Hubbard saw Welch’s rampage as an opportunity to experiment with the problem of acute mental breakdown. Total silence was enforced on the forecastle deck so that Welch would have nothing to stimulate him. Three times a day, Hubbard would write Welch a note, asking about his well-being. According to de la Carriere, Welch’s response might be, “You’re the devil incarnate. I’m going to enjoy plunging the knife in you.” Hubbard would respond that he understood, and by the way was there any special food that the chef could prepare for him? In this way, Welch’s rage began to subside. He allowed an auditor to visit him each day. After two weeks, the door to Welch’s cabin was unlocked and he emerged, serene and apparently cured.
“I have made a technical discovery which possibly ranks with the major discoveries of the twentieth century,” Hubbard boasted in one of his bulletins. “It is called the Introspection Rundown.” He explained that the psychotic break had long bedeviled psychiatry, which had attempted to treat it with drugs, lobotomies, and shock treatments. The key, Hubbard had discovered in his treatment of Welch, was to learn what had caused the person to “introspect” before his breakdown. “THIS MEANS THE LAST REASON TO HAVE PSYCHIATRY AROUND IS GONE,” Hubbard declared. “The psychotic break, the last of the ‘unsolvable’ conditions that can trap a person, has been solved.… You have in your hands the tool to take over mental therapy in full.”
Hubbard’s recipe for curing psychosis was to isolate the subject, with the attendants “completely muzzled (no speech).” By discovering the last severe conflict that triggered the episode, and then helping the subject discharge the emotions surrounding it, the auditor can begin to untangle the mental knots that have thrown the subject into his present state of wrestling with “the mystery of some incorrectly designated error.” The subject should be given vitamins, especially Vitamin B, along with calcium and magnesium, in order to restore his physical well-being. He should be examined on the E-Meter for discordant moments in his life, such as someone accusing him of something he hadn’t done, or being told he was a Potential Trouble Source when he wasn’t, or having his identity questioned. These steps are simple, Hubbard said, but “its results are magical in effectiveness.” The goal is to take the highly introverted personality, who is trapped in an endless loop of self-criticism, and bring him out of himself.
The subject should be able to look at the world once again and see it as “quite real and quite bright.”
“Do it flawlessly and we will all win,” Hubbard promised.
“THIS PLANET IS OURS.”
The Apollo crew were in awe of their leader. They had seen the transformation with their own eyes. “A madman was made sane on the high seas,” de la Carriere said. “To do that, you have got to have a certain amount of greatness.”
ONCE A WEEK, there was a movie night on the aft deck, with a recently released film flown in. Popcorn was made, a screen erected, and when everyone was settled Hubbard would descend from the prom deck, resplendent in his Commodore’s uniform, with Mary Sue and the children in tow.
In the interest of public relations, Hubbard staged free concerts at various ports of call, using the ship’s ragtag band, the Apollo Stars. He wanted to “revolutionize music,” and composed original songs for the band to play. He started a modern dance troupe as well. Quentin wanted to join the dancers, but his father sternly told him that he had other plans for him. By 1974, Hubbard had decided that his two oldest children by Mary Sue—Diana, twenty-two, and Quentin, twenty—were to take over the major management and technology functions of Scientology. Diana was enthusiastic—she had been the Lieutenant Commander since the age of sixteen and was often at her father’s side—but everyone knew that Quentin’s great ambition was to fly. His cabin was full of model airplanes, suspended from the ceiling with dental floss, and books about flying. He was often seen weaving along the deck with his arms outstretched, making engine noises, completely absorbed in being a plane.
Jim Dincalci, the medical officer who was still beached in Madeira, learned that the Apollo was headed in his direction. By now, he had made friends with many of the local people, and he was surprised to learn from them that the Apollo was widely suspected of being a spy ship for the CIA.8 He sent telexes warning the ship that it would be better to avoid Madeira, but Hubbard came anyway. Soon after the Apollo docked, a mob arrived and began stoning the ship. Hubbard ordered fire hoses turned on the crowd, which further infuriated them. There were motorcycles belonging to crew members and two of Hubbard’s cars which had been offloaded onto the pier; the mob shoved them all into the harbor, then loosened the moorings so that the ship drifted offshore. Mary Sue and some other members of the ship’s company were stranded in town and had to be rescued by the local authorities.