Second Midwest Conference is Set

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:04:42 +0000

December 1954

SECOND MIDWEST CONFERENCE IS SET

Delegates from 3 States at First Meeting in Enid

So successful was the first Midwest Dianetic-Scientology Conference in Enid October 30-31 that it was decided, during the closing moments, to hold another in January, either the weekend of the 15th and 16th, or the 22nd and 23rd. The same officers -- Norman Fritz as chairman and Agnes Hart as secretary, will preside over the second meeting, which also will be held in Enid.

The January date was selected because it follows the Phoenix Congress to be held December 28 to 31, and it is hoped that a major part of the program can be devoted to a report on and demonstration of any new data or techniques L. Ron Hubbard may reveal at that time.

More than 20 attended the Enid Conference, held in the Hotel Youngblood. The weather was co-operative, and both days found blue skies and ideal light coat temperatures. Politicians, winding up their campaigns for office, provided the only jarring note as their sound trucks paraded past the hotel extolling virtues and promises. On the same floor of the hotel, Alcoholics Anonymous was holding a state convention, but there were only one or two incidents of confusion between the two groups.

The meeting started Saturday afternoon with Chairman Fritz welcoming the delegates and outlining the purposes of the Conference. He also straightwired the planning and development of the Conference idea -- from conception, through incubation, to birth as a reality.

The delegates sat around a long table, and the talks and discussions were recorded on tapes in true Dianetic-Scientology custom by Lee Lockhart.

After each person had introduced him- or herself, John W. Burch went into the history of Dianetics, and traced its development from "The Original Thesis" to "Scientology: 8-80". He mentioned briefly the various Foundations, and the advance in techniques from Engram Running in Book One through Effort and Postulate Processing until even the name of the science was changed from Dianetics to Scientology when Hubbard quit the Wichita organization and moved to Phoenix. Burch paid tribute to Don Purcell for the time and financial support he gave in keeping Dianetics alive at a time when its future seemed rather precarious. Purcell, he said, after returning to Hubbard all the controversial copyrights and Dianetic properties, has shifted his allegiance to Synergetics, an out-growth of Analytical Procedures and sponsored by Art Coulter, M. D.

Nelda Woodring spoke on "Communication", explaining that the term was broad enough to cover "any exchange between ourselves and our environment".

Genevieve Crist followed with an explanation of "Communication Lag", and its relationship to "the know-to-sex-scale". She placed the analytical mind in the upper brackets and the reactive mind in the lower brackets. The auditor, she says, acts as an analytical mind for the low-toned preclear, who is able to use only his reactive mind. To wind up her talk, she acted as group auditor for more than an hour of processing with 8-C Opening Procedure and Opening Procedure by Duplication.

Following a two-hour dinner break, Alphia Hart discussed the publications of Hubbard and others from 1952 to present time. After his talk, the Conference divided into three groups. One, led by Harold Peck, held a discussion and demonstration of Analytical Procedure. Another group, led by Mrs. Woodring, was processed through use of the Group Auditor's Manual, and the third group became a "bull session" for the discussion of exteriorization and healing by persons who know nothing of Scientology.

Sunday's program started with a luncheon in the hotel, spiced by a program of songs and talks arranged by Miss Crist. In a report on group activities in each area, Burch outlined what the Wichita group was doing since the closing of the Foundation. Lee Lockhart said that of the more than 40 in Dianetics in the El Paso area three years ago, only he remained actively interested. He also talked of Concept Therapy, outlining its aims and gains. Jim Lear told of the tribulations in trying to maintain interest in his home town of Tulsa, or stir up interest at Oklahoma University, where he is now a student. Fred Hibbard reported that in the Dodge City area, it was almost impossible to find anyone interested in studying or being processed.

After a few minutes' adjournment for photography

One Can Know Past Or Future, But Not Attain It (continued)

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:04:42 +0000

December 1954

anything there.

Present time for this universe would be for the total universe at any given instant. There can't be a present time here and another time some place else.

A communications time lag comes from depending on particles to tell you what happened over that way -- and you're always late. You get a late image because it takes "time" for a particle to travel.

The thetan goes around expecting a warning from particles -- which he can't get because all messages from particles are in the past. If the sun were blowing up and you had the power to put it together, before you could know about it by seeing with your MEST eyes, the explosion would be more than eight minutes history. If you stopped all particles at once, you'd find a present time for each particle. The fact they're conveying a message has nothing to do with present time. Cause always precedes the effect; and it always is in the future, never in the past.

If you say, "I'm going to move this ash tray", and then move it, you know that cause is in the future.

The only way to handle this, if you don't understand, is by Opening Procedure, SOP 8-C, saying before you make each move: "Now I am going to ..."

Havingness should be determined by masses of particles and objects. Losing would be having particles no longer under your control or ownership.

Particles remain the same particles but change form -- so time is a matter of form.

An individual who won't let particles disperse or accumulate must be braced against something other than particles themselves. The basic objection is that two particles are going to disperse or come together.

A person only objects to motion because of particles going together or flying apart -- and when he objects, he stops time.

A person concerned over his postulates is trying to stop time. This is basic on the game called MEST universe. When you brace yourself against anything happening, you stick yourself on the time track.

All that's wrong with any preclear is he's trying to keep two particles together or apart -- yet the particles are no longer there. You may run a preclear and find him concerned over the particles that are in the Santa Maria, yet they've undergone so many moves that they even may be in this room.

The business of the game -- or control -- is start, stop, and change.

A love affair (which is the motion of particles) that is dragged out becomes very sad.

MEST universe particles follow a law that is laid down -- but your particles are handled only by you, or another thetan.

All we want to know is how many particles a preclear is trying to stop or pull together that aren't there any more; or someone trying to pull together or separate particles that aren't there yet.

You can handle particles as long as you don't use energy -- and that's what those below 4.0 are trying to do.

When you talk about time, you talk about the pattern of particles as in the past, present, or future.

Communication itself is concerned with the departure, travel, or arrival of particles -- involving space and time.

A person can communicate as well as he thinks he can communicate with or without energy.

TIME PROCESSING FORMULAS

The basic process is: Find two particles you don't mind having together. Find two particles you don't mind having apart.

A change of tone (rise on the E-meter) follows if you do this in brackets on objects, animals, people, spaces. Look for thefellow with a stuck needle -- not for one with a needle that is moving. You'll keep your gains with this process.

Also, have your preclear get sounds he doesn't object to having next to his eardrums. You'll find anyone objecting to a dirty word has an aberration on the sound laid in thoroughly.

Don't go into particles you WANT together.

Even if you run this blind on a preclear, you'll get a tone rise.

Tell him to give you three persons he's not, and he immediately has to check the location of particles.

You'll find a person stuck in his head to the degree he has to have particles together, or out of the body to the degree he has to have particles apart.

Communication lag is an index, but how much he's using energy is a better index.

You can fancy this process up -- have him give you particles, he doesn't have to have in motion and particles he doesn't

Blooms & Barbs (continued); HASI Lays Another DEDEX

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:05:12 +0000

May 1955

ics when there were good things to report), and got him attention from reporters on his arrival in New York. All of which seems to have pat HAS! in a spin. A spokesman for the organization quoted in the REPUBLIC, stated that this must be another Homer—they never heard of the guy. A subsequent article the next day on Page 2 (with pictures of Homer and Miss Kirk) carried a statement by LRH that Horner really belonged in California (a place in the United States where LRH locates things he doesn't approve of), and added that his (Horner's) duties in London had been terminated two weeks previously. On the third day, the receptionist at 616 N. Third Street told reporters that no one was available for further comment.

While your reporter and those from the local newspapers are waiting for things to become less complicated, our usually reliable sources inform us that L. Ron Hubbard Jr. (Nibs) will be thrust into the breech created by Homer's return home.."Nibs" was reported to be arranging to obtain a visa in Washington to speed his departure to the scene of the crisis.

The oft-fired mainstay of the HASI recording department, James F. Pinkham, finally made it the other day. He is now working for a local radio company. The June Conference, set for June 3 to 6, won't be the same without the versatile Pinkham (with or without his masks) at the controls in the recording alcove. A bloom to Jim for services above and beyond the call of duty.

John and Tucker Farrell, in Phoenix again last week, are reported en route to
Australia to mock up a conference.

Two radio-active staff members of the HASI recently staked an uranium claim on Phoenix's South Mountain, one of the 485 claims filed in practically mineral-free Maricopa County in March—all of them, according to the A.E.C., probably based on high geiger readings due to fall-out from the continuing Nevada tests.

As Jim Struckmeyer was heard to comment: ”It's going to be a brisk spring in Phoenix”*

HASI LAYS ANOTHER DEDEX; IF ANYONE WANTS TO LOWER BOOM, WE'VE GOT ONE, TOO

For the information of those who've been branded "psychotics" (readers of BDR, The ABERREE, DIANOTES, and other "wildcat" publications), we wish to refute an article on Page 3 of ABILITY MINOR HI.

To begin, The ABERREE is no more "wildcat" than the advertising pamphlet that the HASI puts out under a variety of changing aliases. Second, readers who pay $2 a year for The ABERREE are no more psychotic than those who pay $8.50 to $25 a year for a deifying amateur publication.

As for the last paragraph in the item "Aberee —You Said It", Alphia Hart is NOT a "kicked out" employee of the HASI, nor was he in fact ever even an employee of this organization. However, he did resign as president of the old HAS he helped organize in Phoenix following an argument over whether he would or would not print a libelous attack on persons branded "squirrels" in the defunct Journal of SCIENTOLOGY, and the only "fleeing" he did was to Philadelphia, after the Phoenix office was closed, for a review of the Doctorate Course—and from Philadelphia, he "fled" back to his home in Phoenix. A year later, this "fugitive" paid $800 to take the so-called Clinical Course, using money obtained from the sale
of bonds which had been accumulated during more than nine years with the U.S. Air Force.

As for the ”incorrect accounting” that the CECS might discover, in case it dares "look", it will be found that the HAS was in debt to its manager almost $2,000 when the Phoenix office closed, and that most of this was written off to save the HAS from early demise and bankruptcy*
Any of these statements can be supported by documentary evidence—and will be in case there should be any ”lowering the boom”* Because Mr, Hubbard is, apparently, so forgetful, we have sent him the following polite reminder:

Mr. L. Ron Hubbard
1017 North Third Street
Phoenix, Arizona

Dear Sir:

An article on Page 3 of ABILITY MINOR III has just been called to my attention* and I demand that you print a retraction of all the char-end innuendos therein in your available issue*
Ho one knows better than you that every word is this story is completely false. And, since I preserved records of all financial transactions during my term as president of the HAS, the falsity of these statements can be documentarily proven.

It’s pretty low toned when you try to make a criminal of someone who sacrificed as much in time, energy, and money as I did for you and the Hubbard Association of Scientologists. Had you not sold Scientology down the river in order to build up a glorified kingdom for yourself, you still would find me one of your strongest support era. It isn’t Scientology I've been writing about in The ABERREE; it's the absence of it, as practiced by the HASI under your direction.

Signed (A. HART, D.D., D. Scn., HDA, B.Scn., HCA, F.Scn., I-2)

It isn't getting caught in a lie that hurts, it's the consequences.

Auditorials: Coincidences; Criticism; Book of the Dead

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:05:12 +0000

July-August 1955

Volume II, Number 4 JULY-AUGUST, 1956 Voice of Infinites" for V«m». Fluto, larth. Mart, and fcrdo.
Published in the Dark of the Moon — 6 to 12 Moons a Year — at 207 Borth Washington Street, Uhld. Oklahoma, U. S. A.____________;
Editori TfaeBav. Mr. Sr. ALPHU CMBGA BART. 1-2. S.S. , B.Son., F.Scn.. B.Scn. , H.C.A. , H.D.A. , XXdCECS.
Pixblisheri AGUES ALICE HART. 1-1, B.C.A., SBC. . B.lpr.. ETC- ____
POLICY—Don't take it so damn' seriously. The tomorrow you're worried about today will be funny yesterday.
SUB-POLICY—Ve reserve the right to change our minds from issue to issue, or even from Page 1 to Ihge 2, If we desire._______________
Subscription Price: Same as last month—$2 a year—until we go up to $2-50 . which may be next month.
Advertising Bates: $1 a column inch—payable in advance. (Ho trade-ins on used advertising.)

OF COURSE, MAN LastWin-MAKES HIS OWN ter, when "COINCIDENCES" the A.B.C.

(Amentiated Earth Contaminators) were blowing up the Nevada desert with A-bombs, the midwest suffered one of its worst drouths in history. Crops wilted for lack of moisture. Huge clouds of radioactive dust swirled and eddied through the countryside, turning days into nights, and invading homes, offices, and lungs with a carpet of silt.

The blower-uppers moved to the Pacific for supersecret underwater tests. During the last month or so, the midwest has suffered a deluge of heavy rains; floods have driven people from their homes; rampaging rivers have taken their toll; what few crops survived the drouth revived slightly from the first drops of moisture, and then drowned, or were beaten to the ground by hail. Tornadoes leveled large sections of cities And towns, and the area was kept on a constant tornado alert day after day, night after night.

Of course, there is no connection between the A-bomb tests and the weather; the Amentiated Earth Con-taminators loudly and angrily insist this is so. But we write of both incidents in one story to save space. And we thought it might be interesting to contemplate, just in case there WAS any connection! Which, of course, there isn't—as we've already said, and say again; THERE ISN'T ANY CONNECTION! In fact, there's no more connection between the A-bombs and the storms than between the dry ice dropped from airplanes on clouds and the rains that may happen to follow.

It's all a matter of coincidence, Every bit of it.

CRITICISM-DOES IT AID OR DESTROY? T h ere has been some criticism of The ABERREE as be-too critical of recent Si policies, based on the statement that if we really favor Scientology, we'll accept the bad with the good—that criticism has but one aim: to destroy. This we deny. There is much in Scientology that we have adopted as part of our way of living. We use it on ourselves and recommend it to friends. But, in the last year, there have been many policies adopted by the parent organization— especially since it began operating with a club—that we consider not befitting the "ideal" we "bought" more than three years ago—and in which we have invested many dollars and many hours. By this investment, Scientology has become ours, too. It was "sold" to us. And as co-owners, we feel it not only our right but our duty to keep our "ideal" from sinking into a degenerate, profiteering property that can be "given" to man one day, taken back the next, and then resold only to those willing to give up all freedom and initiative.

Which is a long way around to say that one of the few iWHlnlng evidences that Scientology is still an ideal is reflected in CERTAINTY, a small, monthly magazine published by the British office of the HASI. This is undoubtedly the highest toned printed matter now carrying the Hubbard banner. CERTAINTY we can recommend for Scientologists—at $2.50 a year; as for the ABILITYs, at $8.50 a year, they seem aimed to do for Scientology what the Russian newspaper, PRAVDA, aims to do for the U. S. Constitution—scuttle it.

Maybe it's just that the British office is far enough away from the CECS not to be contaminated by its disease—whatever that disease may be. But the editors of and contributors to CERTAINTY are to be congratulated for staying on solid ground, even though their sponsor finds it more fun to travel through the muck of the swamps.

WHO'S DEAD? While read-THE "MAJOR" ing ABILITY DOESN'T SAY MAJOR III, in which the CECS listed the handful of auditors acceptable to it, sane-one branded it "The Book of the Dead".

"You mean those on the list are dead? or those not listed are dead?" we asked.

"You figure it out," he said.

We checked the list closely, and since many of them are subscribers to The ABERREE, we knew this was not a list of the dead. And, since many of the best auditors in the field—also subscribers to The ABERREE —were not on the list, the formula just didn't work out. Therefore, we concluded it must be the CECS that is dead, which would explain that awful smell coming out of Phoenix the last few months—the smell of advancing putrefaction.

Volume 3, Issue 2, page 3

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:06:40 +0000

May 1956

20-yea.t &cain still 9
fic 10tji‘
Witk0/1'a''a
ph,eaciteks
By ALPHIA HART
ONE WOLF, Oklahoma, is a typical small
town: One main business street, paved
through the beneficence of a state
highway that seeks these wayside excuses to slow through traffic. Like a short
fringe of raged scallops are a dozen or more
business buildings that apparently haven't
seen a clean-up, paint-up campaign since the
dust started blowing -- and that was a long time
ago, as many a weary housewife will tell you.

To the west and south, a sawtooth of jagged
granite breaks the horizon. "Mountains", they
call them, and by this term, the Wichita Mountains, they are accepted in a state so typically flat that even an anthill is a welcome
relief from scenic monotony. And here, on this
dusty Main Street, and within the setting-sun
shadows of these granite outcroppings, is a
visionary dream almost as fantastic as it is
idealistic:
"Uncle Ed's" City of Dawn -- a "holy city" in
which are to be united all the religions of
the earth. And if "Uncle Ed" has his way,
there won't be a preacher inside the gates,
unless one of these "blind leaders of the
blind" should get his "spirit eyes" open.

When you talk to Edward Milligan, now 67
years old, he will start the story back with
his Irish and Pawnee Indian ancestry, but the
story really started in 1:336 when, as an engineer, he was making a survey in these granite hills. An atmospheric disturbance of
blinding white light caused him to do some research, which was mixed up with a mysterious
"Hidden Voice" and his practical knowledge of
earthly elements. At any rate, he discovered a
subterranean river beneath the mountains, capable of supplying the needs of two large cities, with waters he suspects have curative
powers. Further investigation led him to believe that a city could be built in this area --
fashioned of native granite, and utilizing the
waters for healing and irrigation.

In the intervening years, Milligan has carried these ideas with him, mulling over them,
drawing up plans, adding details and visions
here and visions there, until three years ago
this August when he opened offices in Lone
Wolf with the idea of turning these dreams
of his into a reality and the stacks o#' paper
into something more usable and negotiable.

In the almost three years since "Uncle Ed"
moved to Lone Wolf, there is little tangible
evidence that his dreams have taken on any
material solidity. The "City of Dawn" is still
one of the "scallops" along the Main Street
which is the State highway through Lone Wolf.
The business building "Uncle rd" uses is almost frowning, with its Bon-Ami soaped windows
u-,. 10G. a T L... 4
,'t '
aM
,s bbd , f
1
$ f i f
1
r
,„,
:i,x
e Ik„,
kyi -'
b Yr ' SkII q Z 4' .~ i ~` • .d ~ x
'
( g
Edward "Teach Me Thy Holy- Wisdom" Milligan
that hide the interior from the passer-by.
Back of the "office", over which reigns Dorothy Brand, his secretary, "Uncle Ed" batches,
sleeps, reads, plans, and discusses his dreams
TO any who will listen.

Milligan, himself, is a picturesque with his
character out of West melodrama,
white hair, white cropped mustache, and silvery chin whiskers. Former planning engineer,
and self-styled ex-broncho buster, cowboy, and
showman, you get the idea that it is more his
showmanship rather than his religion that is
spawning this "City of Dawn". One minute, he
will be telling you of the vast fortunes being
made and invested by the various religious
"businesses" of the world. Then he'll speak of
his "City of Dawn" and of the great tourist
attraction such a venture would mean for Oklahoma. And before you can pigeon-hole this information, his voice an d entire expression
change, and he begins to speak of his experiences"~ -- not of "religion" but his direct contact with his Creator -- and you know that he
speaks words of wisdom that are never uttered
from any pulpit to the cash customers on Sunday mornings. This ability to commune with the
Infinite, he says, partly can be traced to his
Pawnee ancestor, who was a great medicine man.
The "knowing" KNOW; the "religionist" merely
"BELIEVES" .

Some of the inventions which "The Voice" has
told him about and helped him design will provide the riches the 'City of Dawn" needs to

Story of Our Operation is Cutting Tale

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:06:42 +0000

July-August 1956

Recusant Voice of "The Infinite? for Saturn, _
Published Mostly in the Dark of the Moon-10 Moons a Year-at 207 N. Washington,
Enid, Oklahoma. Mail Address: Box 528
Editor: The Rev. Mr. Dr. ALPHIA OMEGA HART, 1-2, D.D., D.Scn„ F.Scn., B.Scn., HCA, HDA.
Publisher: AGNES ALICE HART; I-1, HCA, SEC., WFE., ETC.
POLICY: Don't take it so damn' seriously. The tomorrow you're worried about today will amuse and entertain historians yesterday.
Sub-Policy: We reserve the right to change our minds from issue to issue, or even from page to page, if we desire.
Sub-Sub-Policy: Each man has the inherent right to be his own "Authority".
Subscription Price: Same as last month--$2.00 a year-until we go up to $2.50, which may be next month. 25c a copy.
Advertising Rates: $1.00 a column inch, if you get results; double if you don't; payable in advance. Copy must be in 30 days Prior to data of !publication

STORY OF OUR OPERATION IS CUTTING TALE

Last month, we told our readers about same processing we got. Had these super-duper techniques, as interpreted by one of the latest $500-plus liberators of the world, been as effective as touted, this auditorial might have had a different subject.

(To explain, when we use the term "we", it refers to your "Green Eyeshade" and the body he uses.)

So, relax, please, while we tell you about a type of so-called therapy which may be quite strange to some of you. And if you don't want to read about The Bliitor's operation, may we suggest you turn to another page?

Some say we were trying to escape work; others even have been unkind enough to suggest we strained a gut trying to lift Scientology out of the gut-ter. But these, we think, are of the ilk who find pmuthog the only reason for existence.

Not being rich, influential, or insured, we availed ourselves of a peculiar privilege accorded those who made it safe for the AAabmb Boys to breed another war. We applied for, and were granted, admission to a veterans' hospital.

The visiting Er. -----, D. San., Who thinks we needled him a bit unfairly may sympathize with the hospital surgeon who surveyed gloatingly his field of conquest a couple hours after we'd been decked in the super-atrocity of haberdashery: a maternity jacket and spiral-legged shorts called pajamas. An ill-fitting thing called a 'robe" -completed the sartorial degeneration.

And while on the subject of degeneration, we mustn't lose sight of the fact we were being examined by a surgeon. As he probed, pushed, listened, twisted, and yanked here and there, he opened, conversationally;

"What do you do?"

Between induced coughs and the other physical gymnastics through which only a doctor can put his victim, we managed to say: "We publish a magazine," which was immediately net with: 'All right, cough again. What kind of a magazine? Harder, now. Again. What kind of a magazine did you say you published?"

Maybe it was the devil in us, or it may have been that last punch. "Oh, we take pokes at philosophy, and psychotherapy, and..."

We never finished. We had punched a button. There was a violent explosion. "What do you know of psychotherapy?" and before he could dig us tw ice m ore in the area being excavated, added: "Do you know Who's qualified to cure people with psychotherapy?"

"Sure!" we said, with all the confidence gained through the hours and hours of taped and live lectures we'd heard at the various and sundry courses from which we'd graduated with more degrees than this angry sadist before us ever had imagined. "If you put it that way, nobody is!"

All of you who try to treat people, or work with than for the alleviation of any ailment--if you don't have accepted credentials approved by the A.M.A.--are a bunch of dirty skunks, and probably can't sleep nights because of troubled consciences. That's what we were told, anyway, as one of the "Approved" punctuated his 30-minute diatribe with a and a push and a yank and a tlirgol here and there ablaut the anatomy. Not being surgeons, we weren't quite sure how many of these pushes, punches, et cetera, were necessary and which were meant to impress us with our unimportance and our "sin against humanity", but since most of them seemed foreign to the area about to undergo surgery, we were a bit suspicious. Needless to say, after discovering what type of a volcano our harmless few words had set off, we weren't exploding much even had we been given an opportunity. Besides, if this guy was to do the actual cutting, we didn't want to foster any idea that he night be doing humanity a favor by carving us into four or more segments.

One thing we did discover: if this surgeon reflects the attitude of most starched coats in the veterans' hospitals, half the buildings and patients might be eliminated within weeks by changing to doctors less psychotic on .the subject of mental healing. In the one ward in which we recuperated (yes, the operation was a success), we discovered that half the cases were suffering from neuroses concerning their own ills. Cigarets and chewing gun from well-meaning service organizatioss, won't help a man Who has found his only security in a hospital chow line. What he needs is someone to tell his troubles to to explain why he's ill, and what he'd like to do if he ever gets well. Each has his own troubles, and to uention your own pains is an open invitation for more gory details from the more experienced sufferers. Ward attendants and nurses are about as sympathetic as a hungry alligator. They have a job to do which is, primarily, to dodge responsibility. If you. ask a ward-boy for an aspirin, he promises to tell the nurse, the nurse tells the head nurse, the head nurse speaks to the dietician, and the dietician promises to take it up With the doctor. The doctor's out, or busy--and if they remember your request next day, the need for the aspirin long since has disappeared.

Another thing about a hospital: They're probably the dirtiest places in the w orld. If a m iner, or laborer, or even a White collar worker takes a bath, his cleanliness shines out brightly for hours. In a hospital, 15 minutes after you've had a shower, or been rubbed down by one of the wet rag jockeys, another wet rag jockey or nurse w ith a suspicious glint in his/her eyes, barks: "When did you have a bath last?" One even mode a habit of aalciog: 'When did you have your last bath?" If you chastise then about this, they seen quite offended at any suggestion their hospital may be dirty, or that their powers of observation may be a bit blunted.

We've neard of persons who goto hospitals and "enjoy it". MO didn't. We. were gone ten days, and we think it was the most miserable ten days we spent since the last time we were in &hospital. Nor did coming home make things mud' easier--except to improve the environnent. At times we are almost convinced that a may have sewed up a r:71TeTc==rs inside us just to punish us for our rash stateomet during the initial examination. lett we asked fbr no sympathy— and sympathy we've been getting. In addition, there are dozens of well- meaning friends who think you rash for being up so soon after an operation, and will expound for hours on the dire warnings given than by their own doctors About "taking it easy". limn they learn we drove 110 miles in rain sevenrdays after being zipped up with thread, they absolutely know weare inviting a return trip to the hospital.. EVen those Who should know about putting your attention on a painful area in order to reduce the hurt forget i in the heat of passing out cautions, that there ever was such a thing as Scientology, or Dianetics, or any of the other quit-babying-yourself ologies. When we came back to work ten minutes after driving home fraa the hospital, they indelicately assured us that we were 'positively crazy".

Which we guess we are. We've been called insane before—and by an expert Who should know all about it.

Our big regret was that we took a stack of books with is to study during our convalescence—and read none of them. We Bound it impossible to concentrate on books with nine other men in the same ward clamoring for attention --and when this was not forthcoming in sufficient quantity, just clamoring. Nor do we expect to make up for it at home, either. If you could see the pile of nail that cluttered our desk when we walked in...! That, Triend, was when we began to think we could use just a little sympathy—plus a couple secretaries.

000

The H-Bomb Boys are covering up their red faces with a lot of security tags. On the recent "air drop", despite expensive preparations and much fanfare, they missed their target more than two miles. At this rate, andusing this timopirweapon, it may get to Where generals can't get far enough behind the lines to die in bed, or become presidents.

Volume 6, Issue 2, page 7

Kristi — Wed, 17 May 2006 06:07:50 +0000

May 1959

If You Let the Salesman Sell You a Cadillac, Are You Damned Because'
You Don't Harness Your Horse as Does the Guy Who Bought a Buggy?

By ALPHIA HART

JUST AS there were and are persons
stuck in childhood incidents, or
engrains, or even past lives, the
"Sort of History of Dianetics"
by Bob Arentz convinces me that
Book One , "Dianetics , the Modern Science
of Mental Health", itself can be an engram .

Records of past illnesses, failures,
disappointments, a n d disillusionments,
were burned at the shrine of Book One's
promises, and under the emotional spasms
of expected miracles, a master fiction
writer became a more powerful "ally" than
Grandpa, Uncle Joe, or the interfering
neighbor.

Half of those who read Book One and
swallowed it with the enthusiasm of a
thirsty mariner gulping down the driplets
of a spring freshet, knew before they lay
down on a fellow fiend's cot that they
were going to find evidences that their
mothers tried to murder them with icepicks before they were born, that chattering doctors and nurses were to blame
for half their ills and compulsions, and
that the other half could be traced quickly and easily to various periods of coma
and unconsciousness thruout their developing years. It was all so simple; "The
Book" said so . And "the ally" -- in this
case a volume of rosy promises -- could do
no wrong.

This is no intent to disparage Book
One, nor the" science" it sold at $4 the
copy. I, too, bought the book, and since
I was skating on the thin ice of acute
high blood pressure -- an d "less than a
year to live", as doctors so generously
insisted -- I was ripe for anything that
offered a ray of hope. I swallowed it all,
talked of it in glowing terms to-friends,
and was just as disgusted as other worshippers when these friends didn't flock
to my side in a mutual exchange of miraculous cures.

But reading a book wasn't enough. I
was desperate. I wanted action, and wanted
it fast. Already I had wasted thousands
on doctors, sanitariums, and hospitals --
and my "year" (if doctors were to be believed) had expired. I was living on time
that should have been mouldering my bones .

I went to Wichita, stopped at the Hubbard Foundation, and after a short wait
in the lobby, was ushered into the office
of Ross Lamoreaux, director of training.
I explained what doctors had said was
wrong with me, and said I wanted some
(ED. NO2B -- We interrupt this series tc
defend the "poor" auditor-aspirant whose
faith in the future of Dianetics went beyond spending $4 for Book 1. Apparently;
they were working under the hallucinatioi
that if a drink of water was so good fos
you, maybe a bath in the stuff would be
better. Which makes this a sort of immersion-sprinkling debate, with a net
twist.)
auditing . Would it help?
Ross nodded, looked at my glasses, and
said, in a low, slow drawl: "Simple. I
don't know if we can take your glasse:
off, tho."
"To hell with my glasses!" I said. "If
I can get rid of my high blood pressure;
I can buy glasses. They don't bother me.'
Ross suggested I take the training
course, rather than the auditing. "You'll
get enough co-auditing during class tc
take care of your case," he said. "And
besides, you'll have the training."
I left, elated, with an agreement tc
return in January at the opening of a nev
class. Of all the thousands I'd spent
this was the first definite pledge that
something good might happen. And for thE
next few weeks, that was all I could think
about: I was going to have a miracle performed on me; I was going to be in a position to perform miracles on the hundreds of medical sacrifices I'd shared
hopeless hours with the last few months,
Life, indeed ( and Mr. Hubbard, and Mr
Lamoreaux, and the Wichita Foundation
and my boss for letting me off six weeks;
was wonderful. Simply wonderful!
Our classes started January 7, 1952
We listened to tapes, with amplificatior
by David MacLean, the instructor. That
afternoon, I was assigned an advancec
student for an auditor. For two hours, it
one of the little auditing rooms, he listened open-mouthed while I reviewed r
life of adventure and events. When I hat
finished , he said : "You've certainly
lived an interesting life, Mr. Hart."
"Hunh?" I asked .
"I said, you've certainly lived an interesting life," he repeated. I glance(
at the notepad he'd borrowed from me or
which he had written one line: "First
marriage unhappy." That was all.
"You mean, that's auditing?" I asked
I could hardly believe it.

He nodded, and we went out into th(
lobby. I was stunned. Had I paid $500 for
the "privilege" of entertaining fellov
students?
The second blow came that night. L