Drink, Drank, Drunk

By Bill Stokes

Thirty-eight years ago I wrote a series of six articles for the Milwaukee Journal titled “Drink, Drank, Drunk” in which I used my personal experience with drinking along with pointing out the stranglehold the beer/booze industry has in formulating our absurd collective relationship with alcohol. Incredibly, a recent review of those articles leads to the inevitable and unfortunate conclusion that with only minor changes of updating statistics they could have been written only yesterday.
Never in my many years of practicing personal journalism have I ever experienced the kind of reader response “Drink, Drank, Drunk” generated. Hundreds of letters poured in, from shaky alcoholics, from the grieving mothers of their children being killed in car crashes, from children expressing the heartbreak of abusive or missing parents, from frustrated therapists and counselors, from bartenders and preachers and so many others who have first hand experience with the devastating effects of alcohol and the industry that produces it.
In the “Pulitzer” dream world of every journalist, mine was shattered by the Journal for not even submitting the series for consideration. A series that could have helped ease the pain of so many suffering from alcohol abuse. A disappointment that haunts me today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Stokes
• Release date: Oct 18, 2016

Bill Stokes

Born in Barron, Wisconsin, on September 11, 1931, Bill Stokes grew up on a small dairy farm between Barron and Rice Lake. He began his official writing career as an outdoor writer and general reporter for the Stevens Point Daily Journal, where he served as columnist, reporter and outdoor writer. In 1961 he moved to the Wisconsin State Journal, in Madison, where he wrote outdoor and personal columns, some of which were collected in a book “Ship The Kids On Ahead.” (added by Bill Stokes). In 1969, the Milwaukee Journal became his venue and as a feature writer and columnist, and he found new ground to cover in 1982 at the Chicago Tribune. After 11 years there, Bill retired to pursue free-lance projects. For ten years Bill Stokes has been a roving reporter and columnist for The Milwaukee Journal. He has written reams of material about his viyid impressions of people, animals, events, personal activities and “things in general.” His reminiscence of boyhood days on the farm are typical of my own growing up days in Northern Wisconsin. Through his travels, Bill has met with the unusual and unique — the oddball — the occult — the sad — the glad — the good — the bad — the humorous — the tragic — the trivial — the serious. This collection of some of his stories and columns indicates the broad scope of his journalistic efforts, brilliant talents and professional ability. Bill writes with good humor and feeling. His descriptions make his readers think about their own personal lives and put their feelings toward their fellow men in proper perspective. I personally appreciate the fact that Bill did not include here a piece he did on one of my fishing trips when all I caught was a stick. Readers will enjoy this potpourri of delightful columns as they move with Bill through the seasonal changes of life in Wisconsin. It will awaken their consciousness and make them more aware of their good fortune to be living in such a great and wondrous state. People rarely succeed at anything unless they have fun doing it. Bill Stokes obviously enjoys his role as Wisconsin’s favorite journalist. In this delightful book he shares that fun with all.

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Author's Note

Thirty-eight years ago I wrote a Drink, Drank, Drunk, series of six articles for the Milwaukee Journal in which I used my personal experience with booze along with pointing out the stranglehold the beer/booze industry has in formulating our absurd collective relationship with alcohol. Incredibly, a recent review of those articles leads to the inevitable and unfortunate conclusion that with only minor changes for updating statistics they could have been written yesterday.

Never in my many years of practicing personal journalism have I ever experienced the kind of reader response Drink, Drank, Drunk generated. Hundreds of letters poured in, from shaky alcoholics, from the grieving mothers of country boys killed in car crashes, from children expressing the heartbreak of abusive or missing parents, from frustrated therapists and counselors, from bartenders and preachers and many others.

The request for reprints moved the Journal to put the articles into a pamphlet which was offered free to readers. In my travels about the state I was besieged with requests for the pamphlet, and at one point I ran out of them and went to the Journal’s public service county to resupply. The lady at the county said, Oh, we ran out of those. One of the breweries sent somebody over to get all the copies we had so they could distribute them to their employees.

Sure! We had printed I-don’t-know-how-many thousands of copies, and the booze crowd had worked its sneaky magic to put them all in the trash before they could get into the hands of people who were desperately looking for help.

In the Pulitzer dream world of every journalist, mine was shattered by the Journal not even submitting the series for consideration. But what do I know. Could the industry have been a factor?

It’s a little late for personal pouting or regrets, but it is not too late for the message in Drink, Drank, Drunk to be put out there again: while there are lots of new drug issues, alcohol is still the monster that we are conditioned to love, and live and die with.

Bill Stokes

Tip a Tall Drink, Lose a Little Life

We are drowning now in a murky river of booze and beer.

It swirls through our lives like a muddy flood.

It sucks away our young. It pollutes us with misery. It licks at our insides like a gurgling cancer.

It erodes our blood and our brain cells. It flows with our vomit and our tears.

We call it the good life.

Flowing Everywhere

Once we decided that there should be no alcohol. Now we say that it should flow everywhere, in our clubs, taverns, stores, churches, service stations and homes.

We cripple the unborn with it in the womb. We soak our youth with it. We rip our families apart with it. We kill each other with it in wrenching, horrible crashes in the night.

Big Happy Hours

If we survive the pub crawling, booze lubricated drag race of youth, we turn the rest of our lives into great big happy hours.

We drink to each other’s health.

Here’s to your liver, your heart, your head. Here’s to your ruptured blood vessels and arteries, your hemorrhages, your shaking hands, your churning insides.

Skoal!

Cheers!

Prosit!

Bottoms up!

Down the hatch!

We give our children one word of advice about drinking. That word is don’t, and we deliver it with an alcoholic slur.

Some Insight into Drinking

In Massachusetts a conviction for drunken driving means a $200 increase in your auto insurance.

A study shows that most junior high school students have tried alcohol, and many of them drink it regularly.

The younger the age at which an individual begins drinking, the greater the chances that he will develop into a chronic alcoholic.