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The post today about "Prisoners of St. Hill" in England prompted me to write this one.

In 1977 I was a staff member of the $cientology Celebrity Centre in Hollywood. It was determined that I was a troublemaker based on really nothing - my department had higher statistics than most, and we put the central files of the organization into "present time" (meaning that all the filing was up to date on a daily basis, which had never before been done in a $cientology organization, at least in the southern California area.

So I was given a choice of going to work with the $cientology slave labor force known as the Rehabilitation Project Force, which was concentrated at the former Cedars of Lebanon Hospital, a complex which is now known as ASHO and AOLA on (ridiculous) L. Ron Hubbard Way south of Hollywood, or I would be kicked out of the so-called church and declared to be a "suppressive person." That was the standard choice given staff members picked for slave labor in those days. I didn't have any friends who were not $cientologists - which the organization very carefully arranges for as many members as possible. I had alienated my family over $cientology. I had no money. So I chose to be a slave, slightly buying into the chance that I might actually be a messed-up spiritual being in need of rehabilitation.

Curiously enough, a lot of executives like myself, who were high achievers for the organization despite receiving only room and board and a few measly dollars a week from which we had to buy our clothes and everything else, were there on the "RPF" for the same reason I was put there. And I watched a lot of them fall apart mentally and cry and emote about their errors, some of which occurred in past lives. One guy bawled at the top of his lungs at the weekly group confessional which was the RPF equivalent of "sharing wins." He was convinced he had been a Nazi tank commander in his past life and had run over people with a tank and enjoyed it.

After a day of watching this, I decided that, options or not, the place was ridiculous and this was just a cheap construction force to fix up the buildings for free, which using the ruse of making the people think they needed rehabilitation. It was one of L. Ron Hubbard's more evil and greedy moves - and I saw a lot of them during my years as a staff member. Of course, I kept denying what my eyes saw and what my logic told me, and buying into the "great spiritual truths ahead" bullshit propagated by Mankind's greatest enemy, the greedy vicious liar Lafayette Ronald Hubbard.

So I told the person in charge one day that I didn't belong on the RPF and that I wanted to leave. "Come with me," she gleefully said with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. And she lead me to the basement of the "complex" where the "RPF's RPF" was located.

Until they encountered it personally, no one knew it existed. It was an even more demeaning slave labor force who cleaned out the bowels of the old buildings. Think of coal miners or New York sewer workers in the 19th century, and that's about how most of them looked. You were allowed to shower only once a week, to do your laundry in the shower, and otherwise you had to do hard labor which was mostly cleaning the filthiest of places all day long.

You were also supposed to be given an exit "security check" which involved being grilled relentlessly with an electropsychometer to uncover your supposed deep dark secret crimes that had led you to fall into such a state of disgrace. The most heinous "crimes" would be having a "List One Rock Slam" which was a jerky needle reaction on the "E-meter" when a number of things were mentioned, like the name L. Ron Hubbard.

Of course, at this time a woman named Paulette Ausley was in charge of the quality of all the so-called "technology" of $cientology as the head of the Qualifications Division worldwide under L. Ron Hubbard. She was on the ship Apollo with Hubbard and consulted with him regularly. Ausley did not know the difference between a "rock slam" and a "dirty needle" (the latter of which supposedly arose at, say, a nagging thought). How do I know this? Because her former husband John told me later, and I verified it (without mentioning John had told me) with Nikki Merwin, who was Mary Sue Hubbard's secretary at the time. Nikki told me "Everyone knew Paulette had that misunderstood, so what." (A "misunderstood" is in $cientology terms a misconstrued meaning for a word or phrase in someone's mind.)

So let's stop for a moment here. Hubbard bought a giant building for cash - $13 million I believe (Nikki's husband Rick was in charge of "estates" and buying property at the time, that's what he told me it cost). He needed it renovated. Hubbard was a cheap, greedy bastard so here was a woman who thought a dirty needle was a rock slam, and if you read off a list with Hubbard's name on it, active executives who were constantly thinking of ways to keep people buying $cientology, some of them would get what Paulette Ausley thought was a rock slam. Which meant those people could be seen as "List One R/Sers" and need great rehabilitation which, according to obese lazy bastard Hubbard would include strenuous physical activity.

How convenient.

Back to my story. When I got to the RPF's RPF I learned there was a group with even less esteem called "the turkeys." These were people who refused to do the slave labor and said screw it. They were left with a guard or two in a small room, to simply sit there all day doing nothing but talking amongst each other, if that. After a few hours sitting with the turkeys, who were either freaked out or sullen and silent, I tried to figure out an escape route. But there were enforcers around like Andre Tabayoyan, who was supposedly a black belt martial artist.

When I saw one of the guards browbeat a formerly respected "case supervisor" (a person who looks over the supposed spiritual progress of people who buy $cientology and get "auditing" or $cientology counseling) into a psychotic rage that resulted in the person saying he was going to get a lawyer and sue the "church" I relented about working. Why? Because if you threatened to sue $cientology, ever, staff or "public," you were declared a Potential Trouble Source Type C and never ever again allowed to have $cientology "counseling." In short, a $cientology death sentence.

For the uninformed, this is the continual control mechanism developed by the evil Hubbard. Everything within $cientology is calculated to convince you that no one else, ever, has developed a way to spiritual freedom other than Hubbard. Every issue of Advance magazine at the time (the publication of the organization where the top levels of $cientology were done then) would have a story about some other religion or philosophy and explain the basics of it, then at the end have a few paragraphs about how that religion or philosophy had failed in its mission and Mankind had been saved (hallelujah!) only due to the persistence and benevolence of L. Ron Hubbard.

It didn't matter than getting to the supposedly top exalted states cost hundreds of thousands of dollars and once you'd spent that and done all the "training" and counseling available, you would be endlessly browbeat to join Hubbard's slave labor force, the Sea Organization. To do otherwise would be "off purpose" from Hubbard's idea of "clearing the planet."

Which basically meant - all you Earth people's give me, Ron the Space Emperor Xenu reincarnated, all your bucks and devotion.

Ah, but I digress.

So I left the "turkeys" and went to work on the RPF's RPF. I had worked in a foundry at one point in my life prior to this. I had worked on a water and sewer crew for a city. I had dug ditches. I was never so filthy as I was cleaning out the bowels of the "complex" and we were only allowed to shower once a week.

And when we went to shower we had to had a "buddy" along. That's how it worked at all times - you had another person watching you and reporting back to "superiors" if you got out of line at all.

Sound like Nazism? Gee, wonder why. What are the "case folder" written records of each "auditing session" but the Hubbard equivalent of Nazi dossiers? And the organization has used them like that, repeatedly.

We were allowed a few personal possessions, so I packed mine in a pillowcase along with my clothes. When my "buddy" was taking a shower, I found a staircase. It lead upstairs to a roof. I found a grassy area below and jumped. It was night time - I had no idea until I got outside - and I took off running across a parking lot and hurried down Sunset Boulevard as pursuers yelled threats at me from the roof where they'd pursued me.

And I would've stayed gone except for one problem. I had an expensive Martin guitar back in my former room at the Wilcox Hotel in Hollywood where the Celebrity Centre staff members stayed. After a few days I called the Celebrity Centre and told Harry Kaneer, then the "Master at Arms" or "ethics officer" (the one who had given me my ultimatum in the company of a 6'4" "Class 8" auditor named James Fiducia) that I simply wanted to part ways, but I wanted my guitar.

Coercion followed and I agree to meet with a woman named Diane Marple in the lobby of the Wilcox Hotel. I explained to her that I was sick of all the mess, that I wanted my guitar (which she had with her) and that I planned to become a successful musician. She launched into a standard "the Earth is doomed within a few years unless $cientology succeeds" mantra which tapped into the reason I joined $cientology in the first place; I thought it would help me help people.

Yvonne Jentzsch, the founder of Celebrity Centre, thoroughly believed this mantra. Of course, she also told a staff meeting that Henry Kissinger was a Russian KGB member, but I didn't know how crazy she was at the time. How could I? I was exhorted by Hubbard to not read newspapers, to not watch TV, to ignore anything from "wogs" (his oft-used term for anyone not a $cientologist).

So there was Diane Marple and two 6'3" muscle-bound goons (one of whom I knew) who had come along with her to forcefully take me back to the RPF if necessary. I wanted that guitar, it had cost me a lot of money prior to joining the Sea Org. So with her promise that she would deliver my guitar to a former staff member friend of mine (which she did, I later learned), I went back to the RPF.

During the time I'd been gone, I'd done some construction work with my former staff member friend (the ONLY person I knew who would take me in) and I had some money.

This time I did the RPF's RPF "program" which basically consisted of writing out how awfully wrong you'd been using one of Hubbard's bullshit "ethics formulas." I "graduated" to the RPF.

By this time, the word had leaked out of the $cientology community about the despicable conditions the slave laborers were working under. Non-staff $cientologists weren't happy about some of their former favorite staff members who were suddenly "evil and in need of rehabilitation."

And the bulk of the work on the "complex" was about done.

So Hubbard suddenly "discovered" that awful things were going on and dispatched a "missionaire" to straighten it out and get anyone who didn't want to be on the RPF or staff off of it and back into public life.

Of course, every single course they'd taken while working at room and board, a few dollars a week if that, and often eating rice and beans for all their meals, and all the "auditing" they received would have to be paid for at full price, which could mean hundreds of thousands of dollars in a "freeloader debt." You see, Hubbard felt that if you didn't uphold your Sea Org contract and work your billion years (no kidding, that's what it read) you were a "freeloader" just there for "free services" and you should pay through the nose.

Later, they changed that (due to public non-$cientology pressure) and began giving people credit for time on staff -- if you did five years, no charges applied. 20% for one year, etc.

And there I was, getting my "exit security check" by a Class 8 auditor who had formerly run the Advanced Organization. Dang, he just couldn't find any of those awful evil crimes Hubbard was sure was there. So he tried to beg me into staying because he thought I was a cool guy. "Sorry, Gary," I told him. "This scene here is bullshit, and you know it."

Myself and a number of people were "routed off" while being treated like evil alien space cattle. But there was a catch. We had to sign a document that stated that if we ever revealed to ANYONE what had occurred on the RPF, we would get a $cientology death sentence and additionally pay a FINE to the "church" of $50,000.

What the hell, we all figured. Anything to get the hell out of that psychotic zoo.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is just one of the many, many horror stories of being involved in $cientology for far, far too long.

Had I not been a disillusioned, impressionable, very young baby boomer without a good stable family, I might never have fallen and continued to fall for the continual lies, delusions and hypnotic mantras of L. Ron Hubbard and his eager minions.

Gee, wonder if they'll try to enforce the $50,000 fine on me now?

All of the above is just the tip of the iceberg of what I went through with these jerks. Their problem is, I have a photographic memory and some decent writing skills.

Forward this story, but only completely unchanged, to anyone you wish. And tell everyone you know that $cientology is the most evil cult on planet Earth, and that it will be finished within a couple of years. It is a dying beast staggering to its knees, and no one will rescue from the filth it created, in which it will choke into nothingness.

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