Grapevine, June 1944 -- "Grapevine" in Bow.
(Author unknown, but probably Bill Wilson.)
In a big smoke-filled room six ink-stained wretches sipped at their Cokes
as I shot questions after question at them.
"All right," I said, "the stork didn't bring this paper. Nobody found it
in a rose bush. It didn't just grow like Topsy. Come clean, now. How'd it
all begin?"
"Well," the six began. "It was just something that was in the air.
Everybody, at some time or other, has had the bright idea: Let's have an
A.A. paper! Then - bang - Cleveland had one; so why not us, here in the
Metropolitan area? We figured to take the paper out of the talking stage
and put it into print." With that the six shut up. In the silence that
followed I looked these people over. Very average. A cashier; a radio
script writer, an author [probably Marty Mann]; a bookseller; an art
director [Priscilla Peck]; a wife and mother of two. "Do you realize," I
said, "that you people are sticking your necks out to here? Starting a
paper up all by your little selves. Not putting it to a vote and all that
kind of thing." "Sir, we don't think you've got the correct slant," the
bookseller said thoughtfully. "We six are just sort of garage mechanics,
servicing the paper. We don't write it. That's the creamy part for every
Jack and Doris of A.A. who can lay their hands on some news and a pencil
stub. We wrestle with the punctuation, if any. Hammer for copy as the
deadline creeps up. Paste up the dummy and hope for the best." "Very
neat," I said, "and I wish you luck. But what's the paper going to talk
about?
"About us alcoholics, naturally," the mother of two said, "about A.A.s
whole design for living. There's going to be a big, full page on local
group doings (there's a Grapevine reporter in every group right now with
his pencil at the ready). And we're planning to get all the big general
stuff on alcoholism into the paper. Best of all, we think, is the
Servicemen's Letter page. ..."
"Now you're talking," I said with satisfaction. "Thanks," the cashier
said coldly. "We also hope to have a column on books and the theatre and
films and radio and magazine articles which have to do with A.A. or the
12 Steps, or constructive living in general." "And," said the author, "a
section called "Do you know?" which will pin down in print the things new
members wonder about."
"Anything else?" I asked, reaching for my hat. "Oh yes!" the six said,
"Two things, particularly. There'll be a write up on the Central Office.
And a letters-to-The Grapevine where everybody can sound off - pro and
con - on anything that seems to need saying out loud."
"That's positively all? I asked, rising. "No! Aren't you going to ask us
how long we six are going to stick at this thing?"
"Go on. Go on," I said nervously. 'Simple, the six said, "We hang on for
a trial spin of three months while the Metropolitan A.A.s make up their
minds whether they want a paper or not. If the verdict's NO - we bow
out." "And if the verdict's Yes?" I asked, eyeing all six sharply. "We
still bow out; and hand the paper to fresh new blood," they said. "Well,
it still looks like a cabal to me," I said. In my most suspicious manner.
"Think I'll write a letter to The Grapevine demanding to know how come
you six think you can get a paper going!"
"We'll print it, sir. Goodbye, and kindly don't slam the door," was the
last I hear the six say.
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