrote a book about it.
I wrote my brother and all of them
and that I'd like to get some help on the house
and he wrote back and said,
go ahead,
get a local painter
and see what kind of a deal you can make with him.
Well, this man had sent over a lot of equipment
and one of his painters
and the two of us got the thing done.
We took over two weeks to do it
because it was a big house
and a lot of work to be done around
cutting sashes on the windows and everything.
But as soon as that house was painted,
I lost all interest again.
There was nothing to look forward to,
no goal to strive for,
or at least that house painting
was something to be done
to get accomplished.
So I went right back in the bottle again
and I was apprehended by the local law
for a time
and I appeared before the judge
down in Bennington,
the local constable
whom I went to school with that one year,
took me down there
and I appeared before him
and it so happened
that he was the father of one of the boys
that had come to see me,
Seabro Graves,
and this was,
Judge Graves' father.
And he, this was Friday,
and he said,
oh, you'll be back here Monday.
He said, I want you back here sober.
And I'm just mentioning this,
it's a very little incident,
but in my life it was a big one.
It really meant something.
When the boy drove the lad
and I went down
and drove me back to the house
and I went in there all alone,
I remembered that I had
three nice cold bottles of ale down cellar.
And I said, well,
if I drink that ale
and space it along,
it'll just sort of keep me up
a little bit.
And I won't hit the depths
and I can't possibly get drunk
because I can't get any more in town
and everybody knows about this
and I've shut off my supply.
And I walked down cellar
and I picked up one of those bottles
and I said, no, wait a minute.
The judge says,
don't get back there sober.
Well, this isn't exactly cricket.
Don't take a drink.
That's what he meant, really.
And you could get back there sober
and he'd never know anything about it,
but it isn't exactly honest.
So I walked upstairs again
and I got up there
and I said, oh, the devil,
this little devil sat in my shoulder.
I said, go on down
and take that ale.
I walked up and down the stairs
three or four times.
And finally,
I picked them up
and put them in a carton
and took them over
to the man next door
and I said, here's a present for you.
And believe me,
that was the weight
that was lifted off my shoulder.
It really was.
I felt a release
from that time on.
And I know that night
I sat down beside my bed
and said my prayers
like I hadn't said them in years.
And I said to God,
I said, I really mean business.
I want to quit this drinking.
Well,
I stayed around the house
for a couple of weeks.
It was in October
and it was beginning to get cold
and it wasn't adequate.
I didn't want to start the furnace.
It was a hot water thing.
And one of these men
would come to see me.
I didn't know.
There was a third man
that had come along
into the picture.
And he also had become interested
in the Oxford group.
And he said, well,
why don't you shut up the house
and come down and stay with me
for a few days?
He lived in a town below,
about 15 miles below.
It's south of Manchester
and he had a home there.
And he said,
why don't you come live with me?
And we got a lot of speaking to do.
And less than two weeks
after I joined this thing,
I got interested in it.
I was out talking my head off
at various places in Vermont.
One weekend,
I spoke five times
at two churches,
a junior college,
and two town meetings.
I don't know what I spoke about
or anything,
but I guess
people could sense
the fact that I
had found something.
So that went on for a while
and we had people
up from New York
who started
what they called
house parties,
the Oxford group called them.
And then I went down
to New York
and I stayed with
one of these lads
who'd come to see me
for a week or two weeks.
And then he made an arrangement
with Calvary Episcopal Church
who ran a mission
on 23rd Street
and 1st Avenue
in New York City
in what they called
the Gas House District.
It used to be called that.
And for me to go down there,
they had a brotherhood
of 12 men
who ran the place,
supposedly under
Oxford group
and the
lines and principles.
So I went down there
and lived for a year.
I sometimes thought
and think that I
shouldn't have done that
and made the year there,
but they wanted me to do it.
The only reason is
I think I got lazy.
I didn't want to get out
and work too hard.
I mean, that isn't making money
and I had just enough
to get by.
I had a place to sleep
that didn't cost me anything.
But on the other hand,
maybe it was meant.
And in passing,
I don't know whether
many of you know much
about the Oxford group.
I'm not too familiar with it.
The Reverend Mr. Glass
told me that he'd been
a member of it.
I'm not too sure
of its origins
except it was started
by a man named
Frank Bookman
who was a member
of the cloth
somewhere in the early 30s.
It was 1934
when I came into the picture.
And I think that the
great interest in it
at that time
perhaps was due
to the Wall Street crash
of 1929.
People who had lost
everything,
their shirt
and everything else,
and that crash,
realized that they had been
paying devotion
to false gods.
That they were not
on the right track
and they were completely lost
and they were searching
for something
and they heard of this
and came there.
And of course,
among that number
were a great many
alcoholics like myself.
And I was there
and I really wanted
to think with spirit
and tried my best
to learn everything
they had to teach
and they were
pretty thorough
in their indoctrination.
They had some
very fine men
and very wise men too.
And I tried my level best
to get something
out of that.
And I think the reason
that they failed
although I understand
that they're still
in existence out here
on the West Coast
under the name
of moral rearmament.
They changed the name.
And that name
in itself
was a misnomer
because the thing
started here
in this country
and people went over
to Oxford University
in England
and in turn
from there
they sent what they called
a team
to South Africa
and some reporters
there got a hold of it
and referred to them
as the group
from Oxford.
And that name
stuck and was called
the Oxford group
and it was no more
the Oxford group
than Man in the Moon.
But I tried
and it was during
this time
that I was living
and I'd gotten
in the mission
that I heard about
Bill Wilson
and I heard that
he'd been drinking heavily
and was not wanted
in very many offices
in Wall Street
where he worked.
He'd been made
such a mess of himself.
So I determined
that maybe
I could help him
and I really
put some thought
into it
because I knew
that Bill
would either take it
lock, stock and barrel
and go for it
and he'd really
put his weight behind
and get in
and push
or he'd reject it.
And I think
the reason he accepted it
was because
he saw me sober
after so many years
of drunkenness
and he was
in great need
at the time.
And just so happened
that I was the man
who came along
at the right time
when Bill needed it.
With what happened
to be the right medicine.
So Bill
came and
went to the Oxford Group
meetings with me.
And we did
a lot of work together.
Bill
when I first saw him
that night
didn't sober up
right away.
Four days later
he came to one of our meetings
at the mission
we had meetings there
every night.
We had new men
and we gave the ones beds
if we could
and we had available beds.
And Bill came there
with a sailor
and he was drunk
and he even insisted
on getting up
in the rostrum
and making a speech.
And the superintendent
said get him down
and I said let him go
and see what he's got.
Well he was all twisted up
as a drunk is
but he had gotten
something out of my talk.
As he walked to the subway
with me that night
and he said
I don't know what you've got.
And he said
whatever it is I want it.
So the next thing I heard
was he'd gone
to Towns Hospital
he got himself
three or four bottles
of beer in a taxi
and he drank the beer
on the way up
in the taxi.
And I went up to see him
and I visited him there
two or three times.
And when he got out
I sort of rode
hurried on him
and got him to come
around to meetings
and pretty soon
he really took a hold
of the thing.
And he in turn went out
and as you know
the following summer
met Dr. Bob in Akron
and formed that great friendship
and that great fellowship
that was so necessary
to the founding of AA
along with the sister
out there
I can't think of her name
for a minute
which was so necessary
to the founding of AA.
Of course Akron
claims that
they were the first group
I don't question how
because from the
Akron group meetings
Bill Wilson
continued the meetings
out of his house
in Brooklyn
and then we went to
Steinway Hall
and
so New York
had a group
that was in perfect
succession all the time
but when it became
Alcoholics Anonymous
and when it
from
springing off
from the Akron group
I can't tell you
and I don't think
Bill can or anybody.
Nobody kept a diary
and nobody
knew
what it was all about
and you go back
27 years
it's pretty hard
to remember all the details
or to get things straight.
The book came out
about 1939
and of course
that was a great incentive
and so was the
article in the
Saturday Evening Post
Jack Alexander.
Well in the summer
of 1936
after I'd been in New York
nearly two years
I decided
to go back to Auburn
and I'd lived
in the Mission
and I'd moved
from the Mission
over to Bill Wilson's house
and I wasn't doing
much more in the line
of work
in the endeavor
for pay
than I had in the other place
and I decided
I'd better go back
to Auburn
in my hometown
where I'd made
such a mess of things
and where I had
so many amends
to make
and I did.
I went back
in the summers
in July or August
and I finally got a job
at Ford Motor Company
up in Green Island
which is
eight or nine miles
north of Auburn
and I worked
two weeks on the day shift
and two weeks on the night
and I used to come down
when I was working
on the night shift
I got through Thursday morning
wasn't due back
and again the Sunday
I'd come down to New York
every third or fourth weekend
and I don't know
I was getting away
from the tracks
I was getting away
from one I had found
and I guess
some one thing
that I wanted
that God hadn't given me
and I figured
that something was wrong
and this little boy
had been mistreated
so I got off
I know that one of the men
that worked with me
in Ford
said the last week
before you went to New York
on that last trip
he said you were just
like a piece of steel wire
he said you were so tense
he said I knew
something was going to happen
he wasn't an alcoholic
he was a man
he was so
I used to see a girl
down there
there was no romance in her
she was just a friend
I'd take her out to dinner
I clicked her out
to dinner this one night
and she always had
a scotch highball
possibly two
and that's all
she wasn't innocent anymore
that was enough
just sociability
a little pick up
well this night
I ordered one
she said what are you
going to do now
she said kick your legs
out for Monday
you've got three
or four months
nearly a year of sobriety
two years of sobriety
and you're going to
kick it all
and throw it away
I said one wing
won't hurt me
I don't know
I don't know
that night
at twelve o'clock
she finally got the taxi
to let me off
the Lexington Hotel
and he oughtn't
to get rid of me
because I was
roaring drunk
by that time
and I called Bill
up by the way
and he sent a couple
of guys over
the next morning
and he got me
out of the hotel
over to his house
but it didn't do any good
to start a cycle like that
you've got to finish it
and Bill went away
for that weekend
and there I was
in the house
and told me
there was a bottle
of scotch in there
my stuff went to bed
I needed a drink
so I used to stay drunk
for a week there
and I finally went
back to Albany
and back to the
Ford Motor Company
I showed up there
Monday morning
and the superintendent
met me at the clock
and I said
where have you been
I said I was down
in New York
and I was taken sick
with pomade and poison
yeah
that's my story
I'm going to stick to it
and I said
go on back to work
and I had a man
back there
a straw boss
who didn't like me
for a sour apple
so I guess
the feeling was mutual
I went to work
on this machine
I was an inspector
in the Springs Division
and I said
and I picked up
a leaf of a spring
to put it on
this testing machine
he said
what are you doing
back here
he said
we got a crane
broken down
out there in the yard
and we got to
unload steel by hand
and I said
get out of there
and out I went
in the yard
and I unloaded
this other guy
and I swear
at the end of that day
my hands
I couldn't open them
they were just cramped
and that flat steel
bale after bale
of it
bundle after bundle
of it
and I used to
drive back
to back and forth
from Albany
with a man
and we shared
experience
and we got in the car
I went out to the brigade
and he said
I tried to raise
some money for you
he says
I know damn well
you need a drink
I said
never mind
I ain't raising the money
I ain't got it
let's get to the nurse saloon
well that's the last
I ever saw
of the Ford plant
that was it
a couple days later
a few days later
the man appeared
from the Ford plant
one of the security men
and he had a check
for one day's pay
and asked for my badge
and I
so from then on
I was right back
in the same old
situation again
drinking
getting sober
for a few months
getting drunk again
no incentive to live
I knew I was doing wrong
I knew that
I knew the answers
but I couldn't
apply them
and this went on
in a very
unsatisfactory situation
I spent
a couple of summers
in Kent, Connecticut
in High Watch Farm
which was the first
alcoholic farm
or health farm
in this country
I helped run that
I was assistant manager
and I was
and then I
when the man
who ran that
went on to
Beach Hill
and New Hampshire
and Dublin, New Hampshire
I went on there
with him
I was there
in 46 and 47
I was in Connecticut
and 49
I was in Beach Hill
and New Hampshire
and I helped him run that
and I was sober
as long as I had
responsibility
and something to do
but when that ended
I went right back
to the bottle
and I kicked around
New York
and kicked around New York
I spent some time
in a place called
the Chester Crest
and that's
uh
they call it
the New York home
for intemperate men
it's now
it's now gone
out of existence
it's too bad
because it was
quite a place
they worked you
pretty hard
out on the farm
doing work
around the place
and they gave you
five meetings
a night
you had to attend
five meetings a night
and twice on Sunday
and believe me
I got my fellow meetings
but it was right
the same thing
back again
so that brings us
up to the summer
of 1912
1953
and I was there
in New York
I'd been
I'd come from
this place up there
I'd gotten drunk
and gotten kicked
out of there
and I was wandering
around New York
and I used to drop
in the inner group
and it was then
on 28th street
in Lexington Avenue
and I must admit
I was looking
for a handout
trying to get enough
to get a few drinks
because if I got
in a place
and I could get
a few drinks
I could catch
a few more
and Hazel Rice
bless her
came over
to me
and she says
you know
I think I got
something for you
she said
Charlie Milton
has been over
in Paris, France
and he ran into
one of your friends
from the Oxford group
who came to see you
originally
and then
in passing here
I must say
that these men
deserve as much
credit as I do
for taking a message
to Bill
because they brought
the message to me
and she said
he ran
and he wants
to see you
so she got right
on the telephone
and called Charlie
and Charlie says
hold him there
until five o'clock
and I'll be down
well I waited
and five o'clock
Charlie came down
he said
where do you drink
and I said
over on third avenue
right over there
on 28th street
and he said
come on
let's go over
and we sat down
and walked to the bar
and got a couple
of drinks
and sat down
and I got a drink
he got a coke
and I said
well how would
you like to go
to Texas
Texas
my God
who wants
to go to Texas
I said
they got no water
down there
the cattle are dying
all over the place
I don't want
to go to Texas
I'm broke
I have none
he sent to my name
and I have no clothes
well he said
I think it would be
a good idea
to get you out
of New York
and I think
they can arrange
to have you
taken in down there
maybe some of those
guys will take you
on a ranch
and get you
full of health
again
well he bought
me another drink
and then he said
here's five dollars
now
you think
this thing over
he said
I realize
it's quite a proposition
to take and swallow
in one night
so I
went home
and I drank
up to my limit
of
save a dollar
I think in those days
that I learned
to drink somewhat
because of necessity
I had gotten so sick
of being out
in the cold weather
in New York
all night long
and riding the subways
and getting pinched
and spending ten days
in Rikers Island
which is not pleasant
and it's not pleasant
to walk around
those streets
in the slush
all night long
I used to walk
from 14th street
up to 76th street
and back
and over 42nd street
to 5th Avenue
down to 5th Avenue
to 14th
and over again
and back up
and it takes
three or four trips
like that
to make a night
and I think
until something opens
and it's 4 o'clock
in the morning
or if you haven't
got a cent
you can get a
and I guess
I learned
how to hang out
with a 75 cents
and maybe a quarter
or a little
strike in the morning
75 cents
to get a bed
so he repeated
the performance
he came down
at 5 o'clock
and took me over there
and bought me
another couple of drinks
and then gave me
the five dollars again
it was Thursday night
and he said
if you want
to pick this thing up
you come over to see me
and he said
here's where I live
here's my telephone number
well I had saved enough
from the night before
that I could go through
Friday night
and I went through
Friday night
all right
on Saturday morning
I said this is it
and I walked up there
to see him
I went into his apartment house
and he was out in the street
and I just happened
to catch sight of him
and he came in
well he said
you get ready
to go to Texas
I said I don't know
about Texas
but I've quit drinking
and I said now
this is last night
and he said
let's go up in that room
and we'll have a cup of coffee
and talk it over
so he saw me
at a Texas idea
and he
took me out
and got me a clean shirt
and
gave me a hot shower
and threw away
my underclothes
and got some fresh stuff
and he called Dallas
and got a hold of
Oli Lancaster
and Cersei Whaley
and they made arrangements
and they said
yes I can hear Cersei
or I think it was Oli
this booming voice
in the other end
all right
send the Yankee
son of a bitch
down here
and I said
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
I came Sunday
and we got
flight reservations
for Sunday night
and they put me
on that plane
and I swear
that plane never left
circling LaGuardia Fields
what round and round
and round it seems to me
I was in a complete fog
and Charlie had
to find a whiskey there
and wouldn't give it to me
and I told him
a couple of years later
I'm going back
and start the whole thing
all over again
and I wanted that pint
to come down here on
well they put me up
Cersei Whaley
was running
in the Texas Clinic
at that time
and they put me up there
but they didn't give me
a drink
they did give me
some goofballs
and those things
just make me nuttier
than the seven fruitcakes
and the next morning
there were a bunch
of people
in and out of my room
you'd think I was
exhibit A
they wanted to come in
and see this damn
Yankee curiosity
and couldn't sober
himself up
but had been able
to sober a bit worse
than that
and there I was
going through this
saying there's anything
I don't want
is people around me
when I'm going to hang over
and come over
and I just want to
crawl off in a corner
and there were more people
in and out of that room
when you think of some
Hollywood celebrity
being in there
so I just
burrowed further
into the bedclothes
and just hid myself
and it was hot in there
and I'd turn off
the air conditioner
and Cersei'd come in
and say
why do you turn that thing
on because it's
playing your music
and it was
like all the symphonies
and bands
and everything else
marching
I went out in the street
and they tried to find
the band
and they couldn't find it
and I used to
stand and look out
of a little portal
they had in the front door
like one of these
observation doors
and there was
an apartment house
with a balcony
across the way
and I'd see a chair
over here
and I'd get up
and float over
and get down over here
I thought that
I was never coming back
I mean that
sincerely as I stand here
I thought my mind
had never come back
and there was
an old colored lady
and she says
you leave Mr. Irby alone
and let him come out
of this in his own way
I said he'd get well
and they were just
about ready to send me
to a state hospital
from the
commitment
I was gone
I went out walking
one night
and I don't know
where I walked
but I walked
before I got up
in the morning
and the police
picked me up
and they put me
in one cell
after another
and I don't know
later on
it developed
that they thought
I was the leader
of a car theft gang
because I was
leaning up
against the car
getting so tired
I couldn't walk
any further
well as soon as
Icky Sheridan
who was another
one of my great friends
down there
heard of it
he came down
and got me out
and then I began
to shake that off
and get back
in condition
and began to
as they said
there began to be
some fun around there
and I began to go
to the AA club
I know I walked
by it a dozen times
I'd walk by the
dang thing
and I was scared
to go up the steps
shaken and ashamed
and finally I did
and I went around
and got in the spirit
of the thing
and I began to get
some of this
Texas spirit
which as you know
was very great
and I began to think
that maybe I could
get the world
by the tail again
and I sold some stock
in an insurance company
which has turned out
to be a fizzle
and I sold some stock
and I sold some stock
and I got into
an oil deal
which also turned out
to be a fizzle
with the consequence
that after 13 months
I got discouraged
and I said
well I guess
I never was meant
to come down to Texas
I should have died
there in New York
because I don't think
I would have survived
another winter
and I got drunk again
well he
I didn't stay drunk
very long
because the law
got a hold of me
and arrested me
but I got bailed out
by a guy
that was in there
drunk himself
that I knew
in Dallas
and I was bailed out
but I was back
in the county
that night
for nine days
after the day
the half a day
in the city jail
and when I got out
of the county
at the end of nine days
one day for good behavior
I was promptly picked up
and put back
in the city jail
so my drinking
was stretched out
over about three weeks
but there was only
about four or five days
of active participation
with the bottle
but then
I had that long
period
of going right back
into that mental depression
again
and thinking
that there was no use
and scared to go out
on the streets
and scared to meet
and every time
I'd see anybody
with any uniform on
I'd turn right around
and run
I was scared of that
but I got out of that
and began to pick up
and then I think
finally I began to realize
that things were not
going to
that the oil wells
were not going to come out
and I had to accept
that I had kicked
myself around
whether it was
wholly my fault
or not
didn't make any difference
the result was there
that I kicked myself
around so long
and it was going to be
extremely hard
to get a job
and that I would
have to settle
for what I could do
and I went to work
for one of the boys
there who owned
a printing plant
and I worked for him
a year
for a magnificent sum
of thirty-seven dollars
a week I think
and I used to
I didn't have a car
in those days
and then I was out
of work for a while
and I worked
with Vicky Sheridan
out on the road
he's a construction man
I was his flight man
on two or three jobs
over in Irving
around there
and then I worked
with Ben Thompson
in a brickyard
and that is
he was reclaiming
an old brick
and selling them
for antique brick
and then my prison boss
came along
and gave me this job
and I've been there
ever since
and I've been thankful
that I can again
assume responsibility
and I have been
helping out
another person
in Dallas
and that has given me
some incentive
to stay sober
so that I've been able
to get together
six years
and that alone
has helped me
I am trying to forget
the big shot stuff
although sometimes
when the pressure
of money is on
it is hard to forget
and it is hard
to go along
and not complain
about the pricks of life
but nevertheless
I say to myself
if I had lived
and hadn't been sent
to Texas
I would have died
there in New York
and so I'm grateful
to Charlie Milton
and Cedar Graves
in Paris
and Charlie
who put the thing
into motion
and followed it through
and it cost him money
and it cost him time
and effort
to send me down
to Texas
and I'm grateful
to the people in Texas
who were patient with me
until I snapped
out of it
and came out of the fog
and the gang in New York
had discussions with me
but there were a few
like Hazel Rice
stuck by me
and figured that I had it
in me
if they can only get me
in the right spot
so I must put aside
the things that I think
I'd like
and things that I want
and yet are not good
for me probably
and be grateful
that I am alive
and able to
assume the responsibilities
of a man
and hold a job down
and I am also
grateful
that I'm able
to come out
and make these talks
and I'm grateful
to you people
for asking me here
for those who put up
the money
to bring me here
and for my two
companions today
who took me
on such a very good trip
and I must say
that the hospitality
of California
is right on a par
with that of Texas
and I want to thank you all.