(MPES) 3 Michael Pattinson's Experiences with Scientology. Part 3
michael pattinson
1975 and later.
The whole crew and the most recently arrived "public" (Hubbard term
for clients of his organizations) all went by coach from Daytona Beach
over to Clearwater late in 1975.
We arrived at the old Jack Tar Hotel on S.Ft Harrison Avenue and were
assembled to be briefed on rooms, facilities etc. I the rooms there
were the normal beds, drapes, shag carpets,...but no TVs. Roaches were
a huge problem, as was their sheer size...awful things. The hotel was
clean-ish but was in relatively old condition. One day I heard a crash
in my bathroom and the ceiling had fallen in and a nest of roaches
with it...apalling. I survived the room, however, even with no
bathroom ceiling. Rusty old pipes were a very common sight.
The place was, however, a far better size and layout than the Neptune
Motel, which was small in comparison.
Right from the start we were briefed with great emphasis on the
following:
1. Our group was NOT to be revealed as being Scientology to the
locals!! No way!! (severe penalties implied for breaches of "cover").
2. We were tp pretend to be people of all denominations of churches
there for a congress and ongoing meetings. We were to be referred-to
as "United Churches" and keep a low-profile, friendly, neighborly
approach with locals. We knew we had to lie, but we had no choice as
the instruction came from the Guardian's Office" and from Ron Hubbard,
who was "in a secret location" locally. I did once see him drive by in
a gold colored Cadillac but that was the only time I ever saw him.
3. We were to do our courses full-time and be totally dedicated to the
job of getting done with our (vast) training programs and get back to
our organizations as soon as possible.
4. Sex of any kind was out of the question for anyone any time.
When the "cover" was blown by the local press and Mayor Cazares we got
a note from Ron that said "look at these wogs; they get a person's
"withhold(secret) off, and then kick him when he is down!" The "United
Churches" game was up and Scientology's fake facade was revealed. We
left it up the Guardian's Office to handle the resulting "flap" (chaos
created by Scientology but blamed on wogs).
My training was intensive and we were all studying up on the 11th
floor above the ballroom. I did my daily training routines with
Quentin Hubbard, as were both British and got on very well. I would
try to bullbait him in the required communication drills but it was
difficult to make him crack up or laugh. He looked mostly depressed
and "regrettably present". I used to ask him about Ron and being the
son of the "Source" of Scientology but he was not very open about it
and I got a very definite impression that he wished he wasn't. He
seemed to take that aspect of his life as a liability as it gave him
such a hard standard to measure up to. When he bullbaited me it was
usually with airplane sounds! I did crack up sometimes as he was funny
with the bi-plane impressions and pilot faces etc... We became very
good friends in the time that followed. he also like my artwork (I had
some photos of it). I also became good friends with Arthur Hubbard,
the artist, and we spoke on many occasions. I was intending to publish
a book on art and include Hubbard's Art Series in it. I had a contract
with L.Ron Hubbard (secured via a senior Exec Rick Merwin) and Arthur
made a cartoon "Tone Scale" of emotions to be part of the book.
Unfortunately, duie to staff work schedules and lack of funds it never
got published.
I became good friends with Diana Hubbard, and Suzette too. They all
knew me on a close first name basis and were specially interested in
me as an artist. I never met Mary Sue Hubbard, or ever saw her at the
Flag Land Base in Clearwater. Ron was also never seen there.
One day we sensed an awful atmosphere, and there was a huge buzz of
tension. We were taken individually to a closed personal briefing. I
was told Quentin had "dropped his body" in unspecified circumstances
and "did I need auditing to deal with the upset?" There was a message
from Ron that "life goes on beyond death" and that Quentin had gone
on, and we must get on with clearing the planet. I was emotionally
upset as he was a close friend, but I "felt" somehow he was OK
spiritually....It was a huge shock, however.
The last time I saw Quentin was in the "new" internship room on the
ground floor by the pool. He was depressed and in despair. I tried to
cheer him up but to no avail. It seemed he had been, once again,
"busted" by his Dad down from a Class 12 audiitor to "retrain" from
the bottom. All his hard-earned certificates ahd been cancelled and he
was a "nobody" among the Sea Org crew of auditors. This had,
apparently happened before. I think it drove him over the edge. He
looked awful and crushed. I didn't see him again after that. It was, I
believe, just a few weeks later that the news came that he was dead.
Quentin was a very nice person, a sweet soul, with good intentions and
a kind personality. I liked him a lot and missed his playfulness.
My own training went on, with some difficulty, as I felt out of my
depth in the Class 12 internship with auditors who were leagues and
parsecs ahead of me. It was also a "Sea Org" (forcefully dedicated
military-navy-style focus, fear, steely-resolve and harsh verbal
discipline atmosphere). Brian Livingston was the Supervisor, Jeff
Walker the apallingly heavy-handed and anti-social Senior Cramming
(corrections) Officer, Dennis Erlich was the junior Cramming Officer
and was truly horrible. Anger and resentment was the underlying tone
of the Flag internships. It didn't suit my personality at all. David
Mayo was the senior Case Supervisor. Ray Mithoff was the Flag senior
Case Supervisor. It was a close knit group of fanatical devotees tied
together by frayed nerves.
David Miscavige was, when I saw him, a tiny and wiry "Commodore's
Messenger" (Hubbard had made himself a Commodore of the Sea Org) who
was officious and obnoxious like a mini tin-pot teen tyrant who had
goten out of hand and needed to be spanked by his Mom. He had the same
grating-rasping voice as his Dad (Ron)and brother Ronny. It was used
to violate the sensitive eardrums of the "recipients" of his messages
and his ire. He would stride in like he was a teenage "God Almighty"
and cuss out Brian Livingston, many years his senior. It was "Command
Intention" (Ron's intention) that his messengers were to be treated as
if it was actually him (Ron) present, so the messengers (even the cute
girly ones like Tonya Burden) could act like Hubbard and be as ornery
as they liked without consequences. I was not in the Sea Org and found
the brutality of verbal abuse, foul swearwords in over-abundance,
in-your-face confrontationalism hard to see, hard to take. The Class
12s were, however, very kind to me and showed compassion. They were
among the nicest people I ever met in Scientology. I still don't know
how they survived the abuses they were subject to. It was shocking to
see them cussed at loudly, pulled here and there like some naughty
child yanked by an angry parent and humiliated in front of the group
for the slightest session mistake. Some of them did, however, confide
in me, and tell me their feelings, tears and all, in the rare social
moments we had at a local cafe or shopping mall. I could see they were
utterly dedicated to saving humanity and thoroughly believed that
Scientology was mankinds only hope now or ever. I also came to believe
that at the time. I was also subjected to tirades of hurricane force
anger and typhoons of verbal abuse by Jeff Walker who scared me, and
everyone else, to death. We were all EXPECTED to be FLAWLESS. However,
we were human, and that led to frequent upsets, crises, collapses and
struggles all round. I will pass, in this telling of my story, on the
numerous upsets, panic attacks, challenges, crises, depressions, etc,
etc, etc, I went through in my giving and taking of training and
auditing at Flag Land Base. Too painful to go into, frankly. The only
"comfort" was we "knew" we were saving the planet from utter ruin. We
had to take the abuse, in our indoctrinated state of mind, to "get the
job done for Ron", who was counting on us all.
One of the most shocking but frquent occurrences was a staff member
suddenly being marched off by gestapo-like uniformed people and taken
to the basement where they were forced to live in squalor and
humiliation. They were not allowed to speak to any one who was not in
the "Rehabilitation Project Force" (RPF), had to wear dark blue
overalls, run EVERYWHERE, clean the grounds of the hotel for most of
ther day, and study 5 hrs a day too. My former high-classed funfriend
looked like broken white-faced ghouls, and I was not even supposed to
say hi to them! That was truly a point of severe "disconnect" between
me and the Sea Org at the time. They were literally outcasts and
slaves, right in the U.S.A. Hidden but there, total slaves supposedly
on a "Bridge to Total Freedom".
There were often "crises" the group had, all openly and fully blamed
on the local mayor and Clearwtaer Sun newspaper. It was unsettling but
we went on with our jobs regardless. I was having a hard time being
flawless, (it was ruthlessly EXPECTED of me, with NO EXCUSES!) and my
auditing was not perfect no matter how hard I tried. I think I was
burned out trying to keep up with "Olympic" Class 12s whereas I was
really a little league trainee. I got so utterly stressed-out I paid
for auditing, used up my savings, paid monies into "Religious Research
Foundation" (I was carefully informed in the registrars' office that
R.R.F was to get money for "Ron's personal research use", and "we are
arranging to give Ron the total of about $80 million cash he wants")
and got auditing. I had some "wins" at certain moments but then would
collapse back. I tried and tried but it was no use. By the end of 1976
I was stressed out and took a short vacation to New York (in Florida
clothes in a New York winter,...ouch) and had a mildly gay old time,
so to speak. I was When I got back I had to have a "security check"
(Flag and Sea Org were, and still are, paranoid to a very high degree
about security) and I was discovered to have had a "gayer" time than I
was allowed, ...lol). I had to be "removed from training", sent home
"to get my past-life drug abuse handled". I had never taken any drugs
in my life except rare times of medication for illness, yet I was
supposed to have vast amounts of unhandled drug abuse residues in my
soul from former bodies I had lived in in past lives! I was very upset
(as in STEAMINGLY FURIOUS), had to completely drop out of training,
write silly advertisement-promotional letters all day every day for 3
months, help out here and there with chores to earn my food and
lodging, and basically be a failure while Paris org earned enough cash
(it took 4 months) to send me home.
During that time I also heard that none of the Class 12 auditors had
ever gotten actual certificates for the levels they had attained, so I
used my artistic-calligraphic skills to make over 200 certs for them
in all. They were all sent up to Ron for signature and were delivered
to the Class 12s, who were happy to get them. I even secretly made one
"Hubbard Class XII Auditor" certtificate for Quentin, just to have it
actually BE, but didn't send it up for signature, then later quietly
destroyed it. I felt he deserved more than even a little gesture like
that, but that was all I could do.
By Spring 1977 I had enough of being an outcast and broke down in
tears. Lisa Gerber (now Rentschler), one of the Class 12 auditors
calmed me down in the garden and I felt a bit better. Soon afterwards
I was sent home to Paris to take the post of "Keeper of the Tech" as i
had done a considerable amount of training but not all I was
originally programmed to do.
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WHAT I SAW AND WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT THIS TIME LATER;
1. Whatever the advertised "flawlessness" of Flag auditing may be
advertised to be it is NOT NOT NOT flawless. It is delivered by human
beings who are good, even great, but are not perfect. I have seen the
frequent and gigantic imperfections of Flag auditing over many years
and it is a regrettable but true fact that many costly and upsetting
mistakes occur daily at Flag.
2. Quentin Hubbard died in mysterious circumstances which do not rule
out murder, as far as I know. He was found near death in his car by
Las Vegas airport (again with the planes!!) with the exhaust pipe
connected in to the interior air supply. He, apparently, died in the
hospital. Other sources are better qualified than me to give rulings
on exactly what happened with all of that.
3. Hubbard was Commodore of his own "navy" but as his ship Apollo was
sold in 1975-76 it was a dry-land navy. The Sea Organization was on
land. All the Sea Org officers and crew, however, wore the uniforms,
gold braid and trappings for official events every year. Hubbard was
hidden from his navy and was in hiding from the law. While I was there
at Flag the trial of the Scientology executives was taking place, all
unknown to us. It was kept secret from us. We did not even hear about
the sentencings.
4. David Miscavige was fully in "Ron's valence" (taking on someone
else's personality and forgetting your own self) while being a Ron
Hubbard messenger. I don't think he ever went back to being himself
ever since. Poor litle man.
5. I was apalled at the brutality of existence as a "Sea Org member"
at Flag. I saw a heck of a lot, knew most of the senior people
personally, observed the "bustings", the tirades of psychotic hate,
the heartless smashing of devoted staff members into subjugated silent
robots when Ron sent them to the hotel basement purgatory called the
"R.P.F"., the forced submission of kind but un-flawless people, the
hideously dirty and crowded berthing, the punishments of
rice-and-beans diet for lowered production stats,...and Flag was NOT
what it was advertised to be, either "The Friendliest Place in the
Whole World" (excuse me while I run to throw up), or "The Mecca of
Technical Pefection" (I saw virtually NOTHING "perfect" at Flag) at
about $800 an hour for Flag auditing. The glossy facade hides a
roaches nest of false promises, hidden costs, imperfect delivery,
hidden distress, poverty of staff, public with vast upsets and broken
dreams.
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