Blown for Good Behind the Iron Curtain of Scientology (30 page)

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Authors: Marc Headley

Tags: #Religion, #General, #Biography & Autobiography, #Cults, #Scientology, #Ex-Cultists

BOOK: Blown for Good Behind the Iron Curtain of Scientology
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For the next three months Dave Miscavige would go between the editing bays in the Upper Lodges and the Lower Lodges conference room and yell at people and demand better speeches, better video edits, better music scores and better anything else he wanted. He would detail out what kind of video shots he wanted, what types of instruments he wanted in music tracks, how he wanted a video to end and the next one to start, how he wanted a speech to segue into a video, you name it. He dictated every breath that we would or would not take for three whole months.

As the dreaded event grew nearer and Dave constantly changed speeches and videos, it was clear that everything would not be ready for the big night. He had dictated that there be two huge screens on either side of the stage showing moving video footage during his speech. So we essentially had four hours of moving footage that would need to be shot and edited to his speech, a speech that was constantly changing. Even Dave knew this was an impossible task with only a few weeks left until the event date. We knew Dave knew this when he ordered that LED tracking markers be installed in the frames of the screens on each side of the stage. These tracking markers would be used by the Visual Effects crew at Gold to re-insert the proper footage into the video screen after the live event took place. At least the final video of the event would be correct, even if the live show were botched.

The live show was now only a week away. The Sports Arena had an army of Rehabilitation Project Force members from LA and at least a hundred crew from the local stage unions. The RPF in LA numbered in the hundreds by this time. They were like a swarm of ants that would attack giant set pieces on semi trucks and within minutes the stage items would be carried by hand down the long ramp into the arena and handed over to the union crews. It was a sight to behold.

The stage was a bit bigger than the one constructed for IAS 1993. It had a very similar look with the usual giant pillars and tiny podium. This event was for New Years instead of IAS, so a more celebratory motif replaced the earth logo and torches that were historically linked to the IAS.

In addition to the huge projection screens on either side of the stage with moving video footage, two additional even larger screens were placed on either side of the hall to project the live event for the crowd. Then another 20 projection screens and 50 giant plasma television screens were placed all around the arena so the audience was able to see Dave Miscavige clearly throughout the event.

And there was no projection department left to execute it all. I was tapped to do all of the projection and replace the guy that had gone to the Rehabilitation Project Force. Even though I was directly over the Departments that were supposed to build the stage and over the Stage Manager himself, I was also going to have to somehow get all of the projection set up for the biggest event in all of Scientology’s history in my “spare” time.

The planned event was to open with a very large flag procession with Sea Org members from all over the world marching around the arena carrying the flags of their countries and their orgs. Then there would be a twirling color guard that would do a dance on the main stage and then Dave Miscavige would come out and speak and introduce a series of videos and have moving footage during his speeches. Dave Miscavige even worked in the phrase “The war is over” into his new speech so that he could say that and get it on tape after being cheated of that pleasure so many years earlier. The event was to end with another Scientology song written just for the event, which would be performed by a giant gospel choir.

As the day of the event approached, the cameras were set up, the production truck was set up, the sound system had been built and giant baffles were installed all around the arena to cancel out the echo that had ruined the prior event in 1993.

The cable cam operator was ordered never to point the camera directly down, and was told that if any breasts showed up in any shot it would be cause for non-payment. The teleprompters were now fully automated with pneumatic risers and tweaked within a millimeter of perfection. The lighting on Dave was to be on him the entire time no matter what and was not to come off him at any point during his speech for fear that any footage might be unusable. Every single detail was being accounted for – or so we thought.

The day of the event arrived. All Gold crew were on pins and needles and again knew that this would either be the best thing to happen or the worst. Based on the prior months and years of experience, most knew what the smart money was on - the worst.

The production truck crew had pages and pages of speeches and most of the visuals that had been prepared were out of order and didn’t match up. So the truck crew knew before the event even started that it was going to be a bomb from their department.

Since I was responsible for both the stage and the projection, I decided that I was going to spend the entire event backstage, directly behind the stage where the main projectors for the event were located. This way I could keep an eye on the projectors as well as any flaps that occurred on stage.

The event started out looking good. The stage looked good, the lighting was decent, the sound was okay and the projection and TV screens were all working fine. The flag procession ran a bit long, but we made it through.

Now came the on-stage flag twirlers. It was about twenty young college girls in tights with huge flags that they twirled around. They did a bit of a dance and marched around the stage flinging the flags around in unison.

While they did this, Dave Miscavige got ready to walk on the stage. The stage manager had instructed him to enter from an exact part of the stage. There were only so many spots from which one could enter or leave the stage. Well, the stage manager had been up for six days straight and might have gotten his spots mixed up. As the girls danced around the stage and Dave stood in the magic spot, he started to become uneasy. He questioned the stage manager if the spot was the correct one and said he thought he was supposed to enter from a different spot. Just as the music crescendoed and the flag girls were about to finish, Dave decided to move despite what he was told. As the girls exited the stage, they threw their steel-tipped spiked flagpoles off stage at the exact spot Dave had been standing not two seconds earlier. (He would later say that as he moved from the spot, he could feel the tips of the flags brush past his hair as he moved away!) Now, normally I would have assumed this was his exaggeration, but this time I had seen the entire thing go down before my very eyes. Dave Miscavige came seconds away from being speared to death multiple times by a bunch of hot college girls wearing skimpy outfits! Talk about girls gone wild! It didn’t happen. But the next biggest disaster of the millennium was now underway.

As Dave began his speech, you could see that every once in awhile the video footage on the side screens was either too early or too late or had nothing to do with what he was saying. But at a certain point in the event, it was pure chaos. The footage was completely random and sometimes footage that had already been played was up on the screen again. It was going to have to be completely re-done in post production, guaranteed.

After seeing the near shish-kabobbing of Dave Miscavige and the visuals wipeout, I pondered the turmoil that would ensue. I knew my direct junior, the stage manager, was destined for the Rehabilitation Project Force, that was a given. You cannot almost kill COB and get away with it. He was a goner for sure. But what about the rest of us? We had been up for the last three months day and night. Most of us were too numb to feel pain or even worry about what would happen to us.

After the event, people just disappeared here and there with no explanation given as to why or where they were sent. If anyone asked, “We are getting rid of the deadwood,” was the reply. Busloads of people were taken to the Rehabilitation Project Force in LA.

Everyone at the base had to re-do a battery of tests; every single person at the base received a Fitness Board. If for any reason, you were found unfit for the Sea Org, you had the uncertain fate of being sent to the RPF or dumped off in some foreign country to live with some SPs who had been assigned the task of taking care of you in order to get themselves un-declared.

We were back to shortened meal breaks, no canteen privileges, people being restricted to the base for months on end, sleeping under desks, in attics, or wherever you could find a spot that would go undisturbed for a few hours during the dead of night.

While most people on the Int Base were considered the scum of the earth, I had the pleasure of being the direct senior of the guy that almost got COB RTC killed. Not only was I restricted to the base for an unspecified amount of time, but I was considered to be on a very short leash. I would have to grovel, beg and plead to ever make it off the property to sleep in my bed again. Like many other staff on the Int base, I had to fend for myself.

A lot of people had to find a spot that was not already taken and make that their spot. It was very territorial. If you had found a spot, and had any personal effects of yours there, it was commonly understood amongst other restricted Int Base staff members that the spot was taken.

Having been there throughout the construction of the Cine Castle film studio, I knew the good spots that were out of sight and out of mind. I slept in an attic above a hallway behind the castle cyclorama wall for four straight months. I had a thin blanket that I had gotten from costumes and each night around 3:00
 a.m.
, I made my way up above the hallway to sleep with the blanket on the plywood decking until around 7:00 the next morning. Hopefully, the Sets & Props staff that worked throughout the night loading in sets for the next day’s shoot would not be too noisy and I could get a good, solid three hours of sleep. I was over all Pre-Production Departments at the time and was one of the highest posted executives at the Cine Castle, so it was not unusual for my staff to see me at all hours of the day and night. I ate leftover snacks meant for the professional actors, showered in the Costume changing rooms, did my laundry in the Wardrobe washing machines and slept in my little makeshift attic bed. The castle was my home. Some of my staff would make the remark that “it is like you never ever leave the castle.” They had no idea that for most of the year 2000, I didn’t. I lived there.

Now, this is fun.

Chapter Twenty –
A Pain That I’m Used To

We had been having meetings up in Building 50 weekly. Building 50 was the new Religious Technology Center building that was built, but was only occupied by Dave Miscavige and his personal staff. So you had a seventy million dollar building being used by about fifteen people. That made sense.

The building was started in the late 1990’s and was finished in 2003. The only reason it even took that long is that it got built several times over and parts were redone and redone based on Dave changing his mind. At one point the interior of the building was mostly completed and had a very expensive wood paneling throughout it. Although he had approved the plans, Dave decided he didn’t like it and it was ripped out and redone.

Then there were the internal staff issues. The guy that designed the electrical distribution for the building had placed the high voltage panels for the entire building directly behind Dave’s personal shower in his office. Dave was not too keen on that. The electrician was sent to the Rehabilitation Project Force somewhere and the electrical plan and existing wiring had to be redone.

Then there was the Gold engineer that was making sure that the water pipes in the building were properly tested after being installed. I will not get into details, but I can guarantee you he brought a whole new meaning to laying pipe! After this was discovered, he was shipped off to some faraway place and never seen again.

When the furniture for the building was being done, a carpenter from PAC, the Sea Org base in Los Angeles, was brought to the Int Base. He was a master in his own right and was brought there to make the main desk for COB’s office. After months of working on this desk it was shown to COB. Dave said that it was the most heinous piece of crap he had ever seen. Shorty after this occurred, the carpenter was killed in a freak motorcycle accident on the highway while leaving the base to go home for the night. Even though he had been riding motorcycles all his life, he crashed on the road that leaves the base and was pronounced dead on the scene.

This also just happened to be around the same time that a girl was killed on the highway by a piece of heavy equipment that was crossing the road. It was late at night and it was dark and the girl drove her car directly into the bucket on the front of the loader and she was instantly decapitated. Her mother was following behind in another car. When the mother got out of her car to check on the daughter she screamed out in horror. It happened right next to the road at the Castle and I could hear the mother screaming for what seemed to be at least an hour.

Then there was the girl that was electrocuted to death in a power transformer vault at the Int Base near Building 50. She had been trying to go see her parents and husband in LA and was told she could not go and that she was PTS. One Sunday morning, she went into a power vault and was instantly killed by electrocution and the power to the entire Int Base went out. The Port Captain at the time, Ken Hoden, told the police investigating the accident that she was going into the vault to save a squirrel. There was quite a bit of controversy over this whole thing at the base. The girl Stacey was not stupid and no one went into power vaults on the base. I worked there for 15 years, was on the electrical team for years and never went in to one ever. Stacey had only been at the Int Base for a short while.

It was also odd that shortly after her death, the guy who told her she was PTS was sent to the Rehabilitation Project Force. And that Ken Hoden, the security guard that responded to the outage and the person who supposedly saw the suicide note Stacey left all disappeared from the base for undisclosed reasons.

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