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Scientology -- Part Three

My Ten Years (give or take) In Scientology, Part Three


By Jerry E. Smith




The SO org I joined was in Los Angeles, in the District known to the world as Hollywood. It is the service org right above Cl. V, called The New American Saint Hill Organization [ASHO], which like SFO was divided into Day and Fdn. I was Fdn staff. 

At the end of three financially unproductive months in K falls I had had it and wanted to be back into a full time, all Scn environment. 

In Klamath Falls one December night during a heavy snowstorm Jim Keith and I sat in the editorial offices of Skyline waiting for our printer to show up. He never did. I got fed up and started digging in a shoebox I had full of fliers from Scn orgs, looking for the star and wreath emblem of the SO. I called the first one I found. 

It was ASHO Foundation.

I had no idea what an ASHO was, but it was SO, so what the hell. I asked if they handled staff PTPs and the Director of Personnel [Dir Pers] assured me that they did provide the full benefit package mentioned above. Of course he left out that the staff allowance was $17.20 per week, or that berthing was six to eight people crammed into a standard sized hotel room, etc. 

I asked if they had any positions open in their publishing department or on their magazine (ASHO F publishes a mag called Cause, while ASHO Day publishes The Auditor). 

He told me that there was an opening as Editor of Cause, and that if I dropped everything and got there right away, he could guarantee that I got it. I had always dreamed of someday being the Editor of a real mag, not some dumb fanzine, or shoestring make-it-go-right "shopper." I dropped every thing, gave away most of my possessions and caught a bus to L. A. with just a few changes of clothes in an old backpack, leaving everything else behind. I arrived at ASHO F on December 7, 1941--err, 1976, three days after placing that phone call.





Not that I saw much of ASHO to begin with. New recruits in the SO are sent to the equivalent of "boot camp." It is called the Estates Projects Force [EPF]. 

I was at ASHO F for about three weeks waiting to be routed onto my EPF training. In the meanwhile I did a number of jobs, most of which were really a lot of fun.

One thing I like about Scn personnel policy is something called the Expeditor pool. Every new staffer, before being posted, is held in a pool of untrained labor and called an "expeditor." Where ever in the org there is a need for emergency or temporary manpower, moving furniture, writing letters, etc., they send in the expeditors. In this way a newie can get familiar with the org and its personnel while helping handle backlogs and overflows. I think it is a great way to train someone. Indeed, the second time I was at ASHO F {see below} I wanted to be permanently posted as an expeditor! (of course that cannot be done).

I expedited for a couple of weeks and apparently I did real well at it, as I "landed" the job of "Acting, Temporary Commanding Officer’s Communicator" [A/T CO's Comm]. A communicator is similar to a secretary, but there are no "secretaries" in Scn (the divisions of the org are headed by "Divisional Secretaries" and I guess they didn't want to be confused with some damned typist). The CO's regular comm was going on her annual 3 week leave (all SO members were allowed one vacation per year of 3 weeks, but you have to replace yourself before you leave) and it was decided that I'd do as her replacement. 

Unfortunately, a few days into this prestigious post I had a weird mishap. We had a new recruit arrive from some tiny town in the Deep South. This guy was a real Bozo, a 19 years old pin head wearing a glitter t-shirt that said "The Kid." I had the misfortune of acting as his "buddy" and directing him back to the ASHO crew berthing area, an old historic hotel, The Hollywood Inn [HI], right on Hollywood Blvd near Highland Ave, smack in the heart of the cinema district. He had scabies (highly contagious microscopic skin burrowing parasites)! I got them from just sitting next to him. 

When it was discovered that I had them I was put into quarantine. But the SO had no facilities in those days for quarantining anyone. So they locked me in a closet! Well, it wasn't really locked... but they ordered me not to come out. I spent almost a week in this damned closet. But it was kinda fun too, because, at least I had privacy, I didn't have to do anything, and I got my meals delivered. Best of all, the closet was filled with OEC vols! I spent the whole time reading policy and loving it (when I wasn't itching like crazy)! 

A few days after I recovered from the scabies they sent me on to the EPF.



If there is any clear-cut evidence of brain washing in Scn, this is surely it.

For a through understanding of brain washing techniques, the best book I have read is Robert Anton Wilson [RAW]'s Prometheus Rising. 

While on the EPF one works on "the decks" doing vary hard physical labor during the day and studying several hours, while dead tired, at night. 

One is required to only run from place to place, no walking while on the decks. 

You are taken away from all contact with the outside world. You are not allowed "off base" or to make phone calls without the written approval of the Commanding Officer [CO]. 

You address every one (male or female) as "Sir." 

You have to request permission to go the restroom and way shower only during assigned times. 

You are worked to exhaustion and then drilled all night in the new reality they want you to believe. You are repeatedly told that you are the most Elite (Scn's highest level) of the elite (Scn being the only repository of the true Truth that will set mankind free) (more on this, and the deadly danger of it, later). 

I was nearly "washed out" of the EPF. It is not supposed to be easy on you. You are supposed to be driven into "imprint vulnerability" (as RAW puts it) for the programming (as Ted Patric and his crew call it) to work. For me, it was like summer camp! The physical labor that most found grueling, was easy, almost relaxing for me after several months of crawling on my hands and knees 10 hours a day in onion fields. 

They didn't like that. So they gave me a special project, to take a restaurant cook stove that had not been properly cleaned in years and scrub it, all night, after study, with a toothbrush, until my attitude was acceptable! 

Another thing that was twisting my attitude was for the first time since getting into Scn I was going slowly through a crs.


One thing really bugged me. Each night after the crs period ended we were given a period of "group processing." Most of it was fine, but one set of commands was: 

"Look at that picture of LRH." 

"Say "Hello" to that picture." 

"Continue until you know he got it." 

"Now get his acknowledgement [back to you]." 

Say what? This struck me as being simply crazy. But I went along with it. I didn't know for sure that it was crazy, maybe it accomplished something that was not immediately apparent. I withheld judgment. 

And that was one mechanism that kept me in for years. I saw something wrong, or something patently crazy, and reserved judgment. Throughout one's "coming up" one learns that Scn is based on gradients, learning, or getting better, one step at a time. You don't learn everything all at once. And so, the message is, if you don't understand something now, hang in there and you'll get it on a higher level. 

I have since come to believe that the stuff I saw that appeared to be crazy, was crazy. 

Also, every new recruit gets a "security check" [sec-check]. Sec-checks are "confessionals" where the PC is required by his auditor to "get off" his "withholds" -- withholds are "undisclosed contra-survival acts of an overt or covert nature" and are called "overts" for short, i.e. you have to reveal all your crimes, or any other time that you did something, or thought about doing something, that you didn't want anybody to find out about! 

These sec-checks, as well as all auditing records ["confessional formularies" or PC folders] are supposedly kept strictly confidential and could never be used as blackmail material. Right. 

My sec-check, which was my first auditing ever, went on for nearly 18 hours over a period of several days. When one gets auditing it is a requirement that the auditor insure that every "command" is fully and properly understood so the PC executes it exactly. Much of that time was spent in "word clearing" (defining terms) and demoing (working out the precise meaning of each command and showing the auditor you have it by demonstrating your understanding with bits and pieces of things like batteries, paper clips, string, and that sort of thing). 

About a third of the auditing time, however, was spent on something really far out. I was being repeatedly asked about a vague sense of guilt I was experiencing. Suddenly I recalled something that might have been from a past life! 

I was a thug, a Chicago type gangster in a second story apartment. It was late at night and the apartment was dark. It was raining outside, I could see a 1920s car or two in the city street outside. It looked like a set from the TV show "The Untouchables." There was a woman in the apartment. I killed her. Then her daughter, about 10 years old, saw me. The incident ended with our eyes meeting. Such a look on her face! I felt shame and guilt. And I could not remember if I killed the child too, or not. 

We went over and over the incident for some time, then something really weird happened. 

I realized that I was outside of my body! "Exterior" [ext] as Scn calls out of body experiences [OBEs]. 

It was incredible. The room was incredibly bright, I was transcendentally happy, I was beaming love! I could not stop giggling and laughing for hours afterward. My being a true believer before was like I was against Scn compared to how True a Believer I was after that! 

After my three week stint on the EPF I was "graduated" back to my org, ASHO F. 

That's when I first realized I was getting shafted.



Did I get posted as Editor of Cause like the Dir Pers promised? No, I got posted in the galley! 

The galley is, as on a ship, the mess, or dining area. I was posted first as The Galley Hygiene and Security In-Charge and then, after spending the months in the staff training college necessary to complete the staff hating cycle on that post I got reposted as the Officer's Steward and had to do a post hat training cycle of several months all over again. Until one has completed a Full Post Hat and shown good production (up stats) on post one is not eligible for other, i.e. regular, or "grade chart" training or processing. You cannot study the tech or get audited if you are incomplete on your hat, and because of "musical chairs" org-boarding I was constantly incomplete on some hat, nearly the whole time I was in Scientology. 

And we weren't on a ship, the "galley" was a rented Cuban Night Club! It was SO messes by day, Salsa dance music by night, and a billion cockroaches all the time! 

In the SO there is "The Code Of A Sea Org Member." In it you pledge, on your sacred word of honor as an SO member, to do and to refrain from doing a number of things. One is that any SO member will "make things go right" and "hatted or not, trained or not, an SO member is expected to carry out any task or duty assigned to him." 

There was no way out, I had been lied to and shafted and per the Code I was expected to "make it go right," a phrase I came to hate. 

In the galley I went into a deep despair and was so messed up I didn't know what was happening for months. 

Nor did I get auditing for months. I was caught up in a routine of working in the galley all day, and forced to take staff training courses at night I did not want. I blew course (to blow, is to take an unauthorized leave, or make a sudden departure from an area, i.e. go AWOL) whenever I could. Mostly I was just tired and depressed all the time. In those days I hardly ever got out of the galley, hardly ever even saw daylight. 

Something truly remarkable happened to me in the ASHO galley one day. I met someone I knew from thousands, or possibly, millions of years ago! 

At this point I had been in Scn about a year (3 months at SFO, 3 months in K Falls then maybe about 6 months at ASHO) and still had received very little auditing, had very little "reality" on the Whole Track and Past Lives, was still a bit of a doubter. 

There was a guy who was a new recruit at ASHO Day and had not yet been sent to do his EPF. I had seen him around for a day or two and something kinda familiar about him had struck me, but we hadn't spoken. 

In those days the galley, like every other part of Scn was way undermanned and to get the job done the crew were assigned KP [Kitchen Police] duty on a rotating basis. The crew hated it! About his third day at ASHO this guy pulls KP during the lunch hour, and we end up working together. 

This rented Cuban nightclub did not have a dishwasher! We had to wash all the dishes by hand. Picture if you will a cramped rectangular shaped room. Down one wall is a sink with soapy water, a drain board, and another sink with scalding water. In the center of the room is a table where the dishes, after being rinsed in the scalding water, are placed. I am at the soapy tank, he's at the scalding tank with thick black plastic thermal gloves on. 

At one point I set some soapy dishes on the counter between us, and as he reached to pick them up It Happened. Our eyes met and simultaneously, we both thought the same thing/got the same mental picture/said the same thing! We both got this vision of our being members of the crew of a three man starship. I had a very clear picture of the ship and what we did. Simultaneously we both recognized each other and shouted "You were my co-pilot!" Astonished that we had both just shouted the same thing we realized that it was true, we did know each other from umpty-ump zillions of years ago, and our "visions" must have been nearly identical, as we both remembered our ship as a three man ship, for he said "Where's the other guy?" at the same time that I said "Where's the engineer?" 

We embraced like long lost brothers but couldn't talk as we were in the middle of the lunch rush and the dishes were stacking up. Later that afternoon he was sent to Flag and I have never seen him (or the engineer for that matter) since. I never even found out what name he was going by (this lifetime). 

Well, you can well imagine that this helped to convince me that I was On To Something, and (now I realize) mistakenly thought it was Scn. 

Both the galley and ASHO were on Beverly Blvd, ASHO was in a separate building, an old factory or something about two blocks away from the galley, and I was living with the rest of the ASHO crew at the HI, about 2 miles from the galley. 

In those days, in another industrial building down the block from ASHO was a division of ASHO Day called the Publications Org [Pubs US]. They printed all the LRH books and course materials for North America. Later Pubs was split off from ASHO Day to form its own independent identity as Bridge Publications, Inc. [BPI, a deliberate joke on Broad Public Issue [BPI], a distribution code on many Scn publications]. More on Bridge later. 

And yet another building, a movie sound stage between ASHO and the galley, housed CF and the Letter Reg section. I have heard that ASHO's CF is the largest in the world, but I suspect that Flag's may be bigger now. At that time it was housed in over 200 four-drawer filing cabinets, plus several hundred cardboard boxes! I often slept there, on a cozy catwalk above the filling cabinet and desk littered floor, rather than go all the way back to HI. Exhaustion wasn't the only reason that I didn't bother to go "home" all that often. I was berthed in a room less that 200 square feet with seven other guys! My bunk was the fourth one up and I was terrified of falling out of it in my sleep. (The catwalk wasn't as dangerous as it sounds, I couldn't have fallen from it even if I had tried.)




After eleven months in the ASHO galley I was traded to the Scn hotel for the Scn public in Hollywood, The Manor Hotel For Scientologists [The Manor], which was located next to an AO for the Los Angeles area [AOLA] (both located about a mile from the HI) at Bronson and Franklin. 

The Manor also housed The Guardians Office [GO]. It was the GO that was raided by the FBI {you know who they are} in 1976. I was there that day... 

The GO's purpose was to be the interface between Scn and those who wanted to destroy Scn -- or those who Scn thought wanted to destroy it. This included, the U. S. government in general, the FBI, the CIA, the IRS, Richard Nixon, a cabal of International Bankers & the World Bank, a conspiracy of international Marxist/Communism and Psychiatry, and the "prison guards" from the Markabian Confederation! 

Scn would like the world to believe that the GO, after being convicted by a Federal Court of stealing photo copy paper from the government [the only charge they got to stick!], had been disbanded. It was not – exactly. Most of the GO's functions have been preserved in other Scn orgs and Bureaus, such as the Bureau of Special Affairs. 

At The Manor I saw only upper lever students and PCs and pre-OTs and OTs, and the most senior non-SO staff (GO staff were 5 year contracted only (if I remember correctly), but many were also SO members, but not on "active duty" in an SO org). 

My first few months in the Manor were pure hell. 

The Manor, a eight story Normandy Chateau, was built as The Ch‚teau Elysee by William Randolph Hurst as a gift for his girl friend, Marion Davies, who operated it from 1929 into the '50s as a hotel for movie stars. 

Unfortunately for me, The Manor should have had a staff of over two hundred, but under Scn we were running a full service hotel with just 15 to 30 staff! Talk about make it go right! 

After Marion Davies, it was sold to a company that operated it as an old folks home for the wealthy. They built a modern 80 bed hospital unit on the grounds. When Scn bought it in the early '70s they turned the hospital into the Public Unit of The Advanced Organization of Los Angeles (making the building it had been occupying into a staff only unit). 

As you may have gathered from the above, Scn owned a lot of buildings in L. A. 

There were two AOs. One was the paying public only one, described above, next to the Manor and the other, for staff only, was located in a two story Victorian in the predominantly Hispanic area around Mac Arthur Park. (that was the first AO in L. A., set up in that same Victorian back in the '60s. The first uniform of the AO crew, back in the early '60's, was a white jump suit with silver boots and a silver "space" helmet!) 

The Los Angeles org was located a few doors away from the staff AO, across a major street, in an old rambling Spanish style mansion. 

And the Pacific Area Command [PAC] Estates Org [PAC Estates], where I served my EPF, was just a few blocks away from both of them in a wild gaudy Victorian Mansion build by Charles Chaplain, of silent film fame. 

And at the other end of Hollywood, beyond the HI was Celebrity Centre Los Angeles [CCLA] in a modern three story office building on La Brea Avenue a block below Hollywood Blvd. CCLA crew had their own berthing "hotel," the Wilcox. Before CCLA bought it The Wilcox had catered to a gay clientele and the place was seriously seedy, painted a pealing and weird bright color that was a cross between fluorescent lavender and tittie pink, and was located in heart of Hollywood's "queer" district on Selma Avenue at Wilcox. And FOLO had yet another building, a fabulous four story, 11 bed roomed Victorian on Bonnie Brae... 

I got traded, as I said, because Something Big Was Up. This, like practically everything in Scn was supper hush-hush, need to know only. The SO in fact owned 27 different buildings and was planning to sell them all off and move all the orgs around. Most would be moved into the then vacant, just purchased, old Cedar's of Lebanon Hospital complex (more on this later). 

In SO management one of the principle tools of running the system is a technique called "missions." In this case a mission is a small group of SO members, usually 1 to 5, who have written orders to go into a lower org and perform some function or action. Missions are usually either Observation Missions [Obs Msn], or an Action Mission. {See Bent Corydon's book, Messiah or Madman (mini-review below) for a discription of what happened when an action mission came into his mission (local Scn franchise).} 

Missions are usually referred to by the number of the written order firing the mission. Mission 1674 was the mission fired to perform this major event of moving all these orgs without disrupting service or function and sell off all these deadwood properties. 

At The Manor there was a staff member named Ron Yoder. Msn 1674 needed him. He was the most knowledgeable person in PAC on the subject of L. A. County building codes. There was a small problem, for me. Yoder, until a few days before the trade had been the CO of the Manor (curiously, when I did my EPF 11 months earlier, he had been the CO of PAC Estates, it was he who gave me the cleaning project with the tooth brush. I never learned how he got from PAC Estates to The Manor... Today, he is no longer on staff; the last time I saw him he was selling Styrofoam gliders in Shopping Malls). But just before they traded me, three Manor crew had blown, the SO equivalent of "jumping ship" in the dead of night. All three were from the Manor's dining room. So, the guys at PAC Estates who ran The Manor busted Yoder from CO to galley slave! 

I was sent to replace him so he could work for Msn 1674 to bring the 27 SO structures up to code so they could be sold. Unfortunately for me, he was doing the work of the three that blew! I got 45 minutes sleep my first night there. After about a month I had gotten up to a whole 2 hours a night! I must have been there at least a year before I was getting enough sleep to get auditing. To this day I suffer from only being able to sleep a couple of hours at a time must nights, as a result of this.


Not that I got much auditing, even when I was "sessionable". I got something called a Green Form that was supposed to handle my "drug case." Scn insists that drugs have been used to control and damage people throughout the Whole Track and that as an immortal being you have lived billions of past lives and that in some of these lives you have been adversely affected by drugs, and it was this whole track influence that made one a druggie or an alcoholic in this life time. And this Green Form was supposed to handle it. Or at least handle it enough so that your "addictions" and Whole Track re-stim (re-stimulation is from Dianetics [Dn]. Re-stim is when some traumatic incident in the subconscious mind is caused to have its burden of unpleasant or mis-emotion and other factors stirred up so as to have a negative impact on the person in present time. See D:MSMH for a full understanding) would not impede your progress up The Bridge. If the Green Form I had did any good, you couldn't tell by me. 

After the Green Form I got some more confessionals I didn't need. Squeaky clean, no crimes to report, thank you. 

Then they decided I needed something called and Interiorization/Exteriorization Rundown [Int/Ext Rdn]. They say that after one has gone ext it becomes difficult to audit someone and this action stabilizes them or something. I never finished it. 

At first getting sleep at the Manor was nearly as difficult as in the ASHO galley, even though I lived only down the hall from the kitchen. It was still a dorm and with the few staff we had everyone in the dorm was on a different schedule, going in and out of the dorm all night -- and every time the dorm door opened I woke up! 

After I had been at The Manor a few months I got posted to Lead Steward and assumed a role about that of a Matre de. There was a closet right off the dining room (that probably was built as a washroom) being used just to store junk. I cleaned it out and made it into a tiny living space. 

The GO used to hold secret briefings in the dining room and I inadvertently overheard a few, though unfortunately I heard very little, and remember less. Manor staff were sometimes invited to set in on some of these briefings and I do remember some of them. 

One topic that same up regularly was "what are the Markabs doing?" One of the Guardians giving the briefings was to become one of the "Scientology 7" from that FBI raid related trail. He said that he had spent many hours in the Library of Congress (doing what I forget) and while so engaged he had noticed the Markabs were doing the same. He insisted that one could easily spot the Markabians as they were wearing bodies grown in culture vats (Hubbard called these "doll bodies") and the vat jobs were never perfect duplicates of humans (most commonly a little too much or too little of something, like excess forehead, or one arm much longer than the other). 

It was his opinion that the Markabs were keeping track of life on Earth to determine what sort of intervention would be needed and when, so as to keep things so stirred up on Earth that we'd not be able to stage a "prison break." The GO was very concerned that they might decided to intervene in Scn, as it had the Tech to undo their implants and release the prisoners from this prison planet. But he was confident that we really had nothing to worry about, as the Markabian bureaucracy was so slow, that by the time they decided to act, Scn would have control of this planet! 

I lived in that little closet for a year or so before finding a bigger room. 

L. A. by those days had made trash burning illegal. The Chateau Elessee had been built in a much earlier era and had an incinerator in the basement. The incinerator had a little room in front of it for feeding the fire. It was just about twice the size of a cot, about three times the size of the closet I had been quarantined with scabies in and about twice the size of the room off the dining room that I had been living in. Amazingly, the room was empty. I made it my bedroom and finally got some real privacy and sleep. One curious note about this little antechamber to the incinerator... In the 1950's three men had died in that room. They were burning trash and the fire was sucking so much air that the door became vacuum sealed and the three burned up... 

But life at The Manor wasn't all misery. The building and grounds, while extremely rundown, were also very beautiful, and being in contact with some the top people in Scn, both public and administration was quite exhilarating. 

I have dined with Cathy Lee Crosby, star of the TV show That’s Incredible, (she ignored me) and a number of other, less well known Scn celebrities, such as Manu Topu who won an Academy Award for his performance in the film version of James Mitchner's Hawaii.

 The Manor's dining room was an elegant room of high chandeliered ceilings, the room lined with French windows that let out onto a patio the surrounded it in a big sweeping U on three sides. The view from the glassed in patio was like something out of an Alphonse Mucha Art Nuevo painting -- artistic shrubbery, fountain, a Greek columned gazebo, sparkling lawns... After serving breakfast I would join guests lingering over late coffee or sit alone in peace outside at one of several spool tables under the bizarre foliage of pines and palms. 

And write poetry. While at The Manor I began writing poetry in earnest. I had written a few good pieces before, but in the aesthetic environment of The Manor my output really took off. Also, on Sunday evenings every week Poetry by Candlelight (a poetry reading and music playing open mic event) was held in the dining room. I became a regular, writing new pieces to read each week. Indeed when the host, Russell Solamon, wanted to turn over his Master of Ceremonies [MC] hat, I was his first choice. 

I saw, and heard a lot of wild things at the Manor. 

Out on the patio there was a round table that became the regular haunt of a group of OT III students. One day I watched one levitate! 

Her name was Nancy. She was about 5 foot tall, in her early forties, I believe she had one or two teenaged children. She was a regular at the "Round Table," as everyone called it. The patio is about three steps down from the dining room, with the Round Table straight ahead from the steps about ten or twelve feet. One morning at breakfast she started to step down to go to her usual place at the table. Her feet never hit the patio floor! I was standing right behind her and watched her just sail off into space, traveling straight ahead at the same speed she had been walking at. 

One of the OTs at the table saw her, said something like "Nancy! Not here!" and grabbed her as she slammed into the table. 

For the next 45 minutes or so she sat above her chair, with her knees up against the bottom side of the table's top. There was a good two inch clearance between her little ass and her chair! Slowly she settled down into it and was fully sitting in her chair, perhaps, an hour and a half after entering the dining room. 

This of course got all the OTs at that table talking about it. It was completely uncontrolled and a very defiantly unwanted "side effect" of doing OT III. 

One girl was complaining about how her ability to walk had weirded out and, as she put it, "What, do OT III so you can walk into walls?" 

Nancy, I overheard, had been having trouble with levitation for some time. She told of how a few nights earlier she had been at her job as a waitress, and when she got off shift she went into the women's changing room. When she was about half dressed, I gathered she was in just slip and bra, she slowly drifted up off the floor, until she was hovering about two feet off the ground. A fellow waitress there, and an OT as well, walked in on her in that state and screamed "Nancy! You can't do that here!." Laughing, Nancy told how it took them nearly an hour to get her dressed and into her car. She couldn't walk to her car and they didn't feel that they could just walk out to it, the other girl holding Nancy like a balloon! Nancy said she had to sit in her car for nearly two hours before "gravity" had returned enough to allow her to push against the gas pedal without hitting her head on the ceiling! 

Remember, I saw her float across twelve feet of patio floor with her feet a good eighteen inches off the tiles! 

Another "OT" occurrence at the Manor happened one day at lunch. The Manor's patio had many windows and no screens (a health code violation). It was a warm early summer day and all the windows were open. The conversation was light, from outside you could hear traffic noises and the sounds of a power company truck drilling a hole for a new pole. 

I had just stepped down onto the patio by the Round Table when suddenly about twenty people reacted to some (unheard by the rest of us) sound. Heads spun around looking for something, then about five OTs leaped out of their chairs, climbed through the open windows and sped off in the same direction across the lawn. 

The OTs who remained in the room explained to the rest of us that they had heard someone shout "Help! help! I'm being strangled!" Most of us in the room had heard nothing. 

A few minutes later most of the OTs who had leapt through the windows returned, laughing and shaking their heads. They explained that it was a tree that had screamed! The power company had thrown a chain around one of the 70 foot tall palms that lined the Manor property and was using the tree to hoist the new pole into place! One or two OTs had stayed with the tree to calm it down, the rest had returned to their interrupted lunch! 

That incident I am sure was not a hoax. 

Something I am less sure of is a story told to me by Richard Weiland, the Editor of the GO's mag, Freedom. He told me that a friend of his, an OT VII (as high as you could get in those days), had gone to Mexico, exploring the mysteries of the Mexican pyramids. His friend claimed that he had stepped through into another dimension! That while the time he had been gone from here was just days, he had been there for months. Further, Richard said that his friend had gone to (or perhaps written) LRH with his astonishing discovery and wanted very much LRH's approval in returning there with a group of OTs to start clearing that universe as well! 

Supposedly Hubbard had said "no" on the grounds that Scn was too small/weak to handle this universe at this point, much less try to take on another. The story ends with this OT VII disobeying Hubbard and disappearing into the other dimension, never to be seen again. 

Though, it sounds pretty impossible, I am sure that Richard believed the story, and well, it does answer the mystery of the Bermuda triangle (they found the world's largest pyramid in the center of it, you know. Okay, you're right, the source of the "pyramid in the triangle" story is the National Enquirer... it could happen!) 

One I am sure of being a hoax, however, is "Salinon" a company set up to make a machine that will take fresh water out of salt water, using technology recovered off the Whole Track. It was the brain child of Jim Ward, a GO staffer. When his contract ran out with the GO he claimed to have "recalled" how to build the perfect desalinization plant and set up his business. 

He sold "points" (not legal "shares") in his company for $250 per "point." He insisted that he did not need the money, but wanted your postulates (positive mental projections, mind over matter) to make his company a success, and put the price at $250 to be high enough to make you reach and postulate real hard. It was a total scam.

On the next page I'll tell you all about how I met my ex-wife and the mother of my son... Click to: http://www.jerryesmith.com/index.php/152


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