The Harder They Fall Read Online Free Page A

in 1980, a discipline I have continued to this day, and saw benefits right away. I also joined a “seniors” six-man Hawaiian outrigger canoe team, made up of six guys over the age of thirty-five. We trained atsunrise each morning, and on weekends we paddled in long-distance races on the open ocean. I started eating with some consciousness, even took to occasional fasts and began to embrace vegetarianism. Restoring my body was easy, but my mind and soul would require greater effort.
    A year later I was back in Los Angeles trying to pick up the pieces. Virtually broke, I moved back into the house I was raised in. A forty-year-old failed big shot living with his parents. Feelings of utter defeat were creeping back. I was trying to stay clean, but life without hope was impossible. Once again drugs got the better of me, and I began chipping again. I remember one night my great friend Joel Dorn, a brilliant, underappreciated record producer, was visiting from New York. It was my mother’s birthday, and she suggested I bring him over for dinner. The rest of the story is what Joel remembers. Apparently I was high when he arrived, and midway through dinner I nodded out … right into a full plate of Mom’s brisket and mashed potatoes. Joel pulled me up by my hair and made some excuse about how “tired” I was, but the hurt and shock showed all over my parents’ faces. Joel never lets me forget that night.
    Not long after this, a miracle occurred in my life. I was browsing the newspaper on a quiet Sunday morning when I happened across an article about a new Twelve Step program that had recently begun in my area. Without knowing why, I picked up the phone and made a call. That very same day I was attending my first meeting, and soon after, I began my journey into sobriety.
    Strength came where weakness was not known to be,
    at least not felt; and restoration came
    Like an intruder knocking at the door
    of unacknowledged weariness.
    —William Wordsworth, “The Prelude”
    That was a little over twenty-two years ago, and it’s been quite a trip. Looking back over the years and my history of substance abuse, here is what I can say is true for me: It started out as great fun. For someone shy like me, drugs made me bigger and bolder. Eventually drugs and alcohol got thebest of me. The fun became depravity. I was without purpose, wrestling with my demons, and lost. The facade fell. I crashed and burned, but the will to survive took over. I was given the greatest gift I’ve ever received: sobriety. And with it came a new life.
    Jane notes that pain, growth, and spiritual evolution don’t belong only to those with an addiction. In my view, it is all a means to an end. Through grace, people shuck off the bark of all kinds of sickness and despair. We believe that you don’t have to have gone through addiction to identify with the days of doubt and nights of sorrow, the enlightenments and transformations of the recovering addict. What we can see as particularly characteristic of many in recovery is their candor about their struggles and their humor about themselves.
    Jane and I became running companions long ago, and runners talk. She encouraged me to tell 1001 stories, morning after morning, while she responded on the uphill. For instance, she found delightful the camaraderie I took for granted from the shakers and movers in the entertainment world. The land of carefree living seemed exotic to her. She would shake her head at the wretched misery that some of the
jeunesse dorée
fell into. She wanted to record these incidences of human spirit, and as we ran, this became the genesis of our book.
    In the following chapters you are going to meet some remarkable people. I hope their stories will touch your heart, and if you have issues with substance abuse, perhaps they will inspire you to seek help.



Fame is a bee.
    It has a song
—
    It has a sting
—
    Ah, too, it has a wing.
    —Emily Dickinson, No. 1788
Paul Williams
    (singer,