About these stories:
"...Beginning July 29, Times reporter Curtis Krueger asked
Scientology
spokeman Richard Haworth eight times to interview Scientologist
parents and Children. No such interviews were arranged. On
Friday,
after learning these articles were to run this weekend, Haworth
called the newspaper and offered to schedule interviews at a
later
date, but not with Krueger, whom he called biased. The Times said
it would be willing to do the interview today, but declined to
switch reporters. Haworth rejected that offer.
The reporter
Curtis Krueger covers social issues, Pinellas County politics and
the Church of Scientology. He came to the St. Petersburg Times in
1987 after working at the Fort Wayne, Ind., Journal-Gazette.
Krueger, 33, is from Bloomington, Ind., and has a bachelor's
degree
in journalism from Indiana University.
______________________________________________________________
Roy seemed adrift. He was 14 and headed for trouble. But when he
entered a Scientology school, the transformation was swift.
Within
two years, he was working alongside the Church of Scientology's
most senior executives.
The church reels off dozens of success stories like Roy's. But it
doesn't mention a Clearwater boy named Carlo.
Carlo, 15, didn't go to school. He worked from 8:30 in the
morning
until 10 at night -- for $30 a week. He told police that he
couldn't contact his own father because his father had run afoul
of
the church. His mother lived in Clearwater, but not with Carlo.
These are glimpses of Scientology's children. The stories in this
two-day series will give you more glimpses. What they will not
give
you is the definitive story of Scientology's children because for
the most part they exist behind a shroud.
More than 200 children of Scientologists live in the Tampa Bay
area. Clearwater is the church's international spiritual
headquarters. It is home to 600 staff members who work with
thousands of visiting Scientologists each year.
Scientology is a most visible presence: The staff's uniforms give
downtown Clearwater the look of a naval base. But the daily lives
of Scientologists -- and their children -- are kept far from
view.
Richard Haworth, the church spokesman, says, "Scientology
families
are among the happiest there are." And 180 Scientologists wrote
letters to the Times saying the church helped them or their
children.
But the Times' requests to interview children or parents on
Scientology's staff were declined for months. The Times turned to
former Scientologists and other sources. They remember a
lifestyle
quite different from what Haworth describes. They say that for
some
children, home is a crowded apartment. Family time means an hous
a
day with parents. Parents desert kids. Kids abandon parents.
Haworth blamed "a handful of disgruntled ex-members" for those
accounts, and accused the Times of "malice toward the church."
But whatever their motives, the critics' stories are consistent.
And troubling.
-----------------
I STILL HAVE NIGHTMARES
by Curtis Krueger, Times Staff Writer
When Beth Erlich was 11, she signed her first contract.
A billion-year contract.
Beth didn't understand it too well. But her father had explained:
If she signed the contract, she would help save the world.
"I thought that, of course I want to save the world."
The young girl had just pledged her life to Scientology.
The contract is a standard document whose unusual duration is not
questioned in a church that believes in reincarnation.
For the next several years, she grew up in Clearwater as a loyal
Scientologist. In her early teens, she said, she worked until
10:30
almost every night, including school nights. She said she didn't
complain when dinner was rice and beans, or when cockroaches
scampered across her room.
Now, eight years have passed since Beth last saw Clearwater. She
has left the church.
But the nightmares haven't stopped.
Even now, she sees Clearwater's Fort Harrison Hotel in a
recurring
dream. Her former guardians appear. A sensation of pressure
stifles
her. "I can't get out," Beth said recently. "I can't leave the
Fort
Harrison building. It's still making an impression."
"I'm still not over it," she said. "I'm still not. I still have
nightmares."
Beth and her sister, Kristi, grew up in the Church of
Scientology.
It was a shattering experience that, in ways big and small,
forced
them apart from their parents and each other. Critics of
Scientology say their story is not unusual. In a church that
demands total devotion, they say, family life and children often
come in second. So the story of Beth and Kristi is the story of
many of Scientology's children.
The church labels its critics disgruntled former members and
"hate
vendors." Actually, said church spokesman Richard Haworth,
"Scientology helps parents and children to improve their
relationships with each other."
The two sisters shared a bedroom at their home in Los Angeles and
rode their bikes to school together.
They called each other "Gold" and "Silver" because they were
alike,
but slightly different.
Beth was brunet, Kristi blond. Beth was 9, Kristi 8. Even their
Christmas gifts were alike, but slightly different. They usually
got the same gift in different colors.
"People, when they talked about Beth, they talked about me, too,
and vice versa," Kristi remembers. "We were kind of one person in
a
way: Beth-and-Kris."
But not for long.
* * *
Beth and Kristi's parents, both Scientologists, had divorced in
the
early 1970s. The girls lived in California with their mother, who
snapped a photo of Beth and Kristi staring at each in a church
training routine.
Their father, Dennis Erlich, had left to join the staff at the
church's spiritual headquarters in Clearwater. He was the "chief
cramming officer," a position he now describes as "the quality
control engineer at the brainwashing plant."
At the time, the job seemed crucial. But Erlich missed his
daughters. On visits to Los Angeles, he urged the girls to move
to
Clearwater with him. Eventually, Beth agreed.
Beth moved to Clearwater in 1978, and missed Kristi immediately.
The two girls, 9 and 10, became instant pen pals.
Beth learned quickly that her life had changed dramatically.
She lived with her father and his new wife in a room "the size of
a
closet" at the Fort Harrison Hotel, the biggest Scientology-
owned
building in Clearwater.
That didn't last. Soon she moved in with about 20 women church
workers in a different room in the hotel. The room was bigger,
but
stuffed with bunks and dressers.
Next she moved across town, to the "QI," a former Quality Inn the
Scientologists had bought on U.S. 19, near East Bay Drive. Dennis
Erlich said it was not unusual for parents and children to live
in
different rooms at the QI. That's just the way it was, he said.
Sometimes Beth would return to discover she had been moved out of
her room with no warning. "We're talking, at like, 10:30 at night
I
would come home and my stuff would be someplace else." She
guesses
she eventually was moved as many as 20 times. Children, she said,
were moved routinely to make room for adult Scientologists.
During the day, Beth attended a Scientology-affiliated school.
She
described it as a go-at-your-own pace, choose-your-own-courses
system. One year, in eighth grade, she went to Oak Grove Middle
School, a public school in Clearwater.
"We were such poor students," she said. "That's all I can
remember,
was how backward, how awful I felt."
Beth did love one thing about public school: the food.
"At the time, I was used to eating main dishes which were rice
with
something or beans with something."
Compared to the food served up at the QI for the Scientology
staff,
lunches and breakfasts at school were wonderful, she said.
"Oh wow, it was heaven," she said. "It was incredible. A square
meal."
Why would someone allow their child to live as Beth did?
Scientologists, particularly staff Scientologists, firmly believe
they are saving the world, former members say. Next to that grand
purpose everything else is secondary.
"Scientology comes first, and everything else is off-purpose,"
said
Vicki Aznaran, a former high-ranking Scientology official who is
suing the church. "Parents who want to spend time with their
children are looked down on. It's not socially acceptable."
Haworth responded: "True, parents (on the church staff) do work
longer hours because of their commitment to the goals of the
church, but they also have fashioned a system that provides for
families to live in a healthy environment despite the demands on
time."
Dennis Erlich was happy to have Beth by his side. And proud.
He considered himself a superior parent. He had brought Beth to
Clearwater, where she could accomplish something truly important.
Here, she was helping church staff members who gave people
Scientology counseling and training.
The thought of preparing her for college and a career never
crossed
his mind.
"I didn't want my daughter to be part of just normal society," he
said. "I wanted her to grow up to be, you know, like me. An
auditor
or a cramming officer, or something worthwhile."
Beth accepted the role. She took Scientology courses and after
turning 11, signed the billion-year contract to join the "Sea
Org."
The Sea Organization is a group of highly committed staff members
who do the church's business and spiritual work.
Members generally work 12-hour days, six or seven days a week and
currently are paid about $30 per week. The church gives them room
and board.
Beth still went to school during the day. But at night, she
worked
as a file clerk and at other jobs, often alongside her father at
the Fort Harrison. At her request, she sometimes studied
Scientology during work hours.
The Scientology school never assigned homework, she said. "It was
just understood that when we left school, we left it and went to
work." She described a typical schedule:
Sunday: From 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night.
Monday through Friday: From after school until 10:30 p.m.
Saturday: Noon to 10:30 p.m. one week, off the next.
That works out to about 50 hours of work a week, during school.
In
the summer, Beth said she worked "full time." Other children
worked
similar hours, she said.
"I never got a chance to just sit around."
On her fortnightly days off, she liked to spend time with her
dad.
They would sleep late, eat at a favorite deli, go to the beach
and
see a movie.
Beth also got Scientology "auditing," in which she was hooked up
to
a device called an "E-meter," similar to a lie detector, and
asked
about things that troubled her.
The future looked clear.
"I grew up thinking that I was going to become something in the
church," Beth said. "I wasn't going to college, I wasn't going to
learn a trade."
Despite his pride, Dennis Erlich was a little worried. He knew
the
Church of Scientology's environment was a harsh one - people
always
screamed at each other, and important people got demoted and
shamed
at a moment's notice.
So he decided to toughen her up. Once, when she did something
that
irked him, he simply stopped talking to her for several weeks. He
didn't say a word - not even on her birthday.
The ideal Scientology parent does not pamper a child. In fact,
several former members said Scientologists believe children are
"adults in small bodies" who shouldn't be ordered around.
"In order to be a good Scientologist," says former member Adeline
Dodd-Bova, "you're allowing your child to be responsible for
themselves. I don't have to tell my 5-year-old son if he's hungry
or not, he knows. I don't have to make him dinner, he can go get
food."
Scientology literature on children, like much of Hubbard's other
writings, is subject to several interpretations.
The following passage, for instance, from Hubbard's "How to Live
With Children," could have come from Dr. Spock: "A good, stable
adult with love and tolerance in his heart is about the best
therapy a child can have."
Other passages sound more like what Dodd-Bova was talking about:
"Any law which applies to the behavior of men and women applies
to
children." Or, "When you give a child something, it's his.... So
he
tears up a shirt, wrecks his bed, breaks his fire engine. It's
none
of your business."
As Beth worked in the cloistered world of Scientology, Kristi's
letters from California provided a link to the outside. They told
Beth which bands were hot, what slang was in vogue.
But Kristi's letters weren't enough. Beth suffered bouts of
depression because she missed her sister and mother.
This created a conflict.
"I felt like I needed to be in the church because that was the
right thing to do," she said. "But then the little girl inside of
me was saying, 'I need to be with my mom.' "
She wished her mother would have told her to stay home in Los
Angeles. That would have made it easier to leave.
But her mother never said a thing.
It wouldn't have been proper, family members said.
"That just wasn't part of Scientology," Kristi said.
"Part of my mom was saying 'Beth is a being unto herself and she
must make her decisions and do her thing.' And the other half of
her was saying 'wait a second, you're her mom, you love her, you
want her to be with you. And in a way, I think that's all it
would
have taken to get Bethy to stay... but that Scientology in my mom
wouldn't allow her to express her feelings about that."
Beth didn't learn until years later how her mother really felt.
"She was crying really the entire time that (Beth) was gone,"
Kristi said.
Kristi said her mother did not want to comment for this article.
* * *
Beth was allowed to visit her family in Los Angeles a couple of
times a year.
Every time Beth returned, "it was like lovers reuniting," Kristi
recalls. "I mean we practically, all of us kind of clung to each
other the entire time she was there."
Then depression would sink in.
"After the first couple days, I would just be totally just scared
about the fact that I had to leave," Beth said.
"I can remember them telling me, you know, 'You're here right
now.
You're not leaving. There's no reason to feel like you're losing
us, because you're here, right here.' "
"And it didn't mean anything. I was a basket case."
* * *
Then one summer, things looked up.
When Beth was 13 and Kristi was 12, plans were made for Kristi to
visit Clearwater.
Beth was ecstatic.
So was Kristi - until she saw the room she was going to share
with
Beth at the former Quality Inn.
"Oh my god, I couldn't even believe that Beth lived in a place
like
that," Kristi said. "There were bugs everywhere.... We were
always
scared of having bugs run across our feet and face and stuff
while
we were sleeping."
One night, while Beth was working, Kristi and some other young
people went to Clearwater Beach. An officer stopped them, said
they
were out too late and called Scientology officials.
The decision was swift. Kristi's summer vacation was cut short.
She
immediately would be sent back to California.
Beth found her sister crying in the Fort Harrison Hotel. Once
again, Beth was torn. She anguished over Kristi. But if she went
to
the airport to see her sister off, it would look as if she
condoned
Kristi's mistake. So she didn't go. "For me to go and show her
any
sympathy was a no-no."
Kristi was flown home without even a kiss from her father.
"I cried the whole way home," Kristi said. "Basically, I just
felt
like dirt. I felt like I had committed the biggest sin in my
whole
life, and there was no way that I could possibly make amends. It
was real, real hard."
* * *
As Beth neared 15, she got tougher. She had suffered so many
heart-
wrenching emotions that she grew numb to them.
So she was surprisingly calm upon hearing some unexpected news:
Her father was in trouble. He had been declared a "suppressive
person" -- an enemy of Scientology -- after pushing for
improvements in staff conditions and for refusing to be demoted.
"I was confused," she said. "The organization that my dad had
wanted me to be a part of was now telling him to leave."
But even though he was leaving, Dennis Erlich still believed
Scientology doctrine. Like his ex-wife, he would not urge his 14
year-old daughter to leave Clearwater.
He told Beth she should make her own decision.
She stayed.
"She had more allegiance to the cult than she did to me," Dennis
Erlich said. "And I can only say that that's my doing. Because I
was less a father than I was a cult leader to her."
Beth said the church designated a man and woman as her guardians,
and she remained in Clearwater, thousands of miles from her
mother,
father and sister.
Ray Emmons is a former Clearwater police lieutenant who
specialized
in Scientology affairs and sometimes interviewed people who
wanted
to leave the church. He said he was surprised at the number of
Scientologists who wanted to leave family members behind.
"Husbands
and wives have been split from each other, and kids have been
split
from parents," he said.
"Most cases it was the parents that got disenchanted with
Scientology, and the child was not. So the parents would leave,
and
the child would not."
Within a year, Beth had decided she wanted to leave.
She was confused. She told her superiors, and herself, that she
wanted to move back to California for better schooling.
She requested a leave, which her Scientology superiors approved
in
1983. Her flight to her father's home in Colorado was arranged.
But on the day of the flight, she was called to the Fort Harrison
to talk to the "ethics officer," who deals with people who break
Scientology rules. Her guardian was there. He accused her of
wanting to leave without coming back. "It was so awful," she
said.
Three hours before the flight, they were still debating the
point.
"I started feeling like, well, they're trying to pressure me to
not
go."
Finally, she told her guardian, "Look, I'm leaving. I'm going
now.
Goodbye."
* * *
She caught a Scientology bus from the Fort Harrison to the QI and
picked up her things. There, a Scientology shuttle bus was going
to
take her to Tampa International Airport.
She stood outside the QI, waiting. Rain started to fall. An hour
before her flight, no bus had shown up.
"I was frantic. I didn't know what to do."
Some other Scientologists came by and mentioned they were going
to
the airport. She asked for a ride. In the car, one of them turned
around and asked: "You do have clearance to leave, don't you?"
She said yes. It was true, but the ethics officer had made her
feel
as if it wasn't.
"I felt as if I were escaping. I was escaping the pressure.... I
was escaping these people who were trying to guilt me into
staying.
And I didn't have anybody. There was no one there who was trying
to
help me."
From Tampa, she flew to Colorado. She later returned to her
mother
and sister in Los Angeles.
* * *
Before long, all the Erlichs had left Scientology.
For Kristi and her mom, the break centered on a dispute between
her
school, which catered to Scientologists, and the church, Kristi
said.
Kristi entered a public school in Glendale.
"It was such a shock to me... my grades started going down, I
became uninterested in school. I actually left high school in the
11th grade because I was really having a hard time adjusting."
After leaving, "I didn't have those stable things anymore."
One of those was the church's insistence on a drug-free
environment.
"I really kind of ended up on the streets for a while," Kristi
said. She "did a lot of drugs when I first left. . . . It was the
only way that I kind of felt okay about myself."
She said she realized she was in a rut, got some counseling and
got
herself together. Now 23, Kristi is a college student.
Dennis Erlich, 44, regrets bringing his family into Scientology.
He
now manages a small business in Los Angeles. On the side, he
publishes a newsletter for former Scientologists called The
Informer. He recently wrote:
"I don't know if anyone can comprehend the remorse I feel for
subjecting my children to this alienating, warped, repressive
environment. I pray our story serves as a warning: SCIENTOLOGY IS
DANGEROUS TO THE HEALTH AND SANITY OF YOUR CHILDREN!!"
"He's very remorseful," Beth said. "He's always saying how sorry
he
is."
Now 24, Beth is married and lives in California. She said she
recently graduated from college with honors in graphic design.
When
she left Clearwater in 1983, she realized quickly she was never
going back to Scientology. But some of the doctrines are hard to
shake. Scientologists abhor psychiatry, for example, and it took
Beth until this summer to seek therapy, to deal with the pain of
her unusual childhood.
She said it has been hard to build a meaningful relationship with
her father, but she is trying.
"It's not like life is normal. I really don't think it ever will
be. That was a really powerful time."
--------------------
CHURCH RESPONDS TO ERLICHS' CLAIMS
by Curtis Krueger, Times Staff Writer
The Church of Scientology says that Dennis Erlich cannot be
considered a reliable source of information about the church.
Erlich, wrote church of Scientology spokesman Richard Haworth, is
nothing more than a disgruntled former member who blames the
church
"for his troubled life."
"Ten years ago he was asked to leave the church following
complaints from his wife that he was physically abusing her;
Erlich
was also violent and abusive to other staff."
Haworth labeled Erlich a "hate vendor" and a member of the Cult
Awareness Network, which he said harbors "deprogrammers" and
encourages "individuals to pay thousands of dollars to kidnap
family members...and mentally and physically harass them until
they...denounce their religious beliefs."
Erlich admitted he once slapped his wife and went to a
Scientology
counseling session to discuss it but denied other allegations of
violence. He denied he is a deprogrammer or a member of the Cult
Awareness Network. He said he does support the group and warns
people about what he considers to be the dangers of Scientology.
A spokeswoman for the Cult Awareness Network says the
organization
provides information and emotional support to cult victims and
their families but does not advocate involuntary deprogramming.
On some specific points raised in the Erlich story, Haworth said:
- On Beth's long work hours -- "Children of this age are not
allowed by the church to work late."
- On forcing Beth to change rooms often at the former Quality Inn
where she lived -- "This is certainly not the case in present
time
nor have I found it to be true."
- On how an 11-year-old could understand the concept of a
billion-
year contract -- Many children "spontaneously originate a desire"
to sign the contract. Children work only if their parents agree.
- On the quality of food served to the Sea Org staff and family
members -- "There were periods in the past when conditions were
not
optimum regarding crew welfare. However, church executives
conducted an investigation and the reasons why were located. An
upgrade of both the quantity and quality of the food is the
result."
- On the church as a factor in the separation of the Erlich
family
-- "It is not church policy to separate children from families."
- On the general criticism that some Scientologists spend little
time with their children -- Church staff families spend three or
four hours a day with their children and "this is time actually
spent with the children not just time when they could be
together."
--------------------
WHAT ARE THE CHURCH'S BELIEFS?
by Curtis Krueger, Times Staff Writer
L Ron Hubbard was a writer who conjured up tales of time travel
and
rocket ships to Mars.
But science fiction was not all that sprang from Hubbard's pen.
He
also wrote the book Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental
Health.
In it, Hubbard described a new kind of counseling, which he said
could help people increase their IQs, cure themselves of
arthritis,
allergies, asthma and migraine headaches, and reduce their
chances
of having a car wreck.
The book was published in 1950 and eventually was incorporated
into
a religion that Hubbard named Scientology.
From the start, Scientology has been controversial.
Scientologists
believe that by using their methods, people will learn to know
themselves better and become more able to accomplish their goals.
But critics say Scientology relies on deception to lure members
and
keep them loyal. Some call it a cult. Others say it's a scam.
Dianetics holds that people have an analytic mind, which is
infallible, like a computer. But people also have a reactive
mind,
which contains the source of irrational behavior.
The reactive mind is made up of "engrams", which are the legacies
of painful experiences from the past. People free themselves of
their engrams by recalling the experiences that caused them. This
occurs in a Scientology counseling process called "auditing." In
auditing, people may attempt to recall events that occured before
their birth -- as early as three days after conception. A person
who is audited generally is hooked up to a device called an
"E-meter," similar to a lie detector. The auditor reads the meter
on the device to evaluate the subject's responses to questions.
Scientologists also believe that man is an immortal being called
a
"thetan."
One of the unusual aspects of Scientology is that it keeps many
of
its teachings secret, even from its members. Students proceed
from
one level to the next, and learning the higher levels too early
is
forbidden.
One of these secret, higher levels is called "OT III", for
"operating thetan three." In OT III, Scientologists learn that
Xemu, the ruler of the galactic confederation, flew selected
beings
to volcanoes on a planet called Teegeeach, now known as Earth.
This
is said to have happened 75-million years ago. (Documents
describing OT III became public during a 1985 court case).
Another unusual aspect is the price. Auditing can cost $800 an
hour. One couple, Tom and Carol Hutchinson of Marietta, Ga., said
they purchased an auditing package that cost $35,000.
Some Scientologists report that they can leave their bodies and
influence events miles away.
Scientologists also may join the Sea Org (Sea Organization), a
group of full-time staff members. Those in the Sea Org work 12-
hour days and earn $30 a week. Scientologists believe in
reincarnation, and those who join the Sea Org sign billion-year
contracts.
They also wear blue and white naval-style uniforms.
A common misconception is that all Scientologists wear uniforms.
They don't. Non-staff Scientologists dress as they wish and hold
non-Scientology jobs.
THIS STORY INCLUDES INFORMATION FROM PREVIOUS TIMES STORIES AND A
COURT FILE.
SAVING THE WORLD
Scientologists believe they are saving the world from insanity,
war
and crime.
"Saving the world is an understatement," said former member
Kenneth
Wasserman. "Saving the universe" is more like it, he said. This
intense sense of purpose explains why some Scientologists are
willing to work 12-hour days for $30 a week. Others pay up to
$800
for an hour of counseling, and one couple brought a $ 35,000
counseling package.
Critics say this sense of mission has another consequence: Next
to
saving the world, caring for children may not seem so important.
"Scientology comes first and everything else is off- purpose,"
said
former Scientologist Vicki Aznaran, who is suing the
organisation.
"Parents who want to spend their time with their children are
looked down on. It's not socially acceptable."
In fact, former members say Scientologists view children as
"adults
in small bodies," who don't need much attention.
Scientology spokesman Richard Haworth denies that the "adults in
small bodies" concept exists.
He said the children who live in Scientology-owned staff
apartments
have a healthy environment. "It is a joy for me to see (staff)
families together", Haworth said. Scientologists who aren't on
the
staff receive counseling and training that enhances their family
relationships," he added.
Given the church's penchant for secrecy, and the strong opinions
on
both sides, the truth is hard to pin down.
According to the critics, here is the truth: Devotion to
Scientology sometimes means...
Little Time For Children...
Eva Kleinberg moved from Germany to Clearwater with her 9-year-
old
son, Mark, in 1986. She had joined a group of Scientology staff
members called the "Sea Org."
Eva was told she would have two hours a day for family time. But
with travel time from work, she said she actually had only one
hour
with her son. Because of the 12-hour workdays, she couldn't
always
stay awake for the full hour.
"I would compromise with my son," she said. After eating, she and
her son would divide the remaining half-hour of their family
time.
"I would play a game with him for 15 minutes, and I would get to
lay down for 15 minutes and sleep."
While Eva worked, Mark cleaned up around the motel or played with
friends.
About a year later, Eva and Mark left the church.
Asked what he thinks of Scientology, Mark, now 14, said, "I don't
think it's too good 'cause the people ... they don't get to spend
any time with their family and it's real expensive."
Church spokesman Richard Haworth said staff Scientologists
actually
spend three or four hours a day with their children, which he
said
is more than the average family.
Adeline Dodd-Bova also left Scientology. She said she got
disillusioned after working at Los Angeles schools that catered
to
Scientology children:
"I started seeing just really blatant neglect... terrible cases
of
children that were not getting any food, they were being sent to
school with no food for the entire day."
She was surprised at how strictly people followed the notion that
children are adults in small bodies, capable of caring for
themselves.
"What they ultimately sometimes end up creating are these
children
that turn out to be absolute, arrogant spoiled brats because no
one
can tell them what to do with their body under any circumstances
because that's what they have been led to believe -- they're
totally responsible. So by the time they're 9 or 10, they don't
want anyone to tell them what to do."
Parents Leave Children...
Ken Rose was in the midst of a Scientology counseling session in
the mid-1980s when he realized: "I could never be fully free
unless
I abandoned my kids, divorced my wife and joined the Sea Org (a
group of staff Scientologists)."
Rose said he did divorce his wife and sign the standard billion-
year contract to join the Sea Org.
Rose eventually moved from Los Angeles to a Scientology complex
at
Gilman Hot Springs, Calif., and was allowed to drive back to Los
Angeles once a week to visit his two sons. Then he was told
regular
family leaves would be canceled, he said. So he quit the church.
"In the end, it was the children who brought me to my senses," he
said. "Had it not been for the vulnerability of these two kids, I
don't know if I would have been brave enough to get myself out."
* * *
When Bobby Horne was about 7, he went to visit his father and
noticed something strange.
His father wasn't there.
Bobby's parents had divorced years before, and he lived with his
mother near Atlanta. He normally visited his father every other
weekend. But more and more often, Bobby went to his father for a
visit and found himself with a babysitter. Bobby's father had
started spending his time at a Scientology center. He became
interested after attending a seminar for dentists, sponsored by a
consultant with ties to Scientology. Eventually, he sold his
practice and joined the Sea Org in Clearwater. As a result, he
would see Bobby once or twice a year, instead of every two weeks.
"When his father left, he looked at me one day in tears and he
said, `Mom, how could a dad leave a son like me?' " said his
mother, Suzi Horne McPherson. "And I couldn't answer because here
is a straight-A, gifted child who had never been in done anything
but love his father. And when he said that, I broke into tears
and
I said, 'Son, they have stolen your father's mind.' "
Bobby still loves his father and has visited him in Clearwater
and
California, Mrs. McPherson said.
Told of her account, Haworth said, "You have been provided with a
half-truth in an attempt to falsely portray a situation in a
negative light."
...and Children Leave Parents
Former Scientologist Nan Herst Bowers got this letter from her
21-
year-old son, Todd, in April:
Dear Mom: I am sending you this letter to let you know that I
have
to disconnect from you. I feel that disconnecting from you is the
right thing to do....I can 't see you, the babies or Jim until
this
is all over and handled.
In another letter, she said her 16-year-old son, Ryan, wrote:
...don 't call me, I don 't want to talk to you until you
...(settle your problems with the church).
What had Mrs. Bowers' done?
The Church of Scientology thought she had told a gossip tabloid
that actor Tom Cruise was studying Scientology, she said. The
church also thought she had spoken to the Los Angeles Times.
So Mrs. Rowers was slapped with a harsh punishment.
She was declared a "suppressive person" -- in other words, an
enemy
of Scientology. She would be shunned by other Scientologists.
Scientologists think they won't advance spiritually if they
continue to associate with "suppressive persons."
To protect their pathway to spiritual achievement and to obey the
organization, Scientologists may "disconnect" from suppressive
persons -- even if that person happens to be their own mother,
Mrs.
Bowers said.
Ryan, now 17, acknowledged in a Clearwater court hearing in
September that he told his mother he wanted nothing to do with
her.
Asked about Mrs. Bowers' case, Scientology spokesman Richard
Haworth said she used her children to collect information about
celebrities and sold it to sensational tabloid newspapers "to
line
her own pockets with money at their expense." She denies the
accusation.
In a letter to the St. Petersburg Times signed by Ryan and his
father, Ben Kugler, both of Clearwater, Ryan said he tried to
improve his relationship with his mother, who lives in
California.
Mrs. Bowers complicated the effort by trying to use "violent
criminal deprogrammers" to get him out of Scientology, he wrote.
Asked about the letter, Mrs. Bowers acknowledged that she did
hire
two people to try to talk to Ryan about the dangers of
Scientology.
But the meeting never happened. Mrs. Bowers said the men had
agreed
that Ryan's presence at the meeting was to be purely voluntary --
Ryan would be allowed to leave the session at any time.
And Mrs. Bowers denied that the incident was what hurt her
relationship with her son. The would-be meeting was two months
_after_ Ryan disconnected.
She said she still has not been able to establish normal
relations
with her sons.
* * *
Kenneth Wasserman, a Los Angeles lawyer, often received
Scientology
counseling in Clearwater. He said he had a close relationship
with
his daughters, who were raised in the church. But then, in 1989,
he
told them he was no longer a Scientologist.
Afterward, daughters Jaime and Kelly, then 15 and 13, lived with
his ex-wife, visited him only rarely and avoided serious
conversation, he said. Wasserman thinks his daughters were told
to
"disconnect" from him.
He said he hasn't heard from them since February. Father's Day
and
a birthday passed without even a telephone call. Now, his
favorite
photo of Jaime and Kelly brings him only pain.
I'm tired of looking at it because it makes me cry, said
Wasserman,
who recently settled a lawsuit with the Scientologists about fees
he paid to the church.
Haworth called Wasserman's claims "outrageous."
Children Work Long Hours...
Someone at the Church of Scientology called Clearwater police
this
March to complain about a trespasser. An officer found Carlo
D'Aubrey, 15.
Carlo, crying, told the officer he didn't go to school. He had
just
quit his job as a maintenance worker for Scientology -- a job in
which he worked from 8:30 in the morning to 10 at night for $30 a
week.
He was having trouble getting his last three paychecks.
Carlo's mother, Beverly D'Aubrey, lived in Clearwater, but not
with
him. He indicated she worked for the church. His father lived in
England and had been accused of a "high crime" within
Scientology.
Therefore, Mrs. D'Aubrey had to divorce him.
Carlo said his father would have to get permission from
Scientology's "international justice chief" before the two could
see each other again.
After a call from police, Carlo's mother, who was ill, arranged
for
a Scientology official to pick up Carlo at the police station.
Asked if the boy's work schedule would violate child labor laws,
Scientology spokesman Richard Haworth said, "I would think so, if
he actually worked such hours."
Francisco Rivera, a senior attorney with the Florida Department
of
Labor and Employment Security, agrees. State law generally
prevents
15-year-olds from working more than four hours a day when school
is
in session.
Haworth said Carlo has returned to England and that his story is
"as far from a true picture of Scientology children in Clearwater
as you can get."
* * *
A Clearwater police officer was surprised to see a 10-year-old
boy
walking downtown -- at nearly midnight.
The boy, Mark Martin, said he had gotten off work about 10:30
p.m.
Mark said he worked six days a week for the Church of
Scientology.
He was supposed to earn $12 a week but hadn't gotten paid since
starting four weeks earlier.
His mother lived in California and was supposed to be moving to
Clearwater soon, he said. In the meantime, Mark lived with two
brothers, 13 and 16, in a Scientology-owned motel.
An investigation by state officials into the 1983 incident ended
after two months, when Mark apparently returned to California.
...and Live In Crowded Quarters
Church staff members, who administer counseling sessions that can
cost as much as $800 an hour, live simply. So do their children.
Eva Kleinberg said she lived in a one-bedroom motel unit with her
9-year-old son and another mother and child. She said she knew of
a
family of seven that lived in a single room. Home was the former
Quality Inn, 16432 U.S. 19 N near Largo.
"When I came here (in 1986) it was such a disaster, she said."
Michael Pilkenton said he used to live in a two-bedroom apartment
with seven roommates, including a boy of about 10 whose parents
were in California.
Pilkenton, 27, is a former staff Scientologist. He lived in
Hacienda Gardens, a Scientology-owned apartment complex, in 1989.
Asked about cases of overcrowding, Scientology spokesman Richard
Haworth said the organization has complied with fire codes that
regulate how many people can live in buildings.
MEMBERS LAUD SCHOOLING, CHURCH'S NO-DRUG STANCE
Marie C. Gale is raising her children the same way her parents
raised her: using the principles of Scientology.
"Considering my parents and grandmother, my children are fourth-
generation Scientologists," Mrs. Gale, 36, said in a letter.
Mrs. Gale, of Clearwater, is one of many local Scientologists who
say their religion offers benefits to their families, their
children in particular.
Members say Scientology benefits their children because: - It
offers educational methods that they say are superior to those
used
in public schools.
- It steers parents away from psychiatry, which they view as
evil.
- It stresses a drug-free environment.
- It teaches them procedures called "touch assists", which are
designed to help them recover from bumps and bruises.
Mrs. Gale said she decided to become an active member of the
Church
of Scientology when she was 12.
"I attribute much of the success and happiness in my life to my
upbringing in a sane and happy family and my ensuing Scientology
pastoral counseling and auditing."
Auditing is a Scientology counseling process that involves the
use
of an "E-meter," a device similar to a lie detector.
Both of the Gales' children, Philip, 12, and Elizabeth, 8, attend
the Delphian School in Oregon, a boarding school highly regarded
by
Scientologists that uses methods devised by L. Ron Hubbard, the
science fiction writer who founded Scientology. Elizabeth started
attending this year, and Philip started when he was 8, she said.
Both children are involved in a variety of school activities and
are studying at advanced levels, according to her letter.
Mrs. Gale said neither she nor her husband has pushed them into
Scientology training or auditing.
But this summer, Elizabeth completed the "purification rundown."
This is a process that purports to cleanse the body of various
drugs and toxins.
Philip has completed auditing sessions designed to help him
educationally, she said. In response to an inquiry from the
Times,
Mrs. Gale wrote a letter to the newspaper and also wrote answers
to
follow-up questions.
The Times was able to find only a couple of Scientology parents
willing to talk about raising children in the church.
Edward Best, a father of four, said in a telephone interview that
Scientologist children are strongly warned of the dangers of
drugs,
and he thinks they get involved in drugs and crime less often.
Richard Washburn of Tampa agreed.
"I think the big advantage in Scientology for children is the
awareness of the danger of drugs," Washburn said. "That's why my
kids are in a private school."
Washburn said two of his children attend the True school, 1835
Drew
St. in Clearwater, and his wife works there. The school uses
Hubbard educational methods.
In an effort to get more firsthand information, the St.
Petersburg
Times repeatedly asked Scientology spokesman Richard Haworth for
permission to interview staff Scientologists and their children.
The requests were declined for months. Haworth did arrange for
Scientologists to write letters to the Times. The newspaper
received more than 180 letters. More than 150 arrived in a single
day.
It was impossible to verify most of the letters. Several letters
had illegible signatures and no return addresses. Reprinted below
are verbatim excerpts from some of the letters. The handwriting
on
some is difficult to read and the spellings of the signatures may
not be correct. Haworth declined to confirm the spellings.
* * *
"I am 15 years old. I was born into a Scientology family and have
been raised with Scientology technology.
"It has helped me tremendously. When I was very small I got in
many
accidents. My mother did a Scientology handling for those who get
sick often, and it helped me to a point where I was rarely sick
anymore.
"I was raised with the principles covered by Ron Hubbard on
exchange, manners, how to have good relations, etc. I have turned
out well -- I am a very sane girl (not to brag) but I can tell
right from wrong -- I am not promiscuous, don't smoke, do drugs,
can have many things as a result of Scientology and the way I was
brought up by my parents."
-- Elyssa Alexander
"My daughter is five years old and is almost in the second grade!
"She and I have a beautiful relationship we communicate we laugh
and we cry together. I not only have a daughter but a friend who
is
five going on forever.
"She is drug free and knows drugs are bad. She sees people drunk
and doped up and tells them to stop it.
"I could go on and on but the best was I came home one night and
my
five year old was teaching her 13-year-old babysitter how to use
a
dictionary! That says it for me!"
-- Kate Ryan
"My daughter was raised in Scientology. She is now 14 years old.
My
daughter even though is only 14, she knows how to communicate
with
people without being reactive. She has learned how to treat
people
and she makes friends very easy.
"She has never even tasted a medicine therefore she is 100% drug
free -- except for the school vaccines. Of course if she were
sick
we obviously would have given her whatever the doctor said,
however
my daughter never had any sickness that required to go to the
doctor. I feel the main reason she is healthy is because she has
nobody that suppresses her or or makes her life impossible.
Therefore she is very happy. We allow her to be herself at all
times."
-- Bolivar Quinomis
"I am 20 years old and am the daughter of two people who were
Scientologists since before I was born. I grew up moving all
around
the United States and have gone to many different types of
public,
private schools.
"When I started 9th grade I got into drugs and hardly ever went
to
school. Most of the time I spent ditching class and hanging out
with my friends. No person in the school ever noticed or did
anything to handle the situation when I walked off the grounds in
front of them. Luckily, I was taken out of that situation and
moved
here to Clearwater where I then went to school at TRUE School, a
Hubbard Method School in the area. I received all the personal
attention that I needed. I had no problems with the other
children
and actually did very well in my studies.
"In the Hubbard based schools I learned. At the others I sat in
class like a zombie trying to learn and eventually just left
giving
up on learning.
"I am now the owner of my own business and married very happily
with a child on the way. I am a Scientologist as well as my
husband."
-- Shelly P.
Scientology vs. psychiatry
The reader will find scattered in this series various references
to
Scientology's deep distrust of psychiatry. Church founder L. Ron
Hubbard, according to the Wall Street Journal, "harbored a
profound
and obsessive hatred for psychiatrists, who, he declared, were
'chosen as a vehicle to undermine and destroy the West.' " Why ?
The Journal asked Cynthia Kisser, executive director of the Cult
Awareness Network. She suggested Hubbard's views may stem from
the
fact that "the mental health community early on rejected" his
ideas. "The best recruits," she told the Journal, "were people
whose problems were not being solved by the mental-health
profession. These people might buy into Scientology."
Both the Journal and, more recently, CBS' 60 Minutes program have
done pieces on the newest manifestation of Scientolgy's anti-
psychiatry stance. The church, they suggested, is a major force
in
the attacks on the drug Prozac, used to treat depression. More
relevant to this series is the church's opposition to the drug
Ritalin, a drug used to treat hyperactive children.
------------------
PART TWO
'THEY TOOK OUR LIVES"
by Curtis Krueger, Times Staff Writer
Eleven-year-old Laura Hutchinson went to Girl Scout camp scared.
Not scared of camp. Camp would be fine.
Laura was scared that when she returned, Mom and Dad might be
divorced.
Tom and Carol Hutchinson, self-employed commercial artists in the
Atlanta area, had been having marital problems. When Tom started
getting counseling at Atlanta's Dianetics center, affiliated with
the Church of Scientology, Carol objected.
The parents fought as Laura left.
But when Laura came back, her parents were together. By then,
both
were getting Scientology counseling. Before long, both considered
themselves Scientologists. Soon Laura and her 8-yearold sister,
Molly, did too.
But Tom and Carol did more than switch religions. They switched
focus. Scientology, rather than Laura and Molly, consumed them.
Within two years, Tom and Carol spent $60,000 on the church,
according to a lawsuit. They traveled to Clearwater for
Scientology
counseling and spent virtually all of their free time on the
church. They signed billion-year contracts and prepared to move
the
family to Los Angeles.
Their experience is not unusual. When parents plunge into
Scientology, critics say, children often are swept along and
family
life takes a back seat.
"I mean, they took our lives away," said Laura, now 17. And then,
one brief remark changed everything.
* * *
The Hutchinsons' story begins in the summer of 1985. Tom confided
to a client that he was having marital problems.
The client referred Tom to Atlanta's Dianetics center. During a
weekend auditing session he spent 12 hours telling his problems
to
a Scientology counselor, or "auditor."
"You come out of it, of course, feeling like you've dumped your
troubles," Tom said. "You get real high off the whole thing. And
of
course you want some more of that feeling."
After Laura went to camp, Carol went to the Dianetics center,
too,
despite reservations. Like Tom, she went back for more.
But Tom and Carol did not discuss their counseling sessions with
each other. They had learned an important rule of Scientology:
You
can't discuss your "case" with anyone else even your spouse.
* * *
One thing troubled Tom. Could he be a Christian and a
Scientologist
too?
No problem, Scientologists said.
"They kept saying, 'Well, you can be a Christian and a
Scientologist at the same time,' " Tom said.
"Eventually the lifestyle takes over and the Christianity kind of
just goes by the wayside," Carol said.
* * *
Laura was put off by the first Scientologists she met. They
seemed
pushy and phony. Both girls were enrolled in a Scientology study
course and found it boring. But within a couple of months, Tom
and
Carol were spending seven days a week at the Atlanta Dianetics
center for auditing or Scientology courses. The staff encouraged
them to bring Laura and Molly.
While their parents sat for hours in auditing sessions, the girls
went to the basement and stuffed envelopes with Scientology
literature.
Mom and Dad were happy.
"We thought, well, this is good, you know," Carol said. "They're
staying busy doing something that's of benefit rather than just
wasting their time playing or watching TV."
Molly was audited only once, but Laura was audited several times.
Like her parents, she was hooked to an "E-meter" - a device
similar
to a lie-detector. She held two metal cans while the auditor
asked
her questions and evaluated her responses.
She, too, found that auditing made her feel good. "I just felt
like
I was floating."
Eventually, the girls went along. Molly told her friends she
belonged to the Church of Scientology, which she thought was a
new
denomination of Christianity. At Christmas, Laura gave her
friends
books by Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard.
Laura was awed by some of the other Scientologists, especially
the
ones called "OTs" - for "operating thetans." She knew OTs
supposedly could remember past lives, and that fascinated her.
"I used to ask them if they had met God at any time, you know?
And
like, what was God like? I never got an answer."
* * *
The auditing sessions soon got expensive, but Tom and Carol
wanted
more.
Scientology staff members told the Hutchinsons they were lucky
because they could afford to get enough auditing to attain the
state of "clear," an important goal within Scientology.
Scientologists believe that by going "clear," they can increase
their IQs, improve their health and accomplish their goals.
Many people couldn't have afforded the $35,000 price tag to go
clear.
But the Hutchinsons could. A Scientology official explained how:
All they had to do was get a second mortgage. For later
counseling
and training, they also cashed in their individual retirement
accounts, charged up to the limit on their Visa card and sold a
collection of antique, sterling-silver mint-julep cups.
Tom and Carol eventually were told to go to Los Angeles to be
evaluated and certified as clears.
Thrilled, Tom and Carol flew to California.
* * *
But Laura was not thrilled. This Los Angeles trip meant Mom and
Dad
would miss her 13th birthday.
Laura's birthday just didn't seem so important, Carol said.
"We felt that the most important thing was to do the (clearing
process), and that Laura would have other birthdays and she would
get over it and, you know, no big deal. That's the way we felt,"
she said.
As a Scientologist, Carol said she was taught that children
sometimes manipulate their parents in order to get attention. So
she said she learned not to give her children much sympathy.
"The normal, mothering, motherly feelings that you have, where
you
want to nurture and care for your children is taken away from
you."
Laura remembers that "We'd be sick or we'd hurt ourselves or
there
was something we were upset about and Mom would just say, 'I have
no sympathy.' "
"I was always sick because I needed her attention so bad."
* * *
The news in Los Angeles was shattering. Although Carol
successfully
became clear, the Scientologists told Tom he failed. He wasn't
clear. And it was his responsibility to get clear - by buying
more
auditing, even though he and Carol already had spent $35,000.
"I thought my whole world had fallen apart," Tom said. "I sat
there
and wept.... I had done everything that I could do to get what
they
had promised me."
"And then coming up empty-handed . . . just seemed to me to be
the
ultimate rip-off."
* * *
Returning to Atlanta, Tom and Carol soured on the church and
found
themselves swamped in debt, working extra hours to keep their
business afloat.
Out of the blue, a Scientologist called from Clearwater to offer
free auditing.
Clearwater, known among Scientologists as "Flag Land Base," is
considered the spiritual headquarters of Scientology.
"We had always been told that Flag (Clearwater) was the Mecca of
Scientology, that at Flag you could get the world's best
auditing,"
Carol said. "And so I thought, this is fantastic. Free auditing
at
Flag!"
* * *
It was in Clearwater, at the Fort Harrison Hotel in 1987, that
Carol had her last auditing session.
In the auditing room, Carol said she sat in the chair and
relaxed,
settling into something like a hypnotic trance. She picked up the
two metal cylinders connected to the E-meter. Closing her eyes,
she
started feeling uncomfortable. Carol could see something; she
wasn't sure what.
"I could see a lot of fog, and it was like the fog didn't want to
clear, because there was something in the fog, or behind the fog.
And I felt my back was hurting . . . and I didn't understand
why."
"And finally . . . I started to get an image of what was in the
fog. And it was Christ on the cross."
The auditor peppered her with questions. "She kept pushing me for
more and more information... and that's the way you do it with an
auditing session. And the more I described it, the clearer the
picture got. And finally I heard a voice speaking to me, and I
knew
that it was his voice, Christ's voice. But I didn't want to tell
the auditor."
But the auditor pushed, and eventually she explained.
"I knew that what he was saying was, Don't be afraid, I'll always
be with you.
"And I burst into tears, and I felt this immediate, incredible
relief, and this understanding and knowledge that that was true."
She wasn't sure what it meant. But she was exhilarated.
* * *
Carol went back to Atlanta ecstatic.
"She comes home from Clearwater, and it's like her feet don't
touch
the floor," Tom said. He wondered what had happened, but, under
the
rules, she couldn't tell him.
Before long, Tom was off to Clearwater. While they chased that
dream, their debts were catching up to them.
At about this time, a recruiter visited them from the "Sea Org,"
short for Sea Organization.
Sea Org members are full-time Scientologists who work 12-hour
days,
and wear naval-style uniforms. Tom and Carol were told they would
earn $35 a week. It was a way out. They could sell the house,
leave
their debts behind and move to Los Angeles with the girls.
Tom and Carol joined and signed the Sea Org's standard billion-
year contract.
Tom, Carol and the girls told their friends they were leaving.
"I was really scared," Laura said.
"I felt like I didn't have anywhere to go. There was no home for
me, there was nothing."
* * *
As he prepared to leave, Tom ran an errand to a typesetter. He
told
a woman there that he was moving to Los Angeles. She asked why.
Ever heard of the Church of Scientology? he asked. "She says, 'I
was an auditor in Los Angeles 15 years ago,' " Tom recalled. "And
she says, 'Now I'm a Christian, and I don't believe in anything
that they were doing, and it's a cult.' "
The words hit Tom like a lightning bolt. Thunderstruck, he went
home and told Carol. Neither of them had read any material
critical
of Scientology or run across former Scientologists.
"Oh my God," Carol said.
"We sat there," Tom recalled, "and said, 'Could it possibly be
that
we are making a huge mistake?' "
They took the telephone off the hook. Tom and Carol told their
daughters to turn away anyone who came to the door. The children
stood guard while the parents holed up in the bedroom.
Tom and Carol each had doubts, but, in accordance with church
rules, they had never discussed them.
Now they talked heart-to-heart. After two days of talking
virtually
nonstop, they realized that there was no way they could go back
to
Scientology.
* * *
Tom and Carol were exhausted from their marathon discussion. They
needed an excuse to get out of the house.
Molly said her girlfriend had invited her to a church play.
The whole family went along. Carol said she walked into the
Peachtree Christian Church and stared at a stained-glass window
depicting the baptism of Jesus.
"I looked up at that and I just burst into tears, because I was
just overcome, knowing that this was where we were led."
A memory came to her. Don't be afraid, I'll always be with you.
After the play, a crowd of churchgoers surrounded the family and
welcomed them. Tom met the minister.
"I remember distinctly tears welling up in his eyes," the Rev.
James L. Collins said. Collins told him Scientology was a
counterfeit religion that had caused turmoil in many lives.
* * *
Today, Tom and Carol still are working as commercial artists in
the
Atlanta area. They say they cannot think of a single benefit from
their two years in Scientology.
The Hutchinsons have sued the Church of Scientology in Georgia,
seeking unspecified damages for their unhappy experience in the
church and seeking to prevent Scientology from using what the
suit
says is a policy of harassing former members who speak out. A
countersuit says the Hutchinsons' action is frivolous.
The family still attends Peachtree Christian Church. At first,
Laura said, she had reservations about getting involved in
another
religious organization. But now, Molly and Laura both said their
Christian faith is strong.
For Laura, it's stronger than before.
"I know what it's like, you know, what life is like without it,"
she said.
"It's a very greedy cult," said Molly, now 15. "They don't leave
you any room for anything else," said Tom. "It's total
control. . .
. And when they're through with you, there's nothing else in your
life."
Carol said she still feels a sense of guilt.
"To admit that you have done something so traumatic to your
children... is just real hard to deal with afterward."
------------------
CHURCH OFFICIALS RESPOND TO THE HUTCHISONS' STORY
Asked to comment on the Hutchinsons' story, Richard Haworth,
spokesman for the Scientology headquarters in Clearwater, said he
had not seen their lawsuit. When a reporter offered to give him a
copy, he declined to accept it.
In general, he said, "Scientology helps parents and children to
improve their relationships with each other."
He denied that Scientologists are taught not to have sympathy for
their children. "A child that is sick or hurt will get
compassion,
love and understanding to help him get well," he said.
On the matter of Scientologists not discussing their auditing
experiences with each other, Haworth said someone who talks about
the experience might upset others, without helping himself or
herself advance spiritually.
The Church of Scientology in Georgia did not return phone calls
from the Times.
------------------
ON EDUCATION
Like the church he founded, the teaching methods espoused by L.
Ron
Hubbard create controversy. And they are spreading, across the
United States and around the world.
By Curtis Krueger, Times Staff Writer
L Ron Hubbard wrote science fiction stories and founded a
religion
-- but he didn't stop there.
He went on, according to his followers, to achieve tremendous
breakthroughs in education.
There are now more than 150 Hubbard-method schools around the
world. They achieve superior results, according to supporters,
and
are free of drugs and drug-related violence.
Some bay area parents give high marks to schools using the
Hubbard
method.
"I have two children that are in a school where Scientology study
tech is being applied ... (and) both of them are really doing
great," wrote Linda Hilton.
Schools in Australia, Austria, Denmark, Germany, Holland, Italy,
South Africa, Sweden, Switzerland and the United Kingdom use
Hubbard's methods, according to Applied Scholastics, a
corporation
that licenses the techniques.
Critics say the schools are fronts for Scientology, that their
hidden purpose is to lure the unwitting into a cult with designs
on
their money. Some students who have had instruction under the
Hubbard system and at public schools say they learned more in
public schools.
Even nations disagree on the matter.
In Germany, government authorities strictly regulate the schools.
Strict regulations and grass-roots movements by citizens forced
Scientologists to close one school near Munich and abandon plans
for another near Hamburg. Authorities believe the methods cause
psychological damage, said Monika Schipmann, an official with the
Berlin Education Department, which is responsible for sects.
"They teach authoritarian, hierarchal thought patterns," said
Ralf
Mucha, an official of Action Psychocult Threat, a state-supported
private agency in Dusseldorf. He said word clearing -- a Hubbard
method that focuses on the meanings words -- "does not promote
logical thinking."
Advocates of the method have shifted focus to the area that was
East Germany, where the collapse of communism has left many young
people in search of a new value system.
But in South Africa, the schools reportedly have had considerable
success, especially among poor black families, and are backed by
some South African corporations.
Three schools in Clearwater employ Hubbard's educational ideas,
but
there is no public record to gauge their effectiveness. Florida,
unlike some other states, has virtually no regulation of teaching
methods or curriculum at private schools. Like many other private
schools, the Clearwater schools using the Hubbard method are
unaccredited.
The Times asked a professor of education at the University of
South
Florida to analyze the Basic Study Manual, which outlines the
fundamentals of Hubbard's methods.
"I don't see any harm in the techniques," said Evelyn Searls.
"Neither do I think they are a panacea for literacy problems."
* * *
Hubbard "uncovered the basic reason for failures of a student to
grasp any subject," according to Scientology advertisements.
The only reason a person becomes unable to learn, according to
Hubbard, is that the person went past a word he or she didn't
understand.
Most schools tell children to look up words in dictionaries. But
it
is pre-eminent in the Hubbard technique.
His methods are designed to help people learn to learn and can be
applied to traditional school subjects. Hubbard's followers say
his
methods enable anyone to learn anything.
* * *
Failure to grasp the meaning of a word can lead to more than bad
grades, according to Hubbard. It can make students appear tired
or
disinterested.
Lilly Dodd, 16, is a former student of the Delphi Academy in Los
Angeles, which uses Hubbard's methods.
"So if you're sitting there reading a book and you yawn," she
said,
"then they will call you over to a place where they will try and
look for misunderstood words.... They'll sit there and ask you
what
does the word `the' mean? If you don't answer it, and you don't
answer it within three seconds or so, they'll send you over to a
dictionary.
Illness might cause the same reaction.
Once, she recalls, "I actually had a fever, and then they said,
`Well, before you call your mom to want to go home, I suggest you
go down to the word-clearer (the person who helps students
understand words) and find out if you have any problems in your
study.' "
Lilly said she later enrolled in public school in Los Angeles and
found she had fallen far behind. Old enough to enroll in ninth
grade, she chose eighth instead.
"It was quite a shock for her to find out where she really
stood,"
said her mother, former Scientologist and teacher Adeline Dodd-
Bova. She said the staff at Delphi told students their education
was far superior to what they would get in a public school.
Despite repeated attempts, Delphi Academy representatives could
not
be reached for comment.
* * *
Many Scientologists say they care deeply about their children's
education, and they say Hubbard-method schools provide the best
environment.
But former members said the church actually placed a low priority
on giving its children a formal education.
Former Scientologist Michael Pilkenton used to talk to children
at
Hacienda Gardens, a Clearwater apartment complex that houses
Scientology's staff members.
Pilkenton in 1989 was a member of the "Sea Org," or Sea
Organization, the full-time Scientologists who work 12-hour days.
He would ask the children whether they planned to go to college
and
choose a career.
He said the children told him: "You can do anything you want in
college right here in the study room."
Former members say Scientology staff members believe they are
saving the world, and other pursuits -- such as college -- often
seem unimportant.
"Really for them there's no purpose for someone to be going to
college anyway because what you really should be doing if you're
a
good Scientologist is joining that army of Sea Org people to
clear
the planet," Dodd-Bova said.
"Clear" [as a verb] is a term that means to deliver Scientology
counseling.
* * *
Clearwater, the international spiritual headquarters for the
Church
of Scientology, is home to the True School, which uses the
Hubbard
methods. It denies being a Scientology front or teaching the
religion.
The school is "not in any way connected to the Church of
Scientology, they do not fund us or have any management over us,"
Christine Collbran, the school's vice president, said in a letter
to the Times.
But it does have ties to Scientology.
School officers are listed in a local directory of
Scientologists.
The last executive director, Sheri Payson, left the school to
work
for a Scientology church in Tampa, according to a newsletter.
"Child auditing," a Scientology counseling process, is offered at
the True School, according to ads, although Collbran said a
separate organization administers the program.
The True School is licensed by Applied Scholastics, Collbran said
in a letter. According to a brochure, Applied Scholastics'
trademark is owned by a group called ABLE International. The
brochure says: "ABLE creates recognizable changes in society --
changes that bring us that much closer to archieving the aims of
Scientology."
Asked about charges that the schools are Scientology fronts,
Church
of Scientology spokesman Richard Haworth said: "Some people's
claims don't happen to reflect reality." He said Applied
Scholastics merely was exporting Hubbard's study methods -- not
his
religion.
The True School has more than 100 students and advertises that it
offers instruction for children ages 2 through high school. But
state records indicate that during the past six years, it has not
graduated a single student, said Patterson Lamb, who handles
private school matters for the Florida Department of Education.
The True School is not accredited, which means that someone who
wants to go on to college probably would have to take the GED
high
school equivalency test. That is not uncommon among private
schools.
Asked why the school is not accredited, Collbran wrote that
accreditation might force the staff to undergo "psychological or
psychiatric training."
She added: "Psychologists and psychiatrists ARE the ones
responsible for the drop in SAT scores and increase in rape,
crime,
RITALIN use and drugs in general. To us the idea of being
`accredited' by these people is totally undesirable."
Scientologists also denounce psychiatry.
The Jefferson Academy, another Clearwater school marketed toward
Scientologists, also is not accredited. Officials at the school
declined to grant interviews.
Much less is known about the Scientology staff school, known as
the
Cadet School. It is at a former Quality Inn, 16432 U.S. 19 N near
Largo, that the Scientologists also use to house members who have
small children. The old motel also is home to a day-care center.
The Scientologists turned down a Times request to visit the
school
or interview pupils. Haworth said the school has about 135
students
who study in six course rooms. They learn reading, writing,
arithmetic and other subjects and go on a variety of field trips,
he said.
"The Cadet School is far superior to a public school as there are
NO drugs nor any of the drug-related violence unfortunately found
in many of our public schools," he said in a written statement.
* * *
Hubbard-method schools deny they promote Scientology, but Michael
Burns disagrees.
In 1988 at the age of 21, he enrolled in the Recording Institute
of
Detroit, a school for record producers. Soon he was learning
Hubbard educational methods and being encouraged to visit a
Dianetics center affiliated with Scientology.
Eventually, Burns said, he became a Sea Org member in Clearwater.
He said he worked long hours, got five or six hours of sleep each
night and lived in a two-bedroom apartment with 10 roommates. He
left last year and is suing Scientology.
The Recording Institute could not be reached, but Haworth denied
it
is a front for Scientology.
"It was a dreadful, scary, horrifying experience I am ashamed to
admit to," Burns said recently. "I'd like to be able to forget
it."
-- THIS STORY INCLUDES INFORMATION FROM CORRESPONDENTS IAN
JOHNSON
IN GERMANY AND ARLENE GETZ IN SOUTH AFRICA.
---------------------
CHILDREN, ADULTS WRITE TO THE TIMES
The True School and the Jefferson Academy, two Clearwater schools
that use educational methods devised by Scientology founder L.
Ron
Hubbard, declined to allow the St. Petersburg Times to interview
students, graduates, teachers, administrators or parents.
But the True School did provide what it said were testimonials
from
some of the school's students and staff members.
In addition, Church of Scientology spokesman Richard Haworth
arranged for Scientologists to write letters and send them to the
Times.
Here are excerpts from the testimonials and letters.
Their accuracy could not be confirmed independently, nor could
the
spelling of the signatures, which in some cases were hard to
read.
True School testimonials
"The data that L. Ron Hubbard has put together is so effective
that
students are happy and wanting to go to school. Just like me!!
Some
of the successes I have had I couldn't of had if I was in a
school
that did not use these methods.
"I can study without any problems and I get all the information.
This school has changed the way I study, and that's good.
-- Becky Minkoff, 11
* * *
"This is the best day at school I've ever had. It is a lot better
than sitting and listening to those headache makers. All the math
I
did was good!"
-- Ryan Ellenberg, 10
* * *
"I am extremely happy about passing the Basic Study Manual Course
and the test. It feels good to complete a task and then discover
that -- IT'S TRUE!! -- you did understand everything you read.
This
gives me extra desire to continue with my next task !!"
-- Anne Owens, 24
Letters from Scientologists
"I have two children that are in a school where Scientology study
tech is being applied.
"With this study tech, both of them are really doing great.
"Their math levels have increased because they really know it; as
well as their reading levels.
"As a mother, I very pleased and proud of what they have gotten
with the Scientology study tech being applied at their school."
-- Linda Hilton
* * *
"When my son was in elementary school, he started to have
problems
in learning and he was very slow in understanding what the
teacher
was saying and I was very concerned.
"I heard about Scientology and its educational programs and took
him to see if something could be done. Miraculously, he started
to
ask me if he could go to study on the weekends and on vacations
too!! There was nothing that could stop him since then of wanting
to learn and study. This made me want to investigate more about
Scientology too and soon I found out it compromised a whole new
and
prosperous viewpoint in life and my life changed the same as my
son's.
I don't know how to thank L. Ron Hubbard for this technology of
his
that gave me a happy family."
-- Ayako Balfour
* * *
"I have been in Scientology for the last 14 years. I came into
Scientology when I was 12 years of age.
"Before I started doing Scientology, I was an illiterate kid. I
could not read well or write well. In using the study technology
that I learned, I was able to catch up and do better in school.
"I am now 26 years old and I believe that if I had not learned
Scientology, I would have left school not really knowing how to
read and write.
"Due to my Scientology education I am leading a very happy and
productive life."
-- Christina Sheehy
* * *
"First, let me say that Scientologists children are not involved
in
drugs, even though they are smack dab in the middle of a `drug
culture.'
"Study Technology is the only workable system of education today.
(Wish I had been brought up with it, how much easier life would
have been!)
"The public school system today is infiltrated with `psychology
hog
wash' which is responsible for the ever declining education
level.
Hubbard's study tech is the only hope, right now, for our
future."
-- Leigh Oriel
* * *
There are many wonderful teachers around in our schools however
there are also systems of the schools the teachers have to abide
to. Some of the rules that exist can send children to
psychologists
or psychiatrists who orders them on Ritalin, a very dangerous
drug
that can be fatal for a person, child or adult; the real cause
for
children being uneasy in schools are misunderstood words. And
what
I don't see done in our public schools is the children made to
clear up their misunderstood words, helped to learn how to do it
and then doing it."
-- Lisbeth
EDITOR'S NOTE: Some of the letters reflect Scientology's
longstanding war on psychiatry. Church founder L. Ron Hubbard,
according to the April 19 issue of the Wall Street Journal,
"harbored a profound and obsessive hatred for psychiatrists, who,
he declared, were 'chosen as a vehicle to undermine and destroy
the
West.' "
The article notes that the church is leading the campaign against
the anti-depression drug Prozac and Ritalin, a drug used to treat
hyperactive children.
Ralph Bailey, who supervises psychological services for the
Pinellas County School System, said school psychologists do not
order children to take Ritalin. He said a child who exhibits
attention problems may be evaluated by a school psychologist, who
would work with the children's teachers. If the problem persists,
officials may suggest a medical evaluation of the child by the
family doctor or a specialist. The doctor coudl recommend the use
of medicine lsuch as Ritalin. But it would be used only with the
approval of the child's parents or guardians, Bailey said. In
Pinellas County's experience, Ritalin has proved effective, with
minimal side effects, he said."
http://www.whyaretheydead.net/childabuse/sptimes-11.10-11.91.txt