ESMB has entered archive mode. All posts and threads that were available to the general public are still readable. The board is still searchable. 

Thank you all for your participation and readership over the last 12 years.

If you want to join in the conversation, please join the new ESMB Redux at

A Thumb Nail Sketch of L Ron Hubbard

Discussion in 'General Scientology Discussion' started by lkwdblds, Jul 26, 2010.

View Users: View Users
  1. AnonKat

    AnonKat Crusader

    Overall the personal gains do not justify the mindfuck and abuses purpetrated.

    Even today when you talk about the abuse that goes on in Scientology it goes: "But what about MY wins, MY gains that proofs it does more good than harm"
  2. afaceinthecrowd

    afaceinthecrowd Gold Meritorious Patron

    “So, what did I buy into and why?", Par Two

    "Do unto others as you would have done onto you.” Jesus of Nazareth.

    “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Socrates of Athens

    To distill my personal What and Why re Scn to compact narrative is not easy but here’s Part One of my go at it.

    As I have written earlier on the Apollo ’73 thread, I grew up country, what was then lower middle class or upper lower class. My parents were Born Again, Charismatic, Fundamentalist Christians. They were also verbally, emotionally and physically violent.

    From my earliest memory, I have felt “connected” to “something and others” which to this day I cannot describe in words and won’t indulge in here.

    I went to a country school and the classes were small with usually 14 to 18 students in each grade K-8. Everything from wealthy Ag families and the Doctors kids to transients and kids from a Catholic orphanage were represented there. It was no secret who or what your family was.

    By the time I entered the 3rd grade, I was on my way to “mirroring” the violence and hate that I was growing up around. I was combative, self righteous, angry, often times mean and very much self loathing. I felt trapped and helpless, hopeless.

    All around us in this world are truly Angels and Saints, if you will. They are not the big personas, have no shrines in their memory and seek not the riches of the world…my 3rd grade teacher was/is one of them. It was her first year at the school and she was young, probably in her late 20’s-early 30’s. I was the worst, both academically and behaviorally, child in the class. We had reading groups that we worked in and I was the worst reader in the lowest group. During the first few weeks of class it was very clear to her what she had in little Face; a smart mouthed, defiant and troubled little boy that constantly tried to create argument, trouble and pick a fight.

    About 3 or 4 weeks into the school year she took me aside and forever changed my life. She told me that I was one of the brightest of children she had seen…that I had no idea of the gifts I had been given…that as long as I was in her class she was not going to allow me to waste what I had been given.

    “How do you know that?” I sobbed.

    “The question, Mr. Face,” she replied, “is how will you know that?”

    “I don’t know how?" I wailed.

    “That’s why I am here. I am here to teach you how. I am going to teach you to read.”

    “But I can’t read,” I screamed.

    “No, Mr. Face…you will not read and that is why you can’t read. I will teach you how and you will read and you will learn,” she answered softly, firmly. “But, the decision is yours. You must, yourself, make this decision and make it is up to you and no one else.”

    Ms. “Angel” went on to explain that she had spoken with my parents and told them that she was going return me to 2nd grade unless they, and I, agreed that I would; 1. Stop disrupting the class; 2. Stop fighting; 3. Stay after school for 1 hour a day, 4 days a week for as long as she determined. She went on to tell me that my parents thought I should be sent back a grade to “teach me a lesson” but that it was up me whether or not that was going to happen. I must admit here that the big “driver” for me in taking up Ms. Angel on her offer was that I was defying my parents…I honestly think she knew that from the get go.

    Over the next months, Ms. Angel tutored and by Christmas break, I was the best reader in the class and her top student. She taught me so much, not just the three “R”, but about dignity, self esteem…on and on…and, she taught me humility. Every Friday, the 5 levels of reading groups would take their reading book and join Ms. Angel at a table in the room. We would take turns reading out loud and then discuss what we had read. They were children’s books, but, the concept and joy of discussing amongst others what all had read was what she was teaching. Several months into our Lyceum together, Ms. “Angel announced to the class that I was now a member of the green group—the best readers in the class. I was elated, stood up and strutted to the table, receiving my “honor” with an “I’m so cool” gait and sassy “Look at me” grin on my face. Once we were all seated, Ms. Angel sat down, sweetly smiled and looked me.

    “Well, Mr. Face,” she said politely, “I can see that you are off to great start here in the Green Group.”

    My heart pounded with pride, my head spun with the exhilaration of self adulation.

    “Now,” she said, still ever so politely, “please go back to your desk and put your head down until the Green Group is finished.” Tears welled in my eyes and I looked at her, hurt beyond pain. “You seem to have forgotten why we are here, Mr. Face. You didn’t bring your book,” she finished.

    As I sat there with my head down the old hates, loathing and angers consumed me. She had betrayed me. She had made fun of me. After some time, I smiled as the warmth and peace of her lesson washed over me—“Don’t Showboat”.

    Over the next four years I read incessantly, at every opportunity… Biographies, Novels, History, Astronomy, Physics and then Encyclopedias, increasing from remedial to Adult. Often, while everyone else in the house was sleeping, I would read late into the night, under the covers, flashlight in hand. When I was in 7th grade, by the grace and providence of Ms. Angel’s gifts to me, one day in the library I found a four volume set of books titled, “The Worlds Great Thinkers” and in those books I found Plato’s Dialogue of Socrates, “Meno”.

    I was…we all were…Meno’s slave!

    I wept the day I read “Meno” the first time.

    Up to and including this day while writing this, as a being, I weep unashamedly when I speak of Ms. Angel.

    Last edited: Aug 3, 2010
  3. fisherman

    fisherman Patron with Honors



    Your writing has me captivated and like Hemingway's great metaphor, I'm not sure who has hooked who!

    I have a vivid picture of young Face growing "up country!" Was that in the South? Midwest? West? I can see your classroom, Ms. Angel, and you as a member of the "green group." Like you, I confess my own tendency toward compensatory "showboating" at that age. Ms Angel's lesson and your hurt pride, pricked my conscience with memories of similar embarrassments! My "Angel" was Miss Schlegel (back when we still used Miss). I also turned to reading voraciously, as you did.

    BTW: Would you like to move this narrative to the "my story" section of ESMB? Up to you, but please do continue! I'm really looking forward to more of your story! :clap:

  4. CarmeloOrchards

    CarmeloOrchards Crusader

    Here's a little home movie your brother, Wally sent us:
  5. fisherman

    fisherman Patron with Honors


    I've pondered your post for a couple of days, wanting to respond, but not quite sure how. Though I can't subscribe to various conclusions, I'm thankful for the opportunity to better understand the currents that fed your attraction to scientology.

    You capture and portray the heady experimentation prevalent in the 60's very well. Personally, I recall the restless searching that permeated the air. It certainly shook the cobwebs off of society and forced us to look at things in a new way. While much good came out of that, the perch that afforded the elevated view and heightened sensitivity, always seemed precarious. Like standing on a knife, a position difficult to sustain and readily dangerous.

    I felt you expressed this perilous balance in your description of Haight Asbury turning "quickly to meth and harder drugs." It was a controversial time. I'm not equipped to comment on the specifics in your post, but I certainly appreciate how well you captured the zeitgeist surrounding your interest in scientology.

    Thanks, fisherman
  6. CarmeloOrchards

    CarmeloOrchards Crusader

    De nada Señor.

    I was 14 when I was reading Sartre, A.S. Neal, Ayn Rand, H.D. Thoreau, Aldous Huxley, D.T. Suzuki, Alan Watts, Jack Kerouac.

    I hated school. I would be "sick" for a week at a time missing maybe 2-3/5ths of a school year. It didn't hurt my grades. I'd spend a lot of time reading. My clique was the smart kids. Their parents taught at San Jose State (one went on to be the president of SJS), worked for GE's atomic energy research, IBM, were doctors, etc. My parents were farm and ranch culture. I got the best out of both worlds. We were close to the folk singing, pot smoking, acid dropping college world.

    I subscribed to Village Voice, the Realist, and Evergreen Review on the left, and US News and World Report on the right. I read Bill Buckley's column religiously. I walked precincts for Barry Goldwater. In my group, there were only 3 conservatives, everyone else was liberal.

    I saw Bob Dylan (pre electric) at San Jose Civic Auditorium when I was 14. There were no more than 600 in the audience. We sat on the floor in front of the stage.

    When I was in high school, most of my best friends were in college. The Fillmore was the place to be on Friday nights. I, typically, was drenched in patchouli oil. My hair was down to my shoulders. My grades were As and Bs in honor classes. My SAT test scores (long before Kaplan and Princeton Review) got me into UC easily. I never went, but I was accepted. Honor students didn't live by the rules that governed the other kids.

    I got caught sneaking into my girl friend's bedroom one morning by her father. I was supposed to be home sick. OOPS. Her father called the school. My mother and I had to talk to the vice principal about my black panel truck, all the dope that was being used in San Francisco and Santa Cruz by long haired people , who dressed like me (turtle necks, bell bottoms, Beatle boots). that was about it. No suspension, just a mild talk. My speech teacher docked me a full grade on the quarter for each unexcused day I was absent (2). My quarter grade went from B to D, but my semester grade was an A or a B.

    The pill was in use by my circle of female friends. AIDS was decades away.
    A kid, when I was in high school, once asked me how many times I'd fucked. I did a quick computation in my mind (3 - 4 times a day , 6 days a week) The number was in the hundreds. He didn't believe me. It was accurate enough.

    The vice principal caught on to how many excused absences from sickness I had. He cornered me after my physics class, and asked me why I was sick 3/5ths of the year. I told him "School makes me sick, it's psychosomatic."

    My physics teacher chimed in that it doesn't hurt my grades. I had gotten straight As in physics.

    In my senior year of high school, second semester my mother refused to lie anymore about my absences. She'd write that I was going to Carmel, San Francisco, Santa Cruz. I was going to my first period philosophy class. My girl friend, Mrs. R___, was student teaching her first period art class. After first period, we'd leave together.

    It was more in the line of living a bigger, more productive life than most of the average high school kid. It was in April of 1968 that my group of friends trooped into Scientology. About 20 of us.

    We had pioneered drugs, and others , who followed us, got fucked up by drugs. We pioneered Scientology, and others that followed us, got fucked up by Scientology.

    My Great Great Grandfather, in the early 1840s was among the first white settlers to roll into Oregon from the east. Others, before , had walked in. he wrote to people back east to come west. When the Gold Rush started, he and his family rushed to California. He ended up being the first US governor of California. His actions, like my own a hundred plus years later, brought lots of people to follow him. The people who followed him killed the Indians, their way of life, the buffalo, cut down mighty forests of redwoods, and generally despoiled the continent.

    I'm not proud of him, and I'm not proud of my actions that led to tragedy for so many. The mind set that pushes the limits is what we're talking about. The collateral damage is, sometimes, quite huge.

    feel free to pm me. we could talk on the phone, if you've an interest.
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2010
  7. afaceinthecrowd

    afaceinthecrowd Gold Meritorious Patron

    Very nice metaphor re: Hemingway’s, “The Old Man and the Sea”.

    My favorite Hemingway joke:

    What was Hemingway’s answer to the question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?’

    “To die. Alone. In the rain.”

    Let’s just say I grew up west of the Mississippi and a 6th Generation Agrarian “Westerner”.

    If it’s alright with you, I’ll just keep things here. I’m double posting my narrative over on the Apollo ’73 thread as what I am covering is part of the “Readers Digest” treatment about me, El Ron and the So I have been working on over there for several months. I’ve actually jumped ahead in my responses to you on this thread and will go back later and fill in the stuff I skipped.

    I appreciate your appreciation of my story…never thought I’d be telling it on a Board on the net.:confused2:

    Glad you had a Ms. Angel, too.:yes:

  8. afaceinthecrowd

    afaceinthecrowd Gold Meritorious Patron

  9. afaceinthecrowd

    afaceinthecrowd Gold Meritorious Patron

    Wow, Carmelo.:thumbsup: Guys like you were what us farm boys dreamed about being back then!:coolwink:

  10. CarmeloOrchards

    CarmeloOrchards Crusader

    It was truly amazing how I could be too sick to go to school, but not too sick to pull an engine, tear it apart, rebuild it, and put it back in my truck. That's just how psychosomatic sickness hit me. If my friend, Susan came by, I wasn't too sick to spend hours with her. If my friend, Beth came by, I might have to go lay down in my room with the curtains pulled.
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2010
  11. Mark A. Baker

    Mark A. Baker Sponsor

    How stalwart of you to carry on in your weakened condition. :clap:

    Mark A. Baker
  12. CarmeloOrchards

    CarmeloOrchards Crusader

    as the Brits say, "Stiff upper lip, and all that."

    and i might add, I was in the forefront of the medical marijuana movement, before we even knew it was medicinal.
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2010
  13. fisherman

    fisherman Patron with Honors

    CO, Thanks for the invitation to call, you're very kind. If a question arises, I may take you up on that!

    The similarities between us are kinda fascinating. I definitely sat out toward the precarious end of the "misfit" scale, with you and Face, during my school years. Like you, I was attracted to older, more worldly, friends. I won't divulge my current politics, but at one time was a rather young subscriber to National Review.

    BTW: I didn't know there were any California Bob Dylan fans pounding the pavement for Barry! Learn sumpin' new every day! :coolwink:

    Ol Face,

    I sincerely hope you'll continue your story, in this thread or elsewhere!

    I've always had a love-hate relationship with Hemingway and your joke really cracked me up!

    Hemingway wrote some superb novels, but I personally like the taut economy of "Old Man and the Sea." And, for me, the well-used metaphor of man inexorably bound to -- fish, nature, God, subconscious -- is always compelling! It was a kick that you picked up on it!

    Close enough! That helps "paint the picture." I'm still strapped in my fishing chair, enthusiastically hoping you'll turn and rise! :)

    Best, fisherman
  14. CarmeloOrchards

    CarmeloOrchards Crusader

    I basically lean libertarian, and have for decades. Karl Hess, a Goldwater speech writer opened the door for me in the late 60s or early 70s along with Harry Browne's series of books.

    I'm more interested in sane - ing up the planet, than trying to regiment it.

    I'm liberal, but to a degree, I want everybody to be free, but if you think I like G.W. Bush, let him move in next door, or marry my daughter, you must think I'm crazy. I wouldn't do it for all the farms in Cuba.

    I voted for Obama. I tend to vote for individuals who are connected to the people. Clinton (Bil) was like that too. McCain didn't even do e mail, much less text, etc. He was out of touch. I want someone in office who is alive and in touch.
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2010
  15. VaD

    VaD Gold Meritorious Patron

    Interesting post by R.Hill today:’m-ok-you’re-ok/#comment-4500

  16. CarmeloOrchards

    CarmeloOrchards Crusader

    For me, it is a sociological phenomena that has to be unwound using earlier similar tech. Not unlike the Knowledgism Ranch going down the slippery slide quite like it's predecessor, Scientology, like its predecessor etc to basic basic before the physical universe.

    To a limited extent, the power processes, 4 flows, work to bring this up to look at.
  17. Mark A. Baker

    Mark A. Baker Sponsor

    Your extraordinary powers of leadership have always served as an inspiration to me.

    Mark A. Baker :)
  18. afaceinthecrowd

    afaceinthecrowd Gold Meritorious Patron


    I figured you for a're here on ESMB.:D

    I think "Papa" also had a love/hate relationship with Himingway.:melodramatic:

    As an aside, I think Mariel (his grandaughter) is hot, hot, hot. I especially liked her in the film "Creator". Peter O'Toole, was perfect. Great screenplay. "Someday we'll be staring into a microscope and God will be staring back at us...and the first one that blinks looses their testicales." "Words are such wonderful things." Dr. Harry Wolper (O'Toole):yes:

    A year or so ago my "Meli" found me...ain't life grand!:bigcry:

    I'll be back around in a day or two here...I just got "gaffed" by some metaphysic "stuff" over on the Apollo '73 thread and need a little time to shake loose.:coolwink:

    Last edited: Aug 5, 2010
  19. AnonKat

    AnonKat Crusader

    Why can't that be a good book ? Who wrote that book.
  20. fisherman

    fisherman Patron with Honors


    It's not a "good book" it's a GREAT book!!!!!!!!!!!

    Will Durant was a brilliant scholar with a unique talent for capsulizing complex philosophic constructs. "Outline of Philosophy" was a popular book-club selection written for a high school level, general readership.

    It's not the book you'd expect on the desk of an "original" philosopher of Hubbard's self-confessed caliber. It's little like discovering Julia Child working with the "Betty Crocker Cookbook."

    To me, this is a very humorous photo!