Travel Biography - Week 23.

Before Leaving Los Angeles...

If I had a daughter still living at home, or for that matter, already flown the nest to attend college, then after graduating, announces that she wants to do some backpacking abroad for a gap year before settling down, how would I feel? Most likely happy for her, but not without a father-to-daughter talk about some people to avoid. Indeed, like any loving parent, my concern for her would always be in the back of my mind.

I remember reading a true-story book which I borrowed from a friend. Although this was many years ago, I had never forgotten its contents. The titular was an English female graduate I shall call Anne. She, like me, was backpacking around the USA, when she was chatted to by a couple of other women in the street of downtown Los Angeles. She was then escorted into an upstairs room where a thin weasely man delivered a lecture to a congregation of people of similar age. Is this beginning to look a little familiar?

Anne was immediately impressed, and she made a choice to go with the group to a mansion in the mountainous countryside, a beautiful spot away from any urban sprawl. Thus the group, officially known as part of the Unification Church, sounded very much like any other Christian denomination.

Mass wedding ceremonies were mandatory in the Unification Church.

However, it wasn't until she had arrived at the remote mansion that she heard of Sun Myung Moon, the founder of the church, for the first time. During the introductory lecture, like the one I attended in 1978, no leader claiming to be the Second Coming of Christ was mentioned in the preaching. When I paid attention to the lecture, not only had I found it dull and lacklustre, but something about it wasn't right. So I began to put him to the test of his beliefs by asking whether Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God. He couldn't answer. Furthermore, I was escorted out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the street. To them, I was poison. Fortunately, there was still plenty of time to get to the Greyhound Bus Station and book a seat on an overnighter to San Francisco.

The Cult's Inner Brainwashing.

But Anne lapped it all up. After arriving at the mansion, she, along with the others in her group, was each assigned a mentor as a course of intense indoctrination began. Like the other new recruits, she was taught that when Jesus attempted to establish his kingdom here on earth, instead, his mission came to an abrupt end when he was crucified. So, nearly two millennia later, the Holy Spirit called a rather obscure South Korean to America to establish the kingdom of God, with an emphasis on uniting all the churches under one spiritual umbrella. Hence the Asian, Sun Myung Moon, was hailed as the Messiah and the Second Coming of Christ fulfilled.

With such beliefs, I am wondering how anyone with a sound mind can be sucked into such nonsense! Had I not been thrown out that evening, I would have run - and kept on running - even from the mansion, over the mountains until I found safety at the bus station. Yet, mostly the younger people by the thousands, students, in particular, are convinced and are taken in.

At the mansion, Anne was never alone, not even for a moment. Instead, her mentor stuck by her at all times. Even when household duties were assigned to her, she, along with all other recruits, was constantly monitored, thus preventing any free thinking or allowing any doubt to set in. Yet, she soaked it all in and became an ardent convert to the movement. She began to write letters to her mother back in the UK, expressing the glorious wonders of the Unification Church, also known as the Moonies, how the movement met all her desires and her ambitions, and how a large percentage of her fellow converts were former graduates. She described her new associates as being one of a happy family.

Her mother was immediately concerned for her. After some time spent swopping letters, she flew to Los Angeles where her daughter was based. There, she sought out a couple of deprogrammers, a private business to which she had to pay an exorbitant fee. After much searching around the city, she was spotted, but her mother was instructed to hide from her offspring's presence and not to show herself to her, or else the deprogramming would fail and her daughter would be further entrenched into the cult. However, the mother did manage to meet and speak to the initial lecturer about her daughter, and the distress he had brought to her own family. That night, at her hotel, she had a dream that as she was looking at the thin man, his face metamorphosed into a demonic entity.

Sun Myung Moon.

After weeks, perhaps months of effort, the two long-haired and bearded men managed to get through to Anne, and gradually, she began to see the true nature of her "family" and began to drift away from them. Only after was her mother revealed to her, and the two were locked in a tight embrace, much to the joy of the deprogrammer's success in their efforts. The book which tells it all was co-authored by both Anne and her mother.

Isn't this meant to be a travel biography? Why, then, am I writing all this? Because of my own encounter with the same group whilst I was in Los Angeles in 1978, and also, going by their description, the very same lecturer as the one I met was part of my own travel experience. Anne's encounter took place shortly after mine, I believe, around 1980, give or take. And so, I write all this to demonstrate how easily anyone who needs love, social acceptance, or an uplift in self-esteem, could fall into the clutches of mind-bending cults and isms especially whilst far from home.

All of that goes to show what the 1970s were like. A time of religious fervency, particularly among young people who were deluded by the work ethic, war, the machine society, and the established church. Like whenever I went to London on a Saturday. Every time I was at Oxford Street or Piccadilly Circus, there was this group of young men, around my own age, all dancing in a line, chanting the Hare Krishna mantra along with accompanying rhythmic clanging of cymbals, dedicated to Swami Vivekananda, a guru of the Hindu god Krishna. These men were very distinct from the rest of us in the way that all were shaven-headed and each wore colourful Indian gowns. During the rest of the week, they all lived together as a commune under a strict, regimental discipline imposed by their leaders. Their popularity and fame were enhanced by ex-Beatle George Harrison with his 1971 song, My Sweet Lord.

The Journey Continues.

After I was thrown out of the Unification Church building near Pershing Square in the heart of Los Angeles, I made my way to the Greyhound Bus Station, itself towered over by the upper floors of the Cecil Hotel, from where I vacated earlier that day. It was while boarding the Americruiser and settling down in my seat, chosen at random, that a young black man ordered me out of my seat to make space for his girlfriend.

Wow! If there was a time that I felt very unwelcome, I think that was here in Los Angeles. First, I was escorted out of a building by, I assume, a church elder or steward. And now, I'm ordered to leave the seat I had every right to occupy. The abrupt suddenness of the order stunned me into silence, and I immediately rose to take the seat directly behind. When his girlfriend took her place where I briefly sat, a quarrel erupted between them, with her disapproving of his action. At last! A sense of vindication.

I arrived in San Francisco the following morning, and after a wash-and-shave, I had breakfast at the Bus Station restaurant, as was the custom. After that, I found a suitable hotel just across the road from the terminus. This was very different from the previous year's visit when I boarded a BART train to Walnut Creek to stay with a friend from Italy. This time, I intended to remain in the city and check it out properly, as my friend had already returned to Italy before my 1978 arrival.

And so I did for the next few days. This includes an ascent up the Transamerica Pyramid, a 48-floor tower which was, until 2018, the tallest building in San Francisco and the 17th tallest in the USA. However, in 1978, the observation gallery was on the 27th floor before it closed to the public in 2001. Barely halfway up the slender pyramid, it still offered good views of the Bay Area, with Coit Tower taking prominence of the scenery seen from the north side, with Alcatraz Island beyond. From the east side, the view take in Oakland Bay Bridge as it crosses the bay and passes over Yerba Buena Island. 

The one issue that struck me was how the people populating San Francisco were somehow different from those in Los Angeles. Whilst those living in southern California were predominantly of Spanish origin, hence having a darker Mediterranean complexion, people in San Francisco were paler, more British or Norwegian. Also, it seemed cooler here than further south, with fog often clouding the Golden Gate Inlet.

That didn't stop me from crossing on foot the Inlet on the Golden Gate Bridge (which is painted a dull red, not gold) to reach Marin County on the other side, from where I have an amazing view of the city skyline seen from a distance.

Along with riding the famous cable cars, especially along the California Line that goes up and over Nob Hill. After arriving back home, a friend asked me whether I was acting fully British by sitting inside the car like a proper commuter on his way to the office. I blushed a little and gave only a nodding ascent. Not like many of the locals who stood on the outer ledge and hung on whilst the car was moving. 

By contrast, praying and meditating in Grace Cathedral on the summit of Nob Hill gave me a time of quietness and even solitude. Quite a contrast to the crowded ferry which set sail from Fisherman's Wharf, past Alcatraz Island with its fortress prison, to a neighbouring harbour town of Sausalito, located on the east coast of Marin County, where I spent an afternoon sauntering around.

A Hare Krishna street chant.

Indeed, on my own, I have seen far more of San Francisco than I did when I was staying at Walnut Creek in 1977. A city built on two hills, Russian Hill where the switchbacks of Lombard Street make a tourist attraction in its own right, and Nob Hill, crowned with Grace Cathedral, of an Anglican denomination and apparently, the principal church of the city. Other attractions I visited that year included Pier 39 and Union Square.

Indeed, I found the city of San Francisco more tourist-friendly than downtown Los Angeles, but that is not a discredit to the Southern Californian city. After all, nearby is Disneyland, along with Hollywood Studios. Then I visited Long Beach, a pleasant stretch of sandy beach sloping into the Pacific Ocean. The Los Angeles administration area also covers Santa Monica with its historically famous pier, which I visited in 1995.

By contrast, San Francisco is built on a natural peninsula, with the Pacific Ocean to the west, Bay Area to the north and east, and two prominent hills, giving views of the surrounding coastline. Marin County, a smaller peninsula north of the inlet, is taken up mostly by the Golden Gate Natural Recreation Area towards the west, and the harbour town of Sausalito on the east coast, facing into the bay. The Golden Gate Bridge, itself a tourist attraction, connects the two peninsulas, making the city and the bay one of the most unique places on Earth.

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Next week, I shall be away on a hospital appointment for my wife as she attends a pre-op consultation. Thus by not being home in time to write another blog. Instead, I hope to publish a set of photos of what I have covered so far.

What a Contrast!

A homeless man stands in the street of Cambridge, one of the two world-famous University Cities, the other city being Oxford. It was a cold and dark February night. Presently, a passing student, having one drink over the top yet still dressed in a smart suit and bow-tie, approaches the homeless beggar and offered him some change. As the would-be recipient held out his hand in grateful anticipation, the student pulls out a £20 note and sets it on fire in front of him, either with matches or a cigarette lighter, with the words to the effect:

There you are, a change from £20 to a flame!

The student was Ronald Coyne, who was a member of the Cambridge Union Conservative Association, who also held Right Wing political views, and a supporter for Scottish independence. An ex-Public Schoolboy, he was also noted for his remarkable intellect. Upon publicity of such unbecoming, arrogant, and childish behaviour, his mother, who is living in Edinburgh, vigorously defended his son's personality, saying how lucky she has always been to have such a calm, charitable offspring for a son, and that particular incident was "so totally out of his character."

Cambridge student Ronald Coyne.

Echoes of the Bullington Club in Oxford?

The ultra-posh, aristocratic social club at the University, where membership is restricted to the very cream of English society, and initiation into membership involving the burning of a £50 note in the street in front of a cold, hungry homeless beggar. One former member of the Bullington, George Osborne, was until recently Chancellor of the Exchequer, the second most important politician in Government after the Prime Minister, and who was also responsible for ushering austerity, including cutting back on life-sustaining benefits for the struggling poor, even among those who manage to hold down a low-paid job, and forcing the crippled and infirm to seek work. Why not admit it? There is something unique about British culture!  

Perhaps I can go on. Just supposing that in the extreme unlikely odds that these two were close friends, and our charitable student invites the homeless beggar to accompany him to a church where neither has ever visited. Let's say it was a Baptist church set in a smaller town some distance out of Cambridge. Or it might be a Anglican church, or a Methodist church. Really, it does not matter which label the church names itself, nor its variations of theological teachings. The contrasting reactions by members of the congregation and its leaders between the two newcomers will be all but universal. And so would their reaction of the Gospel if presented to them.

Everyone in the church would be fully attentive to the student, not only as a potential member to add a degree of prestige, but a hopeful candidate for future leadership. If the student asked if he could give a talk, the minister would not hesitate to find a timeslot for him. The beggar, on the other hand, would be ignored, and woe to him if his days spent on the street resulted in body odour percolating through his untidy clothing. A large unoccupied area would grow around him. As for response to the Gospel, of course Ronald calls himself a Christian, and he plainly says so. And so a timeslot is assigned to him for the following weekend, and with his high intellect, he preaches rather eloquently, impressing everyone. He is held dear to all - until a couple of weeks later when he is pictured in the national newspaper about an incident where he was seen cruelly mocking another homeless tramp and setting fire to a £20 note right in front of his eyes. All in the church who read the report would be shocked and disappointed. And the student would never return, let alone preach. Because no matter how eloquent and deeply academic his preach might have been, he knows that he will never regain the respect of the congregation ever again. His faith has died, and it will remain dead in their sight forever, with no potential hope of resurrection.

As for the beggar, who was formerly an interested enquirer of the faith, he returns to his favourite spot in the Cambridge street feeling very disillusioned. What a hollow, hypocritical sham this "Christian" stuff is all about! His heart hardens, and takes the road to atheism. Was the student's dead faith able to save the beggar? (James 2:14). His anger towards his former friend's childish and arrogant behaviour will not only set his heart rock-hard against organised religion or even anything spiritual, but it's the start of his health gradually deteriorating. The time will come when he will by lying on the bed of a hospital ward, even if still a good few years away.

Miracles do happen. Big miracles. Because despite the beggar's hardened attitude against posh churchgoers, some time later, another passer-by arrives and stops to where the beggar is sitting. He too takes out some pound coins and hands them over to him. No fire this time. The benefactor, unlike the student, is dressed casually with denim torn at the knees as if deliberately, and with a plain tee-shirt. When the beggar thanks him for the gift, the giver, instead of merely walking away, decides to sit next to him for a chat and to find out how the beggar had gotten into this state after all.

The two had chatted for maybe up to an hour before they agree to visit a coffee shop nearby, where the beggar is treated further. Then the moment arrives when the beggar asked what the motive was behind the donor's generosity. He explains that God loves him so much that he has put into his heart to show generosity and compassion, especially to those worse off than himself, after realising that God sent his Son Jesus of Nazareth to die a cruel death to atone for all his shortcomings, was buried, and three days later rose physically from the dead, leaving behind his clothing lying undisturbed in an empty tomb, proving that this Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ, the Son of God.

Suddenly the beggar believed, also realising that it was God who brought this kind donor to take an interest, to talk and to spend time together. It was the living faith of this rather scruffy benefactor which saved him, and not the dead faith of the immaculately dressed Cambridge student.

Although I have fictionalised a true incident recorded in a newspaper article, the story isn't far from real experience. Before I go any further, I have to confess that I do have some reserve towards the "homeless" in our streets, because some of these people do have a place to stay, so I read. I have even heard that some of these beggars, especially in London, actually having day jobs. But the worst experience took place in Israel 1993. In Jerusalem I took pity on someone who looked to have a serious leg injury. So I gave him some money - and not just a few coins either. It wasn't until some time afterwards that I became aware that I have been taken for a ride. Since then, if I want to give, I always make sure my donations passes through a recognisable charity, especially a Christian one. 

Nevertheless, the above story does reflect my conversion way back in December 1972. Having been dumped by my girlfriend earlier of that year, indeed I felt like a beggar myself, in want of something - a loving wife and a family of children growing up. Like any other young man in his right mind, I suppose. Like in the story, I too was approached by not just one but two benefactors. Or at least that how I saw them. And like in the story, I too was atheist. The only difference was that it was I who had invited them to a nearby bar - to get out of the rain - and bought them drinks. But in the warmth of the saloon bar table, they did open a Bible and showed me the appropriate Gospel verses, mainly in the Gospel of John and perhaps oddly enough, in the book of Revelation too (3:20). Then I knew that it was God who brought this two young guys to me. It was from this moment of believing in divine providence that I was acquitted, justified (imputed with the righteousness of God) and became a newborn babe in Jesus Christ.

That the conversion in that bar off the Strand in Central London was genuine was confirmed, I believe, some seven years later in 1978, when I had some free time in Downtown Los Angeles, strolling through Pershing Square with its central fountain whilst preparing for the overnight Greyhound Bus trip to San Francisco. It was near here that I was approached by two pretty young females who eventually encouraged me to visit a Christian church which was holding a meeting at a certain address which was nearby. We entered the building through the door facing the street, and climbed a flight of steps which led into a fair sized upper room full of young people. Presently, a thin, spindly man sporting a moustache and goatee began to deliver his lecture. However, there was nothing edifying about his preach, something which raised my concerns. So I confronted him and looking directly at him, I asked what he thought about Jesus Christ. Did he come in the flesh? That means: Was he crucified, buried, and on the third day rose physically from the dead? The lecturer could not answer. Instead, he summoned another guy to escort me out of the room, down the stairs, and out onto the street. It was a lucky escape.

In 1978 I was on guard. A contrast to Ronald Coyne, upper.

A very lucky escape. For this particular group was not a Christian church at all. It was the cult of the Moonies, better known as the Unification Church of God, founded by the late far Eastern entrepreneur Sun Myung Moon, who arrived into the States from his birthplace in North Korea a few years earlier in 1972, and who was also a firm supporter of President Richard Nixon, especially during the Watergate scandal which caused the President to resign before his term was through. You can read my other blog on this experience which gives greater detail by clicking here - Signs of the Times. (But do finish this one before clicking on the link!)

Supposing that I was in the same spiritual situation as that beggar in Cambridge, assuming that he was an open-minded enquirer of the Christian faith? And was approached by the same two women in the same way I was approached in 1978? Instead of being on guard to test the spirits, instead I would have been sucked in to undergo a strict recruiting process at some remote location. From Los Angeles, this would have been at a mansion miles away in remote mountainous country somewhere in California, making any attempt to escape very difficult if not downright impossible.

But it was God himself who rescued me from this cult through faith in Jesus Christ. It's the power of the Holy Spirit within me to enable me to "test the spirits to see whether he is of God or not" (1 John 4:1), and when I found him wanting, it was through the grace of God that had me escorted out of the building. This is the very same kind of faith that this beggar is in dire need of, and not the arrogant, childish behaviour of a snooty, over-educated ex-Public schoolboy, who has never experienced hardship, let alone poverty, and has a very dim view of the valuable things in life - smart dress not withstanding.