Settling In And Disaster

As time went by, the Club and the membership matured. Of the thirteen regular meetings in the Santa Clara valley, three were held at the Club. Inter-group Service Council met there on the third Thursday of the month, featuring “Guest Speakers – Entertainment – Refreshments”. Family Night every Thursday traded “Games” for “Guest Speakers”, but the welcome mat was always out. Open daily from 7 PM to Midnight, sooner if Duncan could get there, later if there was money to be made. Duncan made a special effort to open early during the cold winter months, and with poker charged at 15 cents an hour, every bit counted. But sometimes, there weren’t enough ‘bits’ coming in to meet the demand going out. Bob S., owner of the San Jose Window Shade Company on South Second Street, a charter member of the Club and tracing his sobriety to 1942, said “Turn it over to me, and I’ll get the bills paid”.  Things were turned over, and between he and Duncan, things got better: the bills were being paid – on time, and there was actually a surplus.  Only problem with that, however, was that every time the kitty got up around a hundred dollars, they’d throw a big steak dinner. Stomachs got filled and the kitty got emptied. “One Day At A Time” was becoming an “Easier, Softer Way!.

The message was being carried and carried well. Sometimes, however, the experience, strength and hope in the message isn’t well received by all, especially the experience part. At one open meeting, a speaker carried a message of recovery, and when finished, the group responded with a hearty applause. One lady remarked

to another, “Wasn’t that a beautiful talk!”, to which the other replied “Oh, I heard her talk a couple of months ago, and she’s nothing but a tramp”.  A third lady sitting just ahead of these two overheard the conversation and fumed. The next morning, Thelma G. was on the phone and within a week, the Midday Women’s Group was meeting at 12 O’clock. The first closed women’s meeting was off and running in privacy.

Days grew into weeks, weeks into months and, of course, months into years. Poker games went well past closing, often lasting ‘til early in the morning. Sobriety was the order of the day, but we all need a breather sometimes. Jules became the new Manager, and progress continued.  On many summer Saturday nights, the Alano Club Family Group meeting drew over capacity crowds, forcing late arrivals to stand outside, hanging into open windows to hear about sobriety.

It was on a Saturday night in 1956 that fate dealt the blow that would test the character of this group. The meeting was well attended, many more gathering from other meetings around the valley to join in the festivities of the regular Saturday night dance. The night seemed endless, but the last dance finally came, bringing the evening to a close. As the crowd dwindled, a few remained to clean up, emptying ashtrays, returning tables and chairs to their regular spots. The lights went out, the door was locked and the clubhouse settled down for the night. But over in the corner, a small cardboard box began to smolder, then glow, finally bursting into flames that would turn the upper floor into a mass of charred memories. A cigarette, not quite extinguished, carelessly thrown in the wrong place had the final say at 1274 Almaden Avenue.

The program teaches us to live life on a daily basis, facing each event with a clear mind and a resolution to go ahead even under the most adverse conditions. The strength of the Alano Club today is a tribute to how well our predecessors acquired this ability.