An on-going alcohol battle turns a BBQ guru into a lifeline for others!
DAS BBQ founder and pit master Stephen Franklin, 49, keeps a busy calendar managing two restaurants, promoting his brand and having a family. But no matter how hectic the week, he finds time to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Franklin has been a binge drinker since he was 16.
“I spent 17 years abusing it and pretending I didn’t have an issue,” he says. “I’d even mix in drugs sometimes. There were periods when I’d give it up, but then I’d go back because that was the thing that worked for me.”
Franklin is open about his addiction, noting that it didn’t stem from a traumatic childhood or the boredom of an early career in commercial insurance. Rather, it was all about the buzz. “I liked how it made me feel. Even with the embarrassments and serious consequences it brought, I still enjoyed the way it made me feel.”
His turning point came in June 2007 when his daughter was born. “I was drinking every day, and my life was going into a very dark space, but that was my wake-up call. I realized I owed it to her and my wife to do everything I could to be a father she’d be proud of.” A few months later, with strong support from two of his mentors, Franklin found a Friday night AA meeting off Peachtree Road and summoned the courage to attend— but not before downing a 22-ounce bottle of beer in the car. Once inside, he immediately knew he was in the right place to find help.
“I felt like I’d finally reached my tribe,” he says. “I broke down crying and asking how I had avoided this for so long. It was relief more than anything. But it was still a struggle; for four years, I went to at least 300 AA meetings and had three rehabilitation stints, two as an outpatient and one inside for 90 days. I almost died several times and was hitting the bottom over and over.”
Through AA, Franklin found a sponsor with whom he still speaks daily. “He stuck with me and showed me a peace and confidence that I wanted, too,” he says. “At first, I didn’t understand the idea of sponsorship or that I was worthy of having someone with my best interests at heart to walk me through the program. But that was the beginning of the difference: accepting the idea of a hand up, not a hand out.”
That ongoing relationship inspires Franklin to offer himself as a hand up wherever he can. “People showed up when I needed it, and when I offer myself to sponsor someone, I know my job is to be of service to the next person who is struggling. That fills me with a sense of purpose.”
Though he’s been a successful restaurateur since 2017, the challenge of sobriety never lets up, Franklin says. He regularly attends AA meetings for the support and is glad his eateries in Grant Park and Westside have relatively low alcohol sales. “If I were in a high-end dining environment four or five days a week, it wouldn’t be good for me. But here, there’s so much to do that it helps me stay focused and busy.”
Franklin also credits the city’s hospitality industry for its support. “Atlanta is a very welcoming and accepting environment where I can say I have an issue with drugs or alcohol, and the industry recognizes that and encourages people to talk about it openly. It might just change one person’s life, and they’ll go on to do remarkable things.”
Franklin encourages others struggling with an addiction to reach out and get help without embarrassment. And he shares his motto with them: “The crap from our past is fertilizer for our future.”
PHOTO: Joann Vitelli
