We can never get enough of Scientology history. It’s so much sordid entertainment. And so we have to thank our helper who once again found a fun item in newspaper archives.
This was the first story featuring Adell and Ernest Hartwell, a middle-aged Las Vegas couple who joined Scientology after their 15-year-old daughter had become one of founder L. Ron Hubbard’s “messengers.”
After spending a few months at Hubbard’s secret location in the California desert in 1978, the Hartwells were disillusioned and left. But Scientology then harassed them, and they decided to go public. It was a big deal not only because going public against Scientology at that time, 1980, was so much more risky then, but also because for the first time it confirmed that Hubbard had been hiding out in Riverside County, and also revealed a lot about what he was doing there.
Only a little more than a month after the Hartwells went public, Hubbard went permanently into seclusion with only a few trusted aides, and was never seen alive again by the rest of Scientology or the world. The Hartwells, meanwhile, went on to testify at the famous Clearwater Hearings in 1982. They were each then featured in important sections of Russell Miller’s 1987 biography of Hubbard, Bare-Faced Messiah, and Jon Atack’s epic 1990 history of Scientology, A Piece of Blue Sky.
So yes, we might say that the Hartwells were a couple of the most damaging defectors ever to come out of Scientology. Here was their debut…
Ex-follower says Scientology founder had sybaritic lifestyle
Riverside Daily Press
Jan 6, 1980
By Dick Lyneis
A Las Vegas woman, who spent a secretive six months in the Riverside County desert in 1978 helping Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard make movies, said she worked as “slave labor” while Hubbard lived like a king.
Mrs. Adell Hartwell said Hubbard had his own home which was surrounded by an electric fence and protected by guards. “He had his personal cook and a valet,” she said, “and was always in the company of his ‘messengers,’ who were teen-age girls, and he had a motor home, a boat, two Cadillacs, and a Jeep and two girls who drove him every place.
Mrs. Hartwell, on the other hand, said she often worked long stretches without eating, and — along with her husband, Ernest — lived in a “shack” which they said they had to share with a variety of desert vermin. She said they didn’t get the promised Scientology counseling and were forced to work 12-hour days, with one day off every two weeks.
Rev. Heber Jentzsch, of Los Angeles, a Scientology spokesman, laughed when told about details of the Hartwells’ story. “I think someone is trying to feed you a line,” he said. He also accused Mr. Hartwell of trying to “extort” the church, but he said he could not recall whether the church had filed any complaints with any police department.
Mr. Hartwell denied he was trying to extort the church. “That’s what they accused me of doing,” Mr. Hartwell said, “when I was trying to recover the $22,000 in property I lost and money we spent for training we never did receive.” He added that they were contemplating legal action to recover the money.
The Scientology group was in the desert to make movies which a church official said will be released this year and used to attract new members.
The group, which numbered as many as 150 at times, occupied two properties, one in La Quinta called the Olive Trees Ranch, and another one a few miles to the northeast near Indio which was called the Silver Sands Ranch.
Mrs. Hartwell was there from May until October of 1978, while her husband spent only two months there. The entire group, which authorities think arrived early in 1978, was gone by last March.
Movie-making was the principal activity. Location shooting was done in nearby cities, and Hubbard, who Mrs. Hartwell said was “the producer, writer, director and the everything” for the movies, used his Scientology followers as actors, musicians, costume persons, set workers, and other movie jobs.
An amateur dance team, the Hartwells had been promised that once they got to the production area, which they were told would be in Florida, they would be trained to act, and their dance talents would be used.
Instead, she ended up sewing costumes and her husband worked on movie sound tracks.
Mrs. Hartwell described the desert operation as “the biggest most confused mess I ever saw.” She said the Olive Trees Ranch contained “old horse corrals which were converted into shops, an MO’s (medical officer’s) quarters, a CO’s (commanding officer’s) quarters, a security office, a chaplain’s office, an isolation ward, a dormitory and a bunch of other offices.”
Hubbard’s home was separate and adjacent, she said.
Mrs. Hartwell described Hubbard as being about 6-2, and 275 pounds. She said he “dressed very sloppily. He always had one suspender, a cowboy hat, and had a bandana around his neck. He cussed and swore all the time. He used the filthiest language I ever heard in my life.
“No one could call him by his name, Ron,” she said, “because that was a breach of security. Everyone always referred to him as ‘The Boss’.” She said members of the group were instructed to notify a Scientology attorney in Encino if anyone approached the property and asked questions about their identity and affiliation.
Mr. Hartwell said Hubbard got the maximum out of the group “by controlling everyone by fear” and threats of discipline.
Discipline, the Hartwells said, took strange forms.
“He (Hubbard) got mad at a messenger once,” Mrs. Hartwell said, “because she overspent some money on an errand, so they took away everyone’s supply of toilet paper for 10 days. He was mad and a restriction was put on.” Another group involved in film-making was disciplined, she said, by being placed on a diet of nothing but rice and beans for several days.
Hubbard, who is 69, was looked upon as god-like by the persons there, said Mrs. Hartwell, who admitted he had “a strong influence” on her.
“One day he touched me,” she said, “and I could just feel a force there that was hard to describe.”
His messengers, she said, were there to cater to Hubbard’s every need. “The girls would stick cigarettes in his mouth and light them. They had to catch his cigarette ashes. If a drop of sweat was on his forehead, they had to wipe it off. Every word he said had to be written down by the girls. You can’t believe anything if it’s not written down. Whenever he appeared people would clap. If it was four o’clock in the morning, and nobody could see straight, people would clap.”
The sense of worship that persons within Sea Org feel for Hubbard, Mrs. Hartwell said, is “almost fanatical.
“The feeling among most people there,” she said, “was that when Ron Hubbard goes (dies), we are going to go with him.”
The Hartwells believe their 16-year-old daughter, Ver-dawn, who they said was one of Hubbard’s “messengers” at La Quinta, is among the persons who feel that when Hubbard dies, they will “go with him.” They said they have been trying unsuccessfully since last fall to get her out of Scientology.
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Was the Hubster emulating Jubal Harshaw from Heinlein's Stranger In a Strange Land? Or was he just a malignant narcissistic a-hole? I do hope Ver-dawn Hartlwell escaped, but she probably 'aged out' when she hit 17 or 18. Hubs liked them pubescent. I bet Ernst and Adell Hartwell never got any money back from Hubbard. The First Rule of Acquisition does not allow for returning money.
"the biggest most confused mess I ever saw.” So much for 'org boards' and Lroon's 'management tech'. Hubbard's penchant for punishing people en mass for one person's mistake was routed in his Navy training. Punishing an entire barracks for one person's 'infraction' was a common practice. But keeping toilet paper away from the minions is treasonous to the American lifestyle.
The sweat program was developed around late 1978. The precursor to the purification rundown. By.1980 so much in Scientology was changing. NED for OTs (NOTS)was the new rage. OTV and everyone was doing the Purif.
So the Hartwell’s spoke out at a time of growth for Hubbard’s organization.
The films Hubbard directed were horrible. He thought he could master any creative skill. Film making was not his forte and he had a crew of rank amateurs. The result, we who were in the business were appalled by the “amazing” tech films directed by Hubbard. It was not till the mid 80s when Jefferson Hawkins brought in Mitch Brisker that the media and films had a major upgrade.
Thanks Tony for more historical events I never knew.