Personal Stories From The First Edition
HOME BREWMEISTER
STRANGELY enough, or by some queer
quirk, I became acquainted with the "hilarious life just
at the time in my life when I was beginning to really
settle down to a common-sense, sane, domestic life. My
wife became pregnant and the doctor recommended the use
of Porter Ale . . . so . . . I bought a six gallon crock
and a few bottles, listened to advice from amateur
brewmeisters, and was off on my beer manufacturing
career on a small scale (for the time being). Somehow or
another, I must have misunderstood the doctor's
instructions, for I not only made beer for my wife, I
also drank it for her.
As time went on, I found that it was
customary to open a few bottles whenever visitors
dropped in. That being the case, it didn't take long to
figure out that my meager manufacturing facilities were
entirely inadequate to the manufacture of beer for
social and domestic consumption. From that point on, I
secured crocks of ten gallon capacity and really took
quite an active interest in the manufacture of home
brew.
We were having card parties with
limburger and beer quite regularly. Eventually, of
course, what with all the hilarity that could be
provoked with a few gallons of beer, there seemed to be
no need of bridge or poker playing for entertainment.
Well . . . we all know how those things go. The parties
waxed more liquid and hilarious as time went on, and
eventually I discovered that a little shot of liquor now
and then between beers had the tendency to put me in a
whacky mood much quicker than having to down several
quarts of beer to obtain the same results. The
inevitable result of this discovery was that I soon
learned that beer made a very good wash for whiskey.
That discovery so intrigued me, that I stayed on that
diet almost entirely for the balance of my extended
drinking career. Yes sir, the old Boilermaker and his
Helper. The last day of my drinking career, I drank 22
of them between 10 and 12 A.M. and I shall never know
how many more followed them until I was poured into bed
that night.
I was getting along fairly well with
my party drinking for quite some time however, but
eventually I began to visit beer joints in between
parties. A night or so a week in a joint, and a party or
so a week at home or with friends, along with a little
lone drinking, soon had me preparing for the existence
of a top flight drunkard.
Three years after I started on my
drinking career, I lost my first job. At the time, I was
living out of town, so I moved back to the home town and
made a connection in a responsible position with one of
the larger companies in the finance business. Up to this
point I had spent six years in the business and had
enjoyed the reputation of being very successful.
My new duties were extremely
confining and my liquor consumption began to increase at
this time. Upon leaving the office in the evening, my
first stop would be a saloon about a block from the
office. However, as there happened to be several saloons
within that distance, I didn't find it necessary to
patronize the same place each evening. It doesn't pay to
be seen in the same place at the same hour every day,
you know.
The general procedure was to take 4
or 5 shots in the first place I stopped at. This would
get me feeling fit, and then I would start for home and
fireside, thirteen miles away. Well . . . on the way
home numerous places must be passed. If I were alone I
would stop at four or five of them, but only one or two
in the event I had my mistrusting wife with me.
Eventually I would arrive home for a
late supper, for which, of course, I had absolutely no
relish. I would make a feeble attempt at eating supper
but never met with any howling success. I never enjoyed
any meal, but I ate my lunch at noon for two reasons:
first, to help get me out of the fog of the night
before, and second, to furnish some measure of
nourishment. (My enjoyment of meals now is an added
feature to the Seven Wonders of the World to me. I can
still hardly believe it). Eventually, the noon meal was
also dispensed with.
I cannot remember just when I became
the victim of insomnia, but I do know that the last year
and a half I never went to bed sober a single night. I
couldn't sleep. I had a mortal fear of going to be and
tossing all night. Evenings at home were an ordeal. As a
result, I would fall off in a drunken stupor every
night.
How was I able to discharge my duties
at the office during those horrible mornings, I will
never be able to explain. Handling customers, dealers,
insurance people, dictation, telephoning, directing new
employees, answering to superiors, etc. However, it
finally caught up with me, and when it did, I was a
mental, physical and nervous wreck.
I arrived at the stage where I
couldn't quite make it to the office some mornings. Then
I would send an excuse of illness. But the firm became
violently ill with my drunkenness and their course of
treatment was to remove their ulcer in the form of me
from their payroll, amid much fanfare and very personal
and slighting remarks and insinuations.
During this time, I had been
threatened, beaten, kissed, praised and damned
alternately by relatives, family, friends and strangers,
but of course it all went for naught. How many times I
swore off in the morning and got drunk before sunset I
don't know. I was on the toboggan and really making
time.
After being fired, I lined up with a
new finance company that was just starting in business,
and took the position of business promotion man,
contacting automobile dealers. WOW . . . was that
something??? While working in an office, there was some
semblance of restraint, but, oh boy, when I got on the
outside with this new company without supervision, did I
go to town???
I really worked for several weeks,
and having had a fairly wide acceptance with the dealer
trade, it was not difficult for me to line enough of
them up to give me a very substantial volume of business
with a minimum of effort.
Now I was getting drunk all the time.
It wasn't necessary to report in to the office in person
every day, and when I did go in, it was just enough to
make an appearance and bounce right out again. Was that
a merry-go-round for the eight months that it lasted???
Finally this company also became ill
and I was once more looking for a job. Then I learned
something else. I learned that person just can't find a
job hanging in a dive or barroom all day and all night,
as jobs don't seem to turn up in those places. I became
convinced of that because I spent most if my time there
and nary a job turned up. By this time, my chances of
getting lined up in my chosen business were shot.
Everyone had my number and wouldn't hire me at any
price.
I have omitted details of
transgressions that I made when drunk for several
reasons. One is that I don't remember too many of them,
as I was one of those drunks who could be on his feet
and attend a meeting or a party, engage in a
conversation with people and do things that any nearly
normal person would do, and the next day, not remember a
thing about where I was, what I did, whom I saw, or how
I got home. (That condition was a distinct handicap to
me in trying to vindicate myself with the not so patient
wife).
I also committed other indiscretions
of which I see no particular point in relating. Anyone
who is a rummy or is close to rummies knows what all
those things amount to without having to be told about
them.
Things eventually came to the point
where I had no friends. I didn't care to go visiting
unless the parties we might visit had plenty of liquor
on hand and I could get stinking drunk. Fact is, that I
was always well on my way before I would undertake to go
visiting at all. (Naturally, this condition was also a
source of great delight to my wife).
After holding good positions, making
better than average income for over ten years, I was in
debt, had no clothes to speak of, no money, no friends,
and no one any longer tolerating me but my wife. My son
had absolutely no use fore me. Even some of the
saloon-keepers where I had spent so much time and money,
requested that I stay away from their places. Finally,
an old business acquaintance of mine, who I hadn't seen
for several years offered me a job. I was on that job a
month and drunk most of the time.
Just it this time my wife heard of a
doctor in another city who had been very successful with
drunks. She offered me the alternative of going to see
him or her leaving me for good and all. Well . . . I had
a job, and I really wanted desperately to stop drinking,
but I couldn't, so I readily agreed to visit the doctor
she recommended.
That was the turning point of my
life. My wife accompanied me on my visit and the doctor
really told me some things that in my state of jitters
nearly knocked me out of the chair. He talked about
himself, but I was sure it was me. He mentioned lies,
deceptions, etc. in the course of his story in the
presence of the one person in the world I wouldn't want
to know such things. How did he know all this? I had
never seen him before, and at the time hoped to hell I
would never see him again. However, he explained to me
that he had been just such a rummy as I, only for a much
longer period of time.
He advised me to enter the particular
hospital to which staff he was connected and I readily
agreed. In all honesty though, I was skeptical, but I
wanted so definitely to quit drinking that I would have
welcomed any sort of physical torture or pain to
accomplish the result.
I made arrangements to enter the
hospital three days later and promptly went out and got
stiff for three days. It was with grim foreboding and
advanced jitters that I checked in at the hospital. Of
course, I had no hint or intimation as to what the
treatment was to consist of. Was I to be surprised!
After being in the hospital for
several days, a plan of living was outlined to me. A
very simple plan that I find much joy and happiness in
following. It is impossible to put on paper all the
benefits I have derived . . . physical, mental,
domestic, spiritual, and monetary.
This is no idle talk. It is the
truth.
From a physical standpoint, I gained
16 pounds in the first two months I was off liquor. I
eat three good meals a day now, and really enjoy them. I
sleep like a baby, and never give a thought to such a
thing as insomnia. I feel as I did when I was fifteen
years younger.
Mentally . . . I know where I was
last night, the night before, and the nights before
that. Also, I have no fear of anything. I have self
confidence and assurance that cannot be confused with
the cockeyness or noise-making I once possessed. I can
think clearly and am helped much in my thinking and
judgment by my spiritual development which grows daily.
From a domestic standpoint, we really
have a home now. I am anxious to get home after dark. My
wife is ever glad to see me come in. My youngster had
adopted me. Our home is always full of friends and
visitors (No home brew as an inducement).
Spiritually . . . I have found a
Friend who never lets me down and is ever eager to help.
I can actually take my problems to Him and He does give
me comfort, peace, and radiant happiness.
From a monetary standpoint . . . in
the last few years, I have reduced my reckless debts to
almost nothing, and have had money to get along
comfortably. I still have my job, and just prior to the
writing of this narrative, I received an advancement.
For all of these blessings, I thank
Him.
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