It’s been a rough couple of weeks for the Church of Scientology. First “Nightline” aired a segment about former Scientologists who claimed they were physically abused by church leader David Miscavige, then Paul Haggis made a stink about leaving the church based on its attitude toward gays, and finally they lost a big court case in France. What else could go wrong? The St. Petersburg Times could go for another bite of the apple and run a big story about how the Church of Scientology treats people who want to leave the organization, that’s what.

The story touches directly on the odd paranoia that Scientology has exhibited to various degrees during its entire lifetime. However, I’ve got my own story to tell. I have personally been a target of that paranoia.

Back when I was matriculating at Eckerd College, I took a class on pseudoscience and the paranormal, and part of the class was that we had to do some sort of field investigation. I didn’t know a ton about Scientology at that point, but I did know that  Scientology’s spiritual headquarters was in nearby Clearwater, Florida. I made some calls to Flag Land Base (the former Fort Harrison Hotel, and Scientology’s primary presence in Clearwater) and determined that the building was open to the public.

This was, I believe, January 1992. I think that was a strange time for Scientology. L. Ron Hubbard had died in 1986, and the church was just coming out of the power struggles over who would lead it, and dealing for the first time with the fact that Hubbard’s directives were sometimes self-contradictory without Hubbard around to interpret them. The church was also in the middle of a major charm offensive and growing rapidly, while at the same time having major legal troubles with the IRS and the local Clearwater government. Since then the church has become a lot more focused and less open. I don’t think Flag Land Base is open to the public anymore.

After plowing through “Dianetics,” and every other book I could find about Scientology, including “Bare-Faced Messiah,” I headed up to Clearwater with my friend Chris.

Finding Flag Land Base was not hard. At the time it was one of the larger buildings in Clearwater, roughly defining the southern edge of the downtown area. It was beautiful building, an impression that was heightened by the fact that the rest of downtown was in a clear state of decay. We walked up to the front entrance, where we were met by a very friendly security guard, and older gentlemen I’ll call Bob.* I told him I had an appointment, which I had made a few days earlier, to talk with a church spokesman.

We were ushered into an open office on the first floor, off of the lobby of the hotel. I explained that I was doing a school project and that I had a list of questions I’d like to ask about Scientology. Nothing hostile or overly probing, though I admit I was curious about any church that has teachings that aren’t immediately available to the public. Things seemed to be going pretty well, but at a certain point in the conversation the spokesman turned cold. I didn’t catch the exact moment this happened, but Chris thought that it was when I said something that led the spokesman to figure out I was from a college, not a high school. I don’t think I had specified one way or the other when I made the appointment, and it hadn’t occurred to me it would make a difference.

After the interview we wandered a bit around the public area of the lobby, looking at the museum devoted to L. Ron Hubbard and such. I then went to the bookstore and checked some quotations I had gotten from books about Scientology against the actual books for sale, just to make as sure as I could that sources like “Bare-Faced Messiah” weren’t making things up out of whole cloth. While in the store I happened to notice that Bob the security guard was talking to a red-headed kid. The kid was about 10 or 11 years old, which struck me as a little odd because it was a school day. Bob was leaning very close to the kid, as if telling him something important. They looked enough alike that I thought they might be related, so I thought it might be a family matter.

Mission accomplished, I said goodbye to the spokesman and we left. Neither Chris nor I had ever been to Clearwater, so we decided to take a quick walk around to see the sights. We headed north, into downtown. We had gone four or so blocks when I noticed that the red-headed kid I had seen Bob talking to was about a block behind us. I quietly told Chris that I had seen that kid back in the lobby, and I wasn’t sure, but he might be following us. We continued walking, heading east, then west, and sure enough, the kid stayed about a block behind us. We even did a loop around a block to make sure. Realizing that we weren’t entirely welcome, we headed back to our vehicle, which was parked south of the Fort Harrison, and the kid was behind us the whole way even though we were backtracking.

I’m still not entirely sure what I did that caused Scientology to sic a Junior Woodchuck on me. It was a surreal moment. In the years since I’ve watched Scientology become more mainstream, but I can’t help wondering if somewhere in Flag Land Base my name is still on an enemies list somewhere.

*In fact this may have been his actual name, but after 17 years memory fails on the details.

You can find the Nightline segment online here. Much like the St. Petersburg Times story it’s based on, it’s mostly about David Miscavige, the current leader of the CoS, and the alleged abuse he metes out. I wish some investigative paper would take on some of the scientific/factual claims that Scientology makes, but I guess the Church is now established enough that the news media gives them a pass on all matters of doctrine, just like the other religions.

Sometime soon, I’ll write about my encounter with the Church, and why I’m probably still on an enemies list somewhere in the Clearwater Flag Land Base.