Clapton_ The Autobiography - Eric Clapton [128]
Of course, we also had to sell the idea to the Antiguan government, and that’s where it got really funny. The Cabinet of the day invited us to show them what we had in mind, and at the end of our presentation, during which I gave a shortened version of my drinking and recovery history, the health minister asked if it would be okay for him to visit the center sometimes—whenever he felt he needed to lose some weight. They obviously had no idea of what we had been talking about, and it dawned on me then that we would face similar responses in every direction we turned. There was absolutely no notion of what recovery was in the Caribbean. Alcoholism was still regarded as immoral or sinful behavior there, with jail time and social ostracism being the only practiced solutions. In order to set up a treatment center here, we were going to have to educate and to a certain extent emancipate the entire community.
At this point I asked myself some very deep, soul-searching questions: What business was this of mine? What right did I have to try and bring these kinds of changes to a community that, on the face of it, just wanted to be left alone? The answer was always the same. In order to keep what I had, I had to give it away. In order to stay sober, I had to help others get sober. This is the main principle that still governs my life today, and I had to apply it to this situation. I was in no doubt, however, that if I was wrong, or if it was simply not meant to be, I would soon find out when the whole thing came crashing down around my ears.
Even though it was quite clear that many locals simply didn’t get it, we decided to go ahead anyway. Then, about a third of the way into the building, I got word from Roger that the head of the Priory conglomerate in America had decided to sell his share of the Crossroads project to another health care corporation that had no interest in building a rehab unit in Antigua. They were either going to scrap it or sell it to me. Roger wasted no time in telling me to cut and run, because the alternative was picking up the whole thing myself, which would cost an enormous amount of money that I would probably never see again.
While I knew there was no choice but for me to go ahead, I don’t think Roger ever really understood the kind of commitment I felt for this. To start with, I had given my word, if only to myself, that I would finish what I had started. If I abandoned this, it would probably mean that I would never be able to return to Antigua, and by this time we had cleared ground and were already starting to lay foundations. In fact, we’d got quite a long way into the construction, and the word was out. The other thing was, I really believed in this project. I had seen enough people who were, on the face of it, hopeless cases turned round to start new lives as happy human beings. I knew that it would pay off, and my reasoning was that if only one person came out of there sober, and managed to stay sober, then the whole thing would have been worth it.
I turned away from Roger and in one fell swoop became sole owner of a half-built treatment center that nobody but me wanted. A lot of money had already been spent, and it looked like quite a lot more would follow, when we found out that the contractor had cut corners with the building and not laid the foundations correctly. Even though it wasn’t completely built, walls were cracking and doorways were warping, so I called in Leo, who was helping me build my house in Indian Creek, and asked him to have a look at it. He gave me a full report and said it was shockingly done, but not beyond