O'Brien, seventy-eight, was not flying the helicopter; he sat calmly next to the pilot, reading the New York Times (reading the letters to the editor about Peggy Steinfels's October 22 op-ed piece, as it happens). Also onboard was Eugene Porcaro, an assistant district attorney in Manhattan and once an altar boy for O'Brien, and James Gilhooley, another archdiocesan priest as well as a much-published writer. We flew up the Hudson, past "Sing Sing" prison and West Point, and landed on a playing field at Daytop's facility for adolescent boys.
A stream of boys rushed out to greet O'Brien and escort us into one of the buildings where all the treatment center's young clients had assembled. O'Brien was greeted with thunderous applause, and I was beginning to feel like I was in a Bing Crosby movie. Standing before the group, O'Brien introduced each of his guests and then called on various boys to explain how they had come to Daytop and what the program, which entails extensive group therapy and a rigorously structured schedule, was intended to accomplish. He sprinkled his interrogations with wisecracks, and after each boy told his story, O'Brien hugged and thanked him.
We visited three other facilities that day; these were for adults, including one with many clients from overseas. Daytop is an international organization, with programs from China to Rome. O'Brien travels extensively, preaching the gospel that a therapeutic community, not prison, is the best way to treat drug addiction. Addiction, he believes, is a symptom of the failure of the modern family. "Drugs are an attempt at self-medication to block out the excruciating pain of family crisis," O'Brien has said. Daytop's treatment program tries to create a supportive emotional community in which people feel secure but at the same time are held strictly accountable for their behavior. Its success rate is high. More than 85 percent of those treated stay clean. Daytop has treated more than 100,000 addicts in its nearly forty years, and has close to 10,000 persons enrolled in its residential and ambulatory programs nationwide. It is widely regarded as one of the most successful programs of its kind.
"Cousin Bill" had not told me that he would call on me to speak, so I was a bit flummoxed to find myself addressing a group of recovering drug addicts. However, it is impossible not to be impressed with the sincerity and courage of Daytop's clients, and it was not hard to speak to them. Still, it was humbling. The older I get the more I have come to appreciate how difficult it is to change anything about one's habits or life. Battling addiction seems like an overwhelming challenge, and is often a life or death struggle. Yet Daytop has found a way to help people do the seemingly impossible.
At the end of each assembly, O'Brien led everyone in the recitation of the "Daytop Philosophy." "I am here because there is no refuge, / Finally, from myself," it begins. It concludes: "Here, together, I can at last appear / Clearly to myself, / Not as the giant of my dreams, / Nor the dwarf of my fears, / But as a person, part of the whole, / With my share in its purpose. / In this ground, I can take root and grow; / Not alone anymore, as in death, / But alive, to myself and to others."
It is a remarkable experience to stand in the midst of hundreds of people who, having confronted the worst in themselves and in many cases the worst this society has to offer, can profess such a faith. No wonder O'Brien likes to fly in a helicopter: he's used to defying gravity. You could call it "old school."
