Hubbard's persistent reiteration that Scientology was beset by dark forces, seeking to destroy anything that helped mankind, fostered a siege mentality among the crew of the Apollo and provided spurious justification for the harsh conditions on board. Throughout the Sea Org, the need for dedication, vigilance and sacrifice was constantly stressed and it generated fierce loyalty which was blind to logic or literal truth. The 'shore story', which everyone knew was a pack of lies, was a regrettable necessity if the world was to be saved by Scientology.
It was also a regrettable necessity to prevent anyone from 'blowing the org'. Although all the passports were locked in a safe, attempts to jump ship were not unknown. Whenever it happened, Sea Org personnel were rushed ashore to stake out the relevant local consulate, where the fugitive was likely to try and obtain a new passport. If they were too late, a 'dead agent caper' was activated. The runaway was accused of being a thief or a trouble-maker in order to discredit whatever story he was telling in the Consulate; in the parlance of wartime spies, he would be neutralized and considered a 'dead agent'.
There was also a considerable disparity between the way the Hubbards lived on the ship and the conditions endured by everyone else. Most of the crew lived in cramped, smelly, roach-infested dormitories fitted with bunks in three tiers that left little room for personal possessions. Hubbard and Mary Sue each had their own state-rooms in addition to a suite on the promenade deck comprising an auditing-room, office, an elegant saloon and a wood-panelled dining-room, all off-limits to students and crew. Hubbard had a personal steward, as did Mary Sue and the Hubbard children, who all had their own cabins. Meals for the Commodore and his family were cooked in a separate galley by their personal chef, using ingredients brought by couriers from the United States.
Arthur's special responsibility on board ship was to look after his father's motor-cycles, in particular a huge Harley Davidson that had been given to Hubbard by the Toronto org. One afternoon, the Commodore told Doreen to make sure Arthur had cleaned the Harley Davidson properly by wiping a tissue over the mudguards and petrol tank and bringing it back to show him. She returned with a black smudge on the tissue. Hubbard was incensed. 'You go and assign Arthur liability,' he roared at Doreen, 'he's not doing his duty.'
Doreen was relieved that Arthur didn't seem to be too worried by his father's reaction, or by the need to tie a grey rag round his arm, but it was not the end of the matter. Mary Sue, who was fiercely protective of her children, felt it was Doreen's fault that Arthur had been assigned liability. Later that afternoon, she grabbed her by the arm and starting shaking her. 'You little fiend,' she hissed, sinking her nails into the girl's arm, 'you're destroying my family.'
The messengers were nothing if not loyal to each other. While Doreen was still sobbing, one of them ran to tell the Commodore what had happened. As Doreen got back to her post outside Hubbard's office, she saw Mary Sue going in and heard him roar, 'Close the fucking door!' Through the engraved glass, she could see Mary Sue's silhouette standing to attention in front of the desk while the Commodore ranted. Doreen could not make out everything he said, but she distinctly heard him bellow at the top of his lungs, 'Nobody manhandles my messengers, is that clear?' Mary Sue mumbled her agreement. 'Yes what?' he bellowed. 'Yes sir!' she replied smartly. Outside, the messengers were trying hard not to put their ears to the keyhole, but they heard enough to be thrilled.
A few months later, Diana upset her father in some way. Hubbard reeled off a long reprimand to the messenger on duty, adding at the end of it: 'OK, go and spit in Diana's face.' The messenger was a little dark-eyed girl called Jill Goodman, thirteen years old. She ran along the deck to Diana's office, burst in, spat in her face with unerring accuracy and began shouting her message as Diana let out a scream of fury. Mary Sue, who was in an adjoining office, burst in as her daughter was wiping the spittle from her face. She grabbed Jill round the throat as if she was going to strangle her and also began screeching. Jill started crying and when Mary Sue let her go, she immediately rushed off to tell the Commodore. Another acrimonious husband and wife row followed, which ended with Mary Sue throwing her shoes at the luckless messenger Hubbard despatched to chastise her further.
Towards the end of March, while Roos was still poring over the folders, a messenger arrived at his cabin saying that the Commodore wanted to see all the folders. Roos was dumbfounded: it was an inviolable rule of Scientology that no one, no matter who he was, was allowed to see his own folder. He told the messenger it was out of the question. A few minutes later, the door burst open and two hefty members of the crew barged in, picked up the filing cabinets and staggered out with them.
Two days passed before a messenger told Roos he was wanted by the Commodore. From the moment the Dutchman entered Hubbard's office, it was apparent the Commodore had made a dramatic recovery. Hubbard leapt up from his desk with a roar and struck out at Roos with his fist, following up with a furious kick. He was shouting so wildly that Roos was unable to make out what he was saying apart from that it was something to do with the 'discreditable reads'. Mary Sue was sitting in the office with a long face watching what was going on. When Hubbard had calmed down a little he turned to her and asked her, as his auditor, if he had ever had 'discreditable reads'. Mary Sue's expression did not alter. 'No sir,' she said, 'you never had such reads.'
The ritual of his ablutions, as devised by the messengers, set the tone for Hubbard's increasingly baroque lifestyle. 'At first I was surprised at all the things we had to do,' said Tanya Burden, who had joined the ship in Madeira as a trainee messenger at the age of fourteen. 'But then I thought this man has studied for fifty years to help the world and has done so much for mankind, why should he have to do anything for himself?
When he woke up he would yell "Messenger" and two of us would go into his room straight away. He would usually be lying in his bunk in his underwear with one arm outstretched, waiting for us to pull him up to a sitting position. While one of us put a robe round his shoulders, the other one would give him a cigarette, a Kool non-filter, light it and stand ready with an ashtray. I would run into the bathroom to make sure his toothbrush, soap and razor were all laid out in a set fashion and I prepared his bath, checked the shampoo, towel and the temperature of the water.
'When he went into the bathroom we would lay out his clothes, powder his socks and shoes and fold everything ready to get him dressed. Everything had to be right because if it wasn't he would yell at us and we didn't want to upset him. The last thing we wanted to do was upset him. When he came out of the shower, he would be in his underwear. Two of us held his pants off the floor as he stepped into them. He didn't like his trouser legs to touch the floor, God forbid that should happen. We pulled up his pants and buckled his belt, although he zipped them. We put on his shirt, buttoned it up, put his Kools in his shirt pocket, tied his cravat and combed his hair. All this time he'd be standing there watching us run around him. Then we'd follow him out on to the deck carrying anything he might need - cloak, hat, binoculars, ashtray, spare cigarettes, anything he could possibly think of wanting. We felt it was an honor and a privilege to do anything for him.'
Quentin Hubbard, now twenty, began rehearsing with the dance troupe and enjoyed it so much he made the mistake of telling his father he would like to be a dancer. 'Oh no you wouldn't,' Hubbard replied. 'I have other plans for you.' There was no further discussion and Quentin was no longer allowed to perform. Not long afterwards, he made a feeble attempt at suicide while the ship was docked at Funchal in Madeira.
'He'd gone missing ashore for a while,' said his friend Doreen Smith, 'and while people were out looking for him he just walked back on board. I went to see him in his cabin to make sure he was OK and found him lying on his bunk. He smiled at me and I said, "Hi, how are you feeling?" He said, "Not so good, my stomach's real upset." Then he said, "Doreen, I've done the most awful thing. I've taken a whole lot of pills." I said, "Oh shit. Get out of the bunk and don't go to sleep." I began walking him around the cabin and said, "You know I'm going to have to tell your Dad, don't you?" He nodded and said, "I know. He'll know what to do."'
Doreen ran to the Commodore's cabin and said 'Quentin's taken some pills.' Hubbard did not need it spelled out. He told Doreen to fetch some mustard from the galley and mixed it into a drink which he made Quentin gulp down. The boy vomited repeatedly and was taken to the sick bay to recover. His father sent down a message that as soon Quentin was well enough to leave the sick bay, he was to be assigned to the RPF. Mary Sue, who had a reputation for protecting her children against the excesses of the ship's regime, was powerless to intervene. She was supposed to be responsible for welfare on board - indeed, she had won a special dispensation from the Commodore to allow married couples in the RPF to spend one night together a week - but knew her husband was in a towering rage over Quentin and there was nothing she could do.
'The problem for many people involved in Dianetics was that they accepted every word Hubbard said as literal truth, rather than a framework around which you could do things. I remember at a lecture one night he told people if they did this or that they would no longer need to wear glasses and that they would be able to throw them away forever. He pointed to a big bowl at the bottom of the steps leading up to the rostrum and at the end of the lecture people were throwing their glasses into this bowl. Don Purcell was one of them.
'Hubbard thought it was a great joke. He told me about it afterwards, making a snide remark about Purcell and describing how he took off his glasses, threw them into the bowl and groped his way out of the lecture hall. Hubbard was laughing that people would do something like that just because of what he said. Of course, it didn't work. Like every one else, Purcell had a new pair of glasses in a couple of days.
'One of the things that began to worry me about Ron was that he was unpredictable. He could be very thoughtful and kind one minute and quite hideous the next. We were auditing about 50 hours a week and I remember one afternoon a girl auditor burst into tears when she was telling Ron about a particularly difficult case she had. He put his arm round her and said, "Jenny, anything we can do for this pre-clear is better than doing nothing. She needs help and a bit of attention and that is what you are giving her. Just keep on doing the same thing you're doing and you will resolve it in due course. You can't expect miracles overnight." That struck me as a very humane and comforting thing to say to her. There was no question he had something to contribute in the psychological area. I mean, just to sit down with someone and listen to them for a couple of hours did them good.
'But then I have also seen him behave in a grotesque fashion. One afternoon during a lecture a woman in the audience was coughing rather badly and he walked to the front of the stage, red-faced and visibly angry, and shouted, "Get that woman out of this lecture hall!" She was one of his most fervent supporters and she was also desperately ill - she died three weeks later of lung cancer.'
Anne had been told that both Mary Sue's pet dogs were 'clear' and that they would bark at anyone who had committed 'overts' (crimes) about the Hubbards. She was dismayed when she walked into Rifle for the first time and one of the dogs came tearing out of Mary Sue's room, barking furiously at her. 'I started walking around wondering what deep, dark terrible overts I had committed on LRH or Mary Sue in this life or past lives.'
Doreen was close to the younger Hubbard children and was shocked by Quentin's letters. She was even more shocked by what happened when the Commodore fell out with his youngest daughter, Suzette. 'She was dating another Scientologist but for some reason the Commodore didn't approve of him and so he sent a messenger with $5000 in cash to buy him off. The messenger was told to threaten the guy that he would be declared SP if he didn't take the money and sign an agreement to stop seeing Suzette.
'But the agreement also made it look as if the guy was blackmailing Hubbard and threatening to take her away. That's what Hubbard told Suzette was happening. I was in his office when he called her in and showed her the agreement, shouting things like, "I told you so." Suzette might have seen through it, but she was a toughie. She started dating wogs and then, when she was being audited - auditing is like a confessional - she would describe everything she had done on the date in great detail, knowing that her father would read her folder. It was her way of getting back at him. The only form of communication she could have with her father was through her auditor.
'He went purple with rage when he read her folder with all that stuff in it and her saying things like, "If my father doesn't like what I'm doing, I don't give a damn." When he had finished reading it, he threw it across the room and then threw a yellow legal pad at me and told me to take down a letter. He started dictating a letter disinheriting Suzette and I began to cry. In the end I said, "I can't do this." I put down the pad and let him have it. "Quentin's dead," I said, "and now you're tearing your family apart. You can't do this to your family and to Mary Sue. If you want to send this letter, write it yourself." Then I excused myself from the watch and ran out. Afterwards, I discovered he tore up the letter. He never did disinherit Suzette.
Adelle's introduction to the Commodore was unforgettable. She was working in the wardrobe department when she heard a barrage of abuse from behind a screen: 'You dirty goddam sons of bitches, you're so goddam stupid. Fuck you, you cock-suckers . . .' It seemed to go on for several minutes. 'I had something in my hand and it fell to the floor,' she recalled. 'I said, "Who in the world is that?" They said it was the Boss - we weren't allowed to use the name Hubbard for security reasons. "You mean the leader of the church speaks like that?" I asked. "Oh yes," was the reply. "he doesn't believe in keeping anything back."'
'One incident was quite dramatic and revelatory. During a period when things had got very, very bad, some of the crew tried to lighten things up by making a little video recording intended as a joke. It was a humorous skit on an incident that had happened a couple of days earlier. They thought it would amuse him and sent him the video tape. I was standing outside his office waiting to see him when he played it. There was a tremendous explosion. He started yelling and screaming and messengers began running in and out. He was literally shouting at the television. He didn't think it was funny at all. He thought he was being held up to ridicule and that the crew were mocking him and he was furious. Messengers were sent to find the names of everyone involved and they were all sent to the RPF. Then he thought that there were people who were not directly involved but might know about it and he wanted their names and they were sent to the RPF as well.'
Exposed and vilified in headlines across the nation, Hubbard became morose, suspicious and fearful once again for his safety. Kima and Mike Douglas had finally asked themselves what they were doing at Hemet and had 'blown the org'. The departure of two such long-standing and trusted aides made the Commodore nervous about the loyalty of everyone around him, except for Pat Broeker, the messenger who had accompanied him to Sparks, Nevada, and his new wife Annie, also a messenger. The Broekers were flattered and pleased to become the Commodore's closest confidantes.
Hubbard's grip on reality, always tenuous, slipped further. He issued orders for plans to be prepared for a new house somewhere near Hemet. It was to be, an aide reported, in 'a non-black area, dust-free, defensible, with no surrounding higher areas and built on bedrock'. It was also to be surrounded by a high wall with 'openings for gun emplacements'.
At the end of February 1980, a few days before his sixty-ninth birthday, Hubbard disappeared with Annie and Pat Broeker.
He was never seen again.
“Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed”. The Bhagavad Gita
As I sit here and write this I am disgusted at what I was part of all those many years ago. I don’t regret a minute of it…it was part of My Path. I’ve lived three distinctly different lives this time around and I’m currently living my fourth; pre-Scn, Scn, post Scn and my new life after my “Death” 5 years ago.
Until coming here to ESMB the thought of writing all this down never occurred to me. I don’t hate El Ron, Mary Sue or DM or anyone else along my path—in or out of Scn. For some reason, that I honestly don’t know, hate has never been in my heart. But, I am compelled to tell what I know, what I saw and what I experienced the best way I can.
One reason is, as I have already written, Y’all have a right to know my perspective and what information I have. I helped build and was a Senior Executive of an Organization that took all of Us for ride and has hurt, and is still hurting, a whole buch of good and decent folks.
Another reason is I just don’t want the sumbitch to get away with it…to get away with invading your minds and usurping your hearts. That’s what El Ron was doing, you know; El Ron wanted to “Possess” all of Us; El Ron wanted for all of Us to grovel before Hisself, convinced that El Ron had "found 'It'" and was “It”.
The spell has been broken for many years for me…I hope that my words may help break some of the spell for others and wipe away some of its' vestiges in another mind or heart, if only for one other, every moment of my time then, and now, has been well, well worth it.
High on all the “Successes” of the later ‘70’s, El Ron was taking what Hisself “was due”…every last dime of what El Ron decided Hisself was “owed” El Ron El Rey for what Hisself had done and given unto all of Us. In Hisself’s addled state, our Founder and Commodore let slip Hisself’s Dogs of War upon Us. I am personally certain that El Ron knew damn well what Hisself was doing. I don’t buy for a minute that El Ron was “tooled” by Miscavige or any one else. I’ve seen the man “Operate”; I know firsthand what a diabolically devious “Genius” El Ron could be.
Being the “OT” that Hisself was, for the next several hours, LRC would run the gamut of the Tone Scale. When Hisself and CMO entourage would arrive at one set, LRC would be jocular, jaunty and witty; at another set whining, carping, belittling; at another sullen, stern, demanding. At each set, while messengers set up the various cameras to be used for the “Shot”, LRC would sit in the Director’s Chair, issue orders and sip chilled tropical fruit drinks, nibble gourmet snacks and smoke a Kool—flicking the ashes into a Silver ashtray held by an apprentice Messenger that had been “hatted’ on the correct way to hold the tray and when and how to flip open and shut the lid…engrave in script, “LRH”. All the while the thirsty, hungry, suffering models waited, wilting in the Equatorial Sun for Hisself’s final posing instructions and the even thirstier, hungrier, more suffering RPFers continued to scurry about, finding anything they could do to stay in motion and look like they were doing something “productive”.
The Crew and Outer Org Student compliment steadily increased and the berthing and dining conditions concurrently worsened. Added to this was the fact that the Ports pretty well became the Netherlands Antilles and close by backwaters. The heat, humidity and beyond over-crowded conditions was accentuated by a steadily decreasing quality of the food. The period that Leon talked about was very similar to the conditions of this era. It got so bad that many of the crew formed little “co ops” and contributed to a “fund” that designated co op members would use to go ashore and make purchases, so that the membership could “supplement” their diets with actual edible food. The perennial roach population on the Ship exploded and several waves of severe fevers and flu set in.
There was no Ship’s Doctor, only a couple of Medical Officers that had some “Wog” nurse training. The worst cases were put in isolation in makeshift hospital wards and the rest just toughed it out. Face was one of the ones that wound up in isolation, but my conditions were better than most of the others as I was from the Midships Upper Decks bunch. Even with that, for 3 weeks I was the most miserably sick I had ever been. I lost a tremendous amount of weight, and was obviously very weak and debilitated when I was finally allowed to leave isolation. That day, when I returned to my post, El Ron breezed by, entourage in tow, off to another photo shoot. Hisself stopped for a moment to welcome me back and “Cheer” me up. Placing Hisself’s hands on my shoulders, he looked squarely into my eyes and said, “Well now, Face, nothing, nothing could be as bad as all that!” I managed a little smile and said, “No, Sir…Thank you, Sir…I’ll be fine, Sir.” And, with that he was off and by the end of the day I was up to eyeballs with a plethora new El Ron Orders, delivered by a steady stream Messengers. A month passed…a very miserable month…before Face was the “old” Face again.
Meantime, El Ron was having the time of his life playing with his cameras and other toys, Hisself and Family dining on the finest of foods flown in from the US, or purchased from the food stocks of resort hotels on some of the islands.http://www.forum.exscn.net/showthre...ys-Aboard-the-Apollo-1973&p=434379#post434379
As I earlier said in, “Adios Apollo, Part 1”, this period was the rise of El Ron, The Director. Weekly “Theater Night’s” were held with the Aft Well Deck as the theater and Aft Fan Deck and Aft MUD’s gangways, Prom and Sun Decks the balconies. A recent release feature film was rented by RONY (Relay Office New York) and flown in, along with the other Ext Comm bundles. Popcorn was made and everyone in attendance, upstats only of course, had a grand time. Just before show time El Ron (dressed in his finest tailored tropical white “Commodore” costume) descended from the Prom Deck with Mary Sue and the Family. It was a grand entrance to cheers, hip hips and all that jolly good rot. There was a special, comparatively large, perfectly located elevated “throne area” where the family would sit in overstuffed easy chairs and watch the flick, all the while being attended to by personal stewards. When El Ron and family reached the “throne mezzanine” Hisself would smile a toothy grin, hush the audience and say a few thank-you's, sit down and the flick was on.
On one of these movie nights “The Sting” was shown. The Flag Service Consultant network was being established under the command of the infamous Uber Reg, David Light, and a compliment of these soon to be unleashed buccaneers was aboard. El Ron and Family (who I guess were always upstat as they never missed a flick) made the customary grand entrance, to the obligatory cheers and hip hips. Once El Ron had quieted the crowd Hisself said, with obvious delight and joy, “Now, I want all the reges to pay close attention…there’s some real tech here that you need to know well and apply.” El Ron laughed heartily and Hisself's audience joined in. That moment is still “disturbing” to me...we all know what came after with Flag Reges and Reging, and Reges and Reging in general. BLS went from a tool to the rule.http://www.forum.exscn.net/showthre...ys-Aboard-the-Apollo-1973&p=437241#post437241
El Ron apologists, such as M&M, will go to great lengths and dismissive phrases to try and pass off the idea that Hisself was not aware of the horrific conditions of Staff, SO and their Children or of the heinous and outrageous convolutions that Institutionalized Scn is infamous for; the “fact” and position that El Ron didn’t know is utterly false and, for the years I was around Hisself, I know that to be a the fact.
One of the most powerful intelligence apparatuses El Ron had was the SO #1 line. As I have detailed somewhat on this board before, El Ron didn’t read all those letters, write the responses and personally sign them. Hisself did, however, have everything in all those letters cross-index filed regarding who, what, when, where, why. Folks would tell “Ron” just about anything and the SO #1 Files, PC folders (which Hisself had culled) and access to GO internal and external intelligence summaries provided El Ron with a complete composite, and the specifics related thereto, beyond anyone else and on anyone in Scn.
Unless income or Hisself’s own skin was in peril, El Ron just didn’t care. Anything that screwed up was someone else’s fault and Hisself would claim ignorance and step in to “save the day” yet again. Hisself was tooling Us, folks…Hisself was tooling Us from the get go.http://www.forum.exscn.net/showthread.php?21698-Shooting-Stars&p=544047&viewfull=1#post544047
El Ron was another story or, shall we say, The Story. It was gruesome to watch and see just how cruel and foul El Ron could be to not just only other human beings, but to folks that Hisself had such altitude and dominion over. Bluntly, I started having transient thoughts that if what I saw Hisself do and act towards others was “OT”, then just what is the “State” truly about or, more importantly, is “It” even actually for real.
Talk about “Case on Post”! El Ron would whine, berate, bellow at and flat out “invalidate” the very people that were working 80+ hours a week—for ten bucks pay—to wait on Hisself hand and foot. I’m sorry folks, that’s just the facts and I don’t care who says Hisself was “using the right tone level” or “correct amount of ‘intention’ or ‘force’”; I saw what Hisself did to these people, I looked into their beleaguered eyes and was a friend of some of them (as much as there could be the practice friendship in the realm of the MUD’s). If there is one thing that I feel “guilt” about regarding my Life and Times with El Ron, as a SO Senior Officer and a Scn it’s this; El Ron was always pleasant, polite and most cordial with me, never once got mad at me and gave me praise and “validation”, all the while treating disgustingly and cruelly they that deserved Hisself’s “Charms” far, far more than I.
Of all the HU folks, the story of Rick Sheehy weighs heaviest on my heart. For a number of years on the Apollo, and just after the move to land, Rick Sheehy held probably the most thankless, withering and perilous posts in the SO—the Post of Commodore’s Personal Steward. Rick was a fit, handsome, very intelligent, highly energetic young man and was as all around decent, humorous, straightforward and thoroughly pleasant a fellow as I have ever met. Rick had grown up on Chicago’s North Side and in demeanor was sort of a cross between mid-west wholesome and North Side Ivy League. If memory serves, Rick was either Cl IV or on the BC when he joined Flag Crew with the dream and goal of becoming a Cl XII but was snatched by El Ron for the HU.
Rick was everything you’d want in an Auditor and that fact was more than well proved by the way he day after day handled the years of mood swings, tantrums and brow beatings of “The Founder”…the guy had cool, guts, instincts and a calming presence. I could never do the job Rick did, for as long as he did it, and not many folks in all of Scn could have, either. In fairly regular diatribes, El Ron harangued various HU staff but Rick bore the brunt of it; “there’s soap residue in my socks; there’s soap film on my fork; there's too much gluten in my bread, whaddaya trying to do, make me sick and crash my stats; you’re trying to poison me; you’re assigned Confusion for not having my milk here on time (Crew rarely had fresh milk...El Ron and Family had all they wanted, when they wanted).” Alternatively, El Ron would move into one of his “chat and brag” and cajoling moods and, turning on the ‘Charm”, would prattle away in Hisself’s cabin telling Rick some of the stories that we now know are mostly a pack of lies. Over time Rick became very, very adept at “handling” El Ron.
For all Rick went through he remained devoted to El Ron and, even more so, to “The Tech”. When the Old Guard was being shunted away Rick, like Urq, was granted what he wanted most of all in the world; Rick was assigned to the FSO Tech Div and trained up to Cl XII. As all of us that have read the Lisa McPherson Story knows, Rick’s Story as a Cl XII did not have a happy ending…once again, Rick was, by de facto, El Ron’s Whipping Boy. Around 2 years ago I began reading the El Ron and Scn “stuff” on the Net and was appalled at what I read but, honestly, not all that surprised. I was appalled at what had happened to Ms. McPherson but not surprised that her Auditor took the fall. But, my heart is heavy that Rick Sheehy, of all people, would wind up in this circumstance; I’m not absolving Rick of what his responsibility factually and morally may be—I’m just so saddened to see such a fine, fine young man’s life’s commitment end up broken and destroyed by the “Organization” and “Tech”, “Gifted to all Mankind”, by the “man” he was so steadfastly of impeccable service to.
“Never desert a group to which you owe your support.” L. Ron Hubbard, “The Code of Honor”.
“Unless, of course, you’re ‘Source’.” Face's Third Caveat
For even the casual student of El Ron’s life, deserting groups to which Hisself owed support was obviously as easily done by El Ron as swatting a fly. El Ron was adept a deserting without cause—other than Hisself’s own self interest. El Ron’s desertion's were never a matter of honor and were always convoluted, clever and callous abandonment of folks that Hisself had sought so convolutedly, cleverly and callously to curry the favor and support of. The story of his USN Officers Commission and Service Record clearly shows Hisself’s modus and the early telltale signs of true brilliance warped by the wrap of coward’s feigned bravado. El Ron’s life “Legacy” is a litany of desertion in the face of challenges and challengers, culminating in the Year of the Jackals as Hisself’s “Opus Magnus Fine”.
El Ron loved being “Fabian”. Fabian, for El Ron, meant never having to front up, face up or fess up. From Hisself’s Fabian position El Ron deserted Mary Sue and the hundreds of GO Staff that had tenaciously, faithfully and with personal risk implemented Hisself’s orders, policy, programs, schemes, capers and plots. Protecting Hisself’s “Fabian-ness” was the shroud of “Security” that emboldened pathological liars and conmen like the Alpha Jackals of Children of the Corn Jackel Pack to lay waste to the countryside to “secure” their positions in the “Golden Age” of the “New Civilization”. Hisself’s Fabian-ness was the “cover”, the “lever” and the "silencer" during the Year of the Jackals.http://www.forum.exscn.net/showthread.php?21698-Shooting-Stars&p=571290&viewfull=1#post571290
Of all my moments in interaction with El Ron or being an attendant or prop whilst El Ron was riding one of Hisself’s Hobby Horses, there is one that is so seemingly mundane and yet the most profound in my memory. It is revelatory of El Ron, the “OT de OT’s” in interaction with an adolescent.
El Ron had on Hisself’s “El Ron, Master Recording Engineer” hat and costume and riding one of Hisself’s favorite hobby horses…Hisself’s custom made Studor multi-track “portable” State of the Art, Studio Quality tape recorder and mixing board. In addition to El Ron and Hisself’s toys the venue included the subject “talent” and a small cadre of invited vassals. As in all such hobby horse work-outs, hours had been spent ahead of time by “Specialist” Messengers and Supporting Vassals ensuring that all was ready for Hisself’s entrance.
Equipment performance and sound checks had been done, three times through the “Checklist”. “Dry run” tests had been exhaustively performed and the venue repeatedly cleaned and “White Gloved”. Every implement, pen, paper and auxiliary device that El Ron could possibly need was cleaned, tested and placed just so. As in all things “El Ron” the stress of the Messengers and Supporting Vassals was palpable and El Ron’s “grandchildren”--dressed in white cotton hot pants, halter tops and white patent leather, platform calf-boots--took everything more serious than the “lower in station” adults. The adults were there to do their performance as best they could, somehow get through it and go on coping with their meager lives as SO Crew.
For the budding “Children of the Corn”, their moment was upon them--a continuing day in, day out moment that I understood from my childhood and my years of interaction with El Ron was probably coming. I knew from experience that these impressionable and so “wanting to please” young girls were about to be judged and their every breath was heavy with the prospect that they might have somehow inadvertently done something “wrong”.
The door to the venue flew open and El Ron, the “OT de OT’s”, strolled in replete in custom tailored white tropical uniform “whites”, blue ascot and polished hand made, black Wellington Boots and Director’s Beret with two white cotton hot pant, halter topped, white patent leather platform boots outfitted nubile “Duty Messengers” in tow. The room was silent as El Ron sat down in Hisself’s Director’s Chair, which was appropriately monogrammed “DIRECTOR” across the back.
El Ron, seated with Hisself’s back to the silent and anticipatory performing talent and facing an array of knobs, lights, analog displays (this was the ‘70’s) and mixing board slide dials launched into a rapid--dare I say frenetic--furtive and “fiddling” examination of the “set-up”. Looking over El Ron’s left shoulder was the silky blond haired nubile “Specialist” Messenger that had spent hours going through a “Checklist” and testing, again and again, the “Settings” Hisself had “CSed” for this “Session”. She was someone’s lovely child and her breathing was chopped, short and shallow and I could sense her heart pounding and racing like a trapped bird held in the palms of a hand.
“Whhaaaa!!!” whined El Ron. The “Bird” waited, I waited, everyone in the room waited as to what would come next. I had heard that admonition before and my heart and eyes went to the “Bird” as her shoulders slumped and her trembling fingers and glazed adolescent eyes searched over the checklist.
“Whhaaat did you do!” whined the OT de OT’s yet again.
“Sir,” the Bird subserviently replied, her mouth dry with fear, “I set everything by the checklist.”
“No you did not!” El Ron whined.
“But I did, Sir,” answered the Bird, her eyes welling with tears. She held the checklist clipboard out for Hisself to see and started to call off each setting.
El Ron pushed the clipboard away and with flitting eyes and fingers fiddled with Hisself’s toy. “There!" Hisself, once again triumphant, announced. From my vantage point it appeared that every knob and dial El Ron had moved around was pretty much back in the same position.
Over the next hour or so a number of “Takes” were recorded and, near the end of the session, the subject talent made a mistake.
“Cut, cut, cut,” snapped El Ron. The take was started over and the talent flubbed again at the same place as before.
“Cut!” boomed El Ron, snapping off Hisself’s headphones and looking around until his eyes found the Bird.
“Whhaaat are you doing?” El Ron blustered at the Bird.
“I didn’t do anything, Sir,” protested the Bird. All of the talent and entourage knew to stay quiet.
The take was started over, and as all of Us have been through before, the talent again blew it at the same point as in the earlier takes. El Ron, The Producer, Director, Master Sound Engineer didn’t even say “cut” this time, slumped Hisself’s shoulders and glared at Hisself’s toy.
“You’re doing something to mess them up.” El Ron pronounced with certainty. “Stop it!”
The Bird stared down her feet. “Yes, Sir,” she answered.
One of the talent suggested a short break be taken to “retune”, the request was granted and after the brilliantly requested break the talent nailed the next take. In my heart I know that the talent didn’t get it “right” for El Ron…they got it “right” for the Bird.
Over 30 years later my Heart is still with that child. I shoulda called that sumbitch El Ron down on the spot. I didn’t do it then…I was afraid for my “Bridge” and was still in “awe” of the “Tech” and trapped and bound by the chains of my self perceived “ignorance” of “OT”.
It's just that when reading of Miscavige's abuses, dreadful as they are, I wonder how many people know that Hubbard did it all before? More and more people are leaving and may not have found some of these accounts, hence this thread.
No not the way DM does. He just got others to do it, though in post #23 I did find an example. Hubbard's violence was more of the mental kind.
Old timer John Sanborn, editor of many of Hubbard's early books, said this during a 1986 interview:
"Early on (before the divorce) he [Hubbard] made this stupid attempt to get Sara brainwashed so she'd do what he said. He kept her sitting up in a chair, denying her sleep, trying to use Black Dianetic principles on her, repeating over and over again whatever he wanted her to do. Things like, 'Be his wife, have a family that looks good, not have a divorce'."
. . . those who do not learn from the mistakes of history, and all that.
From Infinite's post from Jesse Prince:
For those who were around in 1983, there was RTC Conditions Order #1, a Com Ev on about 12-18 people.
Oh god does that bring back memories. Does anyone else remember this?
Yes, I do.
While Hubbard can be blamed for what he wrote and did, the people who executed his orders and continue to do so, today, are just as responsible for the abuses and fraud that continue in Hubbard's and Scientology's name.
Their efforts to move responsibility to Hubbard, or Miscavige, or anyone else are a refusal to look at their own responsibility, at their own interpretations and actions as compared to their own moral compass. Instead, they compare their actions to policy and "group mores". This is the same sort of thing that led Nazis to commit despicable acts and then blame them on their superior's orders, or on Hitler. It's the same issue that got exposed in the Stanford Prison Experiments. It happens in Basic Training (Army or other service branches, too), where people cease being responsible for their own actions, and instead snap to the orders of others without consulting their own sense of right and wrong.
The major difference between a Scientologist who follows orders rather than following their conscience and a Nazi is the title they give themselves.
Yet there are plenty of examples of physical abuse originating from Hubbard the Source of planetary enlightenment and salvation, but Sea Org members were often numb to it, not seeing it as physical abuse, since, most of the time, Hubbard, the Commodore, was not walking around overtly slapping people. "Commodores" usually don't slap people.
Even before Scientology, the violent "smash" mentality appears to have been present. His first wife wrote of physical abuse, as did his second, however, according to court records, his second wife was also subjected to a combination of physical and mental abuse. In addition to that is an account from John Sanborn. From another thread:
As for Hubbard's third wife, there's no record of any physical abuse; she was abused in a different way.
It is somewhat odd that the primary complaint about Scientology, for some, seems to have become that its current dictator slaps and punches people. Nonetheless, here's an excerpt from Jesse Prince, former senior Sea Org executive, re. Hubbard's instructions to spit and slap as punishment. Even then it was mixed with a psychological element, "Tell him that it was from Ron."
"To make a long story short, I read an advice from L. Ron to Miss Cabbage ordering him to spit in John's [Aczel's] face, and tell him that it was from Ron. Miss Cabbage complied with his order and reported the result. I saw the advice that came back to the compliance report of spitting in John face, and L. Ron was very pleased to hear the news, and escalate the situation by suggesting that someone should slap the hell out of John... Similar degrading actions were taken with David Mayo, and this soon spread to others deemed SPs..."
From the same thread where this quote was first presented on ESMB:
Note to Free to shine, I didn't place the Jesse Prince excerpt in a quote box, as it's a singular quote, and the linked original is already in a quote box, but not part of the regular content of ESMB, thus making ESMB's search function inoperative on the quote. However, I will do my best to format things as you requested.
Jesse Prince | November 2, 2010 at 5:31 am | Reply
I’m glad you brought up this subject of how the crimminality and destructive behavior escalated to what it is today in Scientology. I will start by saying I am not an L Ron Hubbard hater. I am also not an L Ron Hubbard adorer either. I just want to bring up personal knowledge that I have concerning Miss Cabbag’s odd behavior of abusing staff. The behavior of attacking staff DID NOT start with Miss Cabbage or Marty R or anyone else. Here is how it started from my eye wittness account. The year was 1982. The majority of International management (Exec Strata and CMO INT) had been removed from post. Out of that group of people there were two of them that really irritated L Ron personally. The two people I am refering to here is John [Aczel] and David Mayo. For those who were around in 1983, there was RTC Conditions Order #1, a Com Ev on about 12-18 people. The exact number that comes to mind was about 18, but on this I could be mistaken but it was an unsual amount of people on the bill of particulars. I was either a member or secretary of that comm ev that went on for months. During this time RTC as well as ASI and CMOI would send up weekly reports to L Ron on the state of affairs with Int Mgmt ..etc. A report was sent to him each week concerning the comm ev and L Ron would often order this or that investigation of the people being comm ev’d. John [Aczel ]was the Exec Strata person over Div 6 activities and L Ron pretty much hated John and I understand hate is a strong word but so were the circumstances. To make a long story short, I read an advice from L Ron to Miss Cabbage ordering him to spit in John’s face and tell him that was from L. Ron. Miss Cabbage complyed with his order and reported the result. I saw the advice that came back to the compliance report of spitting in John’s face and L Ron was very pleased to here the news and escalated the situation by suggesting someone should slap the hell out of John [Aczel ]. Sure enough, as John was held by others, John was beaten by Miss Cabbage. Similar degrading actions were taken with David Mayo and this soon spread to others deemed to be SP’s. Prior to this it was unheard of at least by me for any staff member to attack another staff member. In fact it was a serious ethics offence to attack a fellow staff member. I knew Miss Cabbage before he was asked by L Ron to attack staff. He NEVER put a hand on any staff member period and I knew him for years prior to his orders to attack staff members. His wife Shelly would also encourage other executives to abuse staff in this manner and if they didn’t they were accused of having their finger falter on the trigger of a gun. In other words, pull the trigger. God only knows what the hell she was talking about but there you have it. It is so important to have the truth known so that people are not confused.
http://www.forum.exscn.net/showthre.....-the-beginning&p=80215&viewfull=1#post80215The RPF had just been put into effect and quite a few people who were considered bad or useless or committing overts were put onto the RPF for rehabilitation. My crime was being on watch at sea as a Radar operator - there were two of us and we were going around the Cape of Good Hope - apparently a very dangerous Cape. What the heck did I know? I wasn’t a friggin sailor! Anyway, the Captain of the ship whom I won’t name and the con of the watch whom I won’t name had told both us poor radar ops to stand aside and quit plotting as they were trying to maneuver the “ship” around this Cape. Well, we did - we stood aside and guess who came onto the bridge? You got it - the old man himself. The Capt and the con were not on the bridge at the time they were in the charting room just off the bridge, but LRH wanted to know what was happening with a particular vessel on the radar screen and wanted to see the plots for it. I didn’t have it and didn’t know what was going on with this vessel. I did know the vessel wasn’t close and that we were in no danger of hitting it, I told the old man that we had been ordered to step aside so the Capt and the Con could see for themselves what was going on, without us in the way - they had been rushing in and out and looking at the radar.
Well, there was my route to the RPF. Of course he called in the Capt and the Con and asked if it was true what I had said. They being the Capt and the Con I’m sure didn’t want to get in trouble, so they said they had not ordered us to step aside. Wow - I was flabbergasted! They were protecting their own behinds and mine was hung out to dry. I have never heard L Ron scream so much in my life! That was when he called me a few choice names that I will never forget. And one of those names started with a “C”. Needless to say I ended up on the brand new, degrading RPF. Where we slept in the hold on disgusting mattresses and wore black boiler suits, none of which fit. Where we ran everywhere, weren’t allowed to see our spouses, weren’t allowed to talk to anyone without them speaking first, where we had to call EVERYONE Sir, where we weren’t allowed to eat with our friends and were fed the leftovers. Where we were supposed to “rehabilitate” ourselves for the horrible things we had done. It was degrading and it was humiliating. We were treated like pond scum by the others on board. People you thought were your friends and even your spouse wouldn’t look at you or speak to you. We had to clean decks with toothbrushes, heads (toilets) were also cleaned this way and they were white gloved and they had to pass or there were laps around the decks or the docks. The locals would look at us like we were nuts.
I did ask for a comm- ev, unfortunately the chairman of the commev was the con of the watch. Do you reckon it was fair???
There were also times on board that you could hear him screaming at the top of his lungs and everyone in management would cringe wondering what was going on and whose head on a pike was next. People were scared shitless! It was all control and fear that kept management going. However, not one of those people on management lines was an evil rotten person, all believed that what they were doing was right.
There is an irony here which I`ve not seen pointed out before.
According to Scientology... It can make one more able, more ethical.
Able to live a life of dedicated loyalty to survival actions.
Able to be more honest. Get on with others. Live with the truth.
Be of high moral character.
Yet those who availed themselves to that are the same people that Scientology now turns around and calls liars and apostates as soon as they actually apply what Scientology was supposed to have given them.
What sort of people are coming off the other end of Hubbard`s production line ?
Scientology wants to have it both ways.
"We make people better. We are in control."
"People can spend years in Scientology and come out worse. We can`t control them."
I saw in one of the above posts; "...photos of Hubbard at the time ...." (unflattering)
Who took these photos ? Where are the photos now ? Anyone know ?
One picture is worth a thousand words."
Ozzie's thread can be found HERE, a very good read, I'm glad someone bumpered it.Ozzie~ In the life of an ordinary woman.. said:I can say that I would never trade my experiences in the Sea Org in the early years. I learnt a lot and I gained a lot of wonderful friends. Many of whom are currently declared. These people on board the Apollo were the original management and the original tech people, many of whom worked directly with LRH. It was here on board this tin bucket called the Apollo that I would enter into the world of management and stay in management of scientology orgs for the majority of my sea org career.
It was also here that I become totally indoctrinated into Scientology and the belief of “source”. It was also here that I would learn the other side of LRH and hear and see how he treated those around him. It was here I learnt how to be a subordinate, a nothingness, to keep quiet about the wrongnesses and go along with the flow. It was here that I would experience the first RPF and see and feel the degradation of myself and others. I was in the first RPF with Quentin, a wonderful kind person who didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was treated by his father. Quentin also would be my auditor later on - what a wonderful person he was! So kind and so thoughtful. Not a mean bone in that boys body! All Quentin ever wanted to do was fly. He never was allowed - so he one day blew.