Marcus Clintonius
It was 1973. I was all of nineteen, definitely in what are
called for some bizarre reason one’s “salad days.” In the past year I moved
from home in Brooklyn first to Los Angeles to join some other ex-New Yorker
compadres, and finally to San Francisco... by myself, with my life in one old
suitcase.
I’d managed to get a job, under particularly seventies’ San
Franciscan circumstances. I’d been approached by a gay man (practically a daily
experience for me while living in the City at this time) in Union Square park
who knew someone (of similar persuasion, it turns out) who worked at an
employment agency. Following up on the lead I was able to secure an office job
working for Union Oil.
The Union Oil tower was a famous landmark until it was torn
down in 2005 to make way for two luxury condominium towers (Rincon Hill). It
reigned over the at-the-time modest downtown skyline, and was a friendly sight
greeting commuters as they embarked onto (or disembarked from) the Bay Bridge
to or from homes in the East Bay. More than half of my working day was spent in
that completely windowless tower, where old records were stored on tall dusty
metal shelves. When records were needed to settle a customer’s dispute that
went back beyond recent history, I was sent to find the necessary details.
Believe it or not, I had to pay a month’s salary to get this
job. But that was standard practice for job seekers with no relevant local
employment history — and especially for “transients.” When this was explained
to me I had to admit that it made sense from the employer’s point-of-view. The
previous decade had seen the “Summer of Love” migration of youths from all
corners of the country... and some of them actually sought legitimate
employment. They were called “transients” because that’s what they were. Finding
a way to earn a living, some of them stayed. But most (probably) did not. I can
sympathize with an employer having to pay for bringing a new hire up to speed only
finding themselves in need of a replacement in six months. Still, I resented
it. I was living pretty much hand-to-mouth.
As it turns out, I didn’t stay in that job very long either; but
it wasn’t to continue my “transienting” ways — it was to get a better job.
My first residence in “the City” was a seedy hotel room in
the Tenderloin district. I believe it was the cheapest digs listed in the
classified ads of the SF Chronicle. (Was it really $60/week?) As soon as I
saved enough bread from the Union Oil job I got my own apartment. I have very
fond memories of that large studio apartment on Willard St. in Ashbury Heights.
It was beautiful, and yes, with a (northward) view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
* * *
 |
| "The man who talks to plants" |
I also had a brief but fascinating experience with
Scientology. It was during my first months there, when I was living in the
seedy hotel on Post St. In the evening after work I would walk around the Union
Square environs. At that time there was a Scientology church located nearby. They
had their people on street corners inviting people to come in and “take a free
personality test.”
Unlike most of the rubes that took the offer, I had heard
about the infamous L Ron Hubbard (LRH) and Scientology. I even remembered
seeing the front page of an English newspaper somewhere with a picture of a man
holding a strange device with some wires connected to a plant. Headline: “The
man who talks to plants.”
I don’t recall the precise provenance of my knowledge of
Scientology — but I knew its nefarious nature. I knew that once you joined they
never let you go. Specifically, that people who had some cursory involvement
with it, no matter how brief, were relentlessly pursued; by phone, by mail, no
matter which corner of the planet they traveled to.
So, I knew that one thing I would never do is give them a
real name and address. And so, one evening, out of curiosity, I took up the
offer, entered the Scientology sanctum, and took the “Personality Test.”
I should mention at this time — my “salad days,” remember —
I was a pretty confident dude. Not only was I at the physical prime of life, I
also count myself as blessed with a winning personality, above-average
intelligence (isn’t everybody?), and in possession of a healthy emotional and psychological
foundation due to being raised in a normal, functioning two-parent household by
parents who loved me and taught me right from wrong.
I don’t remember the test questions, but I do remember
thinking that they were very canny. On some of them it wasn’t at all clear
which of the multiple choices was the “correct” answer. However, nothing
prepared me for the shock of the results when they were showed me by my
Scientology handler. The results were on a graph. My handler pointed to the
line of my responses and coolly said, “Man, you’re kissing the bottom.”
Indeed, according to the graph I must’ve been a real loser.
The line corresponding to my responses did indeed hover very close to the
horizontal line at the bottom of the scale. What ensued was several hours’
worth of browbeating and back-and-forth between us as he tried to convince me
how much I needed to take the $25 Communications Course.
I had made up my mind before even entering the place that
not only was I not going to give my real contact information, I was not going
to pay anything to take any course. I was there to find out as much as I could
about Scientology because — it fascinated me.
I remember that as his pitch rolled on, and he was getting
nowhere with me, the effort began to take its toll. He was tiring. It took some
time but I eventually got him to reveal some things about himself. He admitted
that he had tried many things. I don’t recall what exactly — perhaps “born-again”
Christianity, perhaps EST, or maybe LSD, perhaps Hare Krishna, perhaps “Nam myoho
renge kyo” chanting (which was a thing at the time) — but it was some list of
belief systems that promised results for those lost souls in need of “the
answer.”
To make a long story short, I eventually left for home, and
Scientology did not fill another seat for a Communications Course that evening.
I should mention that besides the one-on-one personality evaluation/sales pitch
I also recall a group presentation that used charts and props to describe some Scientology
theory of human behavior, how we seek ”affinity” at several levels of social
organization: friends and family, community, nation, species, etc. They also
explained some things about personal relationships; I recall something they
called the “reach and withdraw dynamic.”
It was all pretty reasonable. There was nothing obviously
objectionable. All in all, it seemed like a perfectly rational theory of
relationships and the human condition. A theory, I mused, of which a thousand
others could just as easily be constructed. You have to get up pretty early in
the morning to fool Mrs. C’s second-born son.
I also got a taste of auditing on that first night. If you
don’t know what auditing is, Google it. I was hooked up to an e-meter and
briefly audited. The auditer asked me to think about everything I had done
since waking up that day. Earlier in the day I needed a phone number. Since I
was living in a hotel room, the only recourse was a phone booth (remember
them?).
So I am now reliving that memory. I am in a phone booth
thumbing through the phone book until I find the number I need. I must have
neglected to bring a pen or paper, so I found myself tearing out the page I
needed. At the moment I had this thought the auditer spoke up. At that thought
the meter’s needle had jumped. He explained what happened, and that was the end
of the demonstration. It was sufficient to convince me that auditing is indeed
valid. Here’s what happened according to Scientology theory. I felt guilt at
tearing out the page of a public phone book. I had done a bad thing, and I felt
guilty about it. That act, the memory of it, created an “engram” which then
lodged into permanent residence in my “Reactive Mind.”
The Reactive Mind sounds a whole lot like the subconscious,
but if you wish to know more about the comparison between the two you will have
to do some more Googling. I carry it as a badge of pride that I got my
bachelor’s degree taking only one behavioral science course: Sociology 101. And
indeed, upon taking it my suspicions were confirmed, and my disdain for the
so-called “behavioral sciences” reinforced. But I digress.
Back to the Reactive Mind. The “Bridge to Total Freedom” is
crossed by eventually extinguishing all the engrams in the Reactive Mind. This
is done through auditing. The auditing is delivered in all the various and
sundry courses and trainings that lead up to the state of “Clear.” One of the
stated objectives of Scientology is to “Clear the planet.” That means to
literally Clear at least 50% of the world’s population, at which time the Earth
would become an infinitely better place to live, as the Scientology Clear-ed
majority of the population would be in a position to mitigate and control the
bad behavior of the minority non-Scientologists — the rest of the Earth’s
population that hadn’t yet seen the light.
* * *
That evening was my initial exposure to Scientology. I don’t
recall the circumstances, but somehow I became friends with several members of
the Church. Of particular relevance to this story are two female roommates whom
I’ll call Carol and Lynn. They would’ve been my age or slightly older. They
were relatively new converts — not Clears or OTs (Operating Thetan). It was
from them that I first heard what’s in the OT-III level “revelation” — Xenu and
the whole sci-fi bit.
In retrospect, after watching Leah Remini’s show
(Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath, on the A&E network) I’m
surprised that Carol and Lynn told me about this. First of all, they weren’t
supposed to know (yet). But I guess in the rarified air of the Church of
Scientology, rules get broken and it’s hard to resist sharing this “hidden
knowledge” with one’s friends. Here I’m not so much speaking about Carol and
Lynn sharing this with me (Lynn: “Xenu! He’s a bad dude!”), I’m talking about
Scientology higher-ups who shared it with them. [1].
But you can find out all you want about Xenu from Leah
Rimini’s show (season 2, episode 4, “The Bridge to Total Freedom,” to be exact)
or just google “Xenu Scientology.” I will say a little more about Xenu in a
moment. This is not the essence of what I have to reveal.
If you wish to build an organization, a metaphorical army
(which is a good way to describe the Church of Scientology, by the way), which
of the following conditions would most likely ensure permanent loyalty; that
is, which of the following would be most effective in preventing your
“soldiers” from ever deserting?
- Exclusiveness. Instilling a sense of unique superiority over outsiders that only comes from membership in the group.
- Financial rewards.
- Intangible rewards: making you a better person with a fulfilling life — the contentment that comes from knowing you are living life in the correct way, benefiting not just yourself but also others, as you serve the greater good.
- Invoking terrible and painful punishments for leaving.
Though Scientology employs all of these except for (2) — and
(4) is certainly not advertised — none of these choices is the correct answer. Read
on.
Of my two Scientology friends, Carol was on the path, taking
courses. Lynn, however was not presently taking any course. She was
stymied. It wasn’t the financial cost
that was the impediment. (Though the cost was, and remains, mind-numbing, it is
not what prevents these Paduwans from proceeding to the “Bridge of Total Freedom.”
How they find the money for books, courses and auditing costing thousands and
tens of thousands of dollars — auditing can run as high as $1,000 per hour,
according to Rimini — I’ll never know. Refer to Leah Rimini’s show for
anecdotal details.)
Scientology would not let Lynn take the course.
Once I explain the reason for this you will begin to understand
the diabolically brilliant nature of Scientology as an organizing principle.
During some conversation, perhaps during the course she had
taken, Lynn had revealed that some member(s) of her family opposed her
involvement with Scientology. Someone in her family had clearly done his
homework and would not give their seal of approval.
Now, Lynn was not bound by what her parents, or brother or
sister or whomever it was, thought of Scientology. She was an independent
adult, and this was 1973, not 1873. She did not require their permission. It
was the Church that demanded she get their permission. Lynn could not take the
next course until she had removed her family’s opposition.
Think about that. That means Scientologists who have fully
committed themselves to the “path” (formally, the “Bridge of Total Freedom”) no
longer had anyone in their immediate family who might be in a position, at some
future time, to pull them back out if/when they become disenchanted. There was
no longer any outside support system to turn to — they had already been
convinced that Church involvement was fine, or they had been cut off by the
Scientologist.
* * *
I have nothing further on my two friends Carol and Lynn. I lost
touch with them when I moved out of the Tenderloin — but I have more to tell.
Because of my friendship with Carol and Lynn I was able to
volunteer at the Church. In retrospect it strikes me as sloppy security that
they allowed someone to infiltrate so easily, but they did. While volunteering
I got to observe several interesting (and remarkable) events. At one time while
doing some filing I was able to observe a session of that very Communications Course
I had worked so hard to resist enrolling in. The students were paired up across
a long narrow table. The exercise was for one of each pair to say nasty
insulting things to their partner across the table. The partner’s job was to resist responding. Then
they switched. I remember thinking at the time that it was a brilliant exercise;
a stretching of normal interactions. I liken it to practicing free-throws from
the top of the key so as to improve one’s shots from the free-throw line. If
you can manage interactions at the extremes of behavior, normal communications
would be that much easier. I could see how the Communications Course was
probably really quite good.
On another occasion I managed to observe a presentation of
self-auditing given by someone who had crossed the “bridge.” This guy was so
advanced he could audit himself! So, he’s sitting up there on a raised platform
auditing himself and suddenly breaks into laughter. He recounts that he just
had a past-life memory of falling off a horse, in medieval times.
Did I mention that once someone has had their Reactive Mind
cleared, they still may have to work on the Reactive Minds of their previous
lives? Yes, reincarnation is firmly part of Scientology theory. Those that sign
up for duty on the prestigious “Sea Org” sign a contract for — wait for it —
one billion years. No lie.
* * *
An aside about this ability of Scientologists to access
memories from past lives:
This facet of the cult’s behavior is actually instrumental
in explaining something that defies rational explanation. Namely, when
Scientologists reach OT-III and are shown L Ron Hubbard’s ridiculous grand
space-opera revelation, how can they possibly buy into it?
In a nutshell, here’s the big reveal: 75 million years ago,
Xenu, the dictator of the “Galactic Confederacy,” brought billions of his
people to Earth in spacecrafts very similar to DC-8 jetliners, dropped them
into volcanoes and then blew them up with H-bombs. But their spirits are
immortal, and they adhered themselves to ... us, and are the real source of all
our psychic problems that actual cause the engrams in our Reactive Minds. Or
something.
Bear in mind that these Scientologists have spent upwards of
several hundred thousand dollars up to this point.
Tony Ortega, in his July 2012 Village Voice article, posits
that the reason otherwise rational people can believe this is because they have
already bought into “space-opera” stories — the ones they have themselves discovered
in their self-delusionary auditing sessions. It should come as no surprise that
with such far-fetched concepts already in the environment, people will quite
naturally want to believe that they themselves were important people in their
past lives. Hence past-life “memories” uncovered during auditing often involve
events on other planets, including situations where they played pivotal roles
in cosmic battles and such. According to Ortega, he knew of six Scientologists
who believed they were Jesus Christ in their past lives.
Given that state-of-mind, believing in LRH’s big reveal
about Xenu may in fact make perfect sense to them. Ortega is right.
For more info about Xenu and everything else Scientology, go
to www.xenu.net, and be sure to read Ortega’s
excellent Village Voice article.
* * *
And now a word about the actual work I was asked to do there
while volunteering. Remember several passages ago where I said I knew about the
infamous tactic of Scientology tracking down errant recruits who had left the
fold? Well, that’s what I was tasked to do. I was told to go through their
files and record the names of people who had not been contacted in some
specific period of time (which I don’t recall... maybe a year or something like
that). Those names would then be given to someone who would dutifully do their
best to track down their whereabouts and reestablish contact, presumably by
letter or phone call.
In the files I would see previous letters written to them.
They were cheerful letters inquiring why they’d been out of touch? They would usually
include some friendly comment about some item specific to the individual, such
as “What did you think of the Communications Course?” or perhaps some message
about something in their personal life.
While in those files I found some notable names, such as
members of the Grateful Dead. I specifically recall seeing Robert Hunter’s file,
and I can’t be sure about the others, but I know I saw one or two of the boys:
Jerry, Bob, Phil or Billy.
* * *
And so ends my anecdotes. I will leave you with one last
observation. That San Francisco Scientology office occupied several floors (at
least two). It was always bustling with activity. All of the people had this
unique science fiction-ey look in their eyes. It was scary. If you’re thinking
now of Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some similar movie about a possessed
population, you’re not far off the mark.
The classes that I observed, the clever exercises drills,
all served to mold the minds of Scientologists. I remember having the
impression of training people to operate at 100% efficiency, to be able to focus
100% of their mental activity to any task assigned them. A super effective
human being — a “super-soldier,” as it were.
I left my little clandestine subterfuge with the sense that
the Church of Scientology might be many things — cult, extraordinarily lawyered
up criminal enterprise, winner of Best Bait-and-Switch Scam in Galactic Sector award
for 43 trillion years in a row, an insane science-fiction author’s fantasy come
to life — but it most definitely was not something to be laughed at.
# # #
[1] Tony
Ortega, “Why do scientologists accept the Xenu story?” Village Voice. 21 July 2012 https://www.villagevoice.com/2012/07/21/why-do-scientologists-accept-the-xenu-story/
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