Saturday 31 August 2013

On this day...

Measles outbreak traced to Clearwater private school
Date: Wednesday, 31 August 1988
Publisher: St. Petersburg Times (Florida)
Author: Paul L. McGorrian

CLEARWATER — The outbreak of measles reported by county health officials this week has been traced to the True School, a private school in Clearwater that uses the teachings of L. Run Hubbard, founder of the Church of Scientology.

A Health Department official said Tuesday that 40 of the 100 students at the school had not been immunized. But Sherry Payson, a spokeswoman for the school, said she thinks the figure is lower.

She said neither the school nor Scientology discourages inoculations.

Ms. Payson said the outbreak could be the result of an open house at the school at the end at July, which was attended by many people who are not normally affiliated with the school.

Twelve students at the school, ranging in age from 3 to 19, have contracted measles in the past few weeks, said Mike Nilsson, public health nursing supervisor in the epidemiology division of the Pinellas County Health Department.

Those who had not been immunized were immediately excluded from school until they received immunizations, Nilsson said.

State law mandates that all children in public or private schools be immunized against measles, mumps and rubella.

Ms. Payson said many of those who were sick have recovered and returned to school, as have those who required immunizations.

Nilsson said the department is investigating two other possible cases of measles — one in northern Pinellas County and the other in the southern end.

Measles symptoms include fever, rash, cough, watery eyes and runny nose. Small red spots show up on the skin, and complications from the illness can even lead to death.
 

Scientologists sue Times, 2 reporters for $1 million
Date: Thursday, 31 August 1978
Publisher: Los Angeles Times (California)
Main source: link (28 KiB)

The Church of Scientology Wednesday filed a $1 million lawsuit in Los Angeles federal court against Times Mirror and two Times reporters, alleging conspiracy to interfere with civil rights.

The lawsuit stems from a series of articles dealing with the Church of Scientology written by reporters Robert Rawitch and Robert Gillette and published earlier this week in The Times.

The lawsuit charged that the reporters acted in concert with representatives of the FBI and the Department of Justice to publish information about the government's investigation of the church, which resulted in the indictments two weeks ago of 11 high-ranking church members.

According to the lawsuit, the articles were intended to create "an unfavorable climate" regarding the church, thereby influencing and prejudicing members of the judiciary who must rule on litigation involving the Church of Scientology.

Friday 30 August 2013

People talk utter bollachs

And they do it everyday of their lives,.

Big problem...i think I am rollercoastering

PTS...SP Thats me...you think from my previous post I am not upset, I still am, but, hey I can and will move forward...

here we have thuganetics

Please read Mike Rinder's blog and also Marty Rathbuns, I won't provide a link because hey, you guys are the authority aren't you? You know everything, but you tell so very little...You are a big hit on Channel 4, oh yeah!And you are living it up on Tony Ortega 's blog, oh yeah! And Mark Bunker thinks you are brilliant!So does Terril Park, now there is one up manship for you...

Is that right that your family disconnected from you Mike Rinder? Don't worry about it. It's happened to hundreds of of us in our past lives...and where were YOU Mike Rinder disconnecting people?

I am really, really upset tonight...

I am in the midst of a conversation about Jimmy Saville...and it has so many parallels with L. Ron Hubbard...so many you would not believe...and I am crying now, I am trying so hard not to but I am...and I am crying writing this but I am so trying not to...

Why would someone talk about this 40 years after the fact, why not talk about it then, so stupidly I say what if you were severely threatened? Wrong thing to say. Ignored.Talked over. Where does it ever say they were threatened, it does NOT! Yeah, but what if YOU were?Ignored, talked over. One friend, a very good friend said "let Sharone speak", Ignored, talked over.

I had a similar conversation with another group of friends a couple of months back "why do you wait 40 years to speak out?" But what If you were severely lied to and told NO ONE WOULD EVER BELIEVE YOU and it was SO FAR FETCHED, NO ONE WOULD EVER BELIEVE YOU?

The rails and rants went on to include 14/15 year old groupies who would have slept with anything because they were famous...that might of been the case in many scenarios...it was not mine...i was 11 years old and locked up in the Apollo's hold...silly little thing when you re 11 years old, even sillier when you are 12 years old...because of course you know everything, don't you?

You have just signed a billion year contract, you must be a fucking CLEAR, aren't you? I am ten, what the fuck am I signing?

On this day...

A reporter takes the Scientology test
Date: Tuesday, 30 August 1977
Publisher: Valley News
Author: Brian Alexander
Main source: link (332 KiB)


The Church of Scientology offers a free personality evaluation to persons interested in its counseling services. Valley News staff writer Brian Alexander took the test at the Sherman Oaks Scientology center, posing as a college student and using an assumed name. As the second segment of a four-part series on the church, he tells what happened.

The Church of Scientology's free personality test is like a warm handshake, but the grip is too tight.
The counselor who evaluates a potential parishioner's answers to a 200-item questionnaire deftly turns an insightful psychological dialogue into a high pressure sales pitch.

Some critics of Scientology say the church's counseling techniques are over-rated and over-priced. Some say it's hard to say no to the minister's hard sell, that once you're drawn into the web of courses and counseling offered by the church, the exit is well hidden. In an effort to find out, a reporter posed as a college student and took the test.

"Is your life a constant struggle for survival? " asks the questionnaire, which visitors to any of several storefront Scientology centers may complete on the premises or take home and mail in.

"Are you so sure of yourself that it sometimes annoys others?"

"Do you sometimes throw things away and then find that you need them?"

"Would you make the necessary action to kill an animal in order to put it out of pain?"
 
After the test is scored by a counselor, the receptionist calls the applicant to arrange an appointment to discuss the results. In this instance, the reporter's counselor is a 47-year-old minister named Mike.

Mike ushers the reporter into a tiny office and closes the door. He asks how the applicant learned of Scientology, what attracted him to it, whether he has any questions. He listens attentively, and answers questions thoroughly.

The minister than places a piece of paper on the small desk, facing the reporter. On it is a graph which supposedly represents the results of the questionnaire. This is the "Oxford Capacity Analysis," which psychology and psychiatry association spokesmen are later to tell the reporter they have never heard of.
 Mike makes overall comments before evaluating each part of the graph specifically. Many of his observations seem insightful and accurate. He says such things as: "Here I see that you're an extremely active person," or, "You're a fairly aggressive person but your activity level is higher so you are what we call 'dispersed.'"

He solicits feedback from the reporter. Sometimes, when the reporter balks at a particular interpretation, 

Mike apologizes for "misreading" the chart. He revises his evaluation.

The chart deals in quantities such as "reliability," "composure" and "friendliness." When Mike points to the part of the graph indicating an extreme "unhappiness" (too extreme, the reporter feels), he asks what is causing the condition. He suggests various alternatives, based on points he has made earlier and to which the reporter has agreed.

Mike narrows the discussion to one specific cause for the alleged depression, carefully seeking agreement from the reporter at each step of the rationale. While each step of the progression is accurate, the reporter feels that the overall trend is simplistic and inaccurate. He says so, and Mike patiently retraces the earlier logic. When he has finished, he asks how it can be interpreted otherwise.

"Now the question is," he asks, "do you want to do something about it?"

He produces a loose-leaf binder and opens it to a page describing several benefits guaranteed by a Scientology course in personal communications. The benefits include acceptance and control of personal relationships.

The reporter asks if, given the variety of the human species, the results can be so certain. Mike turns to a page containing a small photograph of the church's founder, L. Ron Hubbard, and a Hubbardism in large print: "We deliver what we promise."
 
The minister emphasizes the point, repeating it aloud and pointing to the page. Then he describes the course briefly: Two weeks long, three hours each weekday evening, seven hours each weekend day. The cost is $50. The class involves reading two books and engaging in a variety of communications drills with other students.

"It's fun," he promises.

He places a contract on the table while the reporter is still mulling it over. All during the pitch, the reporter has remained hesitant, raising several objections: He'd like to think over, talk to a friend about it; the time commitment may be a problem.

Mike dismisses each objection briskly, even revising the schedule so that one weekend day is left free. He warns against letting the "problem" go, and accuses the reporter of dealing with the decision too intellectually — one of the failings "revealed" by the test.

As the reporter assigns his assumed name to the form, Mike casually asks whether he will pay by check or cash. Having already told the minister he is subsisting on a student loan, the reporter asks to be allowed to pay on the evening of the class, the following Thursday.

Mike seems disturbed. "It makes it more real for you if you pay now," he says. "More real for you and for us, because we have to schedule these things."

It is a Friday, about 4:30 p.m. The reporter insists he has only enough money for weekend activities. Finally, Mike suggests a deposit. How much can the young man spare as a deposit on the $50 fee?

"Gee," replies the reporter, "I can really only spare about five bucks or so, hardly anything. Otherwise I'll be broke for the weekend." Besides, he says, his wallet is in the car.

"You could go to your car," Mike says.

The reporter suggests he be allowed to bring in the money on Monday. Mike is hesitant. "It makes it more real, that's all," he says. He looks at his watch. Can the young man still get to the bank before it closes?

The reporter says his bank is located in Hollywood, a half-hour drive away. Mike gives in. The young man can bring the money in on Monday.

The young man never returns.

On the evening of the first class, Mike calls the reporter at home. He asks if the reporter will be coming to class. He asks why not. He listens as the reporter says he felt pressured, that Mike was not responsive to his need for time to think about the course.

Mike apologizes. "Sometimes I get a little carried away," he says, "but you know I don't get anything out of this. It all goes to the church."

The reporter thanks Mike for apologizing.

"This is it, then?" Mike asks. Yes, the reporter replies. They thank each other, and hang up.
(Tomorrow: More inside information, from past and present members of the church. The pressure grows with time, in the ranks of Scientology.)


Couple's Scientology lesson costly // After forking over thousands of dollars, a few things become clear
Date: Sunday, 30 August 1992
Publisher: Indianapolis Star (Indiana)
Author: Kay Stephens
Main source: link (425 KiB)

The tale of Jon and Stacy Roberts and the Church of Scientology is the story of a typical couple, in many ways, who were looking for answers.

When the financial advice they sought turned into spiritual guidance, the couple began to regret the direction their search had taken.

In the process, they gave more than $100,000 to the Church of Scientology and an organization connected with it. Now they want to warn others not to do the same.

Jon Roberts filed suit in June against the Church of Scientology and Sterling Management Corp., a company he says pressured him into joining the church. The lawsuit charged that the defendants acted with high pressure sales techniques, psychological pressure and other tactics" to acquire from Roberts "a significant portion of his net worth."

In July, the suit was settled for an undisclosed sum, but attorneys for the Roberts say the case isn't over yet. 

They say they plan to file a new suit against the church, this time in Stacy Roberts' name.

Jon Roberts says his feelings about the church have not changed.

"I honestly want people to know it's very easy to get involved in something like this," he said. "They play on your emotions, and we don't want that to happen to other people."

The president of Scientology International, Heber Jentzsch, said the church did nothing wrong.

"He went to a business seminar. He was introduced to religion, and now he wants to sue," Jentzsch said. 
"That has never been illegal in Indiana."

A business seminar was indeed what propelled the Robertses toward their encounter with Scientology.

Although the lawsuit revealed little about their experience, Jon Roberts agreed to talk about it in several interviews with The Indianapolis Star.

Jon Roberts is a 1981 graduate of the Indiana University School of Dentistry with a private practice in Colombus, Ind. Stacy Roberts is stay-at-home mother of two.

A couple of year ago, Jon Roberts decided his practice wasn't earning what it should.

"He had poor business practices as a dentist, even though he had a huge practice," said his Indianapolis attorney, Gregory Zoeller.

So Roberts began attending seminars to improve his management skills.

He already had attended two seminars, the first costing $5,000 and the second about $13,000, when he began receiving letters from patients recommending one sponsored by Sterling Management Corp.

"The other ones had helped show me how to be more efficient, and I thought the more the better," Roberts said.

"I thought, 'By golly, this will be my last one. I'll increase my knowledge that much more, and $13,500 isn't going to kill me.' "

He and his wife made arrangements to attend a Sterling Management seminar in Pasadena, Calif., in October 1990.

Before leaving home, the Robertses received personality questionnaires to fill out along with other forms seeking information about their business.

"They asked about the office's production and collection and my personal financial situation, so I could set goals for the future," Jon Roberts said. "I didn't think anything of it."

The Robertses say Sterling Management used the information from their questionnaires to take advantage of their personal problems and insecurities and get them involved in the Church of Scientology.

According to a company spokesman, Sterling's teachings are based on the "management technology" of L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. Hubbard believed he had cured his own mental problems, and he went on to write Dianetics, a best-selling book about human mental processes.

The Robertses say that just three days into the seminar, Sterling officials were pressuring participants to learn more about the Church of Scientology.

"They set a time for you to meet with a representative of the church. I'm not sure if they said he was from the church," Roberts said.

"They said they would be going over your personality questionnaire."

It was during this discussion about their personality questionnaires that the Robertses first became interested in signing up for marriage counseling with the Church of Scientology.

"They would say, 'Look at all these highs and lows,' and they start to play one spouse against the other," 

Roberts said. "They play heavily on your emotions. They say your kids won't turn out well . . . so by the time that they're done, you're saying, 'Where do I sign?' "

 

Pressure to give money


After their initial introduction to the Church of Scientology at the Sterling seminar, the Robertses each made five trips back to California, some separately, for training.

During each trip, they said, they were pressured to give larger and larger sums of money to Scientology. Initially, they were asked to give a $5,000 "fixed donation" for marriage counseling. Then, they paid $80,000 for counseling package that "would take care of any emotional or physical problems you had," Jon Roberts said.

Stacy Roberts said officials prepared scripts for her to use to ask her husband for money when she called him from California.

While they talked, she said, she was instructed to write down his objection so church members sitting nearby could supply her with answers.

It was an arrangement she felt was worthwhile at the time.

"I know it sounds strange, but it felt like they were helping you," she said.

This is standard operating procedure for the church, according to Gordon Milton, director of the Institute of the Study of American Religions at the University of California at Santa Barbara.

"A person can only go so far without the consent of his spouse," he said. They believe it blocks progress."

After just eight months in the church, the Robertses were both "cleared." This means they had been certified to be clear from damaging engrams, or early mental traumas. Scientologists go through rigorous study and training to reach this phase.

Normally, people spend four or five years studying before they are cleared, Milton said.

"He must have been heavy into it," he said of Jon Roberts. "He must have been spending all of his leisure time studying when he wasn't drilling teeth."

 

Thought life would change


The Robertses did spend a lot of time studying church teaching because they were told it would change their lives. They said they were told that once they were cleared, all their personal problems would disappear.

"They make it sound like when you become clear on the first dynamic, which is yourself, all those problems you have won't bother you, like you'll go on like it's nirvana or something," Jon Robert said.

The couple say they were told Scientology would fix problems like a lack of confidence, feelings of low self-esteem and depression, and cure an unsatisfying marriage.

This is not unusual, Milton said. Scientology typically makes lofty promises about what it can do to change people's lives, he said.

"Scientologists can certainly be overly enthusiastic in charging that Scientology teachings can make a difference in a person's life," Milton said. "Of late, they are not making those kinds of claims."

Scientologists are now sticking to more general claims, he said, rather than promising benefits that seem almost too good to be true.

It was those promises that kept the Robertses coming back for more Scientology training in pursuit of becoming cleared.

Although they say they didn't feel they were getting much out of Scientology at the time during each trip back to California they were convinced they soon would feel different.

"You're out there in a hotel, away from your friends and family," Roberts said. "All day long you're around people who are up and happy and you feel good, too. You're away from your problems."

When they returned home, they said, their problems returned.

 

Decided they'd had enough


Two weeks after their final trip to California when they had both become clear, the Robertses decided it was all "bogus."

"We both looked at each other one day and said, 'What is this c—?' " Jon Roberts said, they had a giant book-burning party, burning every tape and textbook from the Church of Scientology.

"We had a great time. We burned everything _ everything," he said. "It was a good feeling."
Scientologists maintain that since their church was founded in 1953, the programs have benefitted millions of people and only a few have been dissatisfied.

Scientology International President Jentzsch said he is not sure what the Robertses were expecting, but he knows what happened to him when he was cleared.

"I became much clearer in my thinking. My IQ changed," he said. "My college professor always said your IQ was fixed, that you couldn't change it, but mine went up."

Jentzsch also said becoming clear changed his view of mankind and gave him a greater respect for others.

"These are spiritual qualities that must be experienced. Obviously, it's up to each individual and his dedication. You can't make anybody be better."

Larry Jerrim, an Anderson Scientologist, counsels people using church doctrine. He says that it has been his experience that when people are not successful with counseling, it is usually because they began the program "under false pretenses."

While he says that may not be the case with the Robertses, he believes they may not have been applying the technology correctly.

 

Church rejects claims


Church officials said very few people ever have complained about the personality questionnaire the Robertses completed.

"Several million people have taken that test," Jentzsch said. "Ten, 15, maybe 20 people have complained about it. It's just a personality test. It tells you your areas of interest and the areas where you might want to make changes in your life."

Jerrim said the questionnaire sometimes indicates that people procrastinate and therefore may need extra pressure to attend to some of their more serious personal problems.

He said he never has heard of church officials sitting in on the phone calls of its members and offered a different version of the scenario Stacy Roberts described.

If one person in a relationship wants counseling and the other doesn't, for example, he said the church might ask the first person to describe the other's objections.

"We'll tell them to call the person and then let us know what their responses are so we can better answer their questions," he said.

Jentzsch said he thought the lawsuit was part of an effort by the Cult Awareness Network, an organization that has been highly critical of Scientology in the past.

"It's just a little hate group that has got this fellow excited," Jentzsch said. "They've told him to go attack the Church of Scientology. Its obviously related to that."

Jon Roberts said he has never heard of the Cult Awareness Network. His attorney said there was "absolutely no link" between the network and the suit.

Jentzsch also charges that the Indianapolis-based Pharmaceutical firm Eli-Lilly and Co. may have some role.
A year ago, Scientologists were waging a highly visible war against the anti-depressant drug Prozac, manufactured by Lilly.

The church also has a history of launching personal attacks against those who have been critical of Scientology.

Jentzsch said Stacy Roberts had taken Prozac, something the Robertses confirmed.

"I don't think that's something, even if it is true, that they should disclosed," Jon Roberts said. "That's not something that should be done."

After their relationship with the Church of Scientology, the Robertses tried to move on with their lives. They are seeing a marriage counselor to deal with some of the problems they hoped Scientology would solve and say they finally are making progress.

Their time in Scientology helped them air out some of their problems but wasn't worth the expense, Jon Roberts said.

"We spent a lot of money, and it caused us a lot of heartache."

[Picture / Caption: Stacy and Jon Roberts first got involved with the church through a business seminar.]
[Picture / Caption: "It's (the Cult Awareness Network) just a little hate group that has got this fellow excited. 
They've told him (Jon Roberts) to go attack the Church of Scientology. It's obviously related to that."
Heber Jentzsch,
president of Scientology International]

Thursday 29 August 2013

Children of the Revolution

T.Rex 'Children Of The Revolution' 

 

Marc Bolan and T.Rex - Hot Love (Top of the Pops 1971)

 

The Field Family

Business Overview

Derek Fields And Co. Ltd. is an Active business incorporated in England & Wales on 17th November 1994. Their business activity is recorded as Accounting And Auditing Activities. Derek Fields And Co. Ltd. is run by 1 current members. 1 shareholders own the total shares within the company. It is not part of a group.

The latest Annual Accounts submitted to Companies House for the year up to 31/03/2013 reported 'cash at bank' of £1,838, 'liabilities' worth £9,953, 'net worth' of £-3,826 and 'assets' worth £6,127. Derek Fields And Co. Ltd.'s risk score was amended on 21/08/2013.

Come on Elva, you can do better than that,can't you?

And I am supposed to look at this and think ah, the poor Field family suffered immeasurably under immense
pressure. The trouble is Elva, you lied to me about how you made that money.You lied to me and that is something I do NOT forgive,you tried to blame it ALL on our Father, I agree he was a piece of fucking shit. He not only abandoned me as an 11 year old at sea, but abandoned you as a baby, all in the name of KSW, believe me I understand.I do understand.

What you don't understand is how LRH policy made it that way.

When you want to finally talk, I will be here...in the meantime, don't expect sympathy...I never got none.  

Wednesday 28 August 2013

Tomorrow's On this day...as I will be too busy on this day...29th August

Sect decides to fight

Viewers' choice: // Closeup on cultism
Date: Sunday, 29 August 1976
Publisher: Detroit News
Main source: link (137 KiB)

Though religious cults have existed elsewhere for thousands of years, their ranks have only begun to swell in America in the past few decades. They flourished particularly in the sixties, when celebrity involvement — by the Beatles, among others — helped make cult abbreviations like "TM" (for Transcendental Meditation) commonplace.

Unofficial estimates place the number of cults in the United States today at 5,000, with an individual total of two million members. But as that number grew, so did the controversy surrounding them.

Critics have brought charges that the cults brainwash members and purposely mislead them psychologically and financially before the United States Congress. Parents of children who are involved in them have founded a national organization called Citizens Freedom Foundation dedicated to "educating the public to the dangers of religious cults." And a 45-year-old Methodist man from Tennessee named Ted Patrick is currently facing $10 million worth of lawsuits for his efforts to "de-program" young cultists.

ABC News (Ch. 7) will examine the controversy Thursday at 10 p.m. in the hour-long special "ABC News Closeup on New Religions: Holiness or Heresy?"

The program, narrated by Jim Kincaid, will focus especially on two of the most familiar religious organizations in the United States: The Unification Church founded by South Korean evangelist Rev. Sun Myung Moon, and the Church of Scientology, started by L. Ron Hubbard. It will attempt to examine their social and political implications, as well as their operation.

Moon's church declares its three main goals as unification of religion, creation of the true family of man with the founding of God-centered families and transcendence of all racial, na- [rest of article missing]

Scientology Flagship shrouded in mystery // Vessel was focus of mutual suspicion between church, government
Date: Tuesday, 29 August 1978
Publisher: Los Angeles Times (California)
Author: Robert Gillette
Main source: link (361 KiB)

On June 25, 1971, a young Colorado woman named Susan Meister died in an apparent suicide aboard the Apollo, the 3,280-ton flagship of the Church of Scientology and for nearly a decade the personal yacht of the church's founder, L. Ron Hubbard.

In mid-July that year, according to State Department correspondence obtained by The Times, Miss Meister's father traveled from Colorado to the Moroccan port of Safi, 125 miles south of Casablanca, where the Apollo was then moored, to inquire into his daughter's death. Meister is said to have questioned the explanation of the death proffered by the ship's officers, and indicated that he might seek an investigation of the Apollo.

In turn — according to a Nov. 11, 1971, letter from Assistant Secretary of State David M. Abshire to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee — the Apollo's port captain threatened in the presence of the American vice consul from Casablanca, William J. Galbraith, that "he had enough material, including compromising photographs of Miss Meister, to smear Mr. Meister first."

According to the Abshire letter, "Mr. Hubbard was apparently aboard the Apollo at the time of Mr. Meister's visit but declined to see him." Meister was said to have left Morocco the day before the threat was made.

No such smear occurred, and according to a church acquaintance of Miss Meister's who has since renounced Scientology, any such threat would almost certainly have been an empty one. "There was no way that girl could have been involved in anything compromising. She was very quiet, very nice," said the acquaintance, who asked not to be identified.

The State Department letter also says that the same officer who allegedly threatened to "smear" Miss Meister told Galbraith — whom the officer had invited down from Casablanca — that "his organization, backed by money and friends in high places, 'would cause a nosy vice consul severe problems' " and that in Safi, where the ship was well liked, " 'Accidents could easily happen to people.' "

The Apollo's two senior officers then filed a formal complaint with the U.S. government, alleging that Vice Consul Galbraith had threatened them by saying that he could "get the ship sunk . . . by the CIA" or have it sabotaged "by getting a couple of bottles of Coca-Cola into the (engine) oil, or, even better, commercial diamond dust."

Galbraith said these allegations, contained in a notarized statement, were a "complete fabrication."

The incident at Safi appears to have marked a low point in a relationship between the Church of Scientology and American diplomatic outposts abroad that was generally characterized by mutual suspicion.

The church, for its part, suspected U.S. diplomats and intelligence operatives of fomenting trouble for it around the world. Government officials in turn expressed bewilderment at the sometimes eccentric behavior of the Apollo crew and wondered, in correspondence and cables to Washington, whether the ship might be a cover for illicit activities ranging from drug running to white slavery.

The 320-foot ship was purchased in the mid-1960s and sold about 14 months ago, according to church spokesmen. Built in 1937, it had once served as a freighter and a ferry. Under the command of 

"Commodore" Hubbard, as he ranked himself aboard the ship, it became the headquarters and training vessel of his "Sea Org," an elite management corps in the church.

But over the years — as the Apollo plied a generally triangular course from ports in Spain and Portugal, south to Morocco, west to Madeira and back to the Iberian coast — the crew appears to have done its utmost to obscure its relationship with Scientology.

Sailing under Panamanian registry, the ship's owner was listed as the Operation and Transport Corp., Ltd., a Panamanian company. OTC, the crew consistently told skeptical press and local officialdom at its ports of call, was a secular business management training firm whose clients could not be divulged.

Adding to the aura of mystery, the ship transmitted coded radio messages to New York and points unknown and established land bases in Casablanca
and Tangier, cities steeped in intrigue.

The Apollo appears to have done little to dispel the air of mystery about it.

In September, 1969, soon after the OTC established a land base at Tangier, the American consulate at Casablanca cabled an account of a visit aboard the ship, nothing that "all concerned have been completely perplexed by the vagueness of the replies" to such questions as why the ship was operated and what its crew was training to do.

An Apollo brochure was said to explain that some 109 trainees aboard were learning "the art and the culture of navigation, the theory of which, when applied, demonstrates a very useful practice at sea."

Although the Apollo was registered in Panama and owned by a Panamanian company, the Panamanian consul general had no better luck in eliciting information. He found, the U.S. cable said, that the Apollo was "in a very bad state of repair" and believed that "the lives of the crew had been in jeopardy while the vessel was at sea."
"The Panamanian consul general has tried unsuccessfully to meet Commodore Hubbard, who has taken a suite at the El Mansour Hotel and has instructed the hotel personnel to refuse all telephone calls."

"It is possible that Commodore Hubbard and his wife . . . are philanthropists of some kind and/or eccentrics, but if one does not accept this as an explanation, there has to be some other 'gimmick' involved in this operation. What this gimmick might be is unknown here, although people in Casablanca have speculated variously from smuggling to drug traffic to a far-out religious cult."

At times the Apollo and OTC appear to have deliberately teased the curiosity of diplomatic officials.

From Tangier in February of 1971, American Consul General Howard D. Jones wrote to the U.S. legal attache in Madrid of a puzzling social encounter with someone from the OTC.

"I recently met at a social function a young, American lady associated with this new enterprise," Jones wrote. 
"She introduced herself to an American standing with me in this way: 'I am Meredith Thomas. I am here with a Panamanian corporation, and that is all I can tell you.'"

"The air of mystery on the good ship Apollo . . . may not mask any illegal activity; still, I thought it worthwhile to check," Jones said.

Fourteen months later, the U.S. consulate at Tangier dispatched a lengthy cable to Washington reflecting a mixture of bemusement and bewilderment at the semi-clandestine activities of Scientology in Morocco.

The April 26, 1972, cable from Tangier said:

"Little is known of the operations of (the) Operation and Transport Company here, and its officers are elusive about what it does. However, we presume that the Scientologists aboard the Apollo and in Tangier do whatever it is that Scientologists do elsewhere.

"There have been rumors in town that the Apollo is involved in drug or white slave traffic. However, we doubt these reports . . .

"The stories about white slave traffic undoubtedly stem from the fact that included among the crew of the Apollo are a large number of strikingly beautiful young ladies. However, we are skeptical that a vessel that stands out like a sore thumb, in which considerable interest is bound to be generated, and with a crew numbering in the hundreds, would be a reasonable vehicle for smuggling or white slaving."

On an extended cruise through the Caribbean in the summer of 1975, rumors of illicit or clandestine activity followed the Apollo from island to island like seagulls behind a fishing smack.

In September, 1975, the American Embassy in Trinidad cabled in a local news roundup to Washington that the "controversial yacht Apollo seems to have worn out its welcome in Trinidad."

Stories in a weekly tabloid called The Bomb connected the ship with Scientology, told the story of a leading local Calypso singer named Lord Superior who had joined the church and then rejected it, and in the end "appear to have soured the previously enthusiastic attitude of Trinidadians toward the Apollo."

The Bomb also speculated that the ship was linked to the CIA and Sharon Tate murders in Los Angeles. 

That led to a libel action by the Church of Scientology.

Church of Scientology members plead innocent to charges
Date: Tuesday, 29 August 1978
Publisher: Palo Alto Times
Main source: link (57 KiB)

WASHINGTON (UPI) — Nine members of the Church of Scientology, including the wife of founder L. Ron Hubbard, pleaded innocent today to charges they infiltrated federal agencies and stole government documents.

U.S. District Judge George Hart made it clear during the hour-long arraignment that he would reject church attempts to turn their trial into a forum for alledging 28 years of government harassment.

"The Church of Scientology is not on trial here and it's not going to be on trial," Hart said. "There will be no reference to religion throughout the trial.

"We're talking about stealing," the judge said. "That's a simple charge — like you went in a bank and took money."

It also was disclosed that grand juries in New York and Tampa, Fla., are investigating possible criminal conduct by the church, which already is accused in a 29-count indictment of placing members in typist jobs at the Justice Department and Internal Revenue Service to enable it to steal stacks of secret documents.

Hart denied motions by defense lawyers for a ruling sealing all documents in the case to protect the privacy of the defendants. Prosecutors argued the maneuver was intended for public relations purposes, noting the church has called repeated news conferences to denounce the govenment and now wants to prevent any adverse publicity from its alleged actions.

The church has admitted copying govenment documents, but said it did so to defend itself against harassment by the IRS, which has opposed granting it tax-exempt status, the Justice Department and other federal agencies.

The case is built around thousands of documents FBI agents seized in raids on the church's Los Angeles and Washington offices on July 8, 1977.

Two of the 11 defendents — Jane Kember and Morris Budlong, whom prosecutors believe are in Sussex, England, did not appear for arraignment.

Those appearing before Hart included: Mary Sue Hubbard, Sussex, wife of the church founder; Henning Heldt, Los Angeles; Duke Snider, Mitchell Hermann and Cindy Raymond, all of Hollywood; Richard Weigand, Van Nuys; and Gregory Willardson, Beverly Hills.

They are charged with two counts of conspiracy, 10 counts of theft of government property, 10 counts of burglary and one count of intercepting oral communications.

Two other suspects who entered innocent pleas — Gerald Bennett Wolfe, of Areleta, Calif., and Sharon Thomas, Los Angeles — allegedly are low-level church members who "infiltrated" the IRS and Justice Department. They faced related, but slightly different charges.


Church claims U.S. campaign of harassment // Scientologists advance charge as rationale for aggressive policies
Date: Tuesday, 29 August 1978
Publisher: Los Angeles Times (California)
Authors: Robert Gillette, Robert Rawitch
Main source: link (566 KiB)

The Church of Scientology contends that for more than 20 years it has been the target of a systematic campaign by the United States government, together with "vested-interest pressure groups" such as the medical professions, to "suppress the church's spiritual practice and expansion."

The church advances this accusation as the fundamental rationale for its aggressive policies of defense-by-attack against individual critics, private groups and government agencies perceived as "harassing" Scientology.

Church spokesmen, moreover, expand upon the allegation of systematic persecution to suggest that the church's chronic state of conflict with the U.S. government, among others, symptomizes an erosion of democracy of the kind that presaged the rise of Fascism in Germany in the 1930s.

"Genocide didn't begin with gas chambers, it began with the suppression of a single organization," Jeffrey A. Dubron, a spokesman for Scientology's principal United States church in Los Angeles, said repeatedly during interviews with two Times reporters.

Heber C. Jentzsch, the church's chief West Coast spokesman, adds: "Religion is under attack. We're not alone . . . It could result in vast devastation of an entire society if allowed to proliferate."

In an effort to substantiate its charges of persecution, the church says it has filed more than 1,000 formal requests with federal agencies and nearly two dozen lawsuits under the Freedom of Information Act since 1973 — and that by this means has amassed some 200,000 pages of internal government papers and correspondence from private citizens to government agencies that refer to Scientology.

Yet a close examination of the papers the church has culled from this mass of material and made available to Times reporters as evidence fails to reveal any explicit or unambiguous expression of interest on the part of any federal agency to "suppress" or "harass" Scientology, alone or in collaboration with any other agency or private group.

The documents do contain, as the church contends, abundant speculation and rumor about Scientology's motivations and activities, although the gossip in the government's files was usually labeled for what it was.

Overall, the papers reflect widespread skepticism that Scientology was a bona fide religion. But at the same time, government agencies appeared disinclined to regard it as subversive or dangerous.

As one informational memo circulated within the Central Intelligence Agency put it, L. Ron Hubbard, Scientology's founder, "appears to be a shrewd businessman who has parlayed his Scientology 'religion' into a multimillion-dollar business by taking advantage of that portion of society prone to fall for such gimmicks."
The church considers this typical of the damaging false information that it says has plagued Scientology from its inception.

Another CIA memo says, however, that the agency "has had no relationship with Hubbard or with the movement, nor is there any evidence available that would suggest political or subversive overtones."

During 11 hours of interviews, Dubron and Jentzsch began with the position that the government agencies such as the FBI and CIA had engaged "systematic harassment" of the church, in large part by circulating false information about the church's beliefs and practices to other agencies and to foreign governments.

As the evidence of intent was discussed, the two spokesmen shifted to a position that "individuals" in the FBI, the Internal Revenue Service and other agencies had acted on their own volition to suppress the church.

Still later, Dubron asserted that papers obtained under the Freedom of Information Act "at the very least demonstrate gross incompetence" on the part of agencies handling matters relating to Scientology — ranging from the church's requests for tax exemption to visa applications from foreign Scientologists.

"We feel we will be able to prove intent (to harass)," Dubron said, adding in reference to the material obtained under the Freedom of Information Act, "we feel certain it is in there."

If such evidence does not emerge, Dubron said, it may be that it is hidden in additional files the government has refused to surrender under exemption clauses in the act. Or, he said, federal officials may have destroyed such evidence to avoid embarrassment or never committed their intentions to paper in the first place.

This hypothesis is not implausible, but it does run counter to the success that other controversial organizations have had in prying deeply embarrassing documents from federal agencies by means of the Freedom of Information Act.

There are, for example, the volumes of documents brought to light beginning in 1974 that exposed a 15-year campaign by the Federal Bureau of Investigation to disrupt organizations ranging from the Communist Party to the Black Panthers to New Left groups opposed to the Vietnam war.

In one such document, a May 10, 1968, memo from the FBI's "Cointelpro" campaign that conveyed the bureau's intentions unequivocally, the late director J. Edgar Hoover ordered his agents to "expose, disrupt or otherwise neutralize" the New Left movement.

The FBI "must frustrate every effort of these groups and individuals to consolidate their forces or to recruit new or useful elements," Hoover wrote.

The Church of Scientology, which includes the FBI on its list of agencies alleged to have harassed the church, does not appear on published lists of organizations the FBI targeted in its now-defunct Cointelpro campaign.

More important, disclosure of the Cointelpro documents showed that in the 1950s and 1960s — precisely when Scientologists say they were under concerted attack — federal officials did commit to paper their intentions toward other groups, kept the paper and later surrendered it.

The file of papers bearing on Scientology which the FBI has released under the Freedom of Information Act consists almost entirely of citizen inquiries about Scientology; responses from the FBI to the effect that as an investigative agency it could offer no comment; and internal memos on Scientology evidently written for the guidance of FBI offices in handling public inquiries.

The memos consistently, from the 1950s into the 1970s, assert that the FBI has not investigated the Church of Scientology or its founder, Hubbard.

Three inches thick, the FBI file covers 34 years, from 1940 through 1974. It begins with a May 16, 1940 letter from Hubbard himself to the FBI, in which Hubbard accuses the steward of the Knickerbocker Hotel in New York of Nazi sympathies.

The FBI promptly opened a file listing Hubbard as an "informant," then closed it two weeks later after an FBI agent, seeking more information from Hubbard, found that he had moved from his apartment and left no forwarding address.

Last year, the Church of Scientology published a paperback book containing what its spokesmen describe as the essence of available evidence for government harassment of the church. Entitled "The American Inquisition," the $5 book opens with a claim that in 1950 "the government was excited by the possibility of monopolizing L. Ron Hubbard's work and sought to force him into classified government service."

"When Mr. Hubbard declined," the book continues, "the government threatened him — and the war between Scientology and the government was on."

It was, by all indications, a peculiar war. The next year saw Hubbard visiting FBI offices on March 7, 1951, to discuss his then current marital difficulties, pass along the names of associates he believed to be Communists, and advertise dianetics — his theory of the human mind's operation — as a means of combatting communism.

The FBI's summary of the interview, released under the Freedom of Information Act, notes that Hubbard "declined to elaborate on how this might be done."

By 1955, FBI memos indicate, the bureau had ceased acknowledging Hubbard's correspondence.

According to the church's book, the next major incident occurred in the spring of 1958 when then Vice President Richard M. Nixon was alleged to have dispatched two U.S. Secret Service agents to the Founding Church of Scientology in Washington, D.C., to upbraid its staff for a slighting reference to Nixon that had appeared in the church's magazine Ability.

"The agents further demanded that all copies of the Ability issue be recalled, that no further copies be issued, and that Nixon's name never again be mentioned in the church magazine," the book asserts.

The Secret Service has told the church that it has no record of such a visit. The substantiation the church offered in its book is a letter written by a former Washington Scientologist 16 years later, in November, 1974. The letter says in part:

"A rumor somewhat circulated through the organization that we had been visited by the Secret Service on behalf of Vice President Nixon," but the author leaves open the possibility that, "I am misidentifying it with other visits from the FDA or the IRS."

Agents of the Food and Drug Administration did visit a Scientology office in the Washington, D.C. area in 1958. They seized 20,000 pills of a vitamin mixture the church called "dianezene." The FDA said the pills were misleadingly labeled "Special Anti-Radiation Compound" and were advertised as conferring protection against radioactivity. According to the FDA, the seizure was "uncontested" and the tablets were destroyed.

Five years later — in an action the church considers one of the leading government transgressions against it — the FDA returned to seize 100 of Scientology's "E-meters" in Washington, charging that Scientologists were using the electronic devices (which resemble simple lie-detectors) in a counseling context that implied curative powers for illnesses.

The church fought the FDA for the next 10 years and finally won the right to use its E-meters in religious counseling so long as it imputed no therapeutic value. But government documents the church made available to The Times appear to conflict with, rather than support, its view that the 1963 raid was part of a larger effort to suppress Scientology.

In a 1968 letter to the British Ministry of Health, for example, the FDA said, "Our seizure action of the Hubbard E-meters was directed solely against the device, based on objectionable statements in various materials which served as labeling."

The Church of Scientology also contends that it was included on the White House "enemies" list drawn up during the Nixon administration and that it has been the target of a vendetta by the Internal Revenue Service.

"It is not insignificant that the Church of Scientology was one of the organizations named in the infamous Nixon 'enemies' list," Washington church vice president Kendrick L. Moxon said in a federal court affidavit filed May 6, 1976.

But a review of the "enemies" list and associated memos that presidential counsel John Dean disclosed in June, 1973, reveals no mention of the church, its founder or its other officials among the more than 250 organizations and individuals singled out explicitly for retaliation by the IRS and other federal agencies.

The church does appear on a list the IRS drew up in 1969 of organizations that — the agency said in an attached memo — "by their very nature can be expected to ignore or wilfully violate tax or firearm statutes."

The memo makes no mention of "enemies" or any form of retaliation or harassment. The context is that of an effort to consolidate files and eliminate repetitive and overlapping field investigation on groups believed likely to evade tax laws.

In the mid-1960s, the IRS revoked the tax-exempt status of two principal Scientology churches, in Washington, D.C., and Los Angeles. The California case is yet to be resolved, but in 1969 the U.S. Court of Claims upheld the IRS action in the Washington case, ruling that the church had "failed to prove," as the law requires, that no part of the church corporation's net earnings inured to the benefit of Hubbard, his wife or family.

Suspicion within the Internal Revenue Service that the Church of Scientology and its numerous subsidiary organizations was actually a "profit-making scheme of a nonreligious nature" is reflected in an internal memo dated March 27, 1967. Based on unspecified "investigative information," the memo contends that since the early 1950s a "sizable amount of untaxed income has been going to Hubbard generally via one of the (his) controlled organizations, through English or Swiss banks."

Discussing ways of taxing this income, the memo suggests imposing a 30% withholding tax on monies flowing out of the United States to Scientology groups abroad. But it notes that "this would net little tax and not reach the real tax target — Hubbard."

Jentzsch, the church's chief West Coast spokesman, said he took this remark to mean that "they don't care about the money — they want to get Hubbard."

One of the major themes weaving through Scientology's complaint of government harassment is that the FBI, among other agencies, deliberately circulated false and damaging information about the church and its founder within the U.S. government and also passed it along to other governments form Australia to Europe to Africa — thereby coloring official attitudes toward Scientology around the world.

"Well-poisoning," is the phrase that Kenneth J. Whitman, president of the Church of Scientology of California, uses.

To support this view, the church compiled and gave to The Times several hundred pages of documents the U.S. government has turned over to the church. The papers include internal memos, correspondence, State Department cables and requests for information from several foreign governments including Canada and Britain.

These papers, among others obtained independently, do demonstrate that the FBI — having not investigated the church — culled much of its information from uncomplimentary newspaper and magazine articles, distributed it freely to U.S. agencies and infrequently to foreign governments — but not to the public.

The papers also indicate that throughout the government, rumor and speculation linking Scientology to hypnosis and the use or smuggling of drugs were common. (The church has consistently denied any such associations and in January of 1976 federal drug officials said in a court proceeding there was no drug investigation under way.)

It is impossible to tell, on the basis of papers the church has made available, whether, or to what extent, such gossip weighed against the church in its dealings with governments.

There is no indication, however, that U.S. agencies (including the FBI) attached particular credence to the melange of rumor and news clippings circulated by the FBI — or that they relied on such material as a basis for regulatory decisions affecting the church.

A case in point is the so-called "Foley memorandum," which the church regards as one of the most egregious examples of damaging false information yet unearthed from government files by the Freedom of Information Act.

Written by one Shirley Foley of the U.S. Labor Department in November, 1967, the memo is a nine-paragraph summary of a conversation with two IRS attorneys written for his files.

When it was written — and, the church says, distributed later to other federal agencies — the Labor Department was considering whether to issue alien employment certificates routinely to foreign Scientology ministers under rules that apply to "bona fide" religious groups. The certificates were necessary for admission to the United States.

The memo notes that the IRS had tentatively revoked the church's tax- exempt status in Washington, D.C., and California. It then makes passing reference, without elaboration, to "evidence" that the Church of Scientology makes wide use of LSD, uses electric shock in an initiation ceremony and that "members of several families" have allegedly been "shot but not killed by unknown persons because they objected to their teen-age children becoming members."

(Scientology spokesmen say categorically that the church has never condoned the use of drugs, does not shoot people and has no initiation ceremony. As one of the basic tenets of its doctrine, Scientology opposes the use of electroshock therapy by the mental health professions.)

Church officials say that during the late 1960s and early '70s a number of foreign Scientology ministers were denied entry to the Unites States — and that they are convinced the Foley memo was responsible.

"You have one memo like this sent to 52 government agencies and it creates havoc for a religion," church spokesman Jeffrey Dubron said. "The Foley memo was sent to the Immigration and Naturalization Service to help in judging whether Scientologists should be let in. Scientologists were not let in. That's an exceedingly small logical jump to make."

Missing from this deduction, however, is any evidence that the nine- paragraph memo did in fact contribute to the Labor Department's denial of alien employment certificates — or, if it did, that the gossip in it was a deciding factor.

Apart from a 1975 letter of retraction the church had demanded from the Labor Department, no other document in the mass of material the church supplied to The Times refers to Foley, his memo or the allegations in it.

On the contrary, in subsequent letters to the Immigration and Naturalization Service — written long before government officials had any reason to expect that such correspondence might be made public through a Freedom of Information Act — the Labor Department explained that its denial of alien employment certification was based on two grounds: the IRS' revocation of some Scientology churches' tax exemption and the fact that the National Council of Churches did not include Scientology in its directory of some 200 "recognized" religious groups.

In 1975, the Labor Department reviewed the status of the church, parts of which had by then won or regained tax-exempt status, and declared it to be a bona fide religious group. At the church's demand, the department also affirmed that the Foley memo was "irrelevant, unverified, and based on hearsay" and removed it from the files.

On at least one occasion, one of Scientology's own public relations campaigns appears to have backfired on it, leading to what it now decries as false information in government files.

The alleged falsehood, which crops up in a variety of government documents in the 1960s, is that Scientology involves the study of a "Russian textbook on brainwashing."

One such memo, written by the security chief of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, in 1961, indicates that a Scientologist's security clearance had been denied partly on this ground.

The church acknowledges circulating what it called a "Russian textbook of psychopolitics," in 1955 but insists that it did so as a "public service" and did not subscribe to its contents.

This message appears to not have been universally understood, however, for the pamphlet's distribution evoked a number of letters from the public and from at least one U.S. senator (Strom Thurmond, a South Carolina Republican) to the FBI asking whether Hubbard, Scientology or his Dianetics Research Foundation had Communist ties.

The FBI, according to internal bureau memos released recently under the Freedom of Information Act, looked the psychopolitics pamphlet over, declared it to be of "doubtful authenticity," and said it was "apparently a thinly veiled attack upon mental health programs along the line that such programs are part of the worldwide Communist conspiracy."

The notion that communism and the mental health professions were somehow related appears to have coincided closely with Hubbard's own views, although he has not acknowledged writing the pamphlet.

In July, 1955, however, in one of his letters to the FBI Hubbard averred that "attacks" upon his various organizations during the previous five years had "found psychiatry and Communist-connected personnel very much in evidence and both active with defamation and very unreasonable — and unsuccessful — attacks."

The letter does not mention the pamphlet. But six months later in another letter to the FBI he enclosed a copy of it, along with a note that read in part:

"This was compiled from Communist sources for use of our research department and people."

"It may be that we will also use this in anti-Communist campaigns," Hubbard said. "We have been seriously hurt by Communists and communism and we see nothing wrong in our using their tactics against them."

Six years later, in mid-1961, a new edition circulated around the country, but evidently not under Scientology's name. Among the letters of complaint received by the FBI was one from the Founding Church of Scientology in Washington, D.C., addressed to the late director Hoover.

"Dear Mr. Hoover," the May 16, 1961, letter says. "Enclosed is some Communist literature received in the mail by us. Gads! How sickening!"

The FBI concluded that it was the same Russian brainwashing text of doubtful authenticity that Hubbard had submitted in 1955.

In a statement the Church of Scientology hand-delivered to The Times on Aug. 19, after having discussed at length with reporters its allegations of government harassment, Whitman, the church's principal national spokesman, said:

"The FBI cast the first stone at us even as we were becoming a religion nearly three decades ago.

"Now at last we can prove their intentions and their methods, and we can prove that our difficulties were part of a campaign of bloodless genocide."

Whitman offered no new material to support his statement.

Perhaps the most compelling explanation for Scientology's accusations of persecution — and for the church's intensely combative responses — appears in the December, 1971, report of an official British inquiry into the "practices and effects" of Scientology.

The inquiry was conducted by Sir John Foster, a Conservative member of Parliament, three years after Britain had imposed a ban on foreign nationals seeking entry to study Scientology. Foster was not unsympathetic to the church, and recommended, in effect, that the ban be lifted (it was not).

In his preface to a chapter entitled "Scientology and its Enemies," Foster wrote:

"The reactions of individuals and groups to criticism varies from grateful acceptance, or amused tolerance, at one end of the scale to a sense of outrage and vindictive counterattack on the other. Perhaps unfortunately (especially for its adherents) Scientology falls at the hypersensitive end of the scale.

"Judging from the documents, this would seem to have its origin in a personality trait of Mr. Hubbard, whose attitude to critics is one of extreme hostility."

It could be said, Sir John concluded, that:

"Anyone whose attitude to criticism is such as Mr. Hubbard displays in his writings cannot be too surprised if the world treats him with suspicion rather than affection."


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How many times is the word "church" used in this article? It's a pseudo Navy. In the real Navy, LRH could not live up to it's expectations and there lies his engram...that's why he needed to start his own fleet of three little ships sailing around the med and prove he could beat the law...and he did which is why he never served jail time and which is why his followers never will either, because they know how to make the law work for them and that is why scientology still works to this day because money and knowing "people up in higher places works" much of the time.

I think they are called the "elite" aren't they and we all have to abide by them. Not in my world...

I am still really fucked off with Lawrence Wright, who writes a really good book and fucks up big time by listening to the "elite" and not fact checking enough, but makes such a big thing about his fact checking.Friends in high places.I am still really fucked off with Channel 4. Friends in "high"places, and I am really fucked off with the BBC, friends in "HIGH" places, and I am really, really fucked off with some supposed EX Scientologists.FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES!

And that was what the Sea Org was ALL about, wasn't it? The ELITE!

His whole supposed religious philosophy was born out of GAS in a dentist chair...well let me tell you L. Ron Hubbard, if you knew how many times I cursed you for having to sit in a dentist chair because of your god damned "religious philosophy" you would have me declared the worst enemy on earth, because it is Thanks to you I have spent so much time in my life in a dentist's chair.Now there's a fucking engram!

On this day...

Scientology comes back as a religion

'No faith' in beliefs of group

The Church of Scientology - Religion or traveling medicine show?
Date: Sunday, 28 August 1977
Publisher: Valley News
Author: Brian Alexander
Main source: link (389 KiB)

The Church of Scientology offers a free personality evaluation to persons interested in its counseling services. Valley News staff writer Brian Alexander took the test at the Sherman Oaks Scientology center, posing as a college student and using an assumed name. As the second segment of a four-part series on the church, he tells what happened.

The Church of Scientology's free personality test is like a warm handshake, but the grip is too tight.
The counselor who evaluates a potential parishioner's answers to a 200-item questionnaire deftly turns an insightful psychological dialogue into a high pressure sales pitch.

Some critics of Scientology say the church's counseling techniques are over-rated and over-priced. Some say it's hard to say no to the minister's hard sell, that once you're drawn into the web of courses and counseling offered by the church, the exit is well hidden. In an effort to find out, a reporter posed as a college student and took the test.

"Is your life a constant struggle for survival? " asks the questionnaire, which visitors to any of several storefront Scientology centers may complete on the premises or take home and mail in.

"Are you so sure of yourself that it sometimes annoys others?"

"Do you sometimes throw things away and then find that you need them?"

"Would you make the necessary action to kill an animal in order to put it out of pain?"
 
After the test is scored by a counselor, the receptionist calls the applicant to arrange an appointment to discuss the results. In this instance, the reporter's counselor is a 47-year-old minister named Mike.
Mike ushers the reporter into a tiny office and closes the door. He asks how the applicant learned of Scientology, what attracted him to it, whether he has any questions. He listens attentively, and answers questions thoroughly.

The minister than places a piece of paper on the small desk, facing the reporter. On it is a graph which supposedly represents the results of the questionnaire. This is the "Oxford Capacity Analysis," which psychology and psychiatry association spokesmen are later to tell the reporter they have never heard of.
Mike makes overall comments before evaluating each part of the graph specifically. Many of his observations seem insightful and accurate. He says such things as: "Here I see that you're an extremely active person," or, "You're a fairly aggressive person but your activity level is higher so you are what we call 'dispersed.'"

He solicits feedback from the reporter. Sometimes, when the reporter balks at a particular interpretation, Mike apologizes for "misreading" the chart. He revises his evaluation.

The chart deals in quantities such as "reliability," "composure" and "friendliness." When Mike points to the part of the graph indicating an extreme "unhappiness" (too extreme, the reporter feels), he asks what is causing the condition. He suggests various alternatives, based on points he has made earlier and to which the reporter has agreed.

Mike narrows the discussion to one specific cause for the alleged depression, carefully seeking agreement from the reporter at each step of the rationale. While each step of the progression is accurate, the reporter feels that the overall trend is simplistic and inaccurate. He says so, and Mike patiently retraces the earlier logic. When he has finished, he asks how it can be interpreted otherwise.

"Now the question is," he asks, "do you want to do something about it?"

He produces a loose-leaf binder and opens it to a page describing several benefits guaranteed by a Scientology course in personal communications. The benefits include acceptance and control of personal relationships.

The reporter asks if, given the variety of the human species, the results can be so certain. Mike turns to a page containing a small photograph of the church's founder, L. Ron Hubbard, and a Hubbardism in large print: "We deliver what we promise."
 
The minister emphasizes the point, repeating it aloud and pointing to the page. Then he describes the course briefly: Two weeks long, three hours each weekday evening, seven hours each weekend day. The cost is $50. The class involves reading two books and engaging in a variety of communications drills with other students.

"It's fun," he promises.

He places a contract on the table while the reporter is still mulling it over. All during the pitch, the reporter has remained hesitant, raising several objections: He'd like to think over, talk to a friend about it; the time commitment may be a problem.

Mike dismisses each objection briskly, even revising the schedule so that one weekend day is left free. He warns against letting the "problem" go, and accuses the reporter of dealing with the decision too intellectually — one of the failings "revealed" by the test.

As the reporter assigns his assumed name to the form, Mike casually asks whether he will pay by check or cash. Having already told the minister he is subsisting on a student loan, the reporter asks to be allowed to pay on the evening of the class, the following Thursday.

Mike seems disturbed. "It makes it more real for you if you pay now," he says. "More real for you and for us, because we have to schedule these things."

It is a Friday, about 4:30 p.m. The reporter insists he has only enough money for weekend activities. Finally, Mike suggests a deposit. How much can the young man spare as a deposit on the $50 fee?

"Gee," replies the reporter, "I can really only spare about five bucks or so, hardly anything. Otherwise I'll be broke for the weekend." Besides, he says, his wallet is in the car.

"You could go to your car," Mike says.

The reporter suggests he be allowed to bring in the money on Monday. Mike is hesitant. "It makes it more real, that's all," he says. He looks at his watch. Can the young man still get to the bank before it closes?
The reporter says his bank is located in Hollywood, a half-hour drive away. Mike gives in. The young man can bring the money in on Monday.

The young man never returns.

On the evening of the first class, Mike calls the reporter at home. He asks if the reporter will be coming to class. He asks why not. He listens as the reporter says he felt pressured, that Mike was not responsive to his need for time to think about the course.

Mike apologizes. "Sometimes I get a little carried away," he says, "but you know I don't get anything out of this. It all goes to the church."

The reporter thanks Mike for apologizing.

"This is it, then?" Mike asks. Yes, the reporter replies. They thank each other, and hang up.

(Tomorrow: More inside information, from past and present members of the church. The pressure grows with time, in the ranks of Scientology.)

Scientology in the dock
Date: Monday, 28 August 1978
Publisher: Newsweek
Authors: Arthur Lubow, Diane Camper, Martin Kasindorf
Main source: link (266 KiB)

It started a little like Watergate. Late one night two years ago, two men made their way to the third floor of the U.S. courthouse in Washington. With stolen keys, they opened the office of assistant U.S. attorney Nathan Dodell and photocopied sheaves of government documents rifled from his files. They repeated the caper a few nights later, but when they showed up at the building again, a suspicious guard called the FBI. The two men, Gerald Wolfe and Michael Meisner, were described by authorities as agents of the Church of Scientology, a religious therapy group that claims 4.5 million adherents, among them such celebrities as John Travolta. Wolfe was subsequently convicted and Meisner agreed to cooperate with an FBI probe. Last week, the investigation paid off: a Washington grand jury indicted eleven Scientologists on charges of burglary, bugging and obstruction of justice over a three-and-a-half-year period.

Two 'Moles': The defendants, including some top Scientology officials, are accused of an elaborate conspiracy to infiltrate government offices. They are said to have bugged an IRS conference room before a meeting on the church's tax-exempt status; to have pilfered files from IRS and Justice Department attorneys; and to have placed two agents as undercover "moles" in government jobs. At a press conference, Henning Heldt, the head American Scientologist and one of those indicted, countered that the government has conducted a 28-year campaign to suppress the church. "We welcome the opportunity to put the government on trial for their crimes against the millions of American Scientologists and Scientology congregations all over the world," he said.

Scientology has inspired controversy ever since founder L. Ron Hubbard, a former science-fiction writer, published his 1950 best seller, "Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health." Four years later Hubbard made Scientology a religion — a move that has saved the church millions of dollars in taxes. Similar to some self-help therapies, Scientology holds that by recalling negative experiences or "engrams," a person can free himself from repressed feelings that cripple his life. That liberation process, which is called "getting clear," is assisted by a counselor, called an "auditor," who charges up to $60 a session. The auditor's main tool is the "E-meter," a skin galvanometer that is said to help him discover what is bothering his subject. Scientologists, who believe in reincarnation, say they often dredge up experiences from previous lives during an auditing session.

Over the years, the Scientologists have attracted close government scrutiny. The Food and Drug Administration seized E-meters as deceptive cure-alls, but the church won the legal right to use them in 1976. Church spokesmen say the government has disseminated inaccurate reports that enmeshed Scientology in legal battles in Australia, France and Britain, where Hubbard now lives. The church responded by establishing an elaborate security network, known as the Guardian's Office, to protect its operations. The Guardian's Office has sued numerous church critics, including the American Medical Association and ABC-TV, and filed 80 Freedom of Information Act requests for 200,000 pages of government documents.

But as Meisner tells it, the Guardian's Office also undertook a massive espionage operation against its critics. Based on evidence from Meisner, the FBI obtained search warrants for one of the most extensive raids in its history. On July 8, 1977, 134 FBI agents, armed with battering rams, chain saws and sledgehammers, burst into Scientology headquarters in Los Angeles and Washington. They carted away thousands of documents, as well as a lock-picking kit, a blackjack, eavesdropping equipment, two pistols and even a vial marked "vampire blood."

Bomb Threats: According to the FBI, the documents showed that the church was deeply involved in a harassment campaign against its critics, public and private. Among the confiscated papers was a folder tagged "Operation Freakout," a plan to "incarcerate Paulette Cooper." Cooper, a New York free-lance writer and Scientology critic, has accused the Scientologists of stealing papers from her psychiatrist and lawyer, sending anonymous notes to neighbors that accused her of being a prostitute and mailing forged bomb threats written on stationery stolen from her apartment. The bomb threats led to Cooper's own arrest, on charges that were eventually dismissed. She has recently filed a $20 million lawsuit against the New York church. A similar lawsuit is contemplated by Gabriel Cazares, the former mayor of Clearwater, Fla., who says that after he opposed the establishment of Scientology training center in Clearwater, the church harassed him.

There was no comment last week from the church's world headquarters, which is located in Sussex, England, on a luxurious 55-acre estate that once belonged to the Maharajah of Jaipur. There Hubbard lives in retirement, while his wife, Mary Sue Hubbard, helps run the church's activities. Last week, dressed in black and looking older than her 47 years, Mary Sue was in Washington. Charged with conspiracy and burglary, she was fingerprinted and, like her codefendants, released on personal recognizance — to await the trial that will give her the opportunity of legally "getting clear."

—ARTHUR LUBOW with DIANE CAMPER in Washington, MARTIN KASINDORF in Los Angeles and bureau reports
[Picture / Caption: Heldt, Scientologists aping FBI at protest in Washington: Church vs. state]

'Fair Game' policy // Scientology critics assail belligerence
Date: Monday, 28 August 1978
Publisher: Los Angeles Times (California)
Authors: Robert Rawitch, Robert Gillette
Main source: link (747 KiB)

"If anyone is getting industrious trying to enturbulate (sic) or stop Scientology or its activities, I can make Captain Bligh look like a Sunday-school teacher. There is probably no limit on what I would do to safeguard Man's only road to freedom against persons who . . . seek to stop Scientology or hurt Scientologists."
— L. Ron Hubbard, Aug. 15, 1967

It was not the first time that private investigator Eual R. Harrow had interviewed jurors following a verdict, but in a 1974 Los Angeles case involving the Church of Scientology, Harrow said the jurors proved to be "the most difficult group I have ever encountered."

The case was a civil suit, and the church had hired Harrow to find out why it had lost. The jury had awarded $300,000 in damages to former Scientologist L. Gene Allard in his suit in Los Angeles Superior Court against the church for malicious prosecution.

"Many of the jury, especially the women members, were concerned for their safety, and felt that the church may try to do something to the members of the jury," Harrow said in a sworn affidavit. One juror said several of the others contemplated asking for protection, Harrow said.

"It appeared that all the jurors were somewhat intimidated by the doctrine of the Church of Scientology," the investigator wrote. "Everyone I interviewed felt they were now 'fair game.' "

Fair game is the name the church applied to a policy dictum first expressed by Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard in 1965, and which he reaffirmed in a written policy communique to the worldwide church in 1967.

The fair-game policy has been a central focus of Scientology's critics — among them former Scientologists — who contend that the church pursues individuals who offend it with the same combativeness it directs toward government agencies and private groups the church counts among its enemies.

In a policy order dated Oct. 18, 1967, concerning a "suppressive person" (SP) or "enemy" of the church, Hubbard wrote:

"SP Order. Fair Game. May be deprived of property or injured by any means by any Scientologist without discipline of the Scientologist. May be tricked, sued or lied to or destroyed."

Spokesmen for the church insist that the intent of the fair-game policy has been widely misunderstood by outsiders, and that it signified only that a "suppressive person" could be deprived of the special protections the church seeks to provide from a hostile society.

Equally misunderstood, the church contends, is a controversial Hubbard dictum label "R2-45," which the church's enigmatic founder never has chosen to elaborate. The dictum comes from Hubbard's book "The Creation of Human Ability" and reads: "R2-45: An enormously effective process for exteriorization but its use is frowned upon by this society at this time."

Exteriorization, in Scientology terminology, is the ability of the mind, or "thetan" to physically leave the body.
A number of former Scientologists who are now critics of the church assert that R2-45 is meant to authorize killing its antagonists with a .45-calibre pistol.

Church spokesman Jeffrey Dubron, of the principal American Church of Scientology in Los Angeles, says "it was only a joke."

There is no evidence that R2-45 has ever been carried out, nor is there any indication Scientologists have ever, as a matter of policy, physically harmed anyone.

There is, however, abundant evidence that the church has sought — and to a significant extent succeeded — to suppress criticism of Scientology, in part by simply promulgating policies such as fair game and R2-45 and also by the church's quickness to file civil and even criminal charges against its critics.

In a 1955 publication by Hubbard still sold in the church's bookstores, he said the purpose of a lawsuit against those who make unauthorized use of Scientology materials "is to harass and discourage rather than to win."

He also said in the same publication, "... We do not want Scientology to be reported in the press anywhere else than in the religious pages of newspapers ... Therefore, we should be very alert to sue for slander at the slightest chance so as to discourage the public presses from mentioning Scientology."

Eight years later, a five-page policy letter put out by Hubbard entitled "press policies" suggests "We prefer no press because it slows our word-of-mouth amongst the people."

As with its war on government agencies that the church perceives as hostile to it, Scientology's conflict with individual critics are the business of the church's Guardian Office, a legal, public relations and intelligence staff represented in each Scientology church in the United States and other countries.

Directed from the organization's headquarters in Sussex, Eng., the Guardian Office is a world apart from the thousands of predominantly young people devoted to the church, and who feel that its form of counseling, called "auditing," has benefited them.
Indeed, the Guardian Office poses what would seem to be the central paradox of Scientology: It is a sternly disciplinarian, combative — and by the acknowledgement of church officials keenly litigious — unit of a religious organization that says it seeks to "increase the spiritual, cultural, and moral values of man" and to ameliorate the "harsh demands of a modern society."

According to various sources:

— A New York federal grand jury is currently trying to determine whether Scientologists framed Paulette Cooper, the author of a book critical of the church, by mailing two bomb threats to a Church of Scientology in New York containing clues pointing to Miss Cooper. A grand jury in 1973 initially charged Miss Cooper with mailing the threatening letters, but the charges were dismissed by the prosecutor two years later.

— The FBI in its July, 1977, search of Church of Scientology offices in Los Angeles and Washington seized documents indicating that two Scientologists staged a phony hit-and-run automobile accident involving a pedestrian in an effort to discredit Gabriel Cazares, a former mayor of Clearwater, Fla., and a vigorous critic of Scientology.

— The FBI also seized documents indicating unspecified "operations" planned by the church against Florida journalists critical of Scientology in 1976. The church was at that time establishing a $2.3 million center for its elite "Sea Organization" in the Clearwater area.

The FBI also has alleged in an affidavit that one of the 11 Scientologists indicted by a federal grand jury Aug. 15 on charges of burglarizing federal offices intended to use fictitious Internal Revenue Service identification cards in an "operation" against one of the journalists, but decided instead to use the cards to gain entry to a U.S. Justice Department office.

In litigating to curb its critics, the Church of Scientology has brought more than 100 civil lawsuits in the past decade in the United States and Canada alone — most of them for libel — against journalists, publishing companies, radio and television stations, libraries and outspoken individuals who criticize the church.

Moreover, on at least four occasions the Church of Scientology or its members have lodged criminal charges against vocal critics. In each of the four known instances the charges were dismissed by a local prosecutor or a judge before the case was presented to a jury.

The doctrinal writings and policy statements produced over the last 14 years by the church's 67-year-old founder, L. Ron Hubbard, have set Scientology's basic strategy in meeting attacks by government agencies, private groups and individuals.

Among the earliest such statements is a formal "policy letter" issued on August 15, 1960, directing his followers to conduct themselves more forcefully.

"If attacked on some vulnerable point," Hubbard wrote, "always find or manufacture enough threat against them to cause them to sue for peace."

Six years later another policy directive over Hubbard's name exhorts Scientologists to investigate "noisily" individuals who attack the church.

"You find out where he or she works or worked, doctor, dentist, friends, neighbors, anyone and phone 'em up and say, 'I am investigating Mr./Mrs. ... for criminal activities as he/she has been trying to prevent Man's freedom and is restricting my religious freedom and that of my friends and children, etc. ...'

"You say now and then, 'I have already got some astounding facts,' etc. etc. (Use a generality) ... It doesn't matter if you don't get much info. Just be noisy — it's very odd at first, but makes fantastic sense and works."

A subsequent May 30, 1974, confidential Scientology board policy letter entitled "handling hostile contacts/dead agenting," incorporates part of the church's earlier policies regarding attacks and specifically attributes to Hubbard:

"It is my specific intention that by the use of professional PR tactics any opposition be not only dulled but permanently eradicated. This takes data and planning before positive action can occur."

At another point in the policy, to counter what Hubbard labeled the "black propaganda" of others against Scientology, the founder wrote:

"If there will be a long-term threat, you are to immediately evaluate and originate a black PR campaign to destroy the person's repute and to discredit them so thoroughly that they will be ostracized."

Scientology spokesman Kenneth Whitman said the 1974 policy had been rescinded, but church officials declined to produce any written documentation to that effect.

According to court documents, L. Gene Allard believed that the Church of Scientology instigated criminal charges against him in 1969 in an effort to discredit him after he left the church with financial records which he later turned over to the Internal Revenue Service.

Allard, an artist from Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., who was then 28 years old, had joined the church in 1969 in Texas. The same year he moved to Los Angeles, where he signed a symbolic "billion-year" contract of loyalty to the church and joined Scientology's elite management corps, the Sea Organization.

Allard held the position of banking officer for the United States "Mother Church" in Los Angeles until June 8, 1969, when, he said in court testimony, he fled the church after a superior urged him to alter $1.25 million in receipts so as to make it appear that the money had been received by a tax-exempt portion of the church rather than a nonexempt entity.

Soon after Allard fled, church officials called the police and accused him of stealing the equivalent of $27,713 in Swiss francs, along with unspecified records, from the church safe. Allard was subsequently arrested in Florida and jailed for 21 days before the Los Angeles district attorney's office dismissed grand theft charges against him "in the interest of justice."

Expanding on the reasons for the dismissal, the prosecutor, in his recommendation filed in Superior Court, said church officials had been "evasive" in discussing the allegedly stolen Swiss francs.

Allard did admit taking financial records from the safe that reflected income and disbursements by the church, but he said he turned those over to the IRS in Kansas City, which the prosecutor confirmed.

The Los Angeles prosecutor also told the court he found Allard's contention that the charges were leveled at him by Scientology in an attempt to discredit him "plausible" and "well founded" because Allard might someday be a witness for the IRS in a case against the church.

The 1974 trial of Allard's malicious prosecution suit against the church focused on whether he had been subjected to Scientology's fair-game policy and the church's contention the policy had been canceled.

Attorneys for the church vigorously argued that the policy was irrelevant to Allard's suit and, failing that, tried to show that it had not been applied to Allard.

Introduced into evidence was a policy order signed by Hubbard in 1968 which called a halt to declaring individuals fair game "because it is bad public relations."

But the same policy stated it "does not cancel any policy on treatment or handling of any SP (suppressive person)," referring to being "tricked, sued, or lied to or destroyed."

The jury May 31, 1974, found in favor of Allard and awarded him $50,000 general damages and $250,000 punitive damages.

An appellate court — which upheld the Superior Court verdict but reduced the amount of punitive damages assessed against the church to $50,000 — observed that Superior Judge Parks Stillwell had given the church "almost the entire trial within which to produce evidence that the fair-game policy had been repealed." The appellate court said the church had "failed to do so."

The California Supreme Court refused on July 15, 1976, to review the case. Allard was last reported by his attorney, W. Marshall Morgan, to be working as a woodcarver in San Diego County. Efforts by The Times to reach him for comment were unsuccessful.

In a similar finding, the December, 1971, report of an official British inquiry into Scientology rejected the church's contention that the fair-game policy was "just a theoretical sanction."

Sir John Foster, a member of Parliament who presided over the inquiry, wrote:

"In at least one case which has come to my notice, a defector from Scientology who had risen through the ranks to a high position in the organization was declared fair-game over Mr. Hubbard's signature when he decided to dissociate himself.

"Thereafter, members of the Scientology leadership were found writing to third parties to say that the defector had been 'excommunicated for theft and perversion.'

"Another Scientologist, who had sued for the return of his auditing (counseling) fees, found himself the subject of a private prosecution for theft by the Scientology leadership. Fortunately for him, he was acquitted."

The Church of Scientology has since circulated an affidavit bearing Hubbard's signature that disavows any harmful intent to the fair-game policy. The March 22, 1976, affidavit, which is not notarized, reads in part:

"There was never any attempt or intent on my part by the writing of these policies (or any others for that fact), to authorize illegal or harassment-type acts against anyone."

However, the inventory the FBI prepared of items it seized from the Church of Scientology in July, 1977, cites a nine-page document dated Jan. 26, 1976, which, according to the FBI's description, concerns "operations against enemies 'Sableman, Orsini, and Bob Snyder.'"

Mark Sableman and Bette Orsini are reporters for the St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times and Clearwater Sun who, in 1976, wrote a series of investigative stories on Scientology. Bob Snyder was at the time a talk show host on radio station WDCL in Dunedin, Fla., near Clearwater, where the Church of Scientology established a major new "advanced training" facility in late 1975.

On his radio show, and on the lecture circuit in the metropolitan Tampa area, Snyder had been severely critical of the church, depicting Scientology as an "anti-God" influence that had moved surreptitiously into the community, misleading businessmen, news media, and local clergy as to its identity.

The Church of Scientology had established the advanced training center for its Sea Organization in the locally historic, 272-room Fort Harrison Hotel in Clearwater — but did not initially disclose its ownership.

The previous owner, Jack Tar Hotels, Inc., said only that it had sold the Fort Harrison building for $2.3 million to a company called Southern Land Development and Leasing Corp., which in turn was to lease the hotel to a newly formed organization called United Churches of Florida.

Only after the mayor of Clearwater at the time, Gabriel Cazares, pressed publicly for more information about United Churches — and asked in particular why a religious organization would restrict public access to the old hotel and post Mace-equipped security guards around the clock — did Scientology church officials in Florida acknowledge that they were "95% owners" of both Southern Land and United Churches of Florida.

Still later, the officials said the two groups were "wholly-owned subsidiaries" of the Church of Scientology. Asked in 1976 to explain why the church had not disclosed its role in the purchase of the hotel, national spokesman Arthur J. Maren said that, "Since the idea was to unite religions for community and social betterment, and not an idea to propagate Scientology, the less mention of any dominant religion the better."
(The hotel complex and nearby bank building the church purchased for $500,000 now operate openly under the banner of Scientology.)

In an affidavit the FBI prepared last year in support of a search warrant prior to seizing papers from the Church of Scientology, the bureau alleged that two church agents broke into an Internal Revenue Service office in Washington, in March, 1976, and made IRS credentials in fictitious names.

"These credentials were initially made," the FBI alleged, "for use in a covert operation involving one Robert Snyder, a newscaster critical of the church."

Instead of carrying out that operation, the FBI affidavit alleged, the credentials were used by two Scientologists to gain entry to the U.S. Courthouse in Washington, where the Justice Department kept files of government documents withheld from the Church of Scientology, under exemptions in the Freedom of Information Act.

The FBI identified the Scientologists as Michael J. Meisner, the Washington church's covert operations chief who became a key government informant in the case, and Gerald Wolfe of Los Angeles, one of the 11 indicted by a federal grand jury. The FBI said it intercepted Wolfe and Meisner at the U.S. Courthouse on June 11, 1976.

In February, 1976, after the church threatened to sue the radio station for Snyder's caustic remarks about Scientology, the small station fired Snyder, then rehired him a month later to host a noncontroversial music show.

The same month church officials obtained a criminal complaint for trespassing against Snyder, alleging that he had driven at a high rate of speed into the courtyard of a church facility shouting obscenities.

Snyder confirmed that he and his wife had driven onto the premises to gather information about Scientology, but denied the other accusations. A city judge dismissed the charges ruling that no "willful trespass" had been proven.

Mark Sableman, a reporter with the Clearwater Sun who had written stories critical of Scientology, was the target of an apparent attempt in May, 1976, to discredit him professionally in the eyes of the Florida Legislature, which Sableman was then covering.

A rough draft of a fictitious news story under his name was circulated anonymously among legislators alleging that 19 of them were linked to the Mafia and gambling interests and were involved in bribery, blackmail and illegal financial transactions.

The Clearwater Sun denied at the time that Sableman was working on any such story and added in a published disclaimer that two documents circulated with the fake draft, which the newspaper did not describe, were apparently obtained by burglarizing the reporter's Tallahassee hotel room.

According to one account, documents seized from the Church of Scientology in July, 1977, show Scientologists circulated the fictitious news story.

In February, 1976, shortly after the church had bought the Clearwater Hotel and the city's mayor, among others, had stirred a local furor over Scientology's role, the Church sued Cazares for $1 million — alleging libel, slander and infringement of its members' constitutional right to freedom of religion.
Cazares and his wife then countersued the church, alleging that a "fact sheet" on his background that Scientologists had circulated had libeled him.

(The Cazareses later dropped their suit, they said, in order to concentrate their resources on defending against the church suit, which a federal judge in Tampa dismissed last month.

A hearing is yet to be held to determine whether the Church of Scientology should be compelled to pay the Cazares' legal fees, which his attorney estimates at between $40,000 and $70,000.)

On March 14 and 15, 1976, Cazares attended a national mayors' conference in Washington, D.C.
Shortly thereafter, while Cazares was running unsuccessfully for Congress, an anonymous letter signed only "Sharon T." circulated in Clearwater alleging that the mayor had been riding in a car in Washington that struck a pedestrian and that Cazares had failed to report the accident.

Last April, the Washington Post reported that documents the FBI seized from the church showed that two Scientologists had staged a fake hit-and-run accident involving Cazares in Washington's Rock Creek Park. 

A woman Scientology agent, said to have been driving a car in which Cazares was riding, reportedly "struck" a second Scientologist posing as a pedestrian, sped away and urged the mayor not to report the "accident."

The Church of Scientology subsequently subpoenaed the Post reporter and entered the story into court records as part of a contention that the government had leaked documents prejudicial to the church.

Cazares, who is now a stockbroker in the Clearwater area, has acknowledged renting a car and driving it in Washington on March 14, 1976, but has said he drove alone. Inquiries to the Washington police by Florida news media at the time the anonymous letter from "Sharon T" circulated, disclosed 19 hit-and-run accidents in the metropolitan area on March 14, none involving a pedestrian. Although he turned the letter over to the FBI, Cazares declined to discuss the incident further with The Times.

Spokesmen for the Church of Scientology have denied involvement in any such episode or in circulating the letter from "Sharon T." One church spokesman said, "It sounds like the plot of a movie."

In pleadings filed in the Los Angeles federal court, Asst. U. S. Atty. Raymond Banoun, the prosecutor in the case of 11 church officials indicted Aug. 15, said earlier this year that federal grand juries in Tampa and New York are investigating Scientology, but he would comment no further.

The New York grand jury, according to a reliable source, is attempting to determine whether the church or its officials were involved in framing freelance author Paulette Cooper on criminal charges lodged against her on May 17, 1973.

Miss Cooper, who wrote a 1971 book entitled, "The Scandal of Scientology," was charged two years later with two counts of mailing bomb threats to a prominent official of the church in New York and one count of perjury for denying to a grand jury that she sent the notes.

J. A. Meisler, then a public-relations official in the New York Church of Scientology, has said in a signed statement that after he received the two typewritten bomb threats he gave the FBI a list of persons "who might bear me a grudge or be critical or opposed to" Scientology. Los Angeles church spokesmen confirmed that her name was one of those given to the FBI.

One of the notes bore a single fingerprint of Miss Cooper, and the wording of both contains clues pointing to her. One note, for example, refers to "books closing in on me" — Miss Cooper has written several other books and numerous magazine articles — and also contains the words, "My tongue is swollen — I hurt — my operation."

Miss Cooper had a minor tongue anomaly which she says developed as a result of childhood malnutrition when she lived in an orphanage. Shortly before the Church of Scientology reported receiving the notes in late 1972, Miss Cooper also had undergone major surgery for an unrelated problem and mentioned it in a television interview.

In the months after she was charged with federal offenses relating to the mailing of the notes, Miss Cooper has said she spent more than $20,000 for legal fees and an additional $6,000 for psychiatric treatment of severe mental depression. On one occasion, she has said, she attempted suicide.

In 1975, two years after her indictment, authorities dismissed the charges against Miss Cooper.

Three weeks ago, Miss Cooper filed a $20 million damage suit against the church in New York. In the suit, she said that FBI agents advised her in October of 1977 of evidence that the Church of Scientology "had caused her stationery to be stolen, had written the two bomb threat letters on it, had caused them to be sent to it (the church) and had called in the FBI and blamed her."

In her civil suit, Paulette Cooper refers to a manila folder entitled "PC Freakout" that was among truckloads of documents the FBI seized from the Church of Scientology, following a search July 8, 1977.

The only available description of the folder is contained in the FBI's extensive inventory of materials it seized. The FBI said it contained two documents that concerned "getting PC incarcerated in a mental institution or jail."

The FBI has informed Miss Cooper that the initials "PC" refer to her.

The FBI inventory of seized documents contains more than a dozen references in all to "PC" and "Paulette Cooper," including a three-page document dated May 18, 1972, discussing "intelligence operations against Paulette Cooper" and a manila folder with "handwritten notes from P. Cooper's diary."

In addition to alleging that the church framed her on the criminal charges, Miss Cooper's suit alleges that the Church also stole her diary; sent false and malicious, but anonymous letters to acquaintances; made threatening phone calls to her; stole information about her from the offices of her lawyer and doctor and mailed it to her and spied on her.

Jonathon Lubell, New York attorney for the church, declined to comment on the nature of Miss Cooper's suit other than to state he was confident Scientology would be "vindicated."
Cooper's 1971 book also resulted in a major legal battle with the church, which filed eight libel suits against her in California, New York and Canada as well as in Australia and Great Britain, where Miss Cooper says the book was never distributed.

Tower Publications, Inc., publisher of "The Scandal of Scientology," withdrew the book from the market shortly after the suits were filed against Miss Cooper and the company. Stating that fighting the suits was not worth the probable cost in legal fees, Tower paid the church $500 in a 1973 settlement and wrote a brief apology for "any difficulties caused to the Church of Scientology as a result of any half-truths or misstatements of fact in the book ..."

On Dec. 5, 1976, five of the lawsuits were settled on the eve of a Superior Court trial in Los Angeles pertaining to one of them. The church paid what Miss Cooper's attorney described as a "substantial sum" for her legal expenses.

She in turn signed a statement that said in part that in the five years since publication of the book she had learned that a number of passages in it were "erroneous or at the very least misleading" and agreed not to discuss the book publicly.

In still another suit, which the church filed against Miss Cooper this year, it accused her of breaking a clause in the settlement agreement under which she was to refrain from public discussion of Scientology and her book.

The church filed the suit after a newspaper story last April described her conflict with Scientology, although the story said she was traveling in Europe and could not be reached for comment. Her attorney, in responding to this suit, said she signed the 1976 agreement "under duress" from the church and that it was therefore "unlawful and unenforceable."

Jeffrey Dubron, a church spokesman in Los Angeles, characterized Miss Cooper as "someone who is out for money and found a sensational way to get it."

"All I'm saying," Dubron said, "is look at her book, look at this (the 15-page statement she signed concerning disputed passages in the book) ... and then ask us why we sued, and why, when you talk about Paulette Cooper's credibility, you find we have fairly deaf ears."

Forty miles north of Toronto, in the small community of Sutton, Ontario, a 55-year-old housewife named Nan McLean has been an equally vocal critic of Scientology, and her conflicts with the church have been intense.

Mrs. McLean joined Scientology in 1969 and for several years worked full time at one of the church's counseling "franchises" — now called missions — in Toronto. Before she left in the fall of 1972 she had brought her husband, two sons, and daughter-in-law into the church.

One son, John, now 26, dropped out of high school in his senior year to join Scientology and spent nearly two years aboard the church's flagship, the 3,280-ton yacht Apollo.

But when the McLeans became disenchanted with Scientology and sought refunds for some of the counseling courses they had taken, conflict erupted with the church — and escalated as the McLeans began publicly criticizing the church in new articles and on radio and television.

In a little more than five years, the Church of Scientology has filed nearly a dozen lawsuits — most of them for libel — against various members of the family in the United States and Canada, instigated criminal charges alleging harassing phone calls from the McLeans, and conducted a mock funeral for the family down the main street of Sutton.

A judge dismissed the criminal charges after testimony that three of the calls actually were placed by Scientologists to the McLeans.

On April 25, 1974, a Canadian court ordered the church "not to carry on public demonstrations against" Mrs. McLean, distribute literature describing her as a "lost soul," or otherwise refer to her previous association with Scientology.

Mrs. McLean in turn was ordered to cease impugning Scientology on radio and television until a church suit against her (to reclaim a $1,300 refund it paid her) is resolved.

Amid these legal battles, two Toronto men were arrested on April 17, 1974, in what police said was an aborted attempt to break into an attorney's office. The office was that of Nan McLean's attorney. The following day a court hearing was scheduled in one of the suits the Church of Scientology had brought against her.

The two men later pleaded guilty to possession of burglary tools and were sentenced to two years probation.

Although a police search of their apartment found material on Scientology, neither man acknowledged affiliation with the church during interviews with police or with probation officials.

Asst. Crown Atty. Brian McIntyre, in a letter to Mrs. McLean dated Nov. 3, 1975, said a police investigation revealed that both men were members of the Church of Scientology.

There is no evidence the men were acting at the direction of the church.


  Ex-members denounce sect rehab program
Date: Tuesday, 28 August 1984
Publisher: Clearwater Sun (Florida)
Author: George-Wayne Shelor
Main source: link (113 KiB)

The young man — by all appearances a teen-ager — crouched on the dark, narrow stairway as he scrubbed the sixth-floor landing in the former Fort Harrison Hotel, the "Flag Land Base" headquarters of the Church of Scientology.

"Are you in RPF?" queried a reporter.

"Sir?" he asked quietly, peering up from his work.

"Are you in RPF?"

"Yes sir, I am."

RPF is the Rehabilitation Project Force (RPF), which, depending on who is speaking, is either a businessman's approach to improving an employee's lagging job performance or a form of punishment for Scientologists who are banished to serve penance for their misdeeds and "bad thoughts."

Two others — adult men who, like the youth, were dressed in blue shorts and faded blue shirts — worked two floors below, also cleaning the stairs. They spoke not a word. Former Scientologists say that those in RPF "are not to speak unless spoken to."

Those who have spent time in the RPF at the Fort Harrison tell a harrowing tale of long hours at work — as much as 100 hours a week — and of months and mental abuse at the hands of other Scientologists.

But their vivid recollections of hard work and abuse contradict current Church of Scientology statements that the RPF is "an entirely voluntary" program.

"It's totally up to the individual if he wants to do it or not," sect spokesman Richard Haworth said Monday.
Haworth, who said he has never been in RPF, characterized the program as "a chance for an individual to get himself back on track. It's a rehabilitation program like any other business has for employees who may not be operating up to their potential."

He said persons don't have to enter the RPF if they choose not to, and if they do, "they have 10 to 12 hour (work) days like everyone else (and) get no more or no less pay than anyone else." He said employees are paid $30 a week plus room, board and uniforms.

But former high-ranking Scientologists, who, themselves were in the RPF in Clearwater, scoffed at Haworth's statement that the program is "voluntary."

"It's absolutly involuntary," said Gerald Armstrong, the sect's former archivist who spent 17 months in the RPF in the former Fort Harrison Hotel after he swore at a higher-ranking Scientologist.

"People who didn't wish to 'volunteer' were locked up," the 37-year-old former Scientologist said.

"To say the RPF is voluntary is like saying all the Jews signed up for the gas chambers."

"It was a horrible thing," recalled William Franks, the sect's former executive director international and chairman of the board, who has since defected.

"I was in the RPF three times," Franks recalled during a telephone interview Monday. "(And) it certainly wasn't voluntary — I can't believe they would tell you something like that."

Armstrong, who was exonerated in June of stealing thousands of Scientology-related documents he took when he fled the Clearwater-based sect nearly three years ago, said his days in the RPF "consisted of hard labor and then a brainwashing process and depravation — in terms of sleep depravation, food depravation and communication depravation."

"I was also subjected to constant harranguing and abuse by others who told me I was a criminal and an SP (supressive person)."

Armstrong said that when he was first assigned to the RPF, he lived in a bathroom in the laundry room of the Fort Harrison. He was later moved to an unventilated storage room on the 10th floor and then a storage room on the third floor.

"I worked at least 100 hours each week, and if I'll never forget it," he said.

Armstrong said he believes the purpose of the RPF "is to break the will of anybody who questions LRH (Hubbard) or the policies and orders" of the sect, adding that a person is allowed to leave RPF "when your will is sufficently broken ... when you no longer pose a threat, of questioning their doctrines and orders."

Laurel Sullivan, the Hubbard's former personal representative, said she spent eight months in RPF in the California desert for "thoughts" the sect's E-Meter indicated she was thinking, but was later proved incorrect.

(The E-Meter is a simple galvnometer which measures the skin's resistance to a small electrical current. Scientologists believe it can intrepret a person's thought process.)

"(RPF) was not voluntary and it was very rough," Mrs. Sullivan recalled. "I had to work in 120-degree heat with a severe case of colitis and although I was sick, I had to work anyway. I was not allowed to talk to anybody, got no medical care and there were times where, we worked 24 hours straight.

"I wanted to leave but then I was locked up and told I couldn't leave."

To the claims by former members that RPF is a form of punishment, Haworth said only "phooey!"

"No other employer that I know of goes to the lengths that the church does to aid their employees that otherwise would be unemployable by us," he said. "We don't like to lose employees."

Quote of the day...

Richard Burke, a philosophy professor at Oakland University, is concerned that Scientology and Dianetics are based "pseudo-scientific" claims put forth by Hubbard.

He explains that several years ago he attended a meeting with a neighbor who belonged to the church and was dismayed at the crowd.

"I thought there was a number of people there who had serious psychological problems. They needed a good therapist and there they were getting a treatment based on pseudo-knowledge."