Authors: John Berryman
Recovery (6 page)
Â
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W
HEN AMONG nine or ten other patients Severance pushed through the heavy doors into a bright cold afternoon, he felt excited, relieved. Deep breath, cigarette hack. So the world still existed! Both Wednesday night and last night the lectures had been across in the main hospital building, but the dark short mob-scurry gave no sense of freedom, only two minutes' realization of the universal oppressive ward-fug, absorption in all the facetings of treatment, para-military constriction hardly less than Howarden. Out! The sun was by no means burning down and the grass was greying but the air was rich with leaf-smoke in this rundown neighbourhood. Fall was his season, had always been. So you still wish to get famouser, one of the eleven or how many Franckens of Antwerp, every one of them a noted painter enough in his age, mostly now inextricable? Delores' long legs were pretty ahead, smoothly. The other women were slacksed except the nurse. Towers above the trees across the river reminded him he was University Professor Severance not the craven drunk Alan S who had been told by an orderly that his room smelled like a farmyard (âyou, you ⦠you, you utter/You wait!') He fell in step with Mike M, hunching a littleâouter coat next timeâagainst ruffles of wind. Mike was a
heavy-set black-haired attractive man of thirty-four or -five, with his head lowered. Mike had problems: whether his stunning new wife would leave him like the first and go back to airline hostessing (eight months later, to everyone's dismay, she certainly would), whether to kick his business partner out on his ear after six years of tyrannical but faithful service, whether his AA group, called the Whitney
Chapter
(who ever heard of such a thing?), would take him back.
HEN AMONG nine or ten other patients Severance pushed through the heavy doors into a bright cold afternoon, he felt excited, relieved. Deep breath, cigarette hack. So the world still existed! Both Wednesday night and last night the lectures had been across in the main hospital building, but the dark short mob-scurry gave no sense of freedom, only two minutes' realization of the universal oppressive ward-fug, absorption in all the facetings of treatment, para-military constriction hardly less than Howarden. Out! The sun was by no means burning down and the grass was greying but the air was rich with leaf-smoke in this rundown neighbourhood. Fall was his season, had always been. So you still wish to get famouser, one of the eleven or how many Franckens of Antwerp, every one of them a noted painter enough in his age, mostly now inextricable? Delores' long legs were pretty ahead, smoothly. The other women were slacksed except the nurse. Towers above the trees across the river reminded him he was University Professor Severance not the craven drunk Alan S who had been told by an orderly that his room smelled like a farmyard (âyou, you ⦠you, you utter/You wait!') He fell in step with Mike M, hunching a littleâouter coat next timeâagainst ruffles of wind. Mike was a
heavy-set black-haired attractive man of thirty-four or -five, with his head lowered. Mike had problems: whether his stunning new wife would leave him like the first and go back to airline hostessing (eight months later, to everyone's dismay, she certainly would), whether to kick his business partner out on his ear after six years of tyrannical but faithful service, whether his AA group, called the Whitney
Chapter
(who ever heard of such a thing?), would take him back.
âWhy not, for God's sake?'
They were far ahead of the others lounging along. A hippie napped under an overpass, or maybe stoned. He was glad not to be stoned, as he had been at this hour and every hour last Sunday (indecent?!), with immediate Monday morning suicide in mind moreover.
âThey're a peculiar outfit. Nobody has slips. They own a fine club building out on Whitney and when you're electedâyou have to be elected, you can't just join, and believe me they look you over for weeks beforehand and you have to have two sponsorsâthey give you a key and say, “If you ever feel like having a drink, put the key in the mail.” '
âWell, there are groups all over town. So what? AA isn't supposed to be selective: the desire to quit drinking, that's all, isn't it?'
âNot with them. And I admit they have a very bad haughty reputation with other groups around the city. But partly it's envy, Alan. Many of them not only have a great deal of money they're very generous with, but have been dry twenty thirty thirty-five years. It was the second group established here. You don't get that kind of security in most groups. Christ, guys turn up stoned, actually for meeting. A friend of mine who'd been through Hollins told me about a counsellor of his who once drank steadily for seven years, never missed a meeting. He'd stash a pint in his glove-compartment, drive to meeting, sweat it out,
and when he got back in the car, open up and bottoms up. Arrive home bombed. His wife used to say to him, “What is this AA?” Funnyâbut what support would you get from a group like that?'
and when he got back in the car, open up and bottoms up. Arrive home bombed. His wife used to say to him, “What is this AA?” Funnyâbut what support would you get from a group like that?'
âI see that. Also the authority. Frankly I hate authority including what I have to exercise, but unfortunately I respond to it. It wasn't AA kept me dry two months this summer, it was fear of Dr Rome. Christ, I could have gone on reporting slips to my AA till Armageddon, some of the men even defended me when Ted and Mike Lewes gave me hell.'
âThat's another thingâthe wives. Wives
come
to
meetings.
They don't speak to the Chapterâit's big, by the way, maybe 150, and
twice
a week, not once, and everyone comes unless travellingâwell, the wives sit around the wall and talk to each other. Nobody gets away with anything at Whitney. I don't mean
drinking,
of course, but the hang-ups that lead to it. Watch out for the root.'
come
to
meetings.
They don't speak to the Chapterâit's big, by the way, maybe 150, and
twice
a week, not once, and everyone comes unless travellingâwell, the wives sit around the wall and talk to each other. Nobody gets away with anything at Whitney. I don't mean
drinking,
of course, but the hang-ups that lead to it. Watch out for the root.'
Severance stepped over, hating the word âhang-ups' and âup-tight' and âget the garbage out':âI buy that too. My whole idea is not to be able to get away with anything whatever. Not that I can imagine concealing a slip. Oddly enough, I never did that, though of course I used to lie like the next jerk before I went into treatment. It's slips I'm afraid of, not serious drinking. That's out.'
âHow do you know?'
âWell, I
don't
know. Just trumpeting, as usual,' said Severance lightly, though he hadn't been wholly pleased by Mike's friendly but realistic and stopping question. He was willing to laugh at himself, slightly; God help anyone else who did. âI wonder if they'd take me.'
don't
know. Just trumpeting, as usual,' said Severance lightly, though he hadn't been wholly pleased by Mike's friendly but realistic and stopping question. He was willing to laugh at himself, slightly; God help anyone else who did. âI wonder if they'd take me.'
âTwo of the men come to see me, I could tell them you're interested, they could look you up. Only remember, they've been dry since the Flood, they'll be suspicious.'
Severance did not like the idea of being suspected, or in fact looked over. With
his
determination? Still, he was impressed almost out of his mind with records of decades of sobriety. Anything that would improve his chances. Ruth might like it too, give her confidence. She was familiar with his polar positions: rebellion, awe. Both seemed built in, he was ready to defend both to the death. You had to have both. He saw damned little of either in most other Americans at the moment: just cop-out or sheephood, no independence
or
emulation. Hyperdemocracy, the sovereignty of the unqualified individual, added into a mass. He did sympathize with the young militants, enough to have addressed six thousand of them on Moratorium morning, but he saw them as
incompetent,
a threat to their own causes in abler hands: deluded by Thoreau's hostility to the lessons of history, unable to
use
tradition modified. Even their bloody bombs were so inefficient that they went off too early and killed people. What he approved, what inspired him even, was their hopefulness, which he did not share, and their hatred of technology, which he did.
his
determination? Still, he was impressed almost out of his mind with records of decades of sobriety. Anything that would improve his chances. Ruth might like it too, give her confidence. She was familiar with his polar positions: rebellion, awe. Both seemed built in, he was ready to defend both to the death. You had to have both. He saw damned little of either in most other Americans at the moment: just cop-out or sheephood, no independence
or
emulation. Hyperdemocracy, the sovereignty of the unqualified individual, added into a mass. He did sympathize with the young militants, enough to have addressed six thousand of them on Moratorium morning, but he saw them as
incompetent,
a threat to their own causes in abler hands: deluded by Thoreau's hostility to the lessons of history, unable to
use
tradition modified. Even their bloody bombs were so inefficient that they went off too early and killed people. What he approved, what inspired him even, was their hopefulness, which he did not share, and their hatred of technology, which he did.
Turned back now toward the hospital, he and Mike waited for the rest to straggle up. My word, Hasty's was just two blocks north of here, the slowest liquor store in the city, âtwo quarts of Jack Daniel's green, pleaseâDr Severance,' Ruth once reckoned he spent over a thousand dollars a year there aloneâwell, he could afford it, except physically mentally morally and spiritually. âHow are you, sexpot?' He patted Delores' sloping shoulder. âStroll languorous enough for you? I like to
walk.
'
walk.
'
âEXTENDED CARE' came into view, so labelled in stone over the big glass doors. Everybody slowed down, if that was possible, except Severance keen to get back to work.
âWhen I first arrived in London,' he said to her and Mike, âthe sign “FAMILY BUTCHER” over shops alarmed me. That portico ought to read: “RECOVERING ALCOHOLICS'
SLAUGHTER-HOUSE” and under it “DEFENCES PENETRATED, DELUSIONS VAPORIZED.” ' He did not feel witty.
SLAUGHTER-HOUSE” and under it “DEFENCES PENETRATED, DELUSIONS VAPORIZED.” ' He did not feel witty.
Â
Â
Sunday was Dull Day for most of the forty-one patients on Ward W of Northeast Hospital, Cââ, Ohio, founded two years before, the first alcoholic rehabilitation center in the United States, or anywhere, with an out-patient family programme (estimated average degree of in-patient recovery: fifteen percent, the rest to be dealt with over two years of weekly Encounter-Group therapy). Dr Marc Rome's latest guess was that half the graduates would make itâthat is, never drink again; half the remainder would drink off and on, and the final quarter would die. Severance was suspicious of these figures, being hypnotized of course like everybody else in the country since General Washington by statistics, but capable of moments of lucidity and resistance. Some in-State patients had visitors, in their rooms or out in the crabgrass hospital grounds, boasting of their progress, pleading, joking, begging forgiveness, manipulating, rejecting, threatening to take off. At four-thirty Mary-Jane was reading Chapter V of the Big Book for the seventeenth time (she kept track, having gone back to pills after eighteen months clean and dry), bald Wilbur now sixty-three who had lived with his parents hating them since his first wife left him was arguing with his intoxicated father on the only ward telephone, Jeree was sitting on her bed screwing up her courage to go down to the Snack Room and get coffee, Letty was resenting her daughter's not having called and her husband's having called, Severance was writing obsessedly in his Journal.
Â
âSt Paul's.
âFear. Weak, it never occurred to me to go out for football. Fatal “sissy.” Bullied by Bone II and Frischer. First evening
Assembly, name called: rose against the wall, expecting congratulations on my job (swept hall in New Building)âcalled down for dustpile put there unjustly after I'd finished. Have I ever recovered? Love (fear) of Fr Kemmisâlong English walksâMrs Dulon's teas. Awe of the Old Man. Cameron mocking my “de prus en prus” and throwing erasers; rumor he fathered Effie's babyâher husband's first day in Latin III, “My name is Robert Denzil Hagster-Collins and I am here to teach Latin”âwe roaredâday we locked him in the classroom closet where we had a gramophone playing. Joe Laker the paddling Prefect. Mr Woodward's story about Bill the S.A. savage and the poison berriesâunknown deathâlater used, cooked, as therapeuticâman's giant step; “sun-worshipping,” crawling on bloody knees with books open down the board-walk, across flagstones, around flagpole, and back. Finishing black coffee (sweet) after the masters left the lounge after lunch. Butts in icehouse. Reading after lights-out in slanted eaves-closet and under covers with flashlight. (Reading
what?
) Erection over Cornelia the matron in Latin II, suddenly called on, had to stand in aisle half-crouched. My jokes in the infirmary I didn't understand (Boom-Du Rail-on, Boom-But Rail-er). Respect for John Ward. Wittenberg a friend? “Assume the attitude,” Moose-jaw used to say when we lined up in his room for paddling after lights-out. Sneakin Jesus the mathematics master coming up the stairs in the dark. Bobo (Effie's Boboâwe held each other by the legs one afternoon out the windows in the dorm to look into their bathroom upside down) waving his arms gently to get us down from the window-seatsâ“Don't take off, Bobo”âflit idea. Sucked off Dopey Compson in the tool-shed one winter afternoon, he made me do it, largest pecker in school, once he had an erection in the showers and we came from everywhere to wonder. Suicide-attempt lay down across the rails, train coming, hauled off.
Assembly, name called: rose against the wall, expecting congratulations on my job (swept hall in New Building)âcalled down for dustpile put there unjustly after I'd finished. Have I ever recovered? Love (fear) of Fr Kemmisâlong English walksâMrs Dulon's teas. Awe of the Old Man. Cameron mocking my “de prus en prus” and throwing erasers; rumor he fathered Effie's babyâher husband's first day in Latin III, “My name is Robert Denzil Hagster-Collins and I am here to teach Latin”âwe roaredâday we locked him in the classroom closet where we had a gramophone playing. Joe Laker the paddling Prefect. Mr Woodward's story about Bill the S.A. savage and the poison berriesâunknown deathâlater used, cooked, as therapeuticâman's giant step; “sun-worshipping,” crawling on bloody knees with books open down the board-walk, across flagstones, around flagpole, and back. Finishing black coffee (sweet) after the masters left the lounge after lunch. Butts in icehouse. Reading after lights-out in slanted eaves-closet and under covers with flashlight. (Reading
what?
) Erection over Cornelia the matron in Latin II, suddenly called on, had to stand in aisle half-crouched. My jokes in the infirmary I didn't understand (Boom-Du Rail-on, Boom-But Rail-er). Respect for John Ward. Wittenberg a friend? “Assume the attitude,” Moose-jaw used to say when we lined up in his room for paddling after lights-out. Sneakin Jesus the mathematics master coming up the stairs in the dark. Bobo (Effie's Boboâwe held each other by the legs one afternoon out the windows in the dorm to look into their bathroom upside down) waving his arms gently to get us down from the window-seatsâ“Don't take off, Bobo”âflit idea. Sucked off Dopey Compson in the tool-shed one winter afternoon, he made me do it, largest pecker in school, once he had an erection in the showers and we came from everywhere to wonder. Suicide-attempt lay down across the rails, train coming, hauled off.
âScarcely anything else.
âI do not remember
one book
read in those
four
years
except that Latin grammar, though hundreds up till then (14) and most of all the many thousands since (not all). A fraction of zeal in physics.
one book
read in those
four
years
except that Latin grammar, though hundreds up till then (14) and most of all the many thousands since (not all). A fraction of zeal in physics.
âWeird. Look into it into it, intuit into it, weird.
Â
Â
âRuth last night: “Your model was your
very
powerful mother ⦠you have many feminine qualities (as I have masculine qualitiesâmy father was my model)âI love them in you.” 1000 quarrels with Mother; utter admirationâmy first literary subject, after the ASPCA gold-medal essay, my first prize eh? Or was it the state-wide spelling award?
Second
prize. The taller dark girl made “syzygy.” '
very
powerful mother ⦠you have many feminine qualities (as I have masculine qualitiesâmy father was my model)âI love them in you.” 1000 quarrels with Mother; utter admirationâmy first literary subject, after the ASPCA gold-medal essay, my first prize eh? Or was it the state-wide spelling award?
Second
prize. The taller dark girl made “syzygy.” '
Â
Â
âWELL, STACK,' Harley began Group on Monday morning, âwhat happened this time? I've known you how many years is it, but you better fill the others in a little. You've been in treatment how many times?'
âEight times, Harley! Eight times!' His heavy voice managed to be at once explosive and sad. Severance was shocked by that record and moved by the powerful ruinous sight of him: a large fierce face, furrowed and bald above slit eyes with great hollows under them, large working hands clenched on his thighs, elbows out. âI don't
know, I just don't know. Thirty-five years with the company and they fired me the day I was discharged from Howarden this time. I guess I just started drinking! The wife was on my side but I just couldn't stop!'
know, I just don't know. Thirty-five years with the company and they fired me the day I was discharged from Howarden this time. I guess I just started drinking! The wife was on my side but I just couldn't stop!'
âWait a minute,' said Keg. âWhy did they fire you?'
âI can't understand it! Every week Eric sent in a report on my progress. It came as a blow, Harley!'
âHow many weeks were you there?'
âSeven. They just kept me on and on. I guess the company couldn't understand why I didn't get out in three, like always.'
âWhat's that? How many times have you been at Howarden, Stack?'
âFour times, Harley.'
âAnd you still expected to be discharged in
three weeks?
How many patients are discharged after three weeks?'
three weeks?
How many patients are discharged after three weeks?'
âNobody!' Stack sounded angry.
âHow about you, the previous times?'
âWell, four months was the longest. They gave me a kitchen job but I went on going to lectures and all, they didn't think it was a good idea for me to leave.'
âAnd your boss put up with that, he took you back?'
âSure. We was good friends.'
âBut after all that history, you still expected to get out in three weeks?'
âI just don't understand it.' Stack shook his big head.
âNeither do I,' said Harley. âBut why did they let you go then this time, after sticking by you for so long?'
âI'll tell you, Harley: it's a mystery. The wife and me couldn't understand it!'
âHow did you feel about it?'
âOh, I may have been a little resentful at first. But right awayâ'
âFor Christ's sake,' Keg broke in. âA
little
resentful! After thirty-five years they suddenly let you goâwhat reason did they give?'
little
resentful! After thirty-five years they suddenly let you goâwhat reason did they give?'
âNo reason, Keg. They just said fired.'
âAnd you took that? Did you go see him and ask why?'
âNo, I didn't.'
âWhy not?'
âWell, I justâI don't know why not! Stop picking on me!'
âI never heard such crap,' Keg said with disgust. âYou're unbelievable. First you expect to get out in three weeks when
nobody ever has,
then your company fires you on the
day
seven weeks later when you actually do get out, and you're “a little resentful.” Right this minute you're boiling with rage.'
nobody ever has,
then your company fires you on the
day
seven weeks later when you actually do get out, and you're “a little resentful.” Right this minute you're boiling with rage.'
âNo I'm not, Keg,' Stack said in a strange, even sweet voice, glaring murder. âIt was only because I couldn't understand it, that's all. It was a big disappointment to me and the wife, so I started drinking.' His body was trembling with anger.
âWell, God knows we sympathize with you, Stack,' said Harley gently, âonly there is not one single part of your story that makes any sense whatever. How do you feel about coming back into treatment for the eighth time?'
âI'm going to try hard, Harley!' shouted Stack. âI'm going to make it this time. I gotta! The wife is with me!'
âYou've got to get in touch with your feelings. If you
knew
how resentful you are, maybe you wouldn't drink. You've got to learn to level with your feelingsâget them out in the open. Do you see yourself as an angry man, Stack?'
knew
how resentful you are, maybe you wouldn't drink. You've got to learn to level with your feelingsâget them out in the open. Do you see yourself as an angry man, Stack?'
âMe? No, Harley. I am the quietest man there is, even drinking. Ask anybody.'
âI seem to remember you drove to Illinois with a gun after your first wife left you. Is that true?'
âIt was only because of my daughter. I just couldn't stand to have her taken away like that, with that other man.'
âYou didn't plan to shoot your wife?'
âOh no, Harley. I put the gun in the glove-compartment and I never took it out, the whole time I was in Illinois.'
âDid you see your wife?'
âI couldn't find her.'
âWhat if you had found her?'
âWell, I would have talked to her a little, just reasoned a little, about her taking my daughter like that, without saying anything.'
âThen what was the gun for?'
âI'm not sure I did have a gun, Harley. It might have been â¦' His voice trailed off lost.
âYou're still fogged-in, Stack. But think it over, about the feelings. You've got a lot of work to do.'
âI know it, Harley! The wife is with me all the way!'
Â
Â
Severance's Journal
Â
To become a Jew-the
wonder of my lifeâit's
possible!
Rabbi Mandel is coming at 2:30.
wonder of my lifeâit's
possible!
Rabbi Mandel is coming at 2:30.
My uneasiness w. Xtianity came to a head in Mass w George this morningâbut where? how?
want company
(Geo.âMike praying in his room
with his wife
)
want company
(Geo.âMike praying in his room
with his wife
)
Passion over Rose's Frank saying to her
at last
(Line was him) âI love you'âL: âYou never could say it to her before, could you?'âI thought of David's
wanting
perhaps to say it to
me,
but held off by disappointment with me (rage, eh?)âbaffled, hurtâhow will he take my letter?!?
at last
(Line was him) âI love you'âL: âYou never could say it to her before, could you?'âI thought of David's
wanting
perhaps to say it to
me,
but held off by disappointment with me (rage, eh?)âbaffled, hurtâhow will he take my letter?!?
Left and came to my room and incredibly thought of
becoming
a Jew.
Always held it impossible because of inadequate concept of GodâOK since Vin's rescueâbut hostile to Trinityâdubious of X, hostile to BVMâanti-Pope, deep sympathy with Church but
not for me
alone w God, yet
not
alone, one of many worshippers,
like
them exc in blood (who cares?)
becoming
a Jew.
Always held it impossible because of inadequate concept of GodâOK since Vin's rescueâbut hostile to Trinityâdubious of X, hostile to BVMâanti-Pope, deep sympathy with Church but
not for me
alone w God, yet
not
alone, one of many worshippers,
like
them exc in blood (who cares?)
Somebody in Snack Room even said to me recently, âYou ought to become a Jew'!!? (Irish and Jewish wivesâmy
son,
etc) perh nexus just now
son,
etc) perh nexus just now
I feel apprehensiveâjoy butâcan I? Will He receive me? I know I must prepare, be ready for all.
The cantor's letter of admiration helped me, unknowing by me.
And: Jews
don't drink!
don't drink!
S! D! (even the Mexican Jew in the Greek islands etc etc)
All
has pointed HERE.
has pointed HERE.
In my old story,
a confrontation as Jew
is resisted, fought, failedâat last given in to, symbolically. I
a confrontation as Jew
is resisted, fought, failedâat last given in to, symbolically. I
So the âdesire' (was it?) is at least 25 years old.
After that, the work on the Nazi doctorsâabandoned âobsessedâperh now take it up again?
my position certain.
my position certain.
Unique horror of anti-Semitism.
Closeness to Ed C, Erich, many, Riegels, Blooms, the Steins.
Excitement over Isaak Babel! Buber! the Hasidim! Bloch's music! Pascal's Hebraism in âconversion'! WCW's Jewish blood!
How did I come to buy (found it lately in the attic) a very expensive leather-bound 4-vol
Josephus?!
Josephus?!
For years contributed to, eagerly read monthly cover to cover half-unintelligible,
Commentary?
Commentary?
Love for Shafarman, first therapist I ever felt
anything
for.
flourishing
of Freud & Einstein!ââdie unverlier-baren Freunde'
special
interest in Isaiah Berlin, Meyer Shapiro, Hannah, Mlle Weil etc Jewish girlsâSylvia B, Pearl K, Marilyn L, Judith R, Harriet R + my Hebrew effortâstudies with Peretz Bargebuhr (writeâstill
alive?) regular O.T. stint daily, at last, this year (till lately) unique devotion to
Job
âtext, Stevenson's Schweik lectures, translation fooled with for sixteen years
anything
for.
flourishing
of Freud & Einstein!ââdie unverlier-baren Freunde'
special
interest in Isaiah Berlin, Meyer Shapiro, Hannah, Mlle Weil etc Jewish girlsâSylvia B, Pearl K, Marilyn L, Judith R, Harriet R + my Hebrew effortâstudies with Peretz Bargebuhr (writeâstill
alive?) regular O.T. stint daily, at last, this year (till lately) unique devotion to
Job
âtext, Stevenson's Schweik lectures, translation fooled with for sixteen years
People often think I
look
Jewishâresentment, liking
look
Jewishâresentment, liking
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