The Lois Wilson Story

by William G Borchert

  “I think the problem was,” Lois once hinted to a close friend, “that with most things Bill got interested in, he became overenthusiastic. Wherever we went, he was telling everyone to take niacin. He even had me taking it and I must admit it seemed to help. In fact, I still take it. Maybe some people didn’t realize that niacin is only a vitamin, not a mood changer. It helps without hurting.”26

  Lois was absolutely right about Bill’s excessive enthusiasm getting him into hot water again. He was spreading his niacin gospel wherever he went. He even wrote several papers on the subject, which he distributed far and wide. Soon the pros and cons of vitamin B-3 were being argued in AA meetings, which ran head-on into another of the Fellowship’s Traditions, the Tenth: “Alcoholics Anonymous has no opinion on outside issues; hence the A.A. name ought never be drawn into public controversy.”27

  Once again a group of AA trustees sat down with their cofounder to express their concern about the latest hornet’s nest he was stirring up. They had no argument over his promoting the values of niacin; they asked only that he not mix it up with the AA name or in AA activities. Despite his absolute conviction about niacin’s beneficial effects for all alcoholics, Bill agreed to separate his personal interest in it from the Fellowship. This solution quickly ended the controversy.

  Lois said that her husband’s interest in vitamin therapy did not end with niacin. She said they both came to believe that other vitamins offered their own specific benefits as well. While she approached the subject in her usual low-key style, Lois said Bill could talk for hours about how various vitamin regimens could help alcoholics in their early stages of physical recovery and later with their mental and emotional recovery.

  “I think at one time we had almost every vitamin there was here at Stepping Stones,” Lois would smile. “I must admit it became a bit confusing after a while so I just stuck to the few I knew the most about, like B-12, C, and E, and of course, niacin.”28 Over the years of Bill’s investigation into vitamins and related natural health therapies, he was introduced to a woman in Mount Kisco, New York, who had spent many years following a similar avocation—improving mental and physical well-being through natural remedies. Her name was Helen Wynn, a woman of pleasant looks and a stoic disposition, said several people who knew her.

  According to mutual acquaintances, Helen and Bill became good friends and were seen together now and then shopping at pharmacies and health food outlets or having lunch on occasion to discuss their latest finds—a new Chinese herb, an Indian root, or a newly discovered benefit of an A-vitamin. Then the rumors began.

  It should be mentioned that AA’s cofounder had always been open and friendly with the women at the Central Office—too friendly, some of his detractors might whisper. He even had an open ear for women alcoholics in the Fellowship who wanted his advice or some encouragement now and then. So the rumors were not just about Helen Wynn but about Bill’s “womanizing” in general.

  The gossip was whispered at first, then it grew less subtle and finally became downright mean. Nell Wing, for example, became a target. She once heard a third- or fourth-hand story about herself and Bill—a man she always looked up to as a father figure. She was mortified and thought about leaving her job as AA’s archives director. Then one day while at Stepping Stones, she decided to tell Lois what had happened. Nell said she was astonished by her dear friend’s response. “Lois told me,” Nell said, “that the founder of any great movement or organization, especially one like Alcoholics Anonymous, can develop enemies, men who fall away, get drunk and then angry and jealous. And when they find people putting someone like Bill up on a pedestal, they know that even the rumor of such frailties or indiscretions can bring him down and make them feel bigger in their own eyes. But the real problem is that such rumors can disillusion members and cause great harm to AA. So Lois told me not to pay any attention to such hurtful stories but simply to trust in my own feelings and in what I really knew.”29

  How did Lois react to these rumors? She followed the same advice she gave to Nell. She decided the best way to respond to such “hideous gossip” was not to respond at all. She simply showed her great love and support for her husband at every opportunity despite the pain such stories must have wrought and the deep resentments she must have had as the sick rumormongering continued. Even today, more than thirty years after Bill’s death, there are those who for some reason still seem to enjoy digging up and passing along such ugly gossip.

  As for Helen Wynn, who has since passed away, there is a gentlemen who knew her quite well back then—her dentist for many years in Mount Kisco. Preferring to remain anonymous, the dentist also remembered meeting Bill on two separate brief occasions.

  “If ever there was a platonic relationship,” he volunteered, “this surely was one. I mean, I knew Helen quite well and I must say she wasn’t what you would ordinarily call a ‘loose woman,’ if you know what I mean. In fact, she appeared to be just the opposite, rather uptight and very businesslike if not downright bossy. I really couldn’t see them together except maybe as friends or business associates.”30 Lois once said she never knew anything about Helen Wynn until after Bill’s death, when she discovered her husband had left the woman some money in his will. When asked about it, Lois simply shrugged and said her husband left money to several other people as well—and that was to be her final comment on the matter.31

  Most old-timers in the AA program have little or nothing to say about their cofounder’s so-called womanizing. But there were two who knew Bill back then, Jim G. and Jack O., who claim his relationship with the Mount Kisco woman was really no different from those with his other female friends and colleagues, whom he admittedly loved being around.

  “But if you’re talking sex,” Jim G. said quite frankly, “I honestly don’t know, although I’m inclined to doubt it. Why? Look, everyone has their temptations, their appetites you might say. And if you’re looked upon as kind of a savior like Bill was, I guess there’s more opportunity to be tempted.

  “However, let’s not forget this is the same guy who had a spiritual experience, the same guy I believe was divinely inspired to write the Big Book, and the same guy who wrote in that Big Book that our sobriety depends upon our spiritual condition. Where I come from, if you’re a married guy screwing around with babes, you’re not in a good spiritual condition. And if you’re not in a good spiritual condition, you’re not going to stay sober for very long. And Bill Wilson was sober—and for a very long time.”32 How often Lois heard these rumors, or whether they even permeated their circle of AA and Al-Anon friends, no one really knows. The only thing that does appear certain is that despite the LSD and niacin controversies, and unseemly gossip at times, none of this apparently interfered with Lois and Bill’s life together at Stepping Stones. Harriet Sevarino, their longtime housekeeper, was among many who testified to that.

  “When they would walk together in the gardens or along the dirt paths,” Harriet said, “they would always be holding hands. And I would see them kiss each other hello and good-bye whenever I was around. You could tell they really loved and cared for each other. And don’t forget, I was with them over thirty-five years.”33

  Nell Wing also fondly recalled the strong bond between “two of the most important people in my life.” As she put it: “Certainly they had their little spats and misunderstandings, but they were usually brief and never dragged on. Lois and Bill not only adored each other but they respected each other. To me, I think that’s what really keeps people together for such a long, long time—love and respect.”34

  Nell and Harriet said it was evident again on the evening of January 24, 1968, when they were both at Stepping Stones for the surprise celebration of Lois and Bill’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. Nell had been staying at the house, working with Bill on some correspondence he needed to get out. She sensed that both he and Lois were expecting some kind of surprise party for their anniversary and appe
ared quite disappointed that nothing was happening. To keep them even more in the dark, Nell said she was taking them to lunch to celebrate the occasion. That’s when Lois and Bill’s spirit seem to rise, thinking the party would probably be at the restaurant.

  Their faces fell again when they walked into the nearby bistro and saw only a few unfamiliar faces in the place. Nell could hardly contain herself although she did say they had a very pleasant, drawn-out lunch.

  During the ride back to the house, no one said a word. But as they reached the top of the long driveway, Lois almost had another heart attack. The yard was filled with cars and a throng of relatives and close friends were standing there to greet them—sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews, and AA and Al-Anon friends from as far away as Arizona and California. Harriet had prepared a marvelous buffet that not only satisfied all of the guests, but also soothed the slightly jarred egos of the fiftieth wedding anniversary celebrants.35

  Lois recalled that after everyone had gone that evening, she and Bill sat together in front of the large stone fireplace. They watched the sparks crackle off the flaming pine logs and shared their memories of the years that had flown by—their youthful hopes and dreams, their struggles with a disease they once knew nothing about, and the awesome opportunity God had given them to share their recovery and experiences—the pain and the joy, the sorrow and the elation—with their fellow sufferers throughout the world. They sat together long after midnight wondering what the future might hold, hoping they would have many more nights like this, many more years of sharing their love with each other and all those still in need of what they had found.

  But that dream wouldn’t come true. For while their fiftieth wedding anniversary was a milestone in their lives, the celebration was tempered somewhat by Bill’s growing health problems. He was seventy-two now, and his deteriorating health had become quite obvious to all who were close to him—especially Lois.

  “He was trying so hard to stop smoking,” Lois said. “He would often get angry with himself whenever he would light up another cigarette. I knew there was nothing I could say that would help. I had already said it all.”36

  So had Dr. Leonard Strong, who had been warning his brother-in-law for years to stop smoking: his coughing and wheezing could lead to serious heart and lung problems. Bill would merely smile and nod and promise to try harder. In 1965, pulmonary specialists diagnosed Bill with emphysema and told him that unless he gave up tobacco completely, he could be dead in a very few years. Bill no longer smiled and nodded, but neither did he say anything to Lois. He simply continued struggling to break what he always called his “nasty old habit.”

  Lois soon learned the truth and did everything she could to keep her husband healthy, encouraging him to walk every day to help his breathing and strengthen his lungs. “Sometimes when we were out walking together,” Lois recalled, “Bill would begin coughing and gasping for breath. So he began carrying a pocket inhalator with him, a small device that would pump medication into his mouth and down into his lungs. It would help him to stop coughing and wheezing. It could be very frightening at times.”37

  Bill had loved to walk for miles, Lois said, but now her husband had to stop and rest more frequently, often perching on a tree stump until he caught his breath. Their neighbors, who for years would wave as they passed by, began to notice that Bill was slowing down, not walking as often, and soon not walking at all.

  Lois would sadly reminisce about the year everything took a turn for the worse. It was 1969 and it actually began on an upbeat note. Bill had clung to his latest New Year’s resolution and had actually stopped smoking. In fact, even those sullen moods that always accompanied his many stabs at quitting were gone. He was smiling and boastful that cigarettes were finally out of his life, once and for all. He felt so good that one day after an ice storm in late February, he climbed up on the roof of his studio to survey the damage it had caused. He slipped and fell into the snow, ice, and slush and wound up in the hospital several days later with his first bout of pneumonia. It would reoccur several times over the coming year, due to his worsening emphysema.

  “Bill stopped going into his office in New York,” Lois explained, “because by the end of the day he was so tired he could hardly walk the few blocks to Grand Central Station for the train ride home. So Nell began spending more time with us at Stepping Stones, helping Bill answer his mail. I think many times she would write the letters for him, she knew so well what he wanted to say. And she was such a big help to me. I don’t know what I would have done without her during those last few years when Bill was so sick.”38 Lois said her husband’s last public appearance was at AA’s huge International Convention in Miami Beach over the July Fourth weekend of 1970. Despite his failing health and frequent need for oxygen, Bill insisted on attending the worldwide gathering of AA’s held every five years. He and Lois arrived a few days early so that he could rest up for the five major talks he always gave at these Conventions. But the evening before the usual opening day press conference, Bill’s breathing took a turn for the worse. He was also having chest pains. He was rushed by ambulance to the Miami Heart Institute, where his fellow AA member and devoted friend Dr. Ed Bradley was the director. He was given oxygen and was soon resting comfortably.

  “Bill had his heart set on being with his fellow AA’s,” Lois shared. “So, on top of his physical problems he also became very depressed. He made Dr. Ed promise to get him well enough to attend at least one of the major meetings at the Convention. I didn’t think it was possible, but it happened.”39

  In the meantime, other AA’s had to fill in for their cofounder. Dr. Norris substituted at the press conference. Bernard Smith, the past chairman of the General Service Board and another close friend, delivered the main Saturday night talk Bill was scheduled to make. He assured everyone that their beloved Bill W. was on the road to recovery.

  Lois managed to sneak away from the hospital to fulfill her Al-Anon commitments and also to attend a number of AA gatherings on her husband’s behalf. Lois had often said that she, like Annie Smith, felt as much at home in AA as she did in Al-Anon. She never had a problem talking about the AA Fellowship’s miraculous beginnings, its colorful growing-up years, and where it stood today. And she continued to accept invitations to speak at AA gatherings throughout the rest of her life.

  Lois said that by Sunday morning, her husband insisted he was feeling well enough to leave the hospital and attend the convention’s closing session. Dr. Ed, despite his concerns, accompanied Bill and Lois in an ambulance that took them directly to the convention center’s stage entrance. Wearing a nasal tube and taking oxygen, Bill was helped into a wheelchair and pushed onto the stage to the surprise and rousing cheers of more than twenty thousand people.

  “I still choke up when I think about it,” Lois once told a close friend. “Everyone stood and shouted and applauded for almost five minutes. Bill kept raising his hand for them to be seated but they just had to let him know how much they loved him. His eyes filled up and he kept wiping away the tears.”40 Then everyone seemed to gasp in unison as his lanky frame rose slowly from the wheelchair and his ashen face moved close to the microphone. He began to speak, and for a few minutes he was his old self, the man who could mesmerize thousands, the leader every drunk in the world who wanted sobriety was willing to follow. That Sunday morning Bill Wilson knew more than ever why he was still sober and the debt he owed not only to his pal Dr. Bob but also to every recovered alcoholic who had followed them. Perhaps that’s why, as his lungs tightened and his breathing came again in gasps, he closed his last brief AA talk to his fellow drunks with an ancient Arabian greeting, “I salute you, and I thank you for your lives.”41

  Lois said her husband was rushed from the stage back into the ambulance and returned to the Miami Heart Institute, where he stayed until the end of the month. Upon his arrival back at Stepping Stones, Bill promptly caught pneumonia once again. He w
as taken to Northern Westchester Hospital for a few weeks, then brought home. Then, two more times, just as soon as he was able to walk again, the pneumonia returned and he was back in the hospital. Even at home, Bill was now on oxygen twenty-four hours a day. Soon he was totally bedridden and had nurses caring for him around the clock. Despite all this help, it was still exhausting for Lois, who was now seventy-nine.

  “When Bill would be awake,” she once told a friend, “he would want me to read to him or pray with him. No matter what the hour he would call for me and I would come. If I had the strength, I would never have left his side. He was still the most important thing in my life.”42 Dr. Ed remained in constant touch from Miami. In early January of 1971, he called to say the Heart Institute had developed a new type of breathing apparatus he thought might help Bill. It was similar to the decompression chambers used by deep-sea divers. Lois sensed it was a last-resort measure, but her husband still had great confidence in his cardiologist. So she made plans to fly down to Miami with Bill and Nell in a Learjet chartered by their philanthropist friend Brinkley Smithers. They left from Westchester County Airport on the cold and windy Sunday morning of January 24, 1971—Lois and Bill’s fifty-third wedding anniversary.

  Lois’s recollections of that day were blurred by her deep distress over Bill’s fragile condition and fears that he might never reach Miami alive. But Nell vividly recalled that “mercy flight.” “Dr. Ed had flown up on the jet to be with us and watch over Bill as best he could on the return flight,” Nell explained. “He had Bill placed on a stretcher across the backs of several seats, wearing his oxygen mask. He put Lois at his side where her physical presence and her own special love would aid him most. I sat at the foot of the stretcher.