“You’re the only one who wouldn’t admit it!”
Filmed in shadow
In 1960 a French journalist, Joseph Kessel, came to the United States to study AA with the help of AA’s office, and went home to write a series of articles for France-Soir. A few days after the first appeared that July, Nick H. of the English-speaking group in Paris received a bundle of some thirty letters, all in French. Nick dictated the replies at first; later a secretary who wasn’t an alcoholic, Odette Gerth, answered them herself, for years. Bob P.’s history credits Kessel with doing for AA in France “what Jack Alexander did in America.” (A bunch of actors tells Alexander’s.)
At home, AA’s board turned to television. Its public information committee produced what Bob P.’s history calls the first public service spots about AA, for radio and TV: “A.A. members, filmed in shadow to protect their anonymity, told one-minute stories of their experiences.” The last spot was different. Dr. John L. Norris, the board’s chairman and the medical director of Eastman Kodak, who wasn’t an alcoholic, appeared full face to tell about the program, and a colleague at Kodak took him for the only alcoholic on the screen who wouldn’t own up to it.
In 1966 AA’s office offered local committees a 60-second spot with four members and Dr. Norris in it, perhaps one of those Bob P. describes, at $20 a print, and its soundtrack on tape for radio at $5.
The 1968 General Service Conference put the rule in an advisory action, the first on record, though Bob P.’s history calls it a reaffirmation: “The showing of the full face of an A.A. member at the level of press, TV, and films” would be “considered a violation of the Anonymity Tradition, even though the name is withheld.”
In the late 1960s AA also set out to learn what the public thought of it. Volunteers led by Bayard P., an advertising executive on its public information committee, telephoned at night and found that most people thought well of AA, but saw its members as “neurotic,” “failures,” “weak willed,” and that only about one in four knew anyone in it. AA’s first survey of its own members, in 1968, found that 55 percent had been brought in mainly by another member. If members were AA’s best way in, Bayard reasoned, AA had to make them “more visible without breaking their anonymity”: members had “an obligation to be un-anonymous at the private level.”
It’s the 1960s, and on television stations across the country a new kind of announcement is running. Someone sits in the dark, with the light behind. You can see an outline, but not a face. In one minute, a member of Alcoholics Anonymous tells you what drinking did, and what AA did instead. Then another, and another, all in shadow.
At the end comes a doctor from Eastman Kodak, in full light: the chairman of AA’s board, who isn’t an alcoholic at all. The next day a colleague at work stops him. Saw you on TV last night, he says. You’re the only one who wouldn’t admit it.
In 1968 AA’s Conference spelled the rule out: a member’s full face on television breaks anonymity, even when no name goes with it.