Bethel Daze

©2023 Good Leaf Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN:  9798350900064(print)

ISBN:  9798350900071(eBook)

To all who have escaped. To all who are escaping. To all those who may be waking up. To all who are making or have made something out of your lives with your freedom. To all those who are struggling. If even one of you gets some benefit from this book, it will have been worth writing it.

Table of Contents

PREFACE

Too Inquisitive For My Own Good

The "Truth

My First Circuit Overseer

The Absentee Circuit Overseer

Mister Moneybags Sends a Bethel Application

It’s Who Ya Know, Ya Know

Breaking Bread With the Governing Body

Under the Rug

Saint George the Owl

SEX

The Umpire

Could It Be… Satan?

El Presidente

Opening Up

I Know Where You Live

Preserving the Sandbox

Shootout at the Fantasy Factory

A Few Good Men

Hairy Carey

Mister Manners… er, Moneybags Again

Missed It By That Much

The Third Reich

Time to Go

Fun Facts

Why

GLOSSARY

PREFACE

This book began its life in earnest about two years ago, in 2021. It was just an idea when, about ten years ago, someone had planted it in my brain to write about my experiences at Brooklyn Bethel, the USA branch and world headquarters of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It seemed a cumbersome task with little point, until the thought of narrowing it down to writing about my interactions with and impressions of the Governing Body sprang up.

Work on this book had started and stopped so many times that I couldn’t even count. Days of furious typing would give way to a period of doubts that these stories would interest or be of benefit to anyone. Another time of research and typing transpired, followed by another stretch of halting realization. While the chapters I had just created may be interesting and informative, there were still people to write about for whom I don’t have much to say. And so it went, month after month, until December 2022.

At that time, the best stories were behind me, but there were still more to write if the end product was to include each man I actually knew and/or know, mostly personally but a few tangentially.

Then researching and typing recommenced, until I had everything but the conclusion and this preface.

The question still in my mind was, is this book necessary, or even desirable?

That question was answered when I reflected on how what I had written so far might help many who struggle with anger and resentment, frustration and powerlessness, over the effects of having been involved with Watchtower for much of their lives. Logically and in my heart, I knew that what was left to write needed to be completed.

What I have consistently observed among the post-JW community regarding the top brass at JW headquarters has made me realize that there is lot of healing that needs to take place in relation to organizational direction about teachings, behaviors, and punishments. There is an enormous amount of confusion as to where some of these things emanate from, and whether they are ubiquitous rules, or local phenomena peculiar to certain geographical areas, subsets of the overall JW community.

It can be likened to being attacked in the darkness of night by some unknown and unobservable intruder. If the trauma a person undergoes during such an experience is perceived as an attack from wild animals whose tame relatives may be household pets, the person may develop a morbid fear of all cats and dogs, including house pets, that will last their entire lifetime. If it can later be proven to the victim that the attack was not from that source, rather some other natural phenomenon was responsible, it may be possible to ameliorate if not eliminate the phobia.

When it comes to trauma experienced at the hands of the JW organization, a person may consider themselves completely free when they realize that activities and teachings of the organization no longer matter to them. They have moved on and are no longer concerned with JW goings-on, or what Watchtower and its adherents think about them. To get to that point, it is helpful, perhaps even necessary to understand the enemy at least to some extent and degree of accuracy. Once we have more accurate definition, we can more easily discard the organization from our hearts and minds.

It is not being suggested that if a person’s experience is different from mine, and therefore different conclusions have been drawn, mine must be correct and the others incorrect. Such a viewpoint would be quintessentially arrogant. There may be truth in both viewpoints. It may be that the full truth of the matter lies at some as-yet unknown intersection of information. Therefore, please take these stories for what they are – my personal stories. They are 100% accurate, but they are by no means the entire story.

During this book’s writing, it was discovered that by cross referencing historical documents with actual conversations between me and certain GB members, and between GB members and others mutually known, as well as information from Raymond Franz, accounts could be finalized and solid conclusions drawn as to their meaning and significance.

Good friends like Barbara Anderson, whom I overlapped with at Bethel for several years in the 1980s, as well as others also supplied certain invaluable information, and corroborated other information I already had but needed to confirm and flesh out.

What might surprise the reader is the juxtaposition of relatively positive stories about men whom I particularly loved, admired and respected, with others within the same circle that are/were less than admirable. Sometimes quite a bit less.

That is because my intent is to show all of these men as human, since they were and/or are. These stories should have the effect of taking the mystery out of an otherwise mysterious subject. Positive qualities and experiences are reported as such. The same is true of negative qualities and experiences.

Don’t think for a minute that the good guys either did not see the bad guys for what they were, or saw but chose to ignore. In other words, How can any GB member not be evil if he sits on the same body as so-and-so? The fact that the good and bad co-existed is simply proof that the good guys sincerely believed in the supposed truth of the organization, and would continue to fight for it with every drop of their essence. Maybe we understandably won’t see that as a good idea, but it does at least demonstrate good qualities, doesn’t it?

We all have our own journey, including all of those depicted in this book. That should be understood and respected.

Most of the memories here are recalled fondly, some not so fondly, while a few others are very difficult for me to relate for personal reasons, and perhaps difficult for the reader for their own reasons.

I hope you can laugh at some things, as I choose to (in fact I can’t help it at times). If some of it makes you angry, well, I can’t say I blame you. Maybe you’re not ready for this information yet. If that’s the case, put it on the shelf for now. Read something else or talk to someone else you trust. Cry on someone’s shoulder. Do what you have to do to get past whatever aspect of the process you are in.

A few rules of engagement.

Some terms will mostly appear throughout the book in acronym form, but the full expression will be used first. e.g. GB for Governing Body.

There will be a noticeable and consistent difference between the way males are referred to vs females. That is simply because all of the stories take place in an intensely patriarchal environment. It does not reflect any attitude or feeling toward gender groups, age groups, or  authority figures on the part of the author. Where it is germane to the story to point out problems created by patriarchal views toward women, such will be noted. Otherwise all references are simply part of the story the way they actually exist(ed), therefore no judgment is intended.

Occasionally the term heavy may be used as a noun in connection with Bethel personnel, as in So-and-So was a Bethel heavy. During my Bethel days, that word would refer to appointed men who carried a certain kind of prestige in the minds of Bethel family members. It’s a rather nebulous designation that is based on a number of factors, some or all of which may be present in varying degrees. It’s a perception thing, but the chances are that if one Bethelite viewed a certain man as a heavy, most others would as well. I don’t know whether the term is still in use.

When referring to people by name, the initial of a person’s last name will usually be used if the person is not germane to the story.

The designations brother or sister will only be used if they are part of an actual quote. Otherwise, husband, wife, woman, man, and so on will be used.

When speaking about prominent men, either full names or last names will typically be used unless there is a reason to use a man’s first name. That reason could be that the man was commonly referred to by his first name by many diverse people (e.g. Dan Sydlik), the author historically used the man’s first name at times (e.g. George Gangas), and any other contextual considerations.

The standalone name Franz will always refer to Fred Franz, and Raymond Franz will be referred to either with his first name alone (Ray or Raymond), or both names (Ray Franz or Raymond Franz).

When referring to husbands and wives individually, use of the last name by itself  will always be referring solely to the husband. (There is just one instance wherein I refer to a man’s wife simply as his wife. That is only because I’m not sure of the spelling of her first name, and although they were good friends at one time, there is no way for me, as an out person, to contact an in person for information.)

Too Inquisitive For My Own Good

Paradise. To a boy just arriving from the concrete jungle that was Brooklyn at the age of three, Westbury New York in 1962 was such a wonderland. Each house in the community of Levitt slab houses rested on what seemed like a vast oasis of lush green grass, with at least one pine tree in the front yard. By the time we moved there, a dozen years after thousands of acres of old potato fields became housing for the post-WWII baby boomer generation, our 60’ x 130’ lot also sported a cherry tree just outside the bedroom at the front of the house, and two apple trees, a pear tree, and a maple tree in the back yard.

That yard provided enough room for throwing and hitting baseballs, that is until my older brother Ed and I outgrew it to the point where we had to climb the next-door neighbor’s rickety wooden fence to retrieve the ball nearly every time we made contact. At other times the yard served as an airfield, fulfilling Ed’s primary passion (and my sometime casual interest) of building and flying U-control model airplanes.

I spent many summer days feeling like the king of the world perched on the upper branches of one of the apple trees that was perfect for climbing.

One of my fondest early memories of that property was the year that Dad turned it into an ice rink. He then hurled me, Ed, and my sisters Peggy and Patricia across it, one at a time, on garbage pail lids. It never occurred to me what skill it must have taken him to push us off with enough force for the ride of a lifetime, yet miss the fence belonging to the neighbors directly behind us. I guess I always just knew that whatever Dad did was done just right, and we would never get hurt if he was involved.

There were public baseball fields everywhere one looked in Westbury. The closest one to our West Cabot Lane house was a short walk from the Carman Avenue pool, another amenity of life on our part of Long Island just thirty miles east of Brooklyn Heights. All each family had to do was prove they lived