Costa Mesa’s quiet hero

Sue Clark

“Painkillers are fine if used properly. The problem is, we addicts

take four every one hour, rather than one every four hours!” This is

Dave Riggle’s take on Rush Limbaugh’s pill problem. Riggle, 56, a man

of inner peace and earthy humor, considers himself a “student of the

disease of addiction,” which can be anything from drugs to sex to

booze.

A former addict and general bad boy, Dave’s been in recovery 23

years and runs a quiet sober living house in Costa Mesa. Here, men

are putting their lives back together with his help. If you rent a

room at Dave’s place, he’ll direct you to recovery meetings, perform

court-appointed random drug tests, and offer hours of telephone

advice to your family.

Equally important, Dave’s around if you need to talk. The path of

early sobriety is often confusing, and it helps to sort it out with

someone who’s been there. “I consider myself a professional

listener,” he says. “Listening is a lost art.”

Tall, silver-haired and laid back, Dave often has his nights

interrupted by frantic loved ones of drunks and addicts calling

across the time zones. “I often feel like a doctor on call,” he

admits. “I catch up on my sleep by napping. It’s not a big deal to

me; I’ve done it for years.”

When you enter Dave’s backyard, you see signs of an artist in

residence. A hot tub sits bubbling, surrounded by sculptures and

hanging plants. There’s a telescope in one corner, and a small

spotted terrier patrols the perimeter. Inside, the kitchen walls are

painted in a bold blue, while the bathroom is purple. Dave studied

art on the East Coast, and can draw anything he sees. Sometimes an

easel holds a portrait in progress, and there is South American art

on the walls. The overall effect is soothing, yet interesting, not

unlike Dave himself.

On one wall, an old photo from the seventies shows Dave with

shoulder-length unkempt hair and the puffy face and eyes of the

classic alcoholic. Once shy high school football player, Dave’s life

changed when he was offered a bottle of beer at a school dance. He

got an immediate rush, introversion evaporated, and soon he was out

dancing with girls who had never before noticed him. That beer was

the beginning of decades of drug and alcohol abuse.

“There’s a house at the end of the block where you don’t want to

go,” says Dave, remembering. “That house is bad news, and that’s the

house I lived in at the end of my drinking and using.”

In the local recovery community, Dave Riggle’s name is revered.

Old timers and newcomers alike respect him. One man detoxing from

speed told me, “I don’t like to see that disappointed look in his eye

if I mess up.” Dave spends much of his day and night helping those

who seek him out. He takes guys to look for work and sits with them

in court appearances. He offers them tough love , infinite patience

and irreverent humor. When they relapse, he is there to help them

clean up again.

He is a true friend and will not disappear during the horrible

times. One of his friends recently was forced to put two pets in a

row to sleep, and Dave accompanied her both times. He walks the walk.

“My mission is to do exactly what I’m doing,” he says. “I lead a

simple life helping other men get sober.”

When I comment that a few hundred years ago he could have been a

tribal shaman, he agrees, but without arrogance. “I could never have

imagined it, but, yes, I probably am that guy.”

Dave lives a “pretty full life” and shows his tenants how to have

fun in sobriety. He is vice chairman of the Orange County Sober

Living Coalition, and is a strong supporter of the National Chemical

and Drug Dependence organization. He also has been pivotal in the

revival of the Costa Mesa Alano Club, a sober gathering spot for

alcoholics and addicts. His son, Matt, is a former NHHS varsity

football player and currently is one of the coaches for this year’s

standout freshman team.

He’s got to leave to take a friend to the airport, but I throw him

one last question, “Why do you think you got sober when you did?”

“I don’t take credit for that,” he said, “I had nothing to do with

it. God did it for me.” He grabs the little dog and heads out to help

another friend.

Note: If you or a loved one is having problems with addiction, the

Orange County Coalition Hotline number is (800) 799-2984.

* EDITOR’S NOTE: Sue Clark is a Newport Beach resident.