Fred, I appreciate you pulling back the curtain on that “ignore the noise” advice you got from your OSA exec. I recall being told that same quote when I had questions. The lesson learned was don’t ask. I certainly didn’t get any answers.
I dodged the death of LRH event in person, but was guilted into seeing the video version. It was a whole lot of nothing and then boom, he’s off to Target Two. Seeing that event on video was weird because people were making all kinds of noise at the live event and clapping about LRH brags for long periods. Our sparse butts in chairs number clapped anemically and then our hands fell in our laps as the waves of noisy adulation made us feel like bucked off cowboys at the rodeo.

Hi, Lili
I never met Greg Hughes and, according to the Los Angeles Times, he started Sterling Management in 1983, and hailed from Vacaville, CA, where he had been a successful dentist. In 1986, I worked for the Office of Special Affairs, handling financial audits for the old Church of Scientology of California. One of my coworkers got a job handling finance at Sterling, and ushered me in on a part-time basis to help with the monthly audits.

My roommate protested in person at the Portland Crusade while I defended Scientology through my work at OSA. I really didn’t know why Scientology needed to be defended, and when I asked an OSA executive about it, she told me to “ignore the noise,” and just keep working. If I’m not mistaken, the work we did at OSA helped defend, in vain, the “Church” against Larry Wollersheim.

I don’t think I’ve ever been to a Scientology “three-person briefing,” and if I had, I might not have had the common sense to realize that such a briefing would have been all about the money. You did, and avoided them like the plague. When Hubbard died in 1986, and as I listened in person to David Miscavige at the briefing/griefing held at the Los Angeles Palladium, I realized that something was seriously wrong; that Scientology would never, ever be the same; and that I would never attend another Scientology event – ever. So I spent the next 28 years avoiding any such event – whether in person or in front of a VCR/DVD player – as a Vegan would avoid a hamburger (as you so eloquently put it).

Fred, your story sounds pretty darned interesting too. I met Greg Hughes who used? Owned? Shilled for? Sterling Management. He seemed like a very nice dude. He was touted as this massively Up-Stat thetan due to his donating $10,000.00 per week during the Portland Crusade and marches around the courthouse.
I somehow ended up in my first ‘briefing’ up in Portland. Little old me in blue jeans and some tie-dyed t-shirt, shrieking my impoverished state, still rated a three-person briefing. One of them was Greg.
I asked a ton of business questions since I was studying LRH admin tech, and Greg had lots of fun anecdotes. In the end, the two reg guys tried to pry a donation out of me. I barely had enough for super-cheap eats. They got nada. But I learned a valuable lesson. When you’re the only one there for a briefing, it’s always about the money. Since I rarely had any left, I avoided briefings like Vegans avoid hamburgers.

I joined the Sea Org three months after getting into Scientology at the Mission of Salt Lake City. My viewpoint on life changed after I digested courses designed to make you a steely eyed, Hubbard dedicated staff member for the next billion years.

Two years of the Sea Org were two years too many, so I embarked on working for Scientology Front Groups. I spent about seven years at Sterling Management Systems, in Glendale, California, which turned out to be too close in proximity to Big Blue, otherwise known as PAC Base, the West Coast headquarters of Scientology. Every Friday I’d have to hide from Recruiters from AOLA, ASHO and other orgs. Once a Recruiter found out that I had been in the Sea Org, they’d ask, “What happened?” and would want to know alllllll about it.

I’m looking forward to the next installment.

Lil Davey got his Donate For Status Creatures started by making up fancy names for the Status levels, and awarded home-grown trophies that made the Super Bowl or World Series trinkets look cheap and tawdry – and the Status Donors got to keep their fancy trinket forever (or until found in the curbside trash after earning their new Status of Suppressive Person.)

What’s a Commodore to do when the deck hands start dipping into his treasure chest? Yep, overboard the lot of them, and sail off to greener pastures. Money green, that is.

Yes, Virginia, that’s exactly how it happened, and let it be a lesson to one and all.