Authors: Jenna Miscavige Hill
The boys showed us the Big House, a very old and soon-to-be gutted two-story house that sat at the top of a hill. On the second floor, it had a few holes in the walls and floors. Even in that condition, the upstairs was being used for dormitories for the young girls. Once the renovations of the Motels were complete, everyone who lived in the Big House was going to move there.
The downstairs of the Big House was the mess hall. For each meal, the food was driven in from the galley at the Int Base, about twenty miles away. The meals were always set up buffet-style, although each kid was assigned to a certain table. Each week, a different child from each table took his or her turn as the steward, responsible for setting the silverware and plates and serving the food and drinks. As it turned out, the food was actually quite good. The meals were hearty and varied, and each day, we got freshly baked bread. Most nights, we even got dessert.
Next, Justin and Mike showed us the School House, which was slated to be renovated soon but currently was being used as storage, so there wasn’t any actual school there. They also took us to see the Cottage, the project that they were currently working on, which consisted of a small building, now completely gutted, that was going to be adult berthing for the Ranch faculty when it was finished.
The Ranch may not have been fancy, and there were certainly a few holes in the walls, but none of this put me off. It needed work, but it seemed like an adventure that I would get to participate in. The landscape was unfamiliar, but the kids seemed so proud of the place. Looking back on it now, they were probably eager to show off to us younger kids, but their attitude was infectious, making me feel like I was somewhere special.
It was also a relief not be confined to a tiny apartment as well. Back in L.A., we were never allowed outside unsupervised, but the huge, expansive land at the Ranch made me feel like I could breathe easier and not have to hold someone’s hand every time I went outside. For the first time I could remember, I felt like I had space to run around and imagine things. And, if that weren’t enough, being reunited with Justin and Taryn made feel me like I was getting to do all this with family.
As we walked around the property, B. J. and I learned that that there were five dogs living at the Ranch who would be keeping us company most of the time. They weren’t guard dogs, but they were protective, friendly watchdogs, who would follow the kids around everywhere and keep an eye on us. Each had its own distinct personality. Brewster, a German shepherd, was the alpha dog. Tasha, the female German shepherd, was extremely loyal. Ruby was a very old, lazy, grumpy Labrador with a bark that sounded like a toad. There was also Jeta, a middle-aged female Lab. Bo, the fifth dog, looked like a wolf, with his hair always coming out in clumps.
Our first few days at the Ranch were spent exploring with the dogs at our side. B. J. and I hardly noticed the sweltering heat as we walked through the desert in search of different cacti. In the morning, cows would roam the fields around the Ranch; for some reason, we were supposed to chase them away, which we would do with the dogs. The farther we walked, the more we could see just how big the Ranch was—the property itself was immense—as though we would never be able to explore the whole thing. I had always worn incredibly frilly dresses that my grandma, Aunt Denise, my godparents, and Uncle Dave had sent me for my birthday and Christmas. Suddenly, at the Ranch, those dresses were out of place, as they seemed to soak up dirt the moment I stepped out the door.
A
FTER
I
’D HAD A BIT OF TIME TO TAKE EVERYTHING IN,
I
WAS
still unsure what to make of all this. I loved it there. Whether it was the dogs or simply the way that we lived, it was dramatically different from life in Los Angeles. For the first few months, there were only a few adults to watch the approximately fifteen kids at the Ranch. For the most part, the older kids were the ones who took care of B. J. and me and told us what to do. At the time this seemed much better to me as they were young, seemed cool, and were nice to us, although they often made fun of my dresses.
Not long after we arrived, we met Joe Conte, or Mr. C, for short. He was introduced as the head adult at the Ranch. There was also a rotating security guard and a woman by the name of Karen Fassler, or Mr. F, as we called her. In Scientology, both sexes, male and female adults, went by Mister or Sir. Mr. F was pretty, fairly nice, and in charge of logistics, uniforms, food runs, and other business. Mr. C was friendly and easygoing, tall and thin, with a mustache and a bald head. He was rugged with an outdoorsy look about him; he struck all the kids as smart and very cool. My favorite books at the time were the young readers versions of
Chronicles of Narnia
and, in my mind, Mr. C was Professor Digory Kirke.
The kids themselves were essentially responsible for all of the various renovations going on at the Ranch. Projects involving electricity and plumbing were usually done by a specialist, who was an adult at the Int Base or a hired contractor, with kids helping. Everything on site faced city and county inspections, so the work had to be up to code. B. J. and I were still much smaller than the other kids, so our first projects were picking up trash, handing screws to my brother while he put up drywall, or varnishing our new dressers.
One of my favorite things after a hard day’s work was the “wild ride.” Mr. C would put upwards of ten kids into the back of his blue Nissan truck before driving it off road like a madman, over crazy bumps at high speed. When I first got to the Ranch, I was told that I was too small, but I finally convinced Mr. C to let me have a go, and the big kids held on to me for dear life as we tore around the property.
Every Saturday morning, a team of adults from the Int base would come and stay all day long to help and oversee what we were doing—sometimes even Dad would come and I’d get to work with him. We referred to Saturdays as “Saturday Renos,” short for Saturday renovations. All the kids were involved in one way or another, but as I was so young, not much was expected of me. I was usually just fetching drinks, remembering measurements, or holding screws for the adults, who were always perfectly friendly. Except for the few adults who came for the Saturday Renos and the occasional contractor, the older kids were the labor pool for fixing up the Ranch—just as they were during the week. Their involvement didn’t strike me as odd, though, because, even though my brother and his friends were still kids, to me they seemed essentially like grown-ups.
Between the kids work during the week and the Saturday Renos, the Motels and the School House were fixed up in that order. At the Motels, each room got a paint job, carpeting, curtains that were hand sewn, and a box AC/heater unit. Three or four bunk beds were set up in each room, accommodating seven or eight children. Every pair of rooms shared a bathroom with one toilet, one shower, and two sinks. We each had our own dressers, the same ones we had varnished and stained as our early projects. All the beds were provided with matching blankets and bedsheets. The mess hall was moved from the Big House into a very large room in the Motels. A laundry room was also added, equipped with a few washers and dryers. At some point, the swimming pool was cleaned, patched, and returned to a usable state, as well.
Next, the School House was renovated. The walls were painted with murals of the
Apollo
and the
Freewinds
. I even helped on the mural project, although I mostly messed it up with a few stray strokes at the bottom. Seeing the finished picture of the
Freewinds
was a thrill, though, because I knew it had been my mother’s project for so long. Besides the murals of the ships, the School House also had portraits of L. Ron Hubbard, supplemented with several of his quotations on the walls. The floors were tiled with linoleum, and the classrooms were furnished with long foldout tables and plastic chairs rather than individual desks.
Soon after the School House renovations were completed, a woman named Maria arrived to the Ranch. We were required to call her “Mr. Parker.” Mr. Parker was the adult responsible for education and activities. After with her arrival, more kids began to come. The School House had only two large rooms, one usually reserved for teenagers, while the other room was for younger kids, generally between four and twelve years old.
Right away, we started splitting our time between renovations we were helping with and classes. B. J. and I were far ahead of the other children, likely because the other children with us were much younger. All subjects were taught in the one room designated for our age group. Our main focus was reading and writing. There were no grades or report cards, and the teacher didn’t lead the class in instruction.
We all had to go to our berthings a little before nine o’clock in the evening. Lights out was around nine. Some nights a woman by the name of Mr. Jane Thompson, a new adult at the Ranch, came to our room with a guitar and sing “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” by John Denver, to help us go to sleep. There was always something comforting to her voice that never failed to remind me of when I was very little and my mom, on the nights she was home, would sing to me and stroke my hair to help put me to sleep.
M
Y FAVORITE THING ABOUT THE
R
ANCH WAS
S
ATURDAY NIGHTS
. As had been the arrangement in L.A., every Saturday night was when we’d visit with our parents. Only now, instead of them coming to us, Rosemary would pick Taryn, B. J., Justin, and me up at the Ranch and take us to our parents’ apartment at the Int Base. The apartment was in a complex not far from the base, and it was a two-bedroom unit with a balcony on the second floor. Like the arrangement in L.A., Mom and Dad had one bedroom and the Rinders shared the other. For our Saturday overnights, Justin claimed the couch in the living room, so I’d sleep on the bedroom floor.
It didn’t take long for us to settle into a new Saturday night routine, in which we’d stop first at the video store to rent a movie or two to keep us occupied while we waited for our parents. Although my parents had a television that got network broadcasts, it was not allowed at Int; at one point, Mom and Dad caught wind of a campaign to confiscate the televisions, and they’d been forced to hide theirs. However, once a week we were allowed to watch rented movies, and lots of kids would join us. In Justin’s age group, that could be Sterling, Taryn, and often Mike, Rosemary’s son. Another additon was Kiri, a girl that B. J. and I had played with sometimes when we lived in L.A., who arrived at the Ranch a few months after I did. Kiri was my best friend.
Together, we’d all stay up as late as we could. Mom and Dad usually got home around midnight, but sometimes it was even later. Most Sunday mornings, they would make breakfast for Justin and me, but depending on how much money they had, they might take us out to eat at Marie Callender’s, or to Walmart for shampoo, socks, or maybe shoes. As fun as it was to be out with them, it was difficult because the visits were always too short. My parents always had to be back at work by one on Sunday afternoons, which meant they had to drop us off at the Ranch an hour or so before that.
Even with us being brought to our parents, we still didn’t see that much of them, and often it was just Dad because a lot of the time, Mom was away on one special project or another. Once the
Freewinds
was launched, she was often in Los Angeles running renovations at the Celebrity Centre International, which was often undergoing improvements. Located in the old Manor Hotel on Franklin Avenue in downtown Hollywood, the seven-story building had been modeled on a French Normandy chateau and, in the 1920s, had been one of the area’s most glamorous hotels. It was purchased by L. Ron Hubbard in 1969 and opened to the Scientology public in 1972; over the years it had been in various stages of repair. Despite the name, the Celebrity Centre catered to all Scientologists; however, celebrities often used the facilities there because L. Ron Hubbard thought famous people of arts and letters were great assets to the church. Because he had become a writer of international fame, he appreciated the arts and also recognized that celebrities were instrumental in disseminating the benefits of Scientology.
When Mom finished at the Celebrity Centre, she moved on to Clearwater, Florida, where she ran renovations at the Flag Land Base. She was eventually given an apartment in the berthing complex there. Just as Uncle Dave had apartments in Flag, PAC, and Int, other important execs had more than one berthing. It wasn’t unusual at all for married couples to be stationed at different bases, as the greater good might be served this way. Since Mom was almost always at Flag, I’d speak to her on the phone at some point while I was at my parents’ apartment.
Though my mom was rarely around, Dad tried his best to be involved in my life. Eventually, he started coming on Fridays during his lunch break to visit my brother and me. He could only stay a short time, usually, at most, twenty minutes, but I always appreciated it when he came. We would usually just talk by his car or chat in my room. Sometimes, he’d bring me a little present. I especially liked when he brought me near beer, a nonalcoholic beer. Other times he would bring me my latest book shipment. He had signed me up for a Book of the Month Club where I would get a few books a month, which I
loved
. I always loved reading.
Very few parents came to see their kids at this time, but I wasn’t prone to wondering where the other kids’ parents were. Seeing Dad was such a rare thing—every minute that we were together felt precious.
W
ITHIN SIX MONTHS OF MY ARRIVAL AT THE
R
ANCH, EVERYTHING
became more regimented, as new kids began coming at a steadier pace. Mostly, they were kids closer to my age, although some of them were younger. In time, there were more than eighty kids there. With the major work completed on the Ranch, the adults from Int stopped coming for Saturday Renos. We were all given new uniforms—khaki pants or shorts, and red T-shirts with the “The Ranch” on the front in white letters. We also got sweaters and down vests for the winters and sweatpants for phys ed. Because boys and girls could no longer room together, I left B. J. in Room 12 and moved to Room 4 with six other girls. Previously, our Saturday pickup had been at around four or five in the afternoon. Now our parents, or in our case Rosemary, could pick us up only on Saturday at nine or ten at night.