This is Photojournalist Fred G. Haseney with his eye on scientology. Today, I’m reporting from the Pacific Area Command Base (“PAC Base” or “Big Blue”), the so-called “church” of scientology’s West Coast headquarters. More specifically, I’m reporting further on the preparations made on May 28, 2016, for the Grand Opening of the Scientology Media Productions (“SMP”), located at 4401 W. Sunset Blvd., about ten blocks east of PAC Base. This blog continues where the first two parts left off (“Scientology Media Productions—Grand Protest—May 28, 2016—Part 1” and “Part 2“).

After a peaceful protest around PAC Base, where we drove and walked around Big Blue, all the while carrying Phil and Willie’s message of love (“To my loved one in scientology… call me”), we went to SMP’s facility, where I felt oppressed, suppressed and stopped. Scientology’s toxic practice of “disconnection” breaks up families; it’s a control factor, neither voluntary nor pleasant, and is designed to keep you in line. Within SMP’s permitted event perimeter, scientology demonstrated their narcissistic, anti-social, and psychotic need to control everything and everyone. I found their “grand opening” sadly suffocating. The Declaration of Independence declares that Americans have “unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and I have a right to protest and speak my mind. In doing so, I extend my hand to scientologists everywhere who have lost some of those unalienable rights due to David Miscavige’s dictatorship of scientology.

Photo Caption: After I left PAC Base, I walked along Fountain Ave. (where I noticed that scientologists had parked at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital) Next, I crossed Virgil Avenue and, before reaching Sunset Blvd., I cut through a parking lot to get to a location across the street from SMP. On one side of the parking lot is a business that used to be Circuit City; on the other wide, Del Taco (which, for years, had been Pioneer Chicken). Craziness ensued upon my arrival. I soon had a Del Taco Security Guard (“SG”) in front of me, telling me that the parking lot would be completely off limits. In fact, the sidewalk would be off-limits, and the SG pointed to a tiny triangular island, no bigger than a bread box (more-or-less), across the street and south of where we stood (it’s where Sunset Blvd. and Fountain Ave. meet). “Are you with scientology?” I asked the SG. “No,” he replied, “I’m a private SG that Del Taco has hired to keep their driveway and parking lot open to cars and cleared of pedestrian traffic.” He seemed nice enough, even friendly, and had the kind of look in his eyes that didn’t say “scientologst,” so I thanked him, and left for my corner of the bread box. In this picture are two red arrows that point out that The Golden Age of Shrub Tech II is in full force, not only on the sidewalk, but also in a lounge area on the second floor of SMP. That area may have been for VIPs (whales) and Z-Level celebrities (such as Jenna “Whinny” Elfman). Notice a cameraman on the sidewalk, his camera pointed at SMP’s red carpeted area, just south of their main entrance.

Photo Caption: Before I headed to the bread box, I joined Marie Sue for a bite and drink at Del Taco, and got to take a few photos of SMP’s red carpeted entrance (which is blocked from view in this picture by the the and hustle and bustle across the street). I thought, “No! This can’t be the end to a very productive day!” Yes, we had a bread box to stand on where all the protesters flashed “call me” signs as scientology shuttle buses arrived, bringing event attendees to SMP. I decided not to let this become the low point of an otherwise great day. Notice the red arrow, because that would be my destination, closer to the red carpeted area than any other protester (with the exception of Phil and Willie Jones and anyone driving by with the “call me” signs) there would be absolutely nothing that a security—or police officer—could do about it.

Photo Caption: I took this photo from from Del Taco. You can see the event’s red carpet as well as a photographer who is ready to shoot someone’s picture. Notice the sign behind the photographer (the one on a pedestal), which prohibits videotaping or audio recording. It also appears that an on-location photographer will be available inside for souvenir photographs (for a fee, no doubt). Notice the sign to the left which reads, “Sign In/Ticketing.”

Photo Caption: In another picture taken from the east side of Sunset Blvd., we spot The Golden Age of Yellow Cone Tech II in full swing. Notice the cameraman as well as the boom operator (circled in red), because he will eye me suspiciously later. A boom operator, incidentally, is responsible for microphone placement. The boom operator holds a boom pole with a microphone attached to the end, which is called a boom mic. The boom pole, or “fishpole,” allows the boom operator to keep the microphone as close as possible to the action. The cover in place on this boom microphone is wind-attentuating. (Thanks, Wikipedia!)

Photo Caption: This is what the protesters were reduced to, a space no bigger than a bread box, where Fountain Ave. meets Sunset Blvd. In this photo, I’m facing south, looking at Sunset Blvd. That’s a Metro Bus #2 headed west. The “oil change” sign is for Valvoline Instant Oil Change, located at 4539 W. Sunset Blvd. Between the bus and oil sign is the bread box; notice a protester with a “call me” sign.

Photo Caption: For this photo, I’m standing on the bread box. Across the street is Valvoline; sitting on the grass is a Valvoline sign-spinning employee taking a break (with his good looks, I’ll bet he’s in Hollywood looking for his first “big break” in motion pictures). To the left, next to the bus stop, are two police officers who will soon try to kick me off Valvoline’s property. The arrow to the right will be my approach to Valvoline without being stopped by police, Security Guards (hired or Sea Org), or members of the Office of Special Affairs (“OSA”). First, however, I would have to deal with OSA Sea Org (“SO”) member, Ed Parkin* (shown here in a purple jacket, ascot and hat).

Photo Caption: This composite shows two sides of Mr. Parkin. Many of us got to meet a third side of the man, his nasty side. When I arrived at my bread box, I casually walked toward Ed. I didn’t know him and knew nothing about the guy. First, I crossed the street using the crosswalk, but as soon as my foot touched the sidewalk, Ed barked, screamed and commanded: “STEP BACK! STEP OFF THE SIDEWALK!”

Have you ever seen 1993’s motion picture, Jurrasic Park? At the beginning of the movie, Robert Muldoon (portrayed by actor Bob Peck) directs the delivery of a large crate to Jurrasic Park. In the crate is a dinosaur which will soon eat a human without remorse. Meanwhile, everyone is on pins and needles as Muldoon directs the delivery. Muldoon obviously has dealt with such a delivery before and commands a presence that bestows respect. In directing those positioning the crate into place, Muldoon barks, “Stand back. Slow it down. Pushing team, move in there. MOVE IN.” As tasers are switched to “full” charge, Muldoon continues, “Steady! Go on. STEP BACK!” The way Mr. Parkin barked his commands sounded much like Muldoon, but with the authority, instead, of a David Miscavige.

Photo Caption: Steven Spielberg directed that money-making blockbuster; he also directed another fan favorite, 1981’s Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Poor Mr. Parkin has the distinction of reminding me of that movie’s evil character, Major Arnold Toht (played with devilish delight by actor Ronald Lacey). There is, however, nothing delightful about Mr. Parkin. (Photographs courtesy Paramount Pictures.)

Mr. Parkin also proved undeniably that if you leave scientology and speak out against them, they will comb your Pre-Clear (“PC”) and/or Ethics folders for everything and anything they can use against you (such information is to be found only in one’s “priest/penitent” confessional folders; thanks, Juicer77). First, Jason, a Sea Org SG, proved this on May 1, 2016, when he asked me a certain question, quite slyly I might add, something only an Auditor or Ethics Officer from the three decades would know anything about. On May 28, 2016, Mr. Perkins proved that Sea Org scientologists will spread rumors about critics such as myself. But this time, I fought back.

Photo Caption: From my YouTube Channel comes the video, Scientologist—Sea Org Member—Office of Special Affairs—Ed Parkin—Ex-PR/Legal, in which I spent thirty seconds hounding Mr. Parkin to repeat his question so I could capture that rumor monger on film. Poor Mr. Parkin couldn’t face me nor could he owe up to the fact that he had sunk to a new low in his attempt to undermine, provoke and prod me like a wild dinosaur in a crate on some tropical island. So I ate him.

Photo Caption: After my encounter with Major Toht, I embarked on an evasive endeavor. After scoping out the area, I realized that there would be only point of attack: the most northern edge of Valvoline, a parking space, actually, some feet away from SMP’s red carpet. As I planned my strategy, I heard that protesting along the west side of Hoover St. would be futile (I filed that one away as it would be something I would later challenge with success). I then crossed Hoover St., walked past three creepy OSA operatives (people I’ve seen watching protesters at PAC Base before, even earlier that morning), and darted across the street into Valvoline’s center car bay. There, I found a very nice young man in charge and asked permission to spend a few minutes on the most northern tip of their property in order to take pictures. (All the while I wore the “call me” sign!) At first, he didn’t think it would be possible. So I said, “You’ll be doing mankind a big favor if you’d ask your boss for permission, please.” The young man left for a few moments and returned with the permission I sought! God Bless that young man, his boss and Valvoline! In this photo, I’m in place at the most northern tip of Valvoline’s property, watching two police officers looking at my fellow protesters on the bread box, a place that scientology THOUGHT would contain us. Those policeman, however, don’t know yet that I’ve invaded “enemy territory.” I’m behind the “Iron Curtain,” so-to-speak, a barrier that separates the slaves of scientology from the free world.

Photo Caption: The air is considerably denser behind the “Iron Curtain” as I watch SMP event festivities unfold. I’m facing Sunset Blvd., and Del Taco (the place from which I took photos a little earlier) is across the street. In front of that restaurant, as indicated by a red arrow, are two people, most likely OSA operatives, taking pictures (of me?). The other arrow indicates a guy in a suit who can’t quite figure out who I am, what the “call me” sign means, and/or how the heck I’ve managed to cross enemy lines.

Photo Caption: Things behind enemy lines gets tense when the Boom Mic man notices me as seen in this composite of three pictures.

Photo Caption: By this time, I’m having a ball, a veritable party in my mind, because no one has yet realized that I’ve entered enemy territory. For this photo, I aim my camera and the “call me” sign in the direction of official event goers, including a guy on the right who must be a hired Security Guard (check out that vest!). Notice the woman on the left, walking toward the red carpet area, holding an “Admit One” ticket. Notice the shorter of the two girls as she reads the “call me” sign; in a few minutes, she would realize that I had a camera aimed her way and would block her face from me.

Photo Caption: La, la, la, la, la! Nobody has yet caught onto what I’ve done. Meanwhile, the two policemen who would, in a few minutes, attempt to boot my butt from Valvoline act as smiling bookends as Mr. and Mrs. Event Goer and Child approach the red carpet area. Up until this point, security may have prevented this family from seeing the numerous “call me” signs, but scientology hasn’t counted on the fact that nobody would dare cross enemy lines. Here I am, folks! Look at, read and comprehend the simplicity, sincerity and love contained in two small words: “Call me”!

Photo Caption: Hey, Sea Org Security Guards and Policemen: flunk! I’m still in full view and nobody has realized that a six-foot-four man with a huge “call me” sign and Sony camera has invaded their space! In this photo, I manage to impinge the message of “call me” upon the minds of this handsome scientology event-going couple.

Photo Caption: Here’s another scene, not far from the red carpet. A man on the left, wearing an “Oregon” cap has noticed me. Is this beginning of the end for my secret spot?

Photo Caption: For this photo, I’ve zoomed in on the last shot. More specifically, I’ve focused on a logo stretched across the back of a man’s t-shirt, which reads: www dot bellsound dot com. A screen grab from that company’s website is the other picture in this composite. “Welcome to Bell Sound Studios.” “Bell Sound Studios has provided high quality production and post production services in Hollywood.” “916 N. Citrus Ave., Los Angeles, CA 90038.” Uh, wait a minute. Didn’t scientologists cough up MILLIONS for this state-of-the-art studio? Then why have they hired an outside firm to handle something I would assume that Sea Org-based Golden Era Productions (“Gold”) has been doing for years?

Photo Caption: Uh-oh. I’ve been discovered. In this composite, the picture on the right is an enlargement of the one on the left. In it, there are various arrows: one points out the Z-Level celebrity toilets; another points out Del Taco across the street. The red arrow pointing downward points at Jason, the SO SG who started the rumor mongering after somebody (at OSA?) picked apart my PC/Ethics folders, like some starving vulture. The red arrow at the bottom of the picture points at a police officer’s hands. Would I be wrong in assuming that this is a secret hand signal for “Suspect About to be Busted”?

That police officer’s business card, incidentally, reads: “Los Angeles Police Department”; “77th Street Area”; “77th Street Patrol Division”; “James E. Brewer Regional Facility”; 7600 S. Broadway, Los Angeles, CA 90003.”

In an earlier picture, I pointed out two policeman as smiling bookends. When they came for me, however, they had lost that smile. To them, I became their enemy, and Secret Hand Signal Man tried to make me leave the premises. I told him that I had permission to be there. When Secret Hand Signal Man left to check with SO SG, the other police officer didn’t treated me very nicely, but that changed when Secret Hand Signal Man returned, because I took him to the person from which I had gotten permission to enter No Man’s Land. Defeated, the police officers left, and I got to keep my ground for a few more precious minutes before my time at Valvolineland expired.

Photo Caption: On the right side of this photo, we see Secret Hand Signal Man standing this side of Jason, the “I’ve Picked Your PC & Ethics Folders Clean” Sea Org member. On the other side are two unidentified individuals; the man in the foreground is, I believe, a SO SG. Why do they look at me so suspiciously and apprehensively? Whys is a message of love (“To my loved one in scientology… call me”) so hard for them to grasp?

Photo Caption: Later, hired security men, policemen and a SO SG on Sunset Dr. looked at me the same way: suspiciously and apprehensively. Why is a message of love so misunderstood?

Photo Caption: Before I used up my time in Valvolineland, I shot this photo. Notice the Shrub Tech as seen from behind. Jason, Mr. Rumor Monger Potty Mouth stands on the right, quite appropriately in front of the toilets. Walking past the shrubs are two SMP employees (dressed in black pants and t-shirts with the “SMP” logo). The red arrow points to the roof across the street. At that corner, the northwest side of Sunset Blvd., where it meets Fountain Ave., a cameraman will soon set up shop on the building’s roof. The permit for this Very Special Event indicates, if I remember correctly, that it’s a filming venture.

Photo Caption: If the permit for SMP’s event is for filming that event, then why did this guy set up his camera and aim his lens at me? In this composite, we can see the progression, from left to right, from setting up the camera to shooting film. I shot this picture from my treasured spot in Valvolineland. Did that guy have permission to be on that roof? If so, what excuse did scientologists give the building’s owner for why they needed to film from that perch?

Photo Caption: Later, as I walked north along Hoover St., this cameraman demonstrated the fact that scientology aimed many of their cameras away from the event.

Photo Caption: In this composite, I took the photo on the left at the southeast corner of Fountain Ave. and Sunset Blvd. I shot the middle picture at the northwest corner of Hoover St. and Sunset Dr. I shot the picture on the right at the northeast corner of Sunset Blvd. and Sunset Drive.

Photo Caption: After I touched bases with the manager at Rudy’s Barbershop (with entrances from Sunset Dr. and Sunset Blvd.), I looked out of the shop onto Sunset Blvd. In this composite, I shot the photo on the left, looking south along Sunset Blvd., after my right foot touched the sidewalk. The guy in the photo on the right barked a command, “STEP AWAY FROM THE SIDEWALK!” After I jumped back inside Rudy’s shop, I told the two of them they should be ashamed of themselves. I think they were, because they didn’t say anything and quickly averted attention to their handheld electronic devices.

Photo Caption: For this composie, I stood on Hoover St., listening to Four Feet Thirteen blather endlessly. On the roof of the parking structure stood about fifteen people, all eagerly hypnotized by the Shermanspeak coming for Dear Leader. The picture on the left shows them patiently listening to David “Let Him Die” Miscavige’s endless drone; the picture on the right show the faithful clapping like trained seals.

Photo Caption: As I shot this photo of two familiar faces on LRH Way, I commented that I hadn’t seen them for a few weeks (I first took their photo in “Reconnecting the Disconnected and Declared: Lockdown at PAC Base!” April 25, 2016). In this composite, I got to see them later s part of the trained seals act gazing in awe at You-Know-Who.

Photo Caption: Like minds think alike. Braving capture, I ventured north on Hoover St., to Sunset Dr., and on my way back, I captured, on film, three lovely beings. From left-to-right: Ross & Carrie (of Oh No, Ross and Carrie! who have been, for the last eight podcasts, scientologists. Like their website states, they join religions “so you don’t have to”). To their right is Jeffrey Augustine, of The Scientology Money Project and OTVIIIisGrrr8!, scientology satire at its best.

All images (unless noted otherwise) © 2015—2016 Fred G. Haseney. All rights reserved.

Links:

Stop Scientology Disconnection.

Sources:

Loonapix Photo Editor (“Reality of the Black-and-White Photo”).

  • Originally “Ed Parkins,” I’ve since edited this blog to reflect “Ed Parkin” instead. My thanks to at least two readers who noticed this.
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