The
Washingtonians
A brief history of the organization that grew strong helping suffering
alcoholics and then withered away when it lost track of its primary
purpose
Copyright © The A.A.
Grapevine, Inc., February 1971
ONE
THURSDAY evening, April 2, 1840 nearly 100 years before the advent
of Alcoholics Anonymous, six good drinking buddies were gathered
at Chase's Tavern on Liberty Street in Baltimore, Md.
The
more they drank, the more their discussion centered on temperance,
which was one of the most popular topics of the day. This meeting
and subsequent discussions led to the formation and brief, spectacular
life of the Washingtonian movement, which grew in membership to over
400.000 "reformed drunkards" and then destroyed itself overnight
and dropped out of sight.
The
story of the Washingtonian movement brings sharply into focus the
importance of the Twelve Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous as guidelines
of group behavior designed to protect us against a similar fate. To
take our Traditions for granted or to ignore them should at least
justify a check mark on the debit side of our inventory charts.
Until
the time of this meeting at Chase's Tavern, it was the prevailing
opinion that nothings could he done to help the drunkard. (The terms
"alcoholic" and "alcoholism" were not yet in general
use.) The few occasions when drunkards did reform did not erase the
general pessimism over the possibility of rehabilitating drunks. Since
alcohol was assumed to be the cause of alcoholism, many temperance
movements of that day were aimed solely at keeping the nonalcoholic
from becoming alcoholic. The rallying cry was: "Keep the temperate
people temperate; the drunkards will soon die and the land be free!"
On
April 5. 1340, our six good drinking buddies once again gathered at
this same tavern around another jug of spirits and were liberally
toasting the great advantages of temperance and condemning the curse
of drink. Although a number of active temperance groups were already
in existence, none was acceptable to our friend’s Good drunks
that they were, they decided to form a group of their own. They elected
officers and drew up a pledge of total abstinence:
"We,
whose names are annexed, desirous of forming for our mutual benefit
and to guard against a pernicious practice which is injurious to our
health, standing, and families, do pledge ourselves as gentlemen that
we will not drink any spiritous or malt liquors, vine or cider."
They
chose the name Washington Temperance Society in honor of George Washington,
and a membership fee of twenty-five cents was established, together
with monthly dues of twelve and a half cents. With fond embraces they
parted, each agreeing to bring one new member to the next meeting
at the tavern. And they stayed sober!
In
response to membership growth and at the frantic urging of the tavern
owner, the group eventually rented its own hall and decided to meet
weekly. At these meetings, a unique format developed. Each speaker
told his own story: "what I used to be like - what happened -
and what I am like now." The idea was greeted with explosive
acceptance. It gave new impact to the entire temperance movement.
Total abstinence had created the miracle of the man at the podium!
In
November 1940, the group held its first public meeting. Newspaper
editors were liberal with coverage, complete with names of members.
The audience was standing-room-only. Both alcoholics and nonalcoholics
- all who pledged themselves to total abstinence were welcomed into
the group. Five months later, Washingtonian membership claimed over
1,000 "reformed drunkards" and 5,000 members who were not
sure whether they were drunkards or not, but were also pledged to
total abstinence, plus thousands of temperance advocates who welcomed
the Washingtonians crusade.
Newspaper
editors were liberal with coverage, complete with names of members.
Enthusiastic
promoters that they were, members of the group organized and marched
in a parade. It flaunted bands and banners and was witnessed by more
than 40,000 spectators in Baltimore. Following the parade, there was
a great open-air park meeting to spread the Washingtonian "Twelfth
Step" message: "Drunkard! Come up here! You can reform.
I met a gentleman this morning who reformed four weeks ago and was
rejoicing in his reformation. We don't slight the drunkard. We love
him! We nurse him as a mother does her infant learning to walk!"
Tears flowed freely around the secretary's table as hundreds moved
to the platform and signed the pledge of total abstinence. The emotional
atmosphere was saturated with contagious salvation. Religious groups
embraced the program. Samuel F. Holbrook, the first president of the
society, thundered of God's part in reclaiming drunks: "The reeling
drunkard is met in the street or drawn out from some old filthy shed,
taken by the arm, spoken kindly to, invited to the hall, and with
reluctance dragged there or carried in a carriage if not too filthy;
and there he sees himself surrounded by friends and not what he most
feared . . . police officers. Everyone takes him by the hand; he begins
to come to and when sober signs the pledge and goes away a reformed
man. And it does not end there. The man takes the pledge and from
his bottle companions obtains a number of signers who likewise become
sober men. Positively these are the facts. "Now, can any human
agency alone do this? All will answer 'No!'; for we have invariably
the testimony of vast numbers of reformed men who have spoken in public
and declared they have broken off a number of times, but have as often
relapsed again; and the reason they give for doing this is that they
wholly rely on the strength of their resolution without looking any
higher, Now they feel the need of God's assistance, which having been
obtained, their reform is genuine. Praise God! "The Washingtonian
manifestation of miracles could not be contained geographically. Members
were sure it was within their power to meet widespread, pressing needs.
The reclaimed drunks active in the movement proved by their example
that drunkards could be helped, and they had an overwhelming drive
to carry their message of hope to other drunks who still suffered.
This drive spilled over into a desire to prevent such suffering by
persuading those not addicted to insure their sobriety through total
abstinence. Influential temperance leaders of the day needed salesmen
to sell this message of prevention, and the Washingtonians provided
a waiting list of available manpower. New York City beckoned. In March
of the following year, Washingtonians and spectators gathered at the
Methodist Episcopal Church on Green Street. During the very first
speech, a young man in the gallery staggered to his feet and cried
out, "Is there no hope for me? God in heaven! Is there no hope
for me? Will you help me?" He was helped to the platform and
"pressed his willingness and readiness to bind himself from that
hour to total abstinence. Others followed. Some were young men; others
were old and gray-headed. The Washingtonians embraced them all. An
organization of woman within the group, known as Martha Washington
Societies, fed and clothed the poor and reclaimed the intemperate
of their own sex.
Members
were sure it was within their power to meet widespread, pressing needs.
In
less than four years from the first meeting of our alcoholic friends
at Chase's Tavern, Washingtonian membership hit its peak. At that
point, it is commonly computed, the movement included at least 100,000
"reformed common drunkards," 300,000 "common tipplers"
who also became total abstainers, and untold thousands who were simply
enthusiastic temperance advocates.
And
then came oblivion.
By
1848, all that remained of the organization's spectacular power as
a method of treatment was its Home for the Fallen in Boston. That
institution has undergone a number of changes in name and policy,
now functions as the Washingtonian Hospital, and eng-ages in the treatment
of alcoholism by modern medical and social techniques. Otherwise the
movement destroyed itself completely arid dropped out of sight. With
it went the hope it had held out for thousands of drunks of that day.
Against
this brief background, it is possible to make a limited comparison
between the Washingtonian movement and Alcoholics Anonymous and to
reflect on the possibility of AA's suffering a similar fate. The similarities
between the earlier movement and AA might be listed as follows:
1.
Alcoholics helping each other.
2.
Weekly meetings.
3.
The sharing of experiences.
4.
Constant availability of fellowship with the group or its members.
5.
Reliance upon a Higher Power.
6.
Total abstention from alcohol.
Although
it is obvious that this program of the Washingtonians was incomplete
and possessed only limited opportunity for personality change, as
compared with AA's Twelve Steps, it did provide the tools for at least
short-lived sobriety for thousands of drunks. But it failed to provide
any standards at all that were comparable to AA's Twelve Traditions.
Because there were no such safeguards for the movement as a whole,
it died. Most of the Washingtonians' problems lay in areas now covered
in our Traditions:
1.
The AA Preamble and Tradition Five advise us to protect our singleness
of purpose; Tradition One cautions us to protect our unity. Without
these guidelines, the Washingtonian movement developed into a three-headed
monster. First was the program of reclaiming suffering alcoholics.
Second was the call to the general public for temperance through moral
suasion. Third was the call for temperance through legal suasion.
Influential men controlled the action of each head, and it was not
long until the heads were fighting each other.
2.
The carnival tactics for promotion and the lack of any spiritual principle
of anonymity created an atmosphere for spectacular growth -but also
led to battles among personalities competing for prestige and power.
One hundred years later, AA adopted Traditions Eleven and Twelve,
which guide us to base our public-relations policy on attraction rather
than promotion; always to maintain personal anonymity at the level
of press, broadcasting, and films; and to regard anonymity as our
"spiritual foundation . . . ever reminding us to place principles
before personalities."
3.
Nothing can divide and destroy groups more quickly than theological
and political controversy. Tradition Ten states that AA "has
no opinion on outside issues" and that "the AA name ought
never be drawn into public controversy." Without this Tradition
the Washingtonians walked right into a Donnybrook. A few key church
leaders heard Washingtonian reformed drunks proclaiming among other
things, they were living Christ's program - not just giving it lip
service, like a lot of pastors they knew. In retaliation, the Rev.
Hiram Mattison, minister of the Methodist Episcopal church of Watertown,
N.Y., fired this theological blockbuster: "No Christian is at
liberty to select or adopt any general system, organization, agencies,
or means for moral reformation of mankind, except those prescribed
and recognized by Jesus Christ." He added that his church had
been chosen, together with his gospel, as the system of truth and
the only system to reform mankind. It was war! Other churches reacted
in the same way and finally closed their doors to Washingtonians.
4.
As if that were not enough, some of the Washingtonians' oratorical
circuit riders turned professional, having no Eighth Tradition to
guide them. So their one-drunk-to-another message lost a great deal
of its impact.
A
final destructive note came when influential leaders of nonalcoholic
groups decided that the need for ex-drunks to reform other drunks
was past, and that emphasis should be placed instead on the importance
of laws to promote temperance.
In
doing the research and writing this article for the Grapevine, my
thoughts have kept returning to this question: After the movement
destroyed itself, what happened to all the thousands of alcoholics
who had found sobriety through the Washingtonians?
It
becomes a personal question when I add: What would have happened to
me?
During
the early days of the AA program, especially prior to the adoption
of our Twelve Traditions, AA did suffer some of the same symptoms
that destroyed the Washingtonians. The fact that we survived those
hazards is one of AA's many miracles.
But
it is still a 24-hour day.
D. P., Ogden, Utah
