Newsgroups: alt.religion.scientology From: dennis.l.erlich@support.com Subject: RE: acid on paint Message-ID: <9510110814.0BKIY00@support.com> References: <199510110725.AAA07321@netcom15.netcom.com> Organization: L.A. Valley College Public BBS (818)985-7150 X-Mailer: TBBS/PIMP v3.35 Distribution: world Date: Wed, 11 Oct 95 08:14:09 -0700 Lines: 118 One Reader notes: >Subject: acid on paint > >http://www.cybercom.net/~rnewman/scientology/media/quill-11.91 >is an article on journalists who have written critical articles >about co$ getting hassles in various ways. Getting their car >paint messed up by acid is one of the ways mentioned. You might >mention that in your police report. +--------------------------------+ 'Shudder into silence' The Church of Scientology doesn't take kindly to negative coverage By Robert W. Welkos In the late spring of 1990, shortly before the Los Angeles Times published a comprehensive series on the Church of Scientology by staff writer Joel Sappell and myself, a deliveryman arrived at my house and propped a large manila envelope against my front door. It was from a mortuary, and inside was a brochure extolling the benefits of arranging your funeral before you die. "Investigate the pre-arrangement program at our memorial park now," the brochure read. "You'll be glad you did, and so will your family." Curious, I telephoned the mortuary and asked why they had sent me the material. To my amazement, they didn't know they had and told me they never sent brochures unsolicited because it can be upsetting. They assured me they were always sensitive to such concerns and that it would not happen again. But it did. Two days later, my wife caught a glimpse of a man hurrying down the front walk. By the time she opened the door, he was driving away, but left on the step was another envelope from the same mortuary. I would never know if the deliveries were just a mix-up or a sinister prank. Just as I have never known who made the dozens of hang-up telephone calls to my house; what caused my partner's dog to go into seizures on the day the Times published the secret teachings of Scientology; why a bogus assault complaint was filed with the Los Angeles Police Department against Sappell by a man whose address and name proved to be phony, or why car dealers we had never dealt with were making inquiries into our personal credit reports. Yet, I wondered: Were these incidents more than coincidence? Whenever journalists ask critical questions about Scientology they can expect to endure intense personal scrutiny. Over the years, various reporters have been sued, harassed, spied on, and even been subjected to dirty tricks. Our investigation of Scientology began in 1985. The undertaking stretched over five difficult years and tested the will of the newspaper as we were repeatedly subject to the church's intimidative tactics. In the end, we published 24 stories over six days, exploring virtually every facet of Scientology, from its confidential doctrines to its abuses against former members to the fictional background of its founder, the late science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard. The series also revealed how Scientologists had created numerous tax-exempt front groups and profit-making consulting firms to spread their beliefs throughout American society, and how Hubbard's remarkable string of 22 best-sellers was accomplished, in part, through multiple purchases of his books by Scientologists and employees of Hubbard's publishing house, which is controlled by church members. The story took us across the U.S. and into Canada, interviewing hundreds of people, reviewing thousands of pages of documents, and studying the arcane writings of Hubbard himself. Along the way we were sued once and successfully fought two federal court subpoenas served by Scientology to gain access to our research. At various times, we were investigated by as many as three separate teams of private investigators hired by Scientology's attorneys. Up to the week of publication, the newspaper continued to receive letters from church lawyers threatening suits. I was sued by a church paralegal for false imprisonment after he served me with a subpoena inside the newspaper and I told him to wait in an editor's office until security arrived and determined how he entered the building. Outside the church's Golden Era Studios in Riverside, California, a Times photographer stopped his car on a public highway and began taking pictures of the compound when he was confronted by uniformed Scientology guards with walkie-talkies who demanded that he surrender his film. He refused after a long and tense confrontation, during which he was asked if he worked for the CIA. Later, at a church facility in Hollywood, the photographer parked on the street and began snapping pictures of two Scientologists assigned to Scientology's Rehabilitation Project Force -- a kind of boot camp where members wear dark armbands, run everywhere, and form (sic) menial tasks until their superiors determine that they have been properly rehabilitated. As the camera clicked, one of the men hurled a caustic substance at the photographer's car, eroding the paint. +--------------------------------+ There it is! +--------------------------------------+ Rev. Dennis L Erlich * * the inFormer * * dennis.l.erlich@support.com + inForm@primenet.com "tar baby"