Remembering Don Nelson

In order to more fully understand Don's contribution to the Palm Springs Alano Club and the community, I interviewed Tom T., one of the 22 people Don was sponsoring at the time he passed away.

DAVE B: Was Don your first sponsor?

TOM T: Yes, my first and only, from September of '85.

DAVE B: Did he know who you were when you first hooked up with him?

TOM T: Oh yeah. He and I used to drink together. One time we rode our Harley-Davidsons through the Riviera Hotel with the cops chasing us.

But once we sobered up it was different, and if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here. He had that way about him, that he could sit somebody down and talk to him the way I do when I respect somebody. And he told me, "You've got to listen, or you're gonna die." So thanks to him, I'm still here, and I consider myself a walking miracle.

DAVE B: What kind of sponsor was he, the compassionate type or a disciplinarian?

TOM T: He was whatever he needed to be. He was compassionate with people who needed compassion, he was soft when a person needed somebody to be soft with them, or he could be absolutely ruthless.

Once I told him, "Sometimes I hurt people's feelings, and I don't want to."

He said, "No, you don't. The thing you have to understand is that God works through people. When a cop stops you and throws you in jail, that's God's doing, and the cop may not enjoy doing that, but it's necessary. You may feel like you hurt people's feelings, but what you don't realize at the same time is how many people you've helped.

DAVE B: So you learned the techniques of sponsorship from Don.

TOM T: Oh, sure. And my big thing was always, "How come they don't listen?" Because I always listened. But he told me, "If you keep repeating they'll eventually listen, but only if you've got something to say."

DAVE B: Do you still consider him your sponsor?

TOM T: Oh yes, and he always will be.

Not long ago, just before he died, I called him on a Monday evening, about four or five o' clock, like I did all the time, and he said "I'm eating," and hung up the phone. And he had never done that to me in the 18 or 19 years we'd been together, and it really upset me, because by that time I didn't call him every day, just when I had a problem. So I went over to his house and asked him why he hung up on me.

And he said, "What was your problem? Did you solve it?"

"Yeah, I took care of it," I told him, "but I needed your help." So then he asked me, "What would you do if I wasn't here? Did you know you're the most inconsiderate son of a bitch who ever lived? In all these years, have you ever once asked me who my sponsor is?"

I said, "Well, no Don, I guess I haven't. Who is it?"

He said, "I'm going to go see him in a little while. That's who it is."

That was the last one-on-one, extended conversation I had with him.

DAVE B: Was that the last time you saw him?

TOM T: No. The morning before he died I was down here, and he was standing in the club room door with a cane looking out over the place, and he said, "Remember when there wasn't a parking lot here?" At that point Mark had just finished putting the new tile on the floor, and he was looking at that and said, "You know, we've come a long way."

He had always said he wasn't going to die until this place was finished. And that morning he says to me, "Well, Tom, it's done," just like that, and then he turned to me and said, "and you'd better keep it this way."

DAVE B: If he was still here and he had one thing to say to the people who are keeping this place alive, what would it be?

TOM T: "It's your job."