Fair Game

by Steve Cannane

  As part of their campaign, the Scientologists went hard on what Hubbard referred to back in 1953 as ‘the religion angle’. Ian Tampion and Peter Gillham started referring to themselves as ‘ordained ministers’ and ‘Reverend’ in their correspondence with government officials.45 The pair described themselves as representatives of the Church of Scientology California in Victoria, which had registered itself at ‘the Titles Office under section 33 of the Religious Successory and Charitable Trust Act’.46 Ian Tampion even sought recognition of the ‘Church of Scientology of California’ with the trustees of the Necropolis at Springvale so that he could perform burial rights.47

  As the Health Minister Vance Dickie described it, the Scientologists ‘were becoming vocal again under the veil of religion’.48 Was it just a campaign strategy, or did they truly believe it was a religion? ‘I never considered it to be a religion while I was running the Melbourne College of Efficiency,’ says Peter Gillham. ‘Later on I went to Saint Hill, which is the Centre of the Scientology religion, so you gradually get into the idea of okay, it’s a religion, because there are a number of things in it that coincide with religion.’49 Australia’s domestic security agency wasn’t buying it; an internal ASIO report from the time said they had adopted a religious profile, ‘to impress authorities and gain respectability, but these postures have not been taken seriously’.50

  How seriously Scientologists took this religious posturing is perhaps best measured by what they were saying in their own publications at the time. Issue XVI of The Bridge: The Official Publication of Scientology in Sydney makes no references to the Church of Scientology, instead calling itself the Hubbard Scientology Organization. It refers to Scientology not as a religion, but as the ‘fastest-growing self-improvement and philosophic movement in the world’. 51

  The publication reads nothing like a journal of religion, instead resembling a retail catalogue. Eighty-five per cent of this 1968 issue of The Bridge is dedicated to advertising, including selling memberships, books, Emeters, auditing courses, Scientology processing, tickets to a congress, and long-play records of L. Ron Hubbard’s lectures. The publication carries an explainer written by Hubbard titled ‘What Is Scientology?’ At no time in the article does he describe it as a religion or a church. He draws a parallel with Buddhism, but only in the sense that they were both interested in ‘the goal of Freedom’.52

  At the beginning of 1969, L. Ron Hubbard released a message from the Greek isle of Corfu designed specifically for his followers in Australia and New Zealand: get things right down there or get ready to be taken over taken by ‘Asiatic hordes’.53

  Hubbard issued a special memo for Australian and New Zealand Scientologists, which stated that the intensity of the attack against Scientology was at its greatest in the antipodes. He claimed that Australian governments were taking orders from communists and what he called the ‘International psychiatric front organization’ and that this would have catastrophic consequences. ‘If the US pulls out of Vietnam, that’s it for Australia and New Zealand,’ Hubbard warned.54

  Four years after The Anderson Report had been handed down, Hubbard still felt aggrieved, and blamed a communist conspiracy for the ban in Victoria: ‘We are gradually turning up more and more red cards connected to this Melbourne mess,’ he said.55

  Scientology’s founder had a three-point plan for salvation that he laid out for his followers:

  1.Revitalize ANZO [Australia/New Zealand/Oceania] society with Gung Ho groups.

  2.Solidly oppose the election of psychiatric political stooges and

  3.Set up agitation and committees to achieve US statehood quickly.

  This is the only way I know of to keep ANZO from being deluged with Asiatic hordes.56

  Meanwhile, in Corfu, the Greeks were at risk from being deluged by Scientology’s hordes. Hubbard was planning to open an ‘Advanced Org’ in some disused local government offices.57 Little did Hubbard realise, but at the same time he was railing about the communist infiltration of Australian governments, the anti-communist military junta he’d been cosying up to in Greece was seeking information and advice from Australian authorities about Scientology.58

  For six months Hubbard’s vessel the Apollo had been moored in Greek waters. The foreign ministry was considering a request from Hubbard to open an office in Corfu.59 Australia’s ambassador Hugh Gilchrist gave one Greek official some stern advice. A cablegram from the embassy in Athens stated, ‘I suggested to him that Greek authorities would be well advised not to allow its practitioners a foothold here.’60

  The Greeks were also seeking advice from British and American diplomats. Both embassies urged the foreign ministry to keep the Scientologists off Greek soil, but they had little documentation to back up their views.61 The Australian embassy asked for relevant parts of ‘judicial reports or state parliamentary debates’ to be cabled through to ‘help us and colleagues stiffen ministry’s case’.62 The Anderson Report continued to haunt Hubbard even on the isle of Corfu.

  On 18 March, the Nomarch of Corfu, acting on instructions from the Deputy Prime Minister, Brigadier Stylianos Pattakos, ordered the Scientology vessels be removed from Greek waters within 24 hours.63 The Scientologists complained the Apollo was not fit to sail, but a group of Greek officials headed by the local Harbourmaster pronounced the Apollo seaworthy.64

  Hubbard had already advertised that he would be opening his school of Scientology on Corfu, in Dallietos House near the Phoenix Cinema,65 urging Scientologists from around the world to come to Greece and study. He then had to hastily put out a note explaining why they were no longer there. He did it in classic Hubbard style: ‘Due to unforeseen foreign exchange trouble and the unstable Middle Eastern situation we are not opening the new AOSH in Greece but in Denmark … Go now direct to Scientology Organization Denmark Hovedvagtsgade 6 1103 Copenhagen.’66

  The following month, the Guardian’s Office kickstarted a series of protests against the Scientology bans in Australia. On 27 April, four coach loads of Scientologists arrived at Australia House in London carrying placards with slogans such as ‘Australia – A Police State’, ‘Thought Police Ride Again’ and ‘Emigrating? Go to New Zealand’.67 Wayne Gibney, a representative from a group calling itself the Committee of Australian Refugees from Religious Persecution in London, delivered a letter to the High Commissioner in which he complained of being ‘driven out from the country of my birth’ and ‘subject to persecution of religious belief that is equalled only by Adolf Hitler’s vitriolic campaign against the Jews’.68

  There were follow-up protests in May to coincide with Sir Henry Bolte’s visit to London69 and in October when Australia House had an open day to encourage migration.70 At the latter protest the Scientologists handed out pamphlets trying to discourage emigration. Included in the list of ‘ten reasons not to move to Australia’ was the claim that Jack and the Beanstalk and other fairy stories were banned in state schools, and that Australia was responsible for myxomatosis that caused the ‘lingering DEATH of millions of rabbits from the SUPPURATING eyes and SWELLING HEADS’.71

  The head of the Guardian’s Office, Jane Kember, led a delegation to Australia House to complain about what they saw as religious persecution. The delegation told a representative of the High Commissioner they were not satisfied with the results of the Anderson Inquiry and wanted the case reopened. If it wasn’t, they would continue their protests, consider legal action, and employ any means possible to embarrass Australia, in any country, especially in the US.72 Soon after the protests expanded to Los Angeles, with around 500 Scientologists gathering outside the Australian Trade Commission on Wilshire Boulevard. Many of the placards drew on Nazi analogies, with one banner reading, ‘Australia – The Fourth Reich – Is Hitler Alive and Well in Melbourne?’73

  But there was one Australian in Los Angeles the Scientologists were happy to call their own. After the UK government had cut off Saint Hill as a training ground for foreign Scientologists, Hubbard moved to established new training c
entres around the world, with one of the critical offices set up in Los Angeles.74 After doing her Class VIII Auditing course with Hubbard in Corfu, Yvonne Gillham had been sent to the new Advanced Org in LA. She was about to get to work on developing the first ever Celebrity Centre, a move that would play a critical role in the marketing of Scientology in the years ahead.

  CHAPTER 12

  CELEBRITY AND NEW FAITH

  L. RON HUBBARD HAD long seen the potential benefits of recruiting celebrities to Scientology. In 1955, he announced ‘Project Celebrity’, a plan to recruit big names to boost numbers. ‘It is obvious what would happen to Scientology,’ he wrote, ‘if prime communicators benefiting from it would mention it now and then.’1

  Hubbard drew up a hit list, including Greta Garbo, Walt Disney, Liberace, Bob Hope, Billy Graham, Groucho Marx and Edward R Murrow. The idea went nowhere. Not one of the celebrities targeted in ‘Project Celebrity’ became a Scientologist. But at that time, Hubbard did not have someone of Yvonne Gillham’s charm and persuasion at his disposal.

  In October 1968, Gillham was the most qualified auditor on deck in Los Angeles. Being close to Hollywood, she was auditing young people who were involved in the movie business. The former Brisbane kindergarten director started keeping separate files on celebrities and dreamed of setting up an exclusive facility where they could get together and access Scientology services.2

  Yvonne Gillham wrote to Hubbard aboard the Apollo outlining her concept for a Celebrity Centre. Hubbard embraced it immediately. Gillham’s concept worked on a number of levels. Hollywood was full of young people trying to make it; a battalion of potential new recruits for Scientology, creative and open-minded, emotionally vulnerable and economically insecure, all willing to try anything that would give them an edge in the pursuit of their dreams. Once recruited, these artists could then help create a vibe around Scientology. If they became famous, they could be used for recruitment purposes.

  However, Yvonne Gillham did not set up the Celebrity Centre as a marketing strategy. She enjoyed being surrounded by creative people and loved to see them succeed as artists. ‘The whole idea was to get celebrities into Scientology to help them become a success, not to benefit Scientology,’ says Peter Gillham Snr. ‘It was about what we could do for them, not what they could do for us.’3 Yet despite her motives, Yvonne was laying the groundwork for what was to be Scientology’s greatest marketing tool, the use of celebrities like Tom Cruise and John Travolta to help sell their services.

  After much planning, Yvonne found a suitable building for Scientology’s first Celebrity Centre in July 1969. It was an old supermarket at 1809 West 8th Street4 in a rough part of Los Angeles. The feel was bohemian, with no uniforms, no overboarding, no militaristic air. ‘It had that hippie vibe that people responded to at the time,’ said Chris Many, a musician who worked at the Celebrity Centre in the early days.5

  Yvonne Gillham ran the Celebrity Centre like she ran the Melbourne College of Personal Efficiency in Hawthorn. She created an environment that was warm, friendly and fun. She enticed people in with her personal charm and kept them there with her enthusiasm. She flattered the artists and performers, appealing to their neediness with what she called ‘admiration bombing’.6 Even the landlord was not immune to Yvonne’s dazzling personality. Theodore Freistadt had planned to charge the centre $1200 a month rent, but Gillham bargained him down to $800. When asked why he acquiesced, Freistadt responded, ‘You know Yvonne don’t you? Well, then you know the way she is, nobody can say no to Yvonne!’7

  The Celebrity Centre attracted artists, musicians and actors. Among the attendees at the packed opening night were the actress and star of Easy Rider, Karen Black, jazz fusion pioneer Chick Corea and the musician Stanley Clarke.8 The centre was an instant success. ‘She held socials, parties, dances, workshops, meetings, Sunday services and was constantly brainstorming with everyone for ideas on how to draw more people into her doors,’ wrote her biographer Howard Dickman, ‘at first the building was mostly a big open space. Then, booths were set up. They were varied; for example, there was a calligraphy booth, a candle-making booth, tie-die and many others.’9

  The Celebrity Centre’s most successful recruit during Yvonne’s time at the helm was John Travolta. The young actor had battled depression and insomnia as his career struggled to take off. ‘She just loved Johnny,’ recalls Spanky Taylor, who worked with Yvonne. ‘She believed in John, when John didn’t believe in John.’10 Travolta took the Hubbard Qualified Scientologist Course at the Celebrity Centre just before he auditioned for a part in the television show Welcome Back Kotter.11 After he landed the role of Vinne Barbarino, he gave credit to what he’d learned at Celebrity Centre. ‘I would say Scientology put me in the big time,’ he said.12

  While the Church of Scientology was courting celebrities in the US, in Australia it was busy lobbying politicians. At the beginning of 1969, Scientology was under immense pressure in Australia. It was banned in Victoria, South Australia and Western Australia, and under further parliamentary and media scrutiny in New South Wales following the Rex Beaver spying scandal. The main game was convincing elected representatives to change the legislation. The focus of much of that lobbying was Lionel Murphy, a left-wing labour lawyer and atheist with a love of science rather than Scientology.

  Senator Murphy was an advocate for human rights and social justice. He campaigned against the death penalty, and fought for the introduction of no-fault divorce, racial discrimination legislation and legal aid for the underprivileged. He was exactly the kind of man that L. Ron Hubbard would have labelled a communist. But the Shadow Attorney-General was about to become Scientology’s unlikely saviour in Australia.

  On 28 January, six detectives raided Perth’s Scientology headquarters in Hay Street seizing stationery, records and electrical equipment.13 Included in the haul were 4000 stamped, addressed envelopes. The Hubbard Association of Scientologists (HASI) and 15 individuals were charged with practising Scientology.14 The Perth HASI was eventually found guilty and fined $200,15 but the Supreme Court quashed the conviction later that year.16

  South Australian Scientologists dealt with the ban in their state by pursuing Hubbard’s ‘religion angle’. Three days after the Perth raid, they changed their name, incorporating the Church of the New Faith under the Associations Incorporation Act. Branches in Sydney and Perth were formed later that year.17 When the new church registered in Victoria under the Companies Act, the authorities were not too concerned. George Rogan, the Secretary of the Victorian Department of Health, wrote in a memo to his Minister that the move would ‘not in any way legally improve the position of the scientologists’.18 Rogan did not see what was coming.

  Tom Minchin was an energetic 24-year-old Arts graduate with libertarian instincts. The younger brother of an Anglican priest, he was ordained as a Scientology Reverend on 3 March 1969, in a chapel in Peel Street, Adelaide, less than five weeks after the new church was incorporated.19 Minchin took on the critical role of chief lobbyist for the Church of the New Faith. Scientology’s future in Australia depended on him. Minchin took on the new role with vigour, bombarding the offices of politicians with letters and phone calls, making the case for recognising the religious status of Scientology.

  It helped that Tom Minchin was also a member of the Australian Labor Party (ALP) and was able to gain access to the South Australian Premier Don Dunstan. Minchin was a member of the St Peters branch of the ALP. Dunstan and Minchin would have known each other from branch meetings. St Peters was part of Dunstan’s electorate.20 At one point the Premier was forced to distance himself from the cult, denying that the Scientologists were raising campaign funds for Labor. Minchin had promoted a party fundraiser that Dunstan was a guest speaker at in a Church of the New Faith newsletter. ‘They may have told some of their members it was on,’ Dunstan told the local media, as he tried to hose down any connection between his party and the banned organisation.21

  An interesting link between Scientology and th
at fundraiser went unnoticed at the time. The event had been held at the home of Brian and Marjorie Fitzgerald, a prominent Labor couple who had previously dabbled in Scientology. ‘Doug Joyce was a lecturer in management and my husband Brian did his course,’ Marjorie told me. ‘Doug came back from England where he had learned from Hubbard. Doug talked about self-improvement, which interested me. Later it became all about money and power and they starting talking about it being a religion and I dropped it like a hot scone.’22 Marjorie was also friends with Ian and Barbara Rinder, the parents of Mike Rinder who later became Scientology’s international spokesman. She also babysat Cherie Joyce, the daughter of Doug, and the mother of future Freedom Medal winner Kate Ceberano.

  On the surface it might seem like an obvious plot on behalf of the Guardian’s Office to have Tom Minchin infiltrate the ALP and help overturn the ban. But his brother, the Anglican priest James Minchin, suspects Tom had joined the Labor Party before he moved to Adelaide.23 [Tom Minchin would not talk to me for this book. When I knocked on his door and asked to speak to him, he would not even come to the door. His wife asked me to leave from behind the locked door.]

  However, there is evidence that at least one other Scientologist was acting covertly inside the Labor Party at the time. With his platform boots, green bell-bottom flares and strong commitment to the Labor cause, Eric Kleitsch did not seem like an undercover operative. Tom Minchin had introduced him to Scientology when both were members of Young Labor. Soon after, Kleitsch joined the Sea Org, and studied at Saint Hill. When he returned to Adelaide, the Guardian’s Office had a job for him. While Minchin lobbied the politicians, Kleitsch was meant to find out what was going on inside the South Australian government.