going-clear-scientology-hollywood-and-the-prison-of-belief-by-lawrence-wright-2

guess how many recruits would ood into the church because of Spielberg’s imprimatur?
Or how much money would pour into Scientology’s coers by moguls and agents and
aspiring movie stars seeking to gain favor? The ambition behind such a play on the part
of the church was breathtaking. And Haggis had stepped into the middle of it with an
innocent jest.
Cruise turned his attention to the other Scientologists in the industry. Many had gone
quiet following the scandals in the church or had never openly admitted their aliation
with the church. Cruise called a meeting of other Scientology celebrities and urged them
to become more outspoken about their religion. The popular singer Beck, who had
grown up in the church, subsequently began speaking openly about his faith. Erika
Christensen, a rising young actress who was also a second-generation Scientologist,
called Cruise her spiritual mentor.
Inspired by a new sense of activism, a group of Scientology actors turned against
Milton Katselas, the gray eminence of the Beverly Hills Playhouse. No one had been
more instrumental in forging the bond between Scientology and Hollywood. Katselas
had been a longtime friend of Hubbard’s and still kept a photograph of him on his desk.
The two men were similar in many ways, but especially in their transformative eect on
those who studied under them. Humorous, compassionate, and charismatic, but also vain
and demanding, Katselas was not above bullying his students to make a point; however,
many of them felt that he had taken them to a higher level of artistry than they had ever
thought they could achieve. When Katselas addressed an acting student, it wasn’t just
about technique; his lessons were full of savvy observations about life and behavior.
One of those students, Allen Barton, was a classical pianist as well as a promising
actor. When Katselas heard him play, he found him a teacher and paid for his piano
lessons. Barton eventually arranged a recital on a Sunday evening. Katselas showed up
at the theater at eight that morning, just as the piano was being delivered. He noticed
that the stage was scratched, there were piled-up boxes spilling out of the wings, and a
large spiral staircase—a prop from an old production—was left on the stage, because it
was simply too big to move. Barton explained that he was going to cover up as much as
possible with black drapes. Katselas called his oce and within an hour ten people
arrived. He sent Barton o to relax and prepare himself for the performance. When
Barton returned that afternoon, the staircase was gone, the boxes had disappeared, the
stage had been sanded and painted, and four trees surrounded the piano. Even the pots
the trees were planted in had been painted to match the backdrop. The overall eect
was stunning. “Have a good show,” Katselas said, and walked away. Overwhelmed,
Barton ran after him. “How can I ever thank you?” he asked. As he drove o, Katselas
said, “Learn to expect it of yourself.”
Such stories became a part of the Katselas legend. He was an OT V and a very public
Scientologist, but he had stopped moving up the Bridge, in part because he refused to
travel to Flag, where the upper-level courses were oered. Moreover, he had gotten into
Ethics trouble because of his behavior with some of his female students. Jenna Elfman
was a leader of the revolt against Katselas. She had been one of his prize students,
winning a Golden Globe Award in 1999 for her free-spirited performance in the sitcom