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Johnd's story

R2-45 said:
Heh. Did you notice the "Ku Klux Klam" cartoon directly opposite (on the right) of the advert below the one for the protein?
Click to expand...

Lol! :hysterical:

2012-08-02_0540.png


Picture in Sarasota Herald-Tribune
 
The response to the last part of my story was so underwhelming (no responses of any kind!) that I’m reluctant to post more of it. I will though, because I’m finding it cathartic.
Click to expand...

For sure---John, please continue!
We all are enjoying your story...and it IS cathartic
to communicate your experiences, imnsho. Each time I'd hit
"Send" ...for years....it felt like more **shit** flew off
with it.

I've had a long standing "policy" if you will that IF I write
something, I just hit "Send". The reason is I found SO often
IF I thought about s/t too long, I'd talk myself out of ever
posting it. Either it wasn't good enough, or :blah::blah::blah:

This way--it's Said. Granted mine could have been better written
had I taken more time, :typing: but back in 2000 when I was writing
a ton....I was pounding stuff out I felt people needed to know,
and/or my experiences. :omg:

For years it was on ToryMagoo44.org
which thankfully Fredrick Rice created and kept up. A few years ago
he stopped.
I *think* Mark Bunker is still helping keep that up, but it's not as
easy as "the old days".

If anyone has any time to help me re a Web site on that, I'd greatly
appreciate it. Sorry---just thought I'd add that.

Hope you continue, soon, John!~ Your story is not only *great*...I know
you know TONS of things that will help people better understand Scientology, (no pressure :unsure: )
and why *not* to join it or join the Sea Org. :yes:

My best :cheers:

Tory/Magoo
 
Welcome Johnd!

:welcome2:

I thought the following from your post was quite a gem:

"I began to think correctly, consistently, confidently and within a framework of basic Scientology ideas. It was easy. It took a lot less energy than real thinking."

Shame on us all for this! Glad you're writing your story. Keep at it!
 
Wow I totally forgot about the sharing of wins at the end of course time and the hip hip hoorays, thanks for reminding me about that John. I think that actually is a huge part of why I stuck around in the Sea Org or got into Scientology at all. If everyone else is having all these gains then it must be true right? Your comment about how unreliable testimony is nails it! Learning that is a huge life lesson!
 
Looking forward to the next part, John!

:waiting:

J/King :)

Happy Friday~! Tory/Magoo
 
Last edited:
Johnd said:
OK OK. Give me a day or two. Thanks for the encouragement.

john
Click to expand...

Please keep in mind this isn't an inquiry.
We aren't going to hold you to it if you have someone's name
or date messed up. Well....*someone* may,but hey---you can
please some of the people some of the time....:)

Remember, so far, ALL here would like to hear MOAR. :clap:

Congratulations, also, on taking the time to do this. :yes:

:rose:

TLC
 
Re: Johnd's story part 2

Johnd said:
Johnd’s story part 2

Why didn’t I think?

And why, if I was FEELING A DISLIKE FOR A MAJOR PART OF THE MATERIALS (the ‘control’ stuff), was I continuing on with it. What was happening? I’ll try to give you my best current opinions.

1. Foremost, in my opinion was the fact that I simply had not developed either the skill or the habit of posing skeptical, penetrating questions and requiring plenty of proof. Had I done either of these things I’d have exposed myself as ‘open minded’ and been shown the door. (And saved many wasted years.)

2. I think we all suffer from instinctive mental laziness. Thinking requires a lot of energy. Often it’s easier and better to just look at what others are doing or saying and do or believe that, rather than try to reinvent the wheel. Sometimes though it’s a very bad approach.


3. Things repeated over and over can somehow acquire the sensation of certainty if you aren’t in the habit of challenging ideas. In Scientology basic assumptions are repeated over and over and over. . .

4. In the cult one is always following exactly some prescribed step by step course of action. You go around the org on a ‘routing form’ whenever you start or finish some service. Courses are done according to a sequential check sheet. Drills are done exactly as given in written materials. Checks for understanding of materials are done in prescribed ways. Auditing is done precisely according to Hubbard’s writings. You’re always following prescribed steps. I think that unconsciously I developed the HABIT of obedience.

5. Our brains have a mad capacity to come up with justifications for mistakes, misdeeds, and stupid blunders. Like, ‘Scientology needs to ban free discussion of LRH materials because they are from source.’ Or, ‘The execs have to scream at staff because that’s the right tone level.’ Or, ‘Ron just didn’t know what was going on.’ Or, ‘It works; I just need the next level.’

6. I experienced periods of euphoria, insight and clarity. It didn’t occur to me that I had experienced comparable moments before scientology without attributing them to any particular person. The constant social pressure to attribute everything positive that happened to Hubbard somehow got the best of me.

7. Wins were celebrated constantly. Discussing your ‘case’ and the fact that it was no better was banned. I was thrilled at hearing some of the wins.

8. I found society in the Cult. I needed it at that time. I had a group I could be a part of and contribute to.

9. I may have been mentally weakened by ‘trance.’ Scientology does induce trance in a number of ways. But I think the mental laziness and naivety were already there. No hypnosis necessary.

10. Naivety. I didn’t then know that certain approaches could induce compliance in thought and behavior without my being aware of it. Everything seemed like ‘choice’ and ‘moral judgment.’ It didn’t occur to me that someone could produce ream after ream of technical materials that were basically part of a pathetic and vast self-delusional fiction. I didn’t know anything about human social behavior, cults, psychopathic personalities, narcissistic personalities.

11. Scn gave me something to focus on. I needed that at the time.


I didn’t understand really how much energy can go into deceitfulness, how impassioned, perpetual and convoluted it can be.

I didn’t realize how unreliable and misleading testimonial evidence is.

I didn’t understand that delusion can be as euphoric as real insight and can feel just like understanding gained from experience and observation.
Click to expand...

This is great stuff Johnd. Thank you for writing it!
 
One of the things I came to realize was what some have called 'love bombing' but what in the co$ was called validation " the more you toe the line the better we like you !

I had often said - even back in the day - that at a graduation I could have gotten up sang ( I can't carry a tune in a washtub & am tone deaf ) and would have received a standing ovation ! It didn't matter WHAT one did they were going to be really VALIDATED.

Now out in real life, all I ever got VALIDATED was a parking ticket.
HTF does a PERSON get VALIDATED ? Duh, not only was in a crazy sci fi based cult I got as insane as they were.
 
Johnd's story part 3

Johnd’s story part 3

Late summer, 1970
Driving down the 101 from San Francisco to L.A. I’ve joined the Sea Org and I’m headed to Celebrity Centre in Hollywood with another recruit, Julianne. We drive through the hills in Agoura and the hills are dead-brown after the summer drought and this somehow imparts a sense of foreboding. A maybe-we should-turn-around feeling. I say something about it and this seems to upset Julianne. I shut up. I’ll see how it goes.

An odd thing: I can’t remember anything about the recruitment that must have preceded the car trip. Nothing. No feelings, no recruiter, no snatch of scenery, no happy, beckoning staff, no sounds, nothing. Where there should be something there is empty space. Was I drugged? Hypnotized? I doubt it. Is it hard to remember because it was one of those times when I did something really stupid and embarrassingly weak? More like that I think. But there was some great mission I felt I was on.

What was so compelling and what exactly did scientology and Hubbard promise to do?

Theta and the Thetans--I am redefined, not reborn yet, but reconceived in the scientology womb (What a f^%$ed up mataphor.)

Let me give my understanding from then. Note: my understanding was not necessarily ‘correct,’ not necessarily in keeping with whatever Hubbard intended—it was my understanding. ‘Theta’ (math like use of the Greek letter) was a word that meant life force or ‘thetans’ collectively. Thetan (rhymes with satan) was Hubbard’s designation for the basic being. The one who was aware, conscious, feeling, yearning, sensing and being sensed. You or me. You and I were not really physical although we operated through physical bodies. A thetan was a source of creation, could actually create matter, energy, space and time, at least to some degree. A thetan could, I thought, create feelings and sensations and inconceivable new things—within limits, as there were many thetans, and in addition to being creative, a thetan would be appreciative (I thought). And a thetan was not god, and so wasn’t all powerful, but the limitations were far beyond my current abilities. A thetan, I thought, would be beyond suffering, an independent thinker, would be benevolent, loving, devoid of cruelty, could create and appreciate inconceivable new things and concepts and feelings.

Of course we (us thetans) could potentially exist free of any biological body and view things galactic and submicroscopic, move objects, see through things, and travel at will to anywhere and beyond. This part seemed unrealistic to me, but whatever. I loved the rest.

‘Thetan’ was the new inner me—the who I wanted to be and perhaps would become if I could get rid of my neurotic, aberrated, reactive shell. Thetans were the unique and wondrous new individuals I would help to climb out of the evil mazes of their ‘banks.’ It was a compelling dream and maybe it was true. The new ‘me,’ and the new ‘you.’

And I thanked Hubbard and scientology for the new ‘basic’ but not yet real me. It was better than being an ill-defined ‘ego’ or a bundle of chemical reactions as I wrongly understood to be the “scientific’ consensus. Better than being a born sinner or a member of a peculiar supernatural being’s flock of helpless morons. (Sorry religious people. I don’t mean to mischaracterize you. This was just how mainstream, authoritarian monotheism seemed to me then and still does. I know there are lots of different kinds of religious people and I admire many.)

Scientology was not just about addressing and ‘working on’ the faults in our nature. It was about actually erasing the causes of those faults and freeing the good and beautiful being inside, the thetan. Or so I understood it.

The ‘theta’ dream had a gorgeous, shimmering companion: The Bridge to total freedom. Over and over again the message was repeated—the tech worked. The path was marked and only needed to be followed. What if it was true? Or even mostly true?

In retrospect, I suspended disbelief and forgot to revive it. Somehow I went into a Peter Pan movie and the movie didn’t end and I forgot to get up and leave. Instead I became a protagonist.

Had I valued and used thinking skills more I could have said or at least thought:

I see no evidence whatsoever that you have discovered the basic self or even a model of self that works. You just keep saying that you have.

Close up, I don’t see any OTs or clears, just people like me. Why should I assume that somewhere they exist, or that scientology has the profound workability claimed? I have no evidence other than the constantly repeated assertion and the choruses of ‘amen.’

Take away all the cheering, the testimony, the repeated assertion, the comfort of belonging and all I have from scn was a few moments of clarity, insight and pleasant trance. I had those before scientology. I was capable of having those without scn.

My delight in the ideas about thetans and the bridge didn’t make them real any more than my fascination with Gulliver’s Travels made it real.

I don’t see any real science in the modern science of mental health or in scientology. Where were the case histories, the studies, the cures?

And if scientology could produce real clears, and even ‘operating thetans’ why on earth did they want me to join the sea org? I was barely above the status of ‘wog’ (infidel).

But while these thoughts began, I couldn’t complete them. My ability to think was just too weak--too unpracticed and naive. I was adrift without power. Honestly, I was overwhelmed by the power of the group and its precious fantasies, by the inundation of tech and research and anecdotes about OT and past lives and Hubbard’s exploits and by the constant control, control, control that permeates scientology. Somehow scientology had become my tribe, my people, my matrix, my culture, my dialect, my thetans, and Hubbard my monarch. And so I had duties, could be called to arms.

In this condition I was easy prey to a practiced recruiter. I signed up, or part of me did. Part of me felt obligated to help in the glorious crusade to restore thetans to thetanhood. Part of me thought, ‘I can always back out of this.’ Part of me thought, ‘Am I f@#$ing nuts?’ Part of me thought, ‘Wonder what the women are like down there.’ I had brought enough money to be able to bail if I couldn’t stand it. We’re slippery, complicated, inconsistent creatures.

Next: I waver, find strength, and waver and find strength, etc., etc.
 
Johnd's story part 4

My buyer’s remorse died down as Julianne and I approached Celebrity Centre. But not the feeling that LA was a huge, hot, smoggy, dried out dump compared to San Francisco. (Sorry Angelenos. It’s just me. I like clouds and rain.)

Finally we arrived at CCLA, 1809 West 8th street, in a then pretty low income section of LA. It was a medium size commercial building, not as big as a supermarket, but spacious, with parking in front, bare floors as I recall, mostly open unenclosed space, course areas left and right, a small stage, receptionist desk. Not very busy, but I think it was Sunday night.

We were met by some staff and went separately to our berthings. I remember mine was basic and it was a shared room. I had a nearly violent aversion to sharing rooms with other guys, so the sharing was short lived. I found my own space somewhere in the cavernous staff house on Beacon street. I always managed to find some kind of private berthing then, some nook where I could create a modest bedroom. Once I lived in the attic above a garage. We were much less regimented at cc than in the Apollo or other sea org facilities, I think partly because of our peculiar mission (get artists into scientology) and partly because Yvonne Gillham, the CO of ccla believed in allowing staff more leeway than Hubbard did

Yvonne

I met Yvonne the next day. Then Yvonne Gillham, the Commanding Officer and founder of Celebrity Centre. She was a pretty blonde woman, Australian, late 30s. Lots of people have written about Yvonne and I don’t think I can do better that they, many of whom knew her better than I did, but if you can endure a somewhat different perspective, here goes.

To me she came across in many ways at the same time. She was a chorus of things: a genius of different smiles, of vocal intonations, of gestures and laughs, of affectionate greetings, of cheerful banter. There was this I’m-very-sure-of-myself firmness about her that was not intimidating. There was a ‘rush’ about her, yet she had moments for you, and she seemed to be rushing around not in a frantic sense but in an affectionate, caring sense. There was an optimism about her. She had an aura of power, but not watch-your-step power. It was a glad-you’re-with-me power. She actually seemed to glow and a number of people mentioned this—I think it was her brilliant chorus of mannerisms though, the affection, the optimism, the power without threat, but maybe she did glow a little. I felt she could see into me and discern my motives, which didn’t bother me. I think of the colors blue, green, white and yellow when I think of her—as I recall she often wore these—spring colors. Oddly, the same colors flashed in my head when I heard she had died in 1978. (People at CCLA generally didn’t wear S.O. uniforms—I never wore one in my entire career in the S.O.) There was more, but later.

So I met Yvonne and I was fascinated, bowled over. Maybe this was a real OT! And she wanted me to glue carpet scraps to the floor.

Right. The floor as I recall was bare concrete, or at least partly bare. Yvonne thought it needed covering and that it would be creative and unfettered and in keeping with our mission of attracting creative people to make an abstract mosaic of colored carpet scraps instead of getting a dull, conventional carpet. (Obviously it was also cheap.) Seemed like a great idea to me.

I remember doing this alone, near the entrance of the building on 8th street. This has to be a false or fragmentary memory as others must have been involved, but there I was with the glue and the carpet scraps, sticking bits on the floor. This seemed to go on for a few days, and I must have inhaled a good volume of fumes. I didn’t mind at all though. I was happy with the result too. It looked great. Later though I came to realize why it’s not such a good idea to glue carpet directly to the floor with no padding and then have hundreds of people walk on it. The mosaic eventually got hopelessly ratty and was replaced by a conventional carpet with backing.


These very early days are honestly a bit hazy and fragmented, so I’ll just give the fragments that seem clearest. Some time after the carpet mosaic, I find myself posted in HCO. I think I was an ‘expeditor,’ (a gofor being trained in staff basics.) I may have been being groomed for some higher exec post, but who cares. I remember that one my duties was to type up the ‘Orders of the Day’ (OODs) which were then mimeo’d and distributed. This was a daily sheet with orders and comments from Yvonne, quotes from Hubbard, pertinent news, orders, etc. Trouble was I couldn’t type. I had taken typing in High School, but I was inattentive and received a courtesy pass—nobody flunked typing. Sea Org members though are expected to be able to draw on past life experiences and so be able to do anything. I got the idea that I really had the ability somewhere in my theta being to touch type. I typed up about half of the sheet from notes without looking at the page in the typewriter. Then I glanced at it and saw that it was gibberish. Like: ‘,y4 ha0 4856 ojfete oj the dze,’ I went into uncontrollable laughter.

Anyway I very slowly and painfully did the OODs for a few weeks among other chores.

But I was wavering again. Life was getting pathetic. I was doing stuff that anyone could do. I was having plenty of ‘what the f*^& am I doing here’ moments. I took my doubts to Sam Loria.

Sam was then a kind person, high on the ‘grade chart.’ Right then he was either acting as Ethics Officer or actually posted as such. I know a bit later he was the Qual Sec and then transferred to AOLA. I told him I wasn’t sure what I was doing here and was thinking of leaving. I was having some doubts about scientology too—not that the tech was wrong but that maybe it wasn’t for me. Sam said we all have doubts at times but have to get through them. He didn’t have me do the ‘standard’ handling—the ‘doubt formula’ followed days of abject propitiation. Just, ‘Doubt is normal. The tech works. Just get through it.’

I went back to expediting, somewhat depressed but feeling a bit better.

I did some work in mimeo with Mike, another beginning sea org member. I remember the mimeo stencils and the red and green ink. Obviously someone else did the typing as I couldn’t be trusted with a typewriter. HCOBs and policy letters needed to be issued. Course packs needed to be compiled. It was grueling work and Mike and I used to goof around a lot.

Once a week the staff were allowed to attend ‘poetry by Candlelight,’ a variety show that took place at CCLA. A stage had been built to the left of the main entrance. On show nights, the floor would be rearranged into a cabaret/theatre setting. I had nothing whatsoever to do with the booking or production of the events, but someone must have worked hard at it. I don’t recall a lot of poetry. The show mostly featured little known but promising young talent. There were rock bands, tribute rock bands, individual instrumentalists, vocalists, comedians and comedy ensembles, jazz musicians and vocalists.

There was a long list of performers, but some stand out in my mind. Don Baaska was a delightful and accomplished jazz pianist. He performed (and recorded) with a very good singer, Valli Scavelli. Both were on staff at CCLA. Baaska became Senior C/S in approximately ’73. I later got to know him pretty well when I was Chief Cramming officer. He was a warm, charming person with a good sense of humor. (You can find some of Baaska’s and Scavelli’s work on YouTube. Apparently he revived his career.)

There was a comedy ensemble called the ‘Keyout players.’ They were still uneven in terms of being funny, but their showmanship was great. Hope they all went on to better and less limiting venues.

Frank Dunn I think was a lanky rock vocalist. Not sure what became of him.

Then there were ‘Solari and Carr.’ They had achieved some fame, been on TV, etc. I didn’t ‘get’ their humor personally, but they were very popular. Both became long term Scientologists unfortunately. Carr was associated with Narconon...

Mike Mallen was a talented guitarist. He often played solo and I think sometimes with the excellent vocalist Steven Ambrose. He was on staff and in the SO for a while. Hope he escaped.

Elli Fordyce was a strong vocalist. Don’t know what happened to her. Recall her doing a powerful ‘On a Clear Day.’

Al Ribisi was a good musician/showman who had been part of the one-hit rock band ‘People.” They reunited and played one evening at CC. Al was Dissem. Sec. and a long term scientologist.

Lou Shapiro was a jazz sax player who worked in the staff kitchen!

Sam Loria, mentioned earlier was a good percussionist. He had a band. I recall them doing a Sly and the Family Stone cover. The cover was not memorable, but Sam’s drums were.

Chris Many, who eventually became the CO of CCLA, was an excellent pianist/composer.

There were some aspiring and promising songwriters. Serious, dedicated artists.

Steve Ambrose was a singer with a clear, ringing, perfect pitch tenor, also became a long term scientologist.

Val Garcia was a rock/blues vocalist. He eventually became CO of CC and may still be in the SO.

There were many more and very few of them were people you’d scoff at. Generally they were serious talents with real potential.

One of the stand outs for me was actually Heber Jentzsch who married Yvonne and later went into the Guardian’s Office. He had a beautiful great baritone—a Broadway musical type voice. He did the ‘Impossible Dream’ and ‘I Don Quixote’ from the musical ‘Man of La Mancha’ among others. He later became infamous as ‘President’ and official spin master for scn and famously wound up in the ‘hole,’ Miscavige’s gulag for scapegoats who have failed to advance planetary clearing. The truth about Heber in those days? He was actually a friendly guy, an affectionate extrovert with a great sense of humor, and as I’ve implied a very talented artist. But he had this quality of overriding loyalty. I think of the later ‘spokesperson’ Heber as not him but as a slave bound by misplaced loyalty.

Another standout was Yvonne herself. I recall her appearing in spacey blue gowns, glowing affection. She read Hubbard’s ‘Factors’ to a rapt crowd. Anyone who can recite the factors and not put people to sleep, or send them sneaking to the exits has very serious gifts. (The ‘Factors’ are one of Hubbard’s creation myths--a list of vague ‘reasons’ for what we experience as reality. Example: “Before the beginning was a Cause and the entire purpose of the Cause was the creation of effect.” Translation: “I’m just making up divine sounding s*^% so that you’ll imagine that through me you’ll find knowledge without having to experience the considerable discomfort and uncertainty of thinking for yourself.”) She had great gifts and abilities, but she too had that quality of overriding loyalty.

So did I. An ‘exclusive’ loyalty, really to one person and his work—in my case an imaginary person, as I’d never met Hubbard. This perverse loyalty ultimately trumped reason and compassion—and honesty. Loyalty from somewhere deep down in the brain that you couldn’t control even after you started thinking it might be misplaced. You just couldn’t cross certain lines. Hubbard was king and you were a knight sworn to loyalty—honor bound. Except that the king was just a babbling spiritual sadist with a need for adoring slaves.

I think of so many people from those days who were caught and warped by Scientology. Yvonne and Heber especially in my mind. One can’t really know such things, but I think their lives could have been different and I’m pretty sure better had they taken different paths. And the others. The luckier ones stayed out on the edges and continued their careers. Many others got out right away. Some eventually got out of the SO and prospered or partly recovered despite being side-tracked. But many gifted people wound up in the Sea Org long term, their careers and possibilities gone, their quest for artistic expression dead-ended. How many gifts were thrown away in the Sea Org? Don’t know.

I can’t write anymore for a while. Didn’t realize how sad this was.

(How did the cult form around Hubbard? How was he able to invoke deep loyalty to himself to the detriment of loyalty to deserving others? Devotion to the point of self-injury? I don’t know, but it was and is a powerful and scary phenomenon—not limited to scn or even to cults. I’ll take a few pokes at it later.)

John
 
Nice! Real nice!

Thank you so much for so superbly sharing this with us Johnd. Wow!

I love this…

In retrospect, I suspended disbelief and forgot to revive it. Somehow I went into a Peter Pan movie and the movie didn’t end and I forgot to get up and leave. Instead I became a protagonist.
Click to expand...

So true. So beautifully written.

And this, I may just steal and use and not tell you (kidding).

Except that the king was just a babbling spiritual sadist with a need for adoring slaves.
Click to expand...

Thank you so very much! :)
 
Re: Johnd's story part 4

Johnd said:
My buyer’s remorse died down as Julianne and I approached Celebrity Centre. But not the feeling that LA was a huge, hot, smoggy, dried out dump compared to San Francisco. (Sorry Angelenos. It’s just me. I like clouds and rain.)

Finally we arrived at CCLA, 1809 West 8th street, in a then pretty low income section of LA. It was a medium size commercial building, not as big as a supermarket, but spacious, with parking in front, bare floors as I recall, mostly open unenclosed space, course areas left and right, a small stage, receptionist desk. Not very busy, but I think it was Sunday night.

We were met by some staff and went separately to our berthings. I remember mine was basic and it was a shared room. I had a nearly violent aversion to sharing rooms with other guys, so the sharing was short lived. I found my own space somewhere in the cavernous staff house on Beacon street. I always managed to find some kind of private berthing then, some nook where I could create a modest bedroom. Once I lived in the attic above a garage. We were much less regimented at cc than in the Apollo or other sea org facilities, I think partly because of our peculiar mission (get artists into scientology) and partly because Yvonne Gillham, the CO of ccla believed in allowing staff more leeway than Hubbard did

Yvonne

I met Yvonne the next day. Then Yvonne Gillham, the Commanding Officer and founder of Celebrity Centre. She was a pretty blonde woman, Australian, late 30s. Lots of people have written about Yvonne and I don’t think I can do better that they, many of whom knew her better than I did, but if you can endure a somewhat different perspective, here goes.

To me she came across in many ways at the same time. She was a chorus of things: a genius of different smiles, of vocal intonations, of gestures and laughs, of affectionate greetings, of cheerful banter. There was this I’m-very-sure-of-myself firmness about her that was not intimidating. There was a ‘rush’ about her, yet she had moments for you, and she seemed to be rushing around not in a frantic sense but in an affectionate, caring sense. There was an optimism about her. She had an aura of power, but not watch-your-step power. It was a glad-you’re-with-me power. She actually seemed to glow and a number of people mentioned this—I think it was her brilliant chorus of mannerisms though, the affection, the optimism, the power without threat, but maybe she did glow a little. I felt she could see into me and discern my motives, which didn’t bother me. I think of the colors blue, green, white and yellow when I think of her—as I recall she often wore these—spring colors. Oddly, the same colors flashed in my head when I heard she had died in 1978. (People at CCLA generally didn’t wear S.O. uniforms—I never wore one in my entire career in the S.O.) There was more, but later.

So I met Yvonne and I was fascinated, bowled over. Maybe this was a real OT! And she wanted me to glue carpet scraps to the floor.

Right. The floor as I recall was bare concrete, or at least partly bare. Yvonne thought it needed covering and that it would be creative and unfettered and in keeping with our mission of attracting creative people to make an abstract mosaic of colored carpet scraps instead of getting a dull, conventional carpet. (Obviously it was also cheap.) Seemed like a great idea to me.

I remember doing this alone, near the entrance of the building on 8th street. This has to be a false or fragmentary memory as others must have been involved, but there I was with the glue and the carpet scraps, sticking bits on the floor. This seemed to go on for a few days, and I must have inhaled a good volume of fumes. I didn’t mind at all though. I was happy with the result too. It looked great. Later though I came to realize why it’s not such a good idea to glue carpet directly to the floor with no padding and then have hundreds of people walk on it. The mosaic eventually got hopelessly ratty and was replaced by a conventional carpet with backing.


These very early days are honestly a bit hazy and fragmented, so I’ll just give the fragments that seem clearest. Some time after the carpet mosaic, I find myself posted in HCO. I think I was an ‘expeditor,’ (a gofor being trained in staff basics.) I may have been being groomed for some higher exec post, but who cares. I remember that one my duties was to type up the ‘Orders of the Day’ (OODs) which were then mimeo’d and distributed. This was a daily sheet with orders and comments from Yvonne, quotes from Hubbard, pertinent news, orders, etc. Trouble was I couldn’t type. I had taken typing in High School, but I was inattentive and received a courtesy pass—nobody flunked typing. Sea Org members though are expected to be able to draw on past life experiences and so be able to do anything. I got the idea that I really had the ability somewhere in my theta being to touch type. I typed up about half of the sheet from notes without looking at the page in the typewriter. Then I glanced at it and saw that it was gibberish. Like: ‘,y4 ha0 4856 ojfete oj the dze,’ I went into uncontrollable laughter.

Anyway I very slowly and painfully did the OODs for a few weeks among other chores.

But I was wavering again. Life was getting pathetic. I was doing stuff that anyone could do. I was having plenty of ‘what the f*^& am I doing here’ moments. I took my doubts to Sam Loria.

Sam was then a kind person, high on the ‘grade chart.’ Right then he was either acting as Ethics Officer or actually posted as such. I know a bit later he was the Qual Sec and then transferred to AOLA. I told him I wasn’t sure what I was doing here and was thinking of leaving. I was having some doubts about scientology too—not that the tech was wrong but that maybe it wasn’t for me. Sam said we all have doubts at times but have to get through them. He didn’t have me do the ‘standard’ handling—the ‘doubt formula’ followed days of abject propitiation. Just, ‘Doubt is normal. The tech works. Just get through it.’

I went back to expediting, somewhat depressed but feeling a bit better.

I did some work in mimeo with Mike, another beginning sea org member. I remember the mimeo stencils and the red and green ink. Obviously someone else did the typing as I couldn’t be trusted with a typewriter. HCOBs and policy letters needed to be issued. Course packs needed to be compiled. It was grueling work and Mike and I used to goof around a lot.

Once a week the staff were allowed to attend ‘poetry by Candlelight,’ a variety show that took place at CCLA. A stage had been built to the left of the main entrance. On show nights, the floor would be rearranged into a cabaret/theatre setting. I had nothing whatsoever to do with the booking or production of the events, but someone must have worked hard at it. I don’t recall a lot of poetry. The show mostly featured little known but promising young talent. There were rock bands, tribute rock bands, individual instrumentalists, vocalists, comedians and comedy ensembles, jazz musicians and vocalists.

There was a long list of performers, but some stand out in my mind. Don Baaska was a delightful and accomplished jazz pianist. He performed (and recorded) with a very good singer, Valli Scavelli. Both were on staff at CCLA. Baaska became Senior C/S in approximately ’73. I later got to know him pretty well when I was Chief Cramming officer. He was a warm, charming person with a good sense of humor. (You can find some of Baaska’s and Scavelli’s work on YouTube. Apparently he revived his career.)

There was a comedy ensemble called the ‘Keyout players.’ They were still uneven in terms of being funny, but their showmanship was great. Hope they all went on to better and less limiting venues.

Frank Dunn I think was a lanky rock vocalist. Not sure what became of him.

Then there were ‘Solari and Carr.’ They had achieved some fame, been on TV, etc. I didn’t ‘get’ their humor personally, but they were very popular. Both became long term Scientologists unfortunately. Carr was associated with Narconon...

Mike Mallen was a talented guitarist. He often played solo and I think sometimes with the excellent vocalist Steven Ambrose. He was on staff and in the SO for a while. Hope he escaped.

Elli Fordyce was a strong vocalist. Don’t know what happened to her. Recall her doing a powerful ‘On a Clear Day.’

Al Ribisi was a good musician/showman who had been part of the one-hit rock band ‘People.” They reunited and played one evening at CC. Al was Dissem. Sec. and a long term scientologist.

Lou Shapiro was a jazz sax player who worked in the staff kitchen!

Sam Loria, mentioned earlier was a good percussionist. He had a band. I recall them doing a Sly and the Family Stone cover. The cover was not memorable, but Sam’s drums were.

Chris Many, who eventually became the CO of CCLA, was an excellent pianist/composer.

There were some aspiring and promising songwriters. Serious, dedicated artists.

Steve Ambrose was a singer with a clear, ringing, perfect pitch tenor, also became a long term scientologist.

Val Garcia was a rock/blues vocalist. He eventually became CO of CC and may still be in the SO.

There were many more and very few of them were people you’d scoff at. Generally they were serious talents with real potential.

One of the stand outs for me was actually Heber Jentzsch who married Yvonne and later went into the Guardian’s Office. He had a beautiful great baritone—a Broadway musical type voice. He did the ‘Impossible Dream’ and ‘I Don Quixote’ from the musical ‘Man of La Mancha’ among others. He later became infamous as ‘President’ and official spin master for scn and famously wound up in the ‘hole,’ Miscavige’s gulag for scapegoats who have failed to advance planetary clearing. The truth about Heber in those days? He was actually a friendly guy, an affectionate extrovert with a great sense of humor, and as I’ve implied a very talented artist. But he had this quality of overriding loyalty. I think of the later ‘spokesperson’ Heber as not him but as a slave bound by misplaced loyalty.

Another standout was Yvonne herself. I recall her appearing in spacey blue gowns, glowing affection. She read Hubbard’s ‘Factors’ to a rapt crowd. Anyone who can recite the factors and not put people to sleep, or send them sneaking to the exits has very serious gifts. (The ‘Factors’ are one of Hubbard’s creation myths--a list of vague ‘reasons’ for what we experience as reality. Example: “Before the beginning was a Cause and the entire purpose of the Cause was the creation of effect.” Translation: “I’m just making up divine sounding s*^% so that you’ll imagine that through me you’ll find knowledge without having to experience the considerable discomfort and uncertainty of thinking for yourself.”) She had great gifts and abilities, but she too had that quality of overriding loyalty.

So did I. An ‘exclusive’ loyalty, really to one person and his work—in my case an imaginary person, as I’d never met Hubbard. This perverse loyalty ultimately trumped reason and compassion—and honesty. Loyalty from somewhere deep down in the brain that you couldn’t control even after you started thinking it might be misplaced. You just couldn’t cross certain lines. Hubbard was king and you were a knight sworn to loyalty—honor bound. Except that the king was just a babbling spiritual sadist with a need for adoring slaves.

I think of so many people from those days who were caught and warped by Scientology. Yvonne and Heber especially in my mind. One can’t really know such things, but I think their lives could have been different and I’m pretty sure better had they taken different paths. And the others. The luckier ones stayed out on the edges and continued their careers. Many others got out right away. Some eventually got out of the SO and prospered or partly recovered despite being side-tracked. But many gifted people wound up in the Sea Org long term, their careers and possibilities gone, their quest for artistic expression dead-ended. How many gifts were thrown away in the Sea Org? Don’t know.

I can’t write anymore for a while. Didn’t realize how sad this was.

(How did the cult form around Hubbard? How was he able to invoke deep loyalty to himself to the detriment of loyalty to deserving others? Devotion to the point of self-injury? I don’t know, but it was and is a powerful and scary phenomenon—not limited to scn or even to cults. I’ll take a few pokes at it later.)

John
Click to expand...
Wow ! just WOW !
 
Re: Johnd's story part 4

Auditor's Toad said:
Wow ! just WOW !
Click to expand...

Ditto!!!

John....This is terrific stuff. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences with us. Please keep writing more when you can bring yourself to do so. It's much appreciated.

I remember the patchwork of carpet samples at CC on 8th St. I thought they were pretty cool.....gave the place character. :)
 
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