Here's an excerpt from 'Pass It On', about Bill Wilson, one of AA's co-founders.
'Vowing to fight on in the courts, Bill's associates returned to New York, leaving him alone in Akron to make a last effort to salvage the venture. He had little money, but they promised to support his efforts.
They left on a Friday, and Bill faced a solitary weekend in a strange city where he had just sustained a colossal disappointment. He had time on his hands and bitterness in his heart; fate had suddenly turned against him. His self-pity and resentment began to rise. He was lonely. He did not even have his colleagues as weekend company. Saturday noon found him pacing up and down the lobby of the Mayflower Hotel in extreme agitation, wondering how to pass the weekend. He had about ten dollars in his pocket.
Now began the personal crisis that was to set in motion a series of life-changing events for Bill. There was a bar at one end of the lobby, and Bill felt himself drawn to it. Should he have a ginger ale or two, perhaps scrape up an acquaintance? What could be the harm in that?
For almost anyone else, no harm. But for Bill Wilson, the alcoholic, the idea was loaded with danger. It was just such a delusion that had led to his Armistice Day drunk. For the first time in months, Bill had the panicky feeling of being in trouble.
In New York, he had kept himself sober for more than five months through working with other drunks at Towns and at Calvary Mission. The work had been his protection; it had kept him safe. Now he had nobody. As he recalled later, "I thought, ‘You need another alcoholic to talk to. You need another alcoholic just as much as he needs you!' " It was this thought that led him to the church directory at the other end of the hotel lobby.
The directory was a listing of Akron's major churches and their ministers. A typical directory of that kind might have from 30 to 50 names. Bill looked over the names and, quite at random, singled out that of a Reverend Walter F. Tunks. He had no conscious reason for picking Tunks's name; it may have been because his favorite Vermont expression was "taking a tunk," which meant "taking a walk." Or perhaps he picked out Tunks because the minister was an Episcopalian like Sam Shoemaker. Lois thought it was because Bill liked funny names. Whatever Bill's reason, he unwittingly picked the strongest Oxford Grouper among all of Akron's clergymen.
With this choice, Bill scored what he liked to call a "ten strike." He asked for help to get in touch with a drunk to talk to. And Tunks never hesitated or paused when he heard Bill's odd request — never stopped to question the wisdom of giving a total stranger the names of ten people who might help direct him to "a drunk."
Bill called all ten, without getting the name of a single drunk. But one man, Norman Sheppard, knew a woman named Henrietta Seiberling, and even knew of the efforts she had been making to help a certain friend. "I have to go to New York tonight, but you call Henrietta Seiberling," Sheppard told Bill.
Bill balked at the idea of calling Mrs. Seiberling. The name was known to him, and he was afraid of it. It was the name of the Goodyear rubber people. Bill believed that Henrietta was the wife of Frank Seiberling, the entrepreneur who had built the Goodyear company and, after losing control of that firm, later formed the tire company bearing his name. Bill had even met Frank Seiberling during the halcyon years on Wall Street. As he remembered it, "I could hardly imagine calling up his wife and telling her that I was a drunk from New York looking for another drunk to work on." He continued to pace up and down the lobby. Something kept telling him to call Mrs. Seiberling. He went back to his room and placed the call.'
We all know what happened next. He spoke to Mrs Seiberling, and eventually ended up talking to Dr Bob. Ultimately, AA was founded. But in the short term, Bill stayed sober.
The most interesting line here is 'Bill called all ten, without getting the name of a single drunk'.
To get well, I had to be prepared to go to any lengths. Bill didn't give up after the first failed call. He carried on calling. I remember standing in a phone box on the King's Road in London, in 1993, and calling 27 people. The 27th answered, and I got the help I needed that day.
Another very interesting line is 'The name was known to him, and he was afraid of it.' He was scared but he placed the call anyway.
'Children blame. Teenagers explain. Adults act.'