Faith and Courage -- Omaha's 48th Street Club by Steve Kline

OMAHA'S 48TH

FAITH

AND

STREET CLUB

COURAGE

Faith and Courage Omaha's 48th Street Club

Project Coordinators: Steve Kline, Nancy Johnson, Rob Bozell

Introduction

Alcoholics Anonymous in Omaha

The ‘109 Club’

The Founding of the 48th Street Club

The ‘70s and ‘80s

The 48th Street Club Today

The Narratives

Chris A.

Dwight Porter

Jess B.

Nancy J.

Ryan Simon

Gary McDonald

Paul Waldmann

Todd Robinson

Jim Wells and Jim Quinley

Steve Kline

Jim Doyle

Patricia Curran

Tim Connor

Mike A.

Rob Bozell

Around the Club

Introduction

Since the late 1950s, many hundreds of men and women in the greater Omaha area have said “the 48th Street Club saved my life.” While some people that came to the Club only remained sober for days or weeks, many have been ‘living the dream’ for years and decades and have led wonderfully loving, meaningful and productive lives. Not only has the Club saved these folks but has spared their children, wives, husbands, parent, siblings, friends, and co-workers from the shared despair and misery of alcoholism. Alcoholics Anonymous (A.A.) is a multi-faceted program of recovery from alcoholism but there are two particularly critical elements. One is regular meetings of alcoholics discussing their horrid drunken past and their recovery. The second is fellowship. The 48th Street Club is a unique place that offers both. It is a sprawling early 20th century Queen Anne-style former residence in the historic Omaha neighborhood of Dundee. The house and it’s beautiful yard has space for formal A.A.meetings, social events, and informal gatherings of folks to discuss alcoholism, sports, politics, or any topic they want. Many people have described the Club as 24 ‘home’ or ‘sacred ground.’ Some spend one hour a week there and others dozens of hours a week. It is open to all with a desire to be sober. One of the most remarkable things about this place is diversity. Alcoholism is the great equalizer and it doesn’t take long hanging out at the 48th Street Club to see a wide assortment of people -- rich and poor, male and female, gay and straight, liberal and conservative, young and old. But while at the Club none of that really matters much. We are just a bunch alcoholics whose lives were miserable and helping each other stay sober.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

As we approach six decades of helping alcoholics, members thought this would be a good time to reflect on the history and importance of the Club. This short volume provides a brief history of the Club and A.A. in Omaha. It also features testimonials by Club members discussing what the Club has meant the them and their families and friends and they trudge the road happy destiny.

Alcoholics Anonymous in Omaha The first Nebraskan to contact Alcoholics Anonymous was Maurice G. of Omaha. In June of 1941, Maurice G. wrote the Alcoholics Anonymous offices in New York to inquire about membership. The New York office wrote back and stated that the closest group was in Kansas City and that one of their traveling members would stop in Omaha to talk to him. It is unknown whether Maurice ever got sober. In February 1943, Jim Connelly, who got sober in Kansas City and was early in sobriety, moved to Omaha. At the suggestion of his sponsor, he placed an advertisement in the World Herald for the first A.A. meeting in Nebraska and three people attended. The Omaha Group was formed and 10 people joined the group that year. Seven of the original ten stayed sober until their deaths. In October of 1943, Bill and Lois Wilson attended an A.A. meeting at the Hotel Regis at 16th and Harney streets in Omaha. It was the first meeting attended in Nebraska by A.A.’s co-founder.

The ‘109 Club’ In 1945, after meeting for some time in a downtown hotel, the Omaha group, with contributions of $1 to $25 from within their group, combined with assistance from Martin H. and the financial shrewdness of their first Secretary-Treasurer, Ralph T., opened the Alano Club at 109 N. 40th Street. It was the first A.A. club in Nebraska and often was referred to as the “109 Club.” Rumored to be a bookie joint and to have all night poker and pitch games, the Alano Club was equipped with a kitchen and provided not only a place for meetings, but also as a place for social events for those in recovery. Later in 1945, the members of the Omaha Group split into four groups, which met in homes during the week. Members of all groups met once a week at the Alano Club. The Alano Club initially was not separately incorporated, but was owned by an A.A. group. In 1946, Alano, Inc. was formed as a non-profit corporation to operate the Alano Club. It was then owned and operated as a separate entity, not part of an A.A. group. Early members of A.A. who attended meetings at the Alano Club said they were very successful in bringing others to recovery. However, the club also was rumored to have its difficulties. It got the reputation as a place where wet drunks could also get a free cup of coffee and the members struggled to keep the focus on A.A. meetings and recovery. The Alano Club later moved and

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

then eventually closed. Many years later, A.A. members in Omaha established a new Alano Club in South Omaha.

The Founding of the 48th Street Club Undeterred by the closing of the Alano Club, A.A. members in Omaha persisted in efforts to establish a club. In 1959, members of A.A. who had been meeting in a home at 219 N. 48th Street decided to buy the property and establish a new A.A. club. Equipped with the lessons learned from the Alano Club, members of the group went to a local bank and attempted to get a mortgage to buy the property. The bank was unable to provide the mortgage directly. However, the bank president indicated that he had served on the Board of Directors at the Salvation Army. After a phone call by the bank president, the Salvation Army agreed to purchase the house and sell it to the group as an A.A. meeting place. The Salvation Army loan was made available through a fund established by Eugene Eppley, an early Omaha businessman, and administered by the Salvation Army. The only condition was that the A.A. Central Office be located in the building. The Central Office was moved there and located in the converted garage on the northeast corner of the building. Club members now know this as the ‘smoking room.’ Omaha Chapter, Inc., a non-profit corporation, was formed on August 10,1959, to own and operate The 48th Street Club. The names of the original incorporators were Richard McClimans, Joseph Olewine and Roger Gleason. The purpose of Omaha Chapter, Inc. as stated in the Articles of Incorporation are: “To provide a central club for all of its members; to provide a central office; to promote physical, intellectual, social and spiritual welfare of its members; and to purchase, lease, and sell property of all kinds and descriptions, where the same is to be used in connection with the foregoing objectives.” The Articles and By-Laws state that members of the Omaha Chapter, Inc. must also be members of A.A. with at least 30 days’ sobriety. The organization is governed by a Board of Directors elected by club members on an annual basis. Omaha Chapter, Inc. is separate from Alcoholics Anonymous and the A.A. groups who rent space for A.A. meetings in the building. In order to pay the mortgage, the members of Omaha Chapter, Inc. paid monthly dues and collected rent from groups that met at the club. The club paid off the $15,000 mortgage in 10 years and on July 6, 1970, the property was deeded from the Salvation Army Trust to Omaha Chapter, Inc. Three years later, the Central Office decided to relocate to a larger location on South 50th Avenue where it remains today.

The ‘70s and ‘80s The 48th Street Club has benefited from so many people who have worked behind the coffee counter. The names and their contributions are too many to mention, but the stories of many A.A. members include a stop at the 48th Street Club for a first meeting. Renovations to the Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

building have taken place over the years. Originally, the coffee counter was located where the TV room is now. Many old-timers recall during the 1970’s when a woman named Mable served at the coffee counter. When Mable was working, you did not swear or dare put your feet on the furniture. Mable also insisted that you use a saucer under your coffee cup. In the early 1980’s, the coffee counter was moved to the front room. A.A. members of different trades have donated countless hours to maintain and repair the building. Similarly, dozens of members have worked behind the coffee counter – for many it was their first “sober job,” while others simply enjoyed staying close to A.A. Long time members will also recall when smoking was allowed in the entire building was and the resultant residue was so thick on the walls you “could scrape it off with a putty knife.” Many financial gifts have benefited the club over the years. In 1993, the Salvation Army was instrumental in arranging an anonymous gift of $4,000, which helped pay the cost of painting and roofing the house. The anonymous donor made the gift after reading the 48th Street Club Newsletter. Through its history, the 48th Street Club has overcome many challenges. During the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, influences from gambling and other vices resulted in a declining reputation for the quality of sobriety at the 48th Street Club. In 1985, the 48th Street Club banned gambling and the club began to refocus on its purpose as stated in its original Articles of Incorporation. After this change occurred, the club began to grow in membership, as well as use by the A.A. community. The club has held many social functions over the years, including various holiday picnics, and Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Many members, both past and present, describe the 48th Street Club as a place a recovering alcoholic can feel safe and discover the helping hand of the A.A. fellowship.

The 48th Street Club Today Today, more than 30 meetings take place at the 48th Street Club. Because of its proximity to the A.A. Central Office, detox centers, treatment facilities, half-way houses and homeless shelters, the 48th Street Club has been a frequent first-meeting place for thousands of newcomers. The Club also provides a social outlet for those in recovery through picnics, dances, and holiday celebrations. Regardless of the challenges and the changes necessitated throughout its history, the 48th Street Club has always striven to be a place where one alcoholic can work with another to stay sober, one day at a time.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

The Narratives One of our storytellers puts it this way: When we came to AA, our lives were in pieces. Some of us were bruised. Others battered. Others bloodied and bereft. We were refugees from what we perceived as a hostile world. Some happy fate brought us all together in this quiet residential neighborhood, in this comfortable home that we call the 48th Street Club. Here, we healed and resumed our lives. Each of us has a story -- a story of faith and courage and experience, strength and hope. We have captured a few of the stories on video, and they’re available for you at (insert YouTube Channel address). We are proud to present here some excerpts from those interviews.

Chris A.

I lived about a mile and a half away from the 48th Street Club and I didn’t have a driver’s license, so I kind of looked around for meetings. Actually, there was a Monday night meeting called “Newcomers.” That was the first meeting that I went to. I thought it was orientation for Alcoholics Anonymous. It was called “Newcomers,” right? So, I thought that’s where you had to go first. I ended up going to that meeting. There still a couple people around that were involved with that meeting. Scott C. is still around and I see him so it’s kind of fun to still see some faces from the first meeting I went to.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

I didn’t stay sober that time. That would have been the mid-90’s and a couple of years later, I came back again. I went to treatment in Lincoln and this was the first place that I came back to. I knew I needed to get to a meeting so I was like, this is the place I wanted to go this time. Hopefully for the last time. On involvement with history: Myself and a couple of other members helped organize the 50th anniversary and I started to think back on, why was this place here when I needed it? Who helped put it in place? And kept it running all these years. So, I started to look into the history of it and figure it out. Which is really a fascinating history of how it came about. How they managed to get the money to buy it. And how they were able to pay it off in about 10 years. They walked into the right place. They walked into a bank to get a loan, the bank couldn’t give them a loan. But the guy that ran the bank was on the board of the Salvation Army and made a phone call. The Salvation Army had a fund to help other organizations that have similar missions, and they were able to give the loan for them to buy the house. I think the cost was $15,000, and that is why they charged dues – to help pay the mortgage. They were able to actually pay it off in I think about ten years. They paid it off early. Pretty amazing. The first AA club in Omaha failed and I think this was the second or third one. People that were involved in the first one were also involved in this one and they learned from their mistakes on the first one. Typical AA --learn from your experience, right? And maybe do it better the second time. The 48th Street Club is really on the front lines of recovery from alcoholism. You’ve got halfway houses and treatment centers and the Francis House and others that come up here all the time, so there’s a constant inflow of new people and to me, that’s what I really like about it. That’s where you’re needed. All these people coming in that need some people here that have some time sober that can help pass on their experience.

Dwight Porter EDITOR’S NOTE: Dwight did the beautiful woodwork in the floor of the small room off the main meeting room on the Club’s upper level. The centerpiece of that medallion is a piece of walnut parquet. That is a certain type of floor they make. It’s kind of like laying tile. It comes in squares. I took that piece of walnut and I wrapped it with what I think was a piece of maple. And then I took a piece of ash flooring and wrapped that around the maple. And then I took a piece of Brazilian cherry and wrapped the final piece with that. And then I glued it all together and traced it out and just cut it into the floor and laid it in there and then I re-sanded it. I think I did it on a Sunday and remember thinking if I get my stuff, drive my van to the meeting and just wear my work clothes to the meeting. As soon as everybody scoots out, I could get it going.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

What prompted me to do it? I like what I do. But I owe my life to this place. A lot of the people that were here before took me under their wing. So, it wasn’t a matter of wanting praise or wanting to get paid for it. I wouldn’t have taken any money if someone would have offered it to me. It’s kind of like in Doctor Bob’s Nightmare, explaining why he works with other alcoholics. It’s just about giving back. I’ve learned over time that it’s not about shining or being in the limelight. I don’t need a pat on the back for living the way I should have lived my whole life. I keep coming back to meetings because I hear the stories about people that quit going to meetings. I have been very fortunate and blessed as far as I don’t have an urge to drink and use anymore. God has removed that obsession for me. But I know what happens to people who quit coming to meetings and talking to other alcoholics. They might manage to stay sober for a while but they are not going to have any quality sobriety. And for me, that’s what it is about. It’s not about how long I have been sober or how many guys I am sponsoring or how many service positions I am holding. It’s about, am I growing up? Am I being an adult? Without this place and you people, I don’t where I would be today. I know it wouldn’t be good. The hardest things that I struggle today are balance and humility. Trying to remember that I need to be humble in spite of whether my toes get stepped on without provocation or if I did something to deserve it, which is usually the case. I just want to be one of many. I have seen a lot of great examples in AA and I have seen a lot of bad examples. I hear a lot of people say that “this place is sacred,” now I see why.

Jess B. I went to treatment, 30-day treatment, for the first time in 1997 at the old Saint Gabe’s up on 60th. I had no idea what they were going to do to me to make me quit drinking and doing drugs. Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

But after the 30-day thing, the 29th day, the counselor came up to me and she said, “You know, I think you need into go to a men’s three-quarter way house.” And I said that’s not possible. I have to get out of here and go to work. She tried to talk me into it and then I slept on it. The next day, I decided to go into the Turning Point, a three-quarter way house. At the Turning Point, we all had to walk to the meetings. I was the only one who had a car. My first meeting up here was on a Saturday night. Bob and his wife were chairing the Saturday night meeting. I liked what he said, so I came back. That’s my first experience with 48th Street Club. I didn’t stay sober then. I drank for another four years and I got sober in 2001. But I would come here. I was either in the program or out of the program. I was either coming to meetings or I was using. And I would always come up here and my friend Jim Wells would always be standing there when I walked up those steps. I remember I used to think to myself, “What does he think of me?” And then I used to think, “Why is he always here? Doesn’t he have a life?” But he always stuck his hand out and said, “Welcome, glad to see you.” I spent about four years doing that and about 90 days was the longest I could not use meth and I couldn’t figure that out. I wanted to know what the drug was doing to my body when I put it in my body. So, I went to Richard Young had a relapse outpatient treatment thing. I went to that for three months. I did a Fourth and Fifth step there with the counselor and I have been sober ever since. And I have been coming to this club since 2001. In my first year of sobriety, I was working nights at the First National Tower when they were building it. I was working for Kiewit. I would come up here during the day and I was so crazy I couldn’t be alone. So, I would stay here all day until it was time to go to work. We painted this place, we bleached the walls because we used to smoke here. I made friends. There are about six guys -- older guys -- that were my mentors. Jim Wells is one of them, Gary McDonald, Buzz Wells. I just did what they did. I just couldn’t live that life anymore. It was really hard for me to let go. I was 44 years old when I got sober and I hated my life, I hated who I was. I was so full of fear and ego that I didn’t want to change it. Because it was comfortable for me, even though I hated it, I was comfortable. I didn’t know any other way. Slowly but surely, I just hung out with these guys and they showed me how to live sober. The door is always open here. I have been the president and the manager. I used to be really involved in this place. I used to bring my son up here to cut the lawn. We have done a lot up here. This place -the 48th Street Club-is sacred to me. I learned everything here. I learned how to be a friend. I just learned how to be a human being up here. In that 15 years, I have been to meetings all over town, all over the country now. But I belong here, and I love it here. It is home.

Nancy J. So, the first time I came up, it was a Thursday night meeting, we were in the upstairs meeting room. I was with the guy that I was dating at the time and scared to death. The topic that night was the Fellowship, and it was at the time we went around the room and everybody had something to say. And maybe a third of the way through, I could feel that tenor of the room changed, it calmed down, began to sense that kind of warm and fuzzy feeling, and people began to talk a little bit differently. I was aware that there was a power in that, a power that Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

grew. I kind of experienced that before in terms of being with groups of people. But it caught my attention. The second meeting I went to was the following night down in Bellevue. I drank a little bit Friday afternoon after school at the bowling alley. Then we went to our second AA meeting. My friend Marc(k?) took me. At that time, they had a special newcomers meeting. The topic was when was your last drink. Well my last drink was at 5 o’clock and it was 8 o’clock. I didn’t want to say anything. But my friend Marc and his new friend Kelly both talked about the fact that their last drink had been a couple of weeks ago. I had thought Marc had been sober for a while. I think of the 48th Street Club as my home place. These are the people that I have kind of grown up with in AA and now I am getting old with in AA. And it’s a cross-section -- when I first came to meetings here, there were public officials, prominent people in town, wealthy people, blue collar guys, people from the street. There was a wide range of people. I have always appreciated that about this place. I think that it is because of the location it is in town. That is one of the things that kept me coming back. I don’t know if that’s a quality at the time, or that was a quality of early sobriety. Or if there is a combination of those things. I have tried to go back and capture that and I have never been able to do that. I don’t know if it’s because I have changed or if the group has changed. It gives credence to the notion that it’s attraction not promotion. You cannot create that. Sometimes it’s there and sometimes it’s not. I was sober 10 or 12 years before it began to dawn on me that there is a whole group of people running this place that I never saw or knew the names of. But they were doing it. It has nothing to do with AA. That was an eye-opener for me. What the founders did for the 48th Street Club is they set themselves up, set up the structure, bought the house to do stuff you don’t do in AA for good reason. So that what we have here, we have a chance to do picnics, Christmas parties, movie nights, sit around and shoot the shit and act like a bar. And make that family-friendly depending on who is around and who is running the show that year. I think that the fact that we are in a residential neighborhood, that it’s a home. That makes us unique, at least in the Omaha community. I don’t think there are any other clubs that are like that. Clubs that have the architecture, that supports and shapes your expectations. Even before you walk in the door. It’s not a storefront, it’s not a hall, it wasn’t built for this. It was built as a family home. I think especially in the last couple of years, we have been able to highlight that, in a way that is helpful.

Ryan Simon When I first got sober, I don’t think I really knew what to expect. I thought honestly that I was going to learn to drink moderately. Learn how to be sociable in society and still be an addict and alcoholic. The 48th Street Club really didn’t come into my sobriety until about a year after I was clean and sober. I started looking beyond and into the inner workings of who I was. I wanted to understand what really made me happy and what I was meant to be. Through the Club, I met Roger and Nancy and many other amazing people that come to this club house. Through time, the unity and fellowship kicked in. People kind of took me under their wing and showed me how they were living. And it was through service work and not only extending their hand but also showing me how to extend my hand out.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

Nancy was wanting work done in the kitchen and I was still in treatment. As a part of trying to get away from the center for a while, I was willing to come up here and put some time in on the weekends. It became a humbling experience because I am really not a person to get to know others. I am kind of an introvert and a bit afraid of people. Who would have guessed that now! It’s really amazing that a place like the 48th Street Club is exactly what it is and it does what it’s supposed to do. It introduces people to this program and shows them there’s a better way than what we have chosen in the past. On why he signed up for another big project: It’s a way that I am able to get out of myself because I really do have a hard time communicating with people. But when I find myself really busy with a task, I am more apt to be in a conversation with you and show you what I am able to do. With the patio, it turned out beautiful and it really cultivated further investment in the fellowship friendship. The 48th Street Club is really a second home for me. If it wasn’t for the 48th Street Club, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. This place is a complete miracle to me and many other people. I think that’s the one thing, I may not say much but I will tell you that. You come here, this place, and many places like it, but there is a lot going on here and if you just stick around for a while, opportunities do come and life does change and it’s for the better.

Gary McDonald I joined the club in 1975. I haven’t necessarily been sober since 1975, but I paid dues to the club since 1975. Somebody asked me the other day what it was about the club that was so special, because I have been a member continuously through all that time. I moved out of town for a while and I still paid my dues to the club. And I thought about that and what I remember now is that the club is always kind of a haven for alcoholics because it used to be open during the day. I don’t know whether it was AA or the club that kept you sober, but the two together certainly was a perfect combination. You could come up here during the day and there would always be someone here to talk with. I was a 5 o’clock drinker, so I could come here at the end of the work day and get through that tough time and then I could go home and have supper and come back to the meeting. It was just that personality of the club at the time and kind of a safe haven. It’s that continuity of sobriety that says everything is safe here and they’re still here and you can be here, too. I chaired a meeting Wednesday night and a lady was celebrating her 38th year of sobriety, and she got sober here. And I was here when she got sober. She came back, and I was still here. To me that’s what it’s about. I get involved with the club and with AA because part of the deal with sobriety is being of use to others in whatever capacity you can. Somebody needs to be here when they come in. When my kids come in, when my grandkids come in, I want the hand of AA to be here and I want the Omaha Chapter to be here. And that’s not a burdensome obligation, that is just doing my part to

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

make sure that it all takes place. Because if I am not willing to do anything about it, then I can’t expect other people to be willing to do anything about it. Over the years, I have been on the board at least half a dozen times, I have been president probably four or five times. If I want to see this place stay the same or be here when the next person comes in, then I have to do my part to keep that going. My sponsor told me about in the early days, that some members paid their dues five months in advance or five years in advance. That would help pay a gas bill. Over the years, I have often worried about the club. Is it going the wrong way or are the wrong people in charge? Or not doing what I think they should be doing? And every time, it always bounces back. What I have learned about AA and learned about Omaha Chapter is that they are really resilient and they’re elastic. The club serves a purpose, the same as AA does. It not only supplies a place for alcoholics but it carries that same message within the club that AA does. That this is a safe haven. That this is the way to sobriety.

Paul Waldmann The first time that I walked into this club, I thought “God, I hate this place.” And it wasn’t the place itself, it was the fact I was having to go to meetings. And the club grew on me over time. The club was basically a place to go get something done to keep the courts and my PO off my back. It’s really become a home over the last five years. I just look at the transition within the past couple of years. Jim has always taken care of the exterior -- the flowers, the peonies this year were beautiful. But the interior, Nancy! I started coming up here over time and she would bring in flowers, and then she became president. The club looks like a home now to me. It looks like a home for a lot of people. There has been a transition in the demographics here and there is just something warm about this place, that I fell in love with. There is an eclectic mixture of meetings here as well as people. The people who prefer more traditional meetings, Big Book meetings, there are meetings here for all. There’s meetings here for people with various addictions. So much has been given to me. I didn’t think this late in my life I could have it this good or be this happy. “Therapy for a buck,” as one of the guys at another meeting that I go to says. The meeting can be that but the club brought far more than that. It’s aided me so much in my personal transition. And I am very grateful and I am a gratitude freak!

Todd Robinson o, I remember driving up to the Club and thinking how strange it was that there was this house S in the middle of a residential neighborhood that’s dedicated to recovery from alcoholism. And I just thought it was so novel and so unusual and so striking and so strange that the moment is preserved forever in my mind. You know, taking those first steps up, there were a few people sitting outside and I just thought, “What in the world is happening to me?” I walked in and there was this buzz of people and energy. I made my way to the fireplace to that little group for the first time and I thought, “I am never going to come here on Sunday mornings.” I read my New York Times, you know, I drink my coffee -- this is sacred time. And I told them that first meeting, “You guys are great, but I am Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

never coming back.” And, of course the next week, here I was. And there I have been, 75 or 80 weeks in a row. Probably one of the worst things about addiction -- you hear it all the time -- is how we isolate. It felt really galvanizing to be here with my fellow sufferers and to have people look at me with compassion. And it also felt like a psychological hospital or something. I mean that in the best way. It felt like a place to get well. It felt like Lourdes, you know, the healing waters. I knew this was a place that was going to be good for me. Every time I have walked out of here, I have felt good. I went to the store last Sunday right after and the cashier said you’re the happiest person that has been here all day. And I attribute that to this club and that room and the people in it. This is a place with a whole range of addictions and recovery people who are jittery and frightened and still in the clutches of that sickness. People who have been sober for 40 years or more. This is a place to get coffee and sit down with somebody who cares about you. This is a place where if you need to get some food in you, we will get some food in you. You want to watch a little television or play a game or read a book, there’s something for whatever mood you are in. You want to sit on the porch and smoke and laugh, we have people that will gladly partake in that with you. And if you want to find a little quiet space, there’s a quiet place. That’s one of the great things about these Sunday morning meetings: you get to see the seasons through the window. And it’s a little awkward coming into a building of strangers, but it also feels like home. They know you, they know what you’ve been through, they care about you, they want you to get healthy. They want you to live a long and happy life. Like together, let’s get healthy. Let’s get well, let’s get the most out of being. You feel, like, protected. You feel great, you know. You know while you’re here, nothing is going to go wrong. And you are going to take some of that hope with you leave.

Jim Wells and Jim Quinley Jim Q: I’ve known Jim since I started hanging out in the club back in the early ‘80s. I didn’t get sober until ‘96. I was a stubborn Irish drunk. But he has been a big part of my sobriety since then and so has the 48th Street Club. In fact, I can remember my first meeting, it was here. And I walked in here not knowing anything about AA. Not knowing anything about the 48th Street Club. Not knowing much about myself. And I was scared to death and there were some grouchy guys, I don’t think Jim was one of them, they were sitting at the Half-Measures Table. And I said,

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

“Where is the AA meeting at?” And they said, “Up the stairs.” So up the stairs I went and I sat in the room. I didn’t know what to do but I figured I was going to emulate the people sitting next to me. It was hard to see the people next to me because back then you could smoke up there. Visibility was about two inches. And I noticed they went around the room and introduced themselves. They said, “I’m an alcoholic.” And some people said, “I’m an alcoholic and an addict.” And I thought they were saying, “I’m an alcoholic in the attic.” And I thought, well I am an alcoholic in the attic, too. And I didn’t quite get that. And then there was another girl who introduced herself as Cynthia Duvor, and I thought she said “I am Cynthia the whore.” So, I thought you introduced yourself by what you do for a living. I was so scared, I didn’t know what was going on. But that was my first impression of AA. Like I said, I didn’t get sober for 11 years after that. Jim W: Well I can remember, I came up here basically not knowing the people or not knowing if I really wanted to or if I fit in. I could call Katie at the Central Office, and Katie said that there was a Wednesday meeting, 5:30 meeting, up at 48th Street. And of course, being a transient basically, because I was not from Omaha, I said, “Well, where is 48th Street?” And she said, “It’s really simple to find. It’s two blocks from Dodge Street. It’s right on the corner, you can’t miss it.” Well you know, an alcoholic can miss it. Be that as it may, I came up to the 5:30 meeting and that was the first meeting I came to on a Wednesday. And for years I came up to that meeting. And at that time, it was attended by Jim D. Gary M., -- I think Nancy Johnson . . . There was a whole group of people, it was just a Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

tremendous cross section of basically AA. The guy who was watching the counter at the time was Bob B. and I can remember one of the times, they were talking about the financial status of 48th Street and how it was going and stuff. And how he did it. And he said, “Well, this drawer here, you see it? I put the bills in and then I go to the checkbook and I write checks that cover as much as we have in the checking account.” After that, I stop paying. There was a whole host of characters. Pete, with the white cat. He somehow found this white cat and brought the white cat up here. He used to take his comb, the same comb he combed his hair with, and combed the cat’s hair. And the cat would wander around and be out in the street. He’d come in and he’d pet it, comb its hair. Made sure it was fed. And then there was Ed, old Ed. He took it upon himself to make sure the cats had their shots. And he would take the cats to and from the vet. It’s just amazing, the host of characters that come through. Jim Q: When I was finally acclimated and was in sobriety for a while I thought about becoming a member of the club. And I noticed there was a gentleman who used to sit in the TV room and his name turned out to be “Dude.” He has since passed away. But I seemed to want to get to know this guy but he was pretty stand-offish. He’d just sit there and watch TV. Finally I came a few minutes before the meeting before I went upstairs. And I said, “Dude, my name is Jim.” And he said, “Yeah.” And I said, “I never see you go upstairs to the meeting. Do you ever go upstairs?” He said, “NO, I am just here for the fucking fellowship. Now shut up.” We actually became good friends. I used to bring this financial magazine that I’d read weekly and he spotted that on me. And he had a small annuity he had from being a taxi driver and the only place it was listed, (this was before cell phones), was in this magazine. And he wanted a copy of that every week so we became great friends. I never did get him to go up to a meeting with me but he was a character. Jim W: If you’re feeling alone and isolated, there’s always somebody up here. And you’ll come up here, and if you think you are having problems, you’ll listen to somebody, and you think, “Oh God, I’m glad I am not in his head.” I guess part of the thing I have done is start working on the yard. Anybody that wants to (can) do any type of volunteering. I’ve always found it really funny (that) people ask, “Well, can I do this or can I do that?” Go ahead and do it. What’s the worst you can do, the season will go by and something will grow and if it isn’t healthy, it will die off. And I guess it’s the whole thing of getting involved. And for me, it’s kind of like, when I first came here I was afraid of getting out of my comfort zone. That is coming from somebody that had just come from spending four years overseas in the middle of the desert. Talk about comfort zones. What I found (is) that I could do just about anything in this program, as long as I am able to take responsibility for it. And that has been just amazing for me. This place is kind of like an anchor. Somehow everybody pulls together and it gets done.

Steve Kline My first meeting at the 48th Street Club was July 4, 1976. I attended meetings here with my wife for seven years. In 1982 my wife died unexpectedly. I was 32 years old, so was she. She was a juvenile-onset diabetic, a very brittle diabetic, in and out of the intensive care unit during the last Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

two or three years of her life. She began to suffer kidney failure and was being prepared for a kidney transplant. So, we planned to go and spend the July 4th holiday weekend with her parents in Wisconsin in the summer of 1982. And on the way there, she became very very sick and we stopped at my parent’s home in Des Moines and got her to a hospital. The next day she lost consciousness and died. She died on July 1st, 1982. And so, the July 4th weekend and the Club are sort of stakes in the ground for me in terms of high points and low points in my life. I remember the first meeting that I attended (after returning to Omaha from my wife’s funeral in Wisconsin) and having people line up to hug me and hold me and cry. And be with me in the midst of this excruciating emotional pain. And I believe that was one of the most profound teachings that I ever received being a part of this Club community. The teaching is that there are people who can be 100 percent perfectly comfortable being around the emotional pain of another. And you know that’s rare in our culture. But it’s not rare in the culture here at this Club. Through a couple of years of really difficult recovery from that loss, this Club and its people were here for me and stood by me in a way that I’ll never forget. I can’t think of many other places in our culture where that sort of thing happens. It’s important that we remember that this is a fatal disease. And the people that we see, week in and week out at meetings here at the 48th Street Club, are the lucky few. We are the lucky few. Most people don’t survive this, and I remember some really sad and hopeless -- the (Big) Book says there are such unfortunates, there are people who don’t recover. And you see them come in and out of this place.

Jim Doyle I first came here in the summer of ’78 and I hung around for about six months and I wasn’t sober. I decided I had more drinking time, so I went out and I drank again. I only lasted a month. I called the 48th Street Club, looking for my sponsor, Dave, who wasn’t around. So ,Gary took me to a treatment center. When I was in the treatment center, I called Dave and he came over and saw me. And I said, “Would you give me another shot at being my sponsor?” He said, “Yeah, on one condition. That you do what I tell you to do. I don’t expect you to do it right away because no one ever does. But you are going to do what I tell you to do.” And I said I would do that. That was the start of my sobriety. My sobriety (date) is January 23, 1979 and Dave and this club saved my life. And it was because I’d been a joiner in a lot of things, I’d been active in politics, and I’d been in the Knights of Columbus and all kinds of organizations. But I have never been part of something that I allowed to touch my heart. And for reasons I don’t understand to this day, I let this place touch my heart. And I let Dave get through and teach me how to stay sober. He wasn’t a Big Book thumper, but he expected you to read the Big Book every day. And have some contact with AA every day. That didn’t mean you had to go to meetings every day. As it turned out, for the first four years, I was sober, I went to meetings every day. It got to be a matter of fear, I was just afraid not to.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

Finally, Dave told me, “One these times, you are going to have think about joining back into life. And you are going to too many meetings. You need to get back in, you’re a father, you got kids

and got a wife. You need to get back into active life. And quit hiding in the 48th Street Club.” Because that is what I was doing, I was hiding out here. I’d come here after work, I’d sit and have a couple cups of coffee. I’d run home, have dinner with my family, come up here for the evening meeting and stay until no one was here. And I’d go home at 11 or 12 o’clock at night and did that every night. My then wife (I got divorced ultimately) put up with that. I am amazed that she did. But she valued this place. She’d been up here at the 48th Street Club for some Alanon meetings. And she knew how important the 48th Street Club was to me.

Patricia Curran I don’t have any kids. I have a significant other that lives in Connecticut. I have absolutely no genetically connected people that live within a thousand miles of here. And sometimes I feel kind of disconnected from people even though I am pretty social and I do have friends but it’s not the same as this place. It’s not the same as the people that I have met here. It’s not the same as these meetings I go to. I remember when I first told my sponsor that I was going to meetings. I said, “You won’t believe it. I feel like I belong.” And she said (after the drum roll) “That’s because you do.” Responding to question about why she is willing to work at the coffee counter Well, I’ve really got to know the people that go to that meeting on Friday morning. I don’t know, I love pouring people their cups of coffee. It seems useful to me. It’s a little bit of money that’s Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

made and, by the way, I complained a little bit to them that they weren’t doing their share, which is a difficult thing for me. They were getting pots of coffee and not paying for it. And there were 25 people and I’d get $5. Finally, I said, “No money, no coffee!” And it was hard for me. I mean, it’s an AA meeting. Well, you can come to the meeting without having the coffee. And interestingly enough, now it has gone from $5 to maybe I would get all together maybe $15, and now it’s double that. It’s not a lot of money but (in) this place, you have to contribute. Who is going to pay the utilities and everything? It has to be able to go on for others. And for me. I have a great gratitude for running into all of you and this place. And Jim, I have got to say, Jim and his yard, which is being trampled today. I got here at 6:30 this morning to pick somebody up to take them to the Denny’s meeting at 7. And Jim -- at 6:30, God knows how long he has already been here. Since first light I guess. He is on his hands and knees making this as beautiful a yard as there is in Omaha, really. That is one of the reasons why I think the neighbors are grateful that this place is here as opposed to hating that this place is here.

Tim Connor So, I don’t know exactly when the first time I came, it was sometime in the 70’s. And I was still drinking. And I would be in Omaha a lot. I always worked for Omaha companies but I didn’t always live here. I’d come to Omaha like every month and usually come here at least once. People were very friendly to me. I finally quit drinking in 1983. And I would come a little bit more often and I knew people here. And I would come usually at least once when I would be in town, which was almost every month. And then I finally moved in 2004, so I knew right where to come when I first came back to Omaha. I have been coming regularly since then. It’s actually a club not just a meeting place. So, I think that really helps too. In fact, I think it’s a holy place, a lot of people have been helped here. Thousands of people. If you come into the lobby up here and read that stuff on the bulletin board, you know about how it got started. You just think about all the people who’ve been here through the years, and I mean that’s a lot of people. A couple of years ago, I was in an accident so I started coming down here a lot once I could drive again. I had about two-and-a-half months off of work so I couldn’t drive at first. So, some of the guys would come pick me up and we would come here in the morning. I came just about every morning, and then I could drive. So, I met a couple of guys and I saw one of them, he is here for the picnic. He’s been coming here for years, too, and he can’t drive very much anymore. I’m getting ready to retire, and I said, “Hey Bill, if you need a ride just call me. I’ll come and get ya and bring you down here.” I’m positive that one of the reasons that I have long-term sobriety is places like this. You know, a good safe place to go. Because not every day is perfect, you know. And it’s a really safe place to come and share and talk to people.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

Mike A. I definitely remember the first time I walked through the door. But before that, I actually remember my first impression of the place. I remember being the passenger in a car with somebody. We were both doubly intoxicated. And we drove by and he kind of pointed over there and he said, “That’s where people go when they get sober.” I remember looking at it and there was some people talking on the porch. I didn’t know what he was talking about or anything. I just kind of remember noting that because I have lived in this neighborhood for a while, pretty much since I got out of high school. I’ve lived in Dundee or Midtown, so I have kind of driven by and I could tell that this was more than just a personal residence. I came to my first meeting here after my last stint in treatment. I remember just immediately really liking coming up here. I really liked the meetings and the feel of coming up here. I didn’t feel a part of it yet at all. I felt very much like not a part of. I almost felt like people didn’t want me to come up here for some reason, but I felt like I was going to come up here anyway. I was going to show them all that I belonged here. Shortly after my inpatient treatment, I relapsed, on drugs basically, it doesn’t really matter what. And the next day was a weekend and it wasn’t a day I had any outpatient treatments. I had already been to a few meetings up here and met some people. And so, I came back up to the morning meeting the day after and I talked about it at the meeting. And that was the last time that I used or drank. I think that is what kind of broke the spell for me was just openly talking about it with other people like me. Because previously I could never get honest with anybody. I couldn’t even get honest with myself. I didn’t know how to openly talk about what was going on in my head or what was going on in my life. But the 48th Street Club was a place to go to talk about this stuff with other people. I remember really intently listening in the first few meetings I was up here for people that I could relate to. And I did right away meet a few people I could relate to. And I was just kind of drawn to them. In some miracle of courage of my part, I actually went up and asked for their phone numbers after a meeting. I actually used the phone numbers a couple of times. Those are still people that I am friends with today. Safe people. Becoming a member of the board and getting more involved up here made me kind of realize how much this place kind of runs itself. And it’s almost like a little microcosm, like a society as a whole. If I described how this club ran to somebody that had never been up here, they would probably imagine it as a totally chaotic place. But actually, it’s a place that’s held together by a sense of community and that common bond of people in recovery. And I think that for me that was a lesson that I needed to learn by actually seeing it in action. That communities can function in a stable way and I can be a part of that. I guess one thing that is really important to me is the friendships I have made up here. And how something as least as important as going through the steps and getting that blueprint for recovery down by sitting down on the porch with people for hours and talking. Making friends Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

that today actually I have over to my house and will have meals together and play board games together. Making friends up here that have actually become incorporated into the fabric of my life. Instead of compartmentalizing it. That’s when I think that recovery really became real for me.

Rob Bozell I was in treatment at a place called Keystone outside of Sioux Falls and got out over seven years ago. They knew my address and gave me a Where and When for my return to Omaha. And they said you need to go to a meeting every day or you are going to die! They said there’s a place (the 48th Street Club) real near your house—"go there.” The first meeting that I came to was actually at the Hamilton Club. I went there the night I came back from treatment. But the next day, and I don’t remember which meeting it was, I started coming up here. I’ve lived in Midtown off and on my whole life. I drove up for my first meeting at the Club and I thought, “I’ve seen this place before.” I remember driving by this house in the distant past, seeing this amalgamation of people standing outside thinking, “What the hell is that place?” From that day on, unless I was really sick or out of town, I went to a meeting every day for a year or more. And with a couple of exceptions, they were all here. I was welcomed at every meeting in a different way by different people, but I just really felt at home. I like the house. I liked the neighborhood. I liked sitting on the front porch. It was just what I needed. I had a real rough time getting sober. I was a bad drunk and a real bad dope fiend and was desperate to get clean and sober and recover some semblance of my life. I was desperate, you know – and 53 or 54 years old. I knew that this was it. If this didn’t work, if this AA thing didn’t work, nothing else was going to work. It was really scary, it was a real fork in the road. I attribute my success, so far, to the 48th Street Club. If I didn’t have this club, or if I didn’t have a club, or a club that I really liked -- you know -- would I be sober today? I don’t know. Doubtful. We all come from a very desperate place. A very tenuous place. This getting clean, getting sober, getting into AA was like jumping off a cliff. It was like jumping off the high board at Elmwood Park when I was 9. I didn’t know what was going to happen. And I feel like there was a safety net and I was caught in that safety net, which was the 48th Street Club. That’s what this place means to me. I’ve heard people say that this is my sacred ground, and it is. It’s got a special mojo to it. When you come out of alcoholism and drug addiction, your life is in pieces. Mine was in pieces, all over the floor. And you’re able to start picking up those pieces and gluing a few back together again. The pieces are your professional life or your friends or your kids or your grandkids or your spouse and all that stuff. Being able to have those things again is a reflection of how successful AA and a place like this club is. My grandkids don’t shy away anymore. They used to say, “There’s something wrong with grandpa. He’s really skinny, he smells bad, he spends a lot of time in the basement, and his pants don’t fit him.” Now they are crawling all over me like ants. It’s a great thing.

Faith and Courage: Omaha’s 48th Street Club

Around the Club

Faith and Courage: Omahaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 48th Street Club

Roger Gleason, Club Founder

Faith and Courage: Omahaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 48th Street Club

Print of the Club from the Side Yard

Faith and Courage: Omahaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 48th Street Club

Stained Glass Window

Faith and Courage: Omahaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 48th Street Club