My Escape From The
Cult — A True Story
|«Heh, when I was a foolish teenager I got caught up
in the bait-n-switch cult of clams for about a year.
I ended up in Edinburgh Scotland at the Clam Central
Publishing Org. There was some incredibly nasty
stuff going on there, including imprisonment. It
didn't take me too long to wise up and I blew in
December of 1968. But I had a problem, my gear (sleeping
bag, backpack, essentially everything I owned except the
clothes on my back) were at the org. Having seen people
in dungeon-like rooms eating bread and water, I was not
taking any chances.
I got a taxi to take me to the org and told him that if
I wasn't out in 5 minutes he should call the police.
He looked sort of shocked, and in retrospect it must
have been a strange situation for him. A dark,
damp night in an alley in Edinburgh, with a really young
kid (I never looked my age, so I could have looked about
15 or 16 at the time) entering a building which was
already the subject of controversy and questions, asking
for the police to be called if I wasn't out soon.
No wonder he looked a little shocked and worried.
Fortunately for me he stayed.»
Zane Thomas's Story
|«Conditions were declared. Everyone had to work all day and half the
night. We all slept on the floors. People started to break under the
pressure. New conditions were declared. People were locked up at the
bottom of the elevator shaft and fed bread and water.
The threats to personal safety were overt and continuous, totally
different in kind and character from the little FOAD you were recently
whining about. We're talking real, in your face, you are fair-game we
can kill you sorts of threats. You know what I'm saying is true, don't
GULAGS of Scientology
|«Well then Bernie, how could it be that I saw a young woman
confined in a small, damp, dark room at the bottom of an
elevator shaft (used to be the end of a hall going underground
to the building to the north) in clam publications in Scotland,
She was fed bread and water, wore some dirty grey overalls
(just recalled this detail), and of course there was some sort
of a rag on the arm.»