Thanks, Dr. Singer
Over a period of twelve or so years, I had the great privilege of spending
many wonderful hours with Margaret Singer and having her call me a friend. We
had a therapist-patient relationship, a professional relationship, a party
and a personal relationship. I am truly thankful for every minute of all those
We first met during the Julie Christofferson trial in the spring of 1985,
Dr. Singer testified as a psychological expert, and I testified about my
with Hubbard and the Scientology cult. I knew of Dr. Singer and her part in
opposition to cultic fraud and abuses because I had studied a lot of the anti-
literature after leaving Scientology, and she had already agreed to testify in
the trial of my cross-complaint against the cult, then set in Los Angeles
Court for the fall of 1986.
As anyone -- not a member of a dangerous cult, of course, or their
-- who ever met Dr. Singer will attest, she was a very kind, caring,
and funny soul. She was the best auditor (“one who listens”) I
met. Unlike the Scientology cult’s “auditors,” who all
their patients in every session every day, Dr. Singer kept her own counsel,
kept her own counseling safe and sacrosanct.
To prepare for her testifying in the trial of my cross-complaint, I met
Dr. Singer for a number of hours in the kitchen of her great old wood Berkeley
Hills home above the UC campus. The
kitchen was also her interview and counseling room, and I spent dozens of
over the next several years at her kitchen table, sipping her tea and nibbling
her cookies, hanging out and chatting with this great unassuming lady.
In the fall of 1985 I went to Boston to work for attorney Michael Flynn,
I communicated with Dr. Singer by letter and phone during that period in my
as Mike’s paralegal, and personally as the victim of Scientology
abuse for whom she would testify. As is well known, the LA case “
before trial in December 1986 and she was thus saved from testifying. But then
I moved to the Berkeley Hills myself after the “settlement,” only
a couple of miles away, so she wasn’t saved from me arriving at her
door every once in a while for a chat.
As is also well known, the Scientology cultists couldn’t quit fair
me after their “settlement,” which was terribly troubling to me,
my talks with Dr. Singer continued to be counseling sessions that provided
encouragement and stability. Just to have a person with Margaret Singer’
knowledge and professional approach and stature understand me as a person,
my intellect and my life and ethical choices, and grok my sense of humor, was
such a Godsend.
During my Berkeley Hills period, I did some cartooning where I wrote a word
or two in longhand, and then used the script to form comic characters. One of
these cartoons I made into a Christmas card:
I only have a bad color photocopy of this one I drew one for Margaret.
Her name turned into this sly looking swami selling an obviously priceless
signature technology to this relatively blind chump, which was sort of what
spent much of her life studying and writing about.
In 1990 I moved to Marin County, but still just a short drive from
and I stayed in touch with Dr. Singer and continued to see her on our informal
and irregular basis. In 1991 I started working with Ford Greene, so again I
had professional contact with her. Ford was, even more than Mike Flynn, a cult
litigation specialist, and had worked with and been friends with Dr. Singer
several years. While I worked with Ford, from 1991 through 1995, MTS was
in several of his cases, on his cc list for all sorts of cult-related matters;
and many times I was the guy to courier documents to her kitchen door.
Ford’s birthday is the winter solstice, so every year he hosted an
Birthday/ Christmas party, luring in some incredible northern California rock-
musical talent, half his Rolodex, and a good swath of the Marin legal and
community. Dr. Singer always made the pilgrimage across the Richmond-San
Bridge to this religious spectacle, and Ford always had a special bottle of
rum sequestered for her – not for her driver. I know that a recent
claimed that Margaret’s libation of choice was Bushmills Irish whiskey,
and it may have been in the last few years, but the understanding between Ford
and Dr. Singer was a good shot of good rum. She was great fun at a party.
Dr. Singer invited me to a very memorable party of her own, a garden party,
which must have been for her seventy-fifth birthday, at another friend’s
Berkeley Hills home, and may have been almost the last time I saw her. There
a bit of a joke among a number of us who knew MTS in her professional cult
that her husband, the alleged Jerome Singer, was an invention, perhaps of the
CIA, to provide cover for her real clandestine activities. So it was a major
to be invited to this garden party where her husband was to make an
and then to be able to report back to my cohorts that yes, Virginia, there
is a Doctor Singer.
Well, my Dr. Singer introduced me to her Dr. Singer -- who certainly could
have been a CIA stand-in – and advised him that I was not a whack job
that he wouldn’t be in any danger if he listened to my theory for the
Field, over which I’d had the great good fortune to trip. Well, Dr.
Singer really is a physicist in the way that Dr. Hubbard really is not, and
I told him my UF theory, he did listen and he did sit there for a moment. But
he didn’t all of a sudden have a kind of a stunned look come in his eye,
and he didn’t rush out, and he didn’t grab the phone, and he
say, "Shut down the experiment in number seven!" But it was a
day, and a fine party, and a wonderful memory of both of my Dr. Singers.
She was a friend. She was no fool. She was a funny lady. She was a trip.
at times she was God’s Unified Field for some of us with the great good
fortune to stumble onto her. Thanks Margaret.