through. For all the suffering our leader had to endure trying to educate imbeciles, fight against racism, and worry about our futures, Mark Blakey, my Brutus, became Jim’s muse. When summer was over, Mark found it hard to leave. Jim told him he was desperately needed and hinted at new responsibilities. With so much love surrounding him, Mark stayed. Jim quickly arranged for me to marry Mark so that he would not be deported once his three-month visa ran out.
“But he’s supposed to go back and finish his A-levels,” I objected.
“Darling, don’t be jealous, I need him here. He has skills and charm and abilities this organization needs,” Jim explained patiently.
“But his parents expect him. His brothers and sister will be upset. And the school is expecting him to return as Head Boy.”
“Honestly, darling, you have much to learn.” Jim looked at me curiously, his voice calm and assuring. “What is more important, helping the poor or finishing school? He’ll learn more with us. He is leadership material. His experiences on his family’s farm, his agricultural expertise, may come in handy in our future.”
When Mark’s mother came to America, furious and determined to take the eldest of her four children home, she found herself the center of Jim’s and Carolyn Layton’s attention. By now, Carolynhad become quite powerful in the church and was Jim’s only true confidante. Mrs. Blakey was catered to and indulged, perhaps even made to believe her son was being groomed for some important role in the organization, which in fact he was. A new Temple member, Tim Stoen, who was also a respected San Francisco assistant district attorney, invited her to stay at his home. His beautiful wife, Grace, chauffeured Mrs. Blakey everywhere through San Francisco and the wine country of Sonoma County. Finally, convinced that the Temple was the best place for her son, she returned to Northumberland alone.
Jim continued to pull both Mark and me into his universe. He gave us a sense of importance, and in return, we handed our will over to him. His presence filled my inner emptiness and gradually his life’s work became my own. It was easy to be part of Jim’s world; it was already created, furnished, had friendly inhabitants, instant friends, established rules, and boundaries. Jim was kind and attentive. He told me that I could accomplish anything I set my heart on. I flourished. I became a part of the “skits” troupe, an elite group of individuals whose task was to put on performances explaining why capitalism was bad and socialism good. We made our points by spoofing the political system. Father explained that this was the “common man’s way” to educate the misinformed and ignorant. After each Family Teach-in performance, Jim came and applauded my ability to grasp the Cause’s doctrine and to communicate it to the congregation. Although I missed my parents, I knew I had to succeed at something, and this was my last chance. My new father was strict, believed in “tough love,” and didn’t let me sneak around the rules. He challenged me, inflated my self-esteem with praise, and made me feel safe.
My parents had hoped I would attend the University of California at Davis as had my siblings, but the SAT exams my parents arranged that I sit for in Liverpool, England, indicated I needed a jump start at junior college. They were a little apprehensive about my going to the Temple’s college dormitory, but they knew I needed structure for my first year. One of my American high school friends had been murdered eighteen months earlier, and Mama and Papa were afraid of my returning to my hoodlum crowd.
Now, as I calmed down, became more confident and determined to succeed, they were amazed and relieved. I was actually maturing. Some concern remained, however, as I, like Larry, visited them lessand less frequently. Even Christmas and Thanksgiving now had to be spent with my new family.
Mama began to reevaluate her own
“But he’s supposed to go back and finish his A-levels,” I objected.
“Darling, don’t be jealous, I need him here. He has skills and charm and abilities this organization needs,” Jim explained patiently.
“But his parents expect him. His brothers and sister will be upset. And the school is expecting him to return as Head Boy.”
“Honestly, darling, you have much to learn.” Jim looked at me curiously, his voice calm and assuring. “What is more important, helping the poor or finishing school? He’ll learn more with us. He is leadership material. His experiences on his family’s farm, his agricultural expertise, may come in handy in our future.”
When Mark’s mother came to America, furious and determined to take the eldest of her four children home, she found herself the center of Jim’s and Carolyn Layton’s attention. By now, Carolynhad become quite powerful in the church and was Jim’s only true confidante. Mrs. Blakey was catered to and indulged, perhaps even made to believe her son was being groomed for some important role in the organization, which in fact he was. A new Temple member, Tim Stoen, who was also a respected San Francisco assistant district attorney, invited her to stay at his home. His beautiful wife, Grace, chauffeured Mrs. Blakey everywhere through San Francisco and the wine country of Sonoma County. Finally, convinced that the Temple was the best place for her son, she returned to Northumberland alone.
Jim continued to pull both Mark and me into his universe. He gave us a sense of importance, and in return, we handed our will over to him. His presence filled my inner emptiness and gradually his life’s work became my own. It was easy to be part of Jim’s world; it was already created, furnished, had friendly inhabitants, instant friends, established rules, and boundaries. Jim was kind and attentive. He told me that I could accomplish anything I set my heart on. I flourished. I became a part of the “skits” troupe, an elite group of individuals whose task was to put on performances explaining why capitalism was bad and socialism good. We made our points by spoofing the political system. Father explained that this was the “common man’s way” to educate the misinformed and ignorant. After each Family Teach-in performance, Jim came and applauded my ability to grasp the Cause’s doctrine and to communicate it to the congregation. Although I missed my parents, I knew I had to succeed at something, and this was my last chance. My new father was strict, believed in “tough love,” and didn’t let me sneak around the rules. He challenged me, inflated my self-esteem with praise, and made me feel safe.
My parents had hoped I would attend the University of California at Davis as had my siblings, but the SAT exams my parents arranged that I sit for in Liverpool, England, indicated I needed a jump start at junior college. They were a little apprehensive about my going to the Temple’s college dormitory, but they knew I needed structure for my first year. One of my American high school friends had been murdered eighteen months earlier, and Mama and Papa were afraid of my returning to my hoodlum crowd.
Now, as I calmed down, became more confident and determined to succeed, they were amazed and relieved. I was actually maturing. Some concern remained, however, as I, like Larry, visited them lessand less frequently. Even Christmas and Thanksgiving now had to be spent with my new family.
Mama began to reevaluate her own
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