Slade, Kentucky. A half-gallon of wine to the left, a cigarette in the right hand, a deck of cards in the left, and a zipper halfway down. This is the wreckage Gail L. calls her "qualifying picture." For forty years, she has followed the breadcrumbs from the gray, gloomy winters of Akron to the inner circles of the fellowship's history. She speaks of "soul surgery" on trains to Denver and the "slender threads" of destiny that led a broke Bill Wilson into the 56th-floor boardroom of the Rockefellers.
Gail traces the grit of the early days: the "Drunk Squad" in New York and the "Alcoholics Squad" in Ohio, where Dr. Bob’s sobriety was a slow, agonizing climb. She describes the raw intervention in a Tudor living room where Bob finally admitted he was a secret drinker. From the clatter of a typewriter in a New Jersey office to the "four yardsticks" of honesty, purity, unselfishness, and love, Gail maps the wreckage and the Higher Power that salvaged it.
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