The Truth About NATLFED

April 24, 2011

It was all about Oldie

Filed under: Cult,NATLFED,Politics,Uncategorized — ghostwriter1984 @ 18:38

I’m not sure how he took on the nickname Oldie but certainly know the spirit of it.  He fancied himself a former member of the airborne, the youngest first sergeant in its history.  Many have since disproven any military connection.  Still, he read a lot of military books (fiction and non-fiction) and enjoyed watching movies rich in such history.

“The Old Man” as a nomenclature is probably best noted during WWII in naval scenarios as ships’ captains were old among a core of young recruits.  Okay, someone out there will probably explain it better than that, but for now that will need to suffice.  I can only imagine that was the way he looked at it back in 1971 when he started planning a new way to make the revolution surrounded by idealistic teenagers.

He openly despised charisma as a way to organize but he was undoubtedly an incredibly charismatic personality.  To him, victory was inevitable.  When you listened to him, you knew you were joining the only real viable solution.  Self assured and with loyal followers, he started a labor organization of a new type.  And he was the one these followers wanted.  He had their devotion, trust, loyalty and faith.

He relied upon his experience as a UFWOC organizer and boasted of the various tactics he employed.  The most notorious of course was the shop-in tactic.  I always believed he personally ran these tactics in the city.  Someone told me he just retold the stories but convinced his followers that he was the mastermind.

They say the effects of charisma are short-lived (getting caught up in the moment can be replaced eventually with reason), and persuasion is more influential in the long run.  There are some to this day who say they would have died fighting for him because he was fighting the revolution, taking down the establishment and installing the DOP.  You don’t end up like that after a mere lecture.

As a predator, he easily charmed and manipulated people to do his bidding.  When he could not deliver the revolution in 1984, many true believers abandoned the cause.  People were expecting to be in power, leaders of a new government serving the needs of the people.  His failure was not his own, you see, for the blame game began.

I don’t think he ever appeared as a “normal” person.  He was always larger than life yet had a way of coming across as a humble servant of the revolution.  We were always vigilant for the enemy, the authorities who wanted to take us down, and constantly reminded that they were eavesdropping the brownstones as well as telephone lines (the clicking noises was evidence – I later learned that was common on public telephones, which was mandated in every office).  Some say the paranoia was justified.  Remember: this is a group that called the cops on itself to bring down the 1984 raid.

He had a memory like a steel trap, remembering even the minutest details from books or conversations.  He had a way of turning this against you, insisting his recollection of a prior conversation was true and your remembrance faulty due to lack of discipline or something.

Trust was another issue.  He had his closest followers at his side at all times, people willing to take a bullet for him in the event he had to escape quickly.  Even his failure to escape the raid was blamed on others, the shoddy work of the ladder inside the dumbwaiter and the blockage of the door by the 50 gallon drums.  A loyal adherent recruited as a teenager in the early days was suddenly being referred to as a punk kid.  Eventually, this person left.

I once confided that I missed being able to drink a soda every once in a while.  While the “bug juice” was sweet and plentiful, it just wasn’t the same thing.  He immediately dispatched someone to run to the corner bodega to get me a soda.  I was a nobody, yet he was treating me special.

When he was angry, all were afraid.  Sometimes it was anger at a strategy not moving the way he wanted.  Other times, it was the drugs (or lack thereof).  I didn’t forget his addictions or how people would do anything to help support his habits.

When he entered a room, he had all the attention.  He didn’t have to tell anyone to respect him; loyalists immediately gave it to him and newcomers were quick to follow suit.  His get up might have appeared strange in a busy city dressed in attire more suited for aHollywoodcowboy with the dark sunglasses.  When his hair started graying, he used men’s wax to darken it.  Some people never had a chance to see him when he walked, for he really was quite tall.  You dared not go against his decisions.

Even when he was confined to the wheelchair, he always a staged entrance.  Those in chairs by the doorway immediately stood and moved the chairs to clear a path.  The ones pushing the wheelchair did so with hasten pace and god forbid if you accidentally hit a door frame.

Even though it was a political movement, people worshipped him.  He was not the messiah, simply the new Lenin.  In the early days, some did challenge him as he insisted upon democratic centralism as apparent mechanism but in the later years those who dared challenge him suffered cruelly.  They were cops sent to sabotage the Organization or just as bad they were Trots.  Everyone knew of that person’s faults including forbidden liaisons (real or imagined).  He disarmed them figuratively.  Usually these persons ended up leaving in the middle of the night.

Sometimes I remember being confused by his orations.  Thinking myself an educated person, I was reluctant to admit I didn’t know certain words or phrases.  To further confound matters, there was the inner jargon, words with special meanings to those inside the group.

He loved the PT Barnum quote, “There’s a sucker born every minute.”  Today, I have an understanding of that belief as relates to various psychotherapy articles where cult leaders rely on suckers and sinners.  Either you could be duped or manipulated into action based on shame.

Once he told me he left the Organization but the Central Committee asked him to come back and offered him $100,000 a year salary to run things.  Of course, he donated it all back to the Organization.  This did not remove the sense of entitlement he held.  He had to have his drugs.  Whatever he wanted, you gave it to him.  If you didn’t want to, you were working for “them”, the other side.

The exposure of his lies will do little to influence current members.  They still believe he was inCubaand one of the signers at the OSPAAL convention.  I’m still confused as to where he was originally from, having been told he was raised inMontanaand the son of a Wobbly.  He took credit for many things that he did not do.  No wonder many refer to the Organization as one of the most bizarre groups to ever come out of the 1960s.

Did he feel remorse?  No.  Blame was always assigned when things did not go as planned and victims of such blame were shunned relentlessly.  He was passionate about things that sometimes did not make sense to others such as his sodality.  He would take a news story of a tragic situation like the MOVE bombing inPhiladelphiaand instead of feeling anger he set about the task of using the situation to the Organization’s advantage.  Any apparent emotions such as grief or sympathy usually served an ulterior motive.

You gave your all to serve in the Organization.  Time was the most precious commodity, 18 hours a day.  Few had personal bank accounts; there was no need unless it was an account used to move around money.  There was a contradiction concerning the law; it was something to be used to harass the enemy (frivolous or magnanimous lawsuits) yet breaking the law was something done all the time.  How many former cadres found themselves in trouble because of all the racked up parking tickets by not feeding the meters?  Let’s not forget the time the limo was impounded due to outstanding tickets.  Did anyone suffer the bench warrants?

Sometimes my sheer stupidity could serve as a way to snap him back to reality.  He was once ranting about someone’s complaint of finding a pubic hair on the toilet seat and threatening to leave.  It seemed so bizarre to focus all of his energies on such a rant.  I said something really dumb.  If that was enough to drive someone out of the Organization then we’d better write a protocol sheet for how not to shed a pubic hair on the toilet seat.  Of course, the person wasn’t really leaving because of finding the hair.  Still, it ended his rant and encouraged riotous laughter at my expense.  Was the rage real or staged?  As a master manipulator, one could never be certain.

Many will talk about the harem of women that serviced his needs.  The MF demanded celibacy.  He was of course above all that.  There was no such thing as a married couple with one on the inside and one on the outside.  Either both were in or divorce was expected.  It would be silly to say he was the only one “getting any” because there was a lot of sex.  Some chose not to look for it while others knew of all the secret places people went to get it.  It’s a wonder no one ever got a disease.

It was always one of his dreams to build a national headquarters at the old Pressmen’s property.  It never materialized but he romanticized about it in many lectures public and private.  It’s harder to burn down row houses in the middle of a bustling community than it is a remote compound likeWaco, even though MOVE suffered such a fate.

What was the end result?  The establishment some day of the DOP.  The DOB had to be removed by any means possible.  To do so mean iron discipline.  It was discipline from the inside out, unlike steel discipline which was based on outward appearances of conformity and uniformity.

Cadres were certainly exploited for their labors.  Those pulled in to the business operations worked for no salaries (labor donated) to maximize profits.  The entities were mandated to surrender ten percent of their income to the national office.  The best donations and gifts were always surrendered to the national office.  There was the time he pulled out a pair of genuine diamond tear drop earrings from a jewelry box and intended them as a gift for Margaret because he felt her loyalty was wavering.

In previous articles, we’ve spoken of some of the illegal acts the Organization committed but just as important were the ones cadres thought the Organization committed.  If he was to be believed, there must be about a hundred bodies dumped off ofMontauk Point.

While every step was taken to prolong his life, others died quietly as martyrs to the cause.  There are just too many to try to name.  Polly of course was the most famous martyr, some day to seek treatment for the cancer, which came too little too late.  He was due this treatment, as his condition worsened due to taking on the ills within the Organization.  Did this cause the congestive heart failure?  Or was it all of the drugs?

I’d like to hear what others have to say on this subject

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