Tom Cruise

by Andrew Morton

  Once they were perched on high stools and miked up, Matt introduced his T-shirted guest and asked wryly if anything interesting had been happening in his life. Of course, for the last few weeks Tom had been making daily headlines. His couch jumping, his rapid-fire engagement, and his unprovoked attack on Brooke Shields had turned him from a bland, self-contained star into a figure of controversy—and fun—though Tom didn’t get the joke when a TV camera crew in London shot him with a water pistol before the premiere there of his new movie a few days earlier. After the initial banter, Lauer began to explore how Tom was coping with the heightened publicity. “I’m just living my life, Matt,” Tom repeated like a mantra.

  Finally the gloves came off. As Lauer questioned him about his belief in Scientology, the actor physically changed, transforming from an easygoing star to an exasperated preacher, closing his eyes and shaking his head in irritation at Lauer’s seeming ignorance about his faith, psychiatry, and drugs. “Scientology is something you don’t understand,” he scolded the TV host, like a schoolteacher talking to a slow-witted pupil. At that moment Lauer sensed a shift in Tom, the actor visibly discarding his professional mask as he morphed from polished talk-show guest to belligerent lecturer. “It was like he couldn’t help himself,” Lauer told friends afterward. “Like he had been waiting for years and this was his chance.”

  In the end, Lauer was more interested in talking about Tom’s new movie than the leading man was. Tom launched into what appeared to be a premeditated harangue on the evils of psychiatry, mixing pity for Brooke Shields and her medical choices with vitriol against the medical profession. While his sentiments were not new—the year before he had called for psychiatry to be outlawed—this time there was a messianic zeal in his diatribe and a patronizing tone toward his interlocutor: “I have never agreed with psychiatry. Ever. Before I was a Scientologist, I never agreed with psychiatry, and then when I started studying the history of psychiatry I began to realize why I didn’t agree with it.”

  Just a few minutes earlier he had shrugged off criticism of his behavior by repeating that he was living his life as he wished. Clearly he did not want to extend that opportunity to the rest of the world, who were supposed to live by his values and choices. When Lauer challenged him and asked what was wrong with Brooke Shields’s choices if they worked for her, Tom evaded the question, widening the discussion to a familiar Scientology rant against so-called psychiatric abuses, singling out the involuntary drugging of children: “Do you know what Adderall is? Do you know Ritalin? Do you know now that Ritalin is a street drug? Do you understand that?”

  In the face of his guest’s hostile tone, the experienced TV host stayed focused and persistent, politely pointing out that Brooke Shields had made her own decisions; nothing had been done to her against her will. Shaking his head in exasperation, Tom went on, “Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt . . . no, you see. Here’s the problem. You don’t know the history of psychiatry. I do.” Nor, according to Tom, did Brooke Shields. It was an audacious statement, but Lauer stayed with the topic, knowing, as he said later, that he was “capturing TV lightning in a bottle.” The actor argued that drugs merely masked the problem and that the solution was vitamins, exercise, and “various things,” effectively Hubbard’s Purification Rundown.

  Then came the killer question, Lauer asking: “If antidepressants work for Brooke Shields, why isn’t that okay?” Tom replied: “I disagree with it. And I think that there’s a higher and better quality of life.” He seemed angry, implying that Matt Lauer did not want him to discuss these important issues. Here was Tom applying classic Scientology techniques, deflecting intelligent inquiry by attacking the accuser. He had worked precisely the same trick the previous week with Australian interviewer Peter Overton, who, like other journalists, had been forced to spend hours hearing about Tom’s religion before being admitted into the presence.

  When he had asked a perfectly straightforward question about whether Tom and Nicole Kidman still had a parenting relationship and talked professionally, Tom snapped, “You’re stepping over a line now.” Then he told him to “put his manners back in.” Once Overton apologized, Tom continued with the interview as though nothing had happened. It seemed that Tom’s anger, like much in his life, was a performance, an act that relied heavily on Hubbard’s strategy of “always attack the attacker.”

  Similarly, with Matt Lauer, Tom used a bogus slight as a tool to deflect coherent conversation and argument. When the discussion moved on to giving the drug Ritalin to hyperactive children, Tom accused the TV host of being “glib”—a loaded word in Scientology connoting a person who skims over a subject without doing proper research. “You don’t even know what Ritalin is,” Tom jeered. “You have to evaluate and read the research papers on how they came up with these theories, Matt. That’s what I’ve done. And you should do that also . . . you should be a little bit more responsible, Matt.” The tone was hectoring and condescending, with Tom implying that an influential broadcaster like Matt should have a better command of important issues. It was almost unheard-of for a seasoned veteran of the publicity circuit to launch a personal attack on an interviewer who had effectively invited him into his studio and given him the opportunity to sell his film and his faith.

  By the end of the interview, Lauer knew that he had captured something interesting, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Tom, on the other hand, had no doubts; he was delighted with his performance. So, too, was his Scientologist sister. As he later told GQ magazine, “I thought I was pretty restrained. I thought it was a terrific interview. I wasn’t pissed; I just was intense on wanting to communicate.” In fact, he was keen to carry on the chat, Tom asking the host if he had been in touch with Brooke Shields. Then, after giving Matt Lauer his trademark one-armed hug, he was gone, leaving Matt and his executive producer to scramble to edit the tape for airing two days later.

  Although it was rumored that significant sections of the interview were left on the cutting room floor, in reality very little, apart from the occasional repetition, was omitted. When the interview aired it created a firestorm of debate and publicity, which was precisely what Tom and fellow Scientology leaders wanted. If the American public was taken aback by Tom’s outburst, former Scientologists were even more alarmed: They could see Tom Cruise morphing into Scientology leader David Miscavige before their eyes. Every jabbing gesture, each patronizing inflection, every angry remark mirrored a trademark Miscavige tirade. Tom was speaking with His Master’s Voice. “When I watched him he sounded exactly like David Miscavige,” observed Karen Pressley, who had worked closely with the Scientology leader. “It’s almost as if Miscavige has merged his personality into Tom. It’s scary.”

  All over America, other former colleagues of the Scientology leader independently came to the same conclusion. As a onetime Scientologist who worked with Miscavige for seven years said, “I swear I was watching David Miscavige talk. He’s bombastic, certain about what he believes, and never admits he’s wrong.” Former Scientologist Bruce Hines, who audited Nicole Kidman, had the same response: “When he was talking about psychiatry, he was talking like David Miscavige. When Tom Cruise gets overzealous, you are seeing a reflection of David Miscavige. They are very close, they mirror each other.”

  For those outside Scientology, the Today show outburst was shocking, prompting more than a thousand responses—three hundred more than a typical interview with the President. Many berated Tom for the way he spoke to Matt, as well as for his invective against Brooke Shields. She personally responded in The New York Times: “To suggest that I was wrong to take drugs to deal with my depression, and that instead I should have taken vitamins and exercised shows an utter lack of understanding about postpartum depression and childbirth in general.” David Rice, president of the National Coalition of Human Rights Activists, agreed, urging Tom to “stand on a milk crate and apologize to Ms. Shields face-to-face for the gross insult he has committed against her and hundreds of thousands of other women who suffer f
rom postpartum depression. He should also learn to shut up on matters he is utterly ignorant about.”

  Tom’s views were not just inflammatory but potentially life-threatening. Medical experts and psychiatrists were concerned that vulnerable individuals might listen to Tom and stop taking their medication, with dire consequences. Crime novelist Patricia Cornwell, who studied psychiatry during her research for a psychological thriller, described his comments as “ridiculous” and “incredibly irresponsible,” while The Journal for Clinical Investigation, published by an honor society of physician-scientists, warned that his celebrity could prevent those in need going for treatment. That was just the start. The Congressional Mental Health Caucus, a bipartisan coalition of over ninety members of Congress, criticized his remarks, saying that he reinforced negative perceptions.

  The American Psychiatric Association, the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill, and the National Mental Health Association issued a joint statement condemning the actor: “Mental illnesses are real medical conditions that affect millions of Americans. . . . It is irresponsible for Mr. Cruise to use his movie publicity tour to promote his own ideological views and deter people with mental illness from getting the care they need.” They pointed out that around ten children every day die from suicide as a result of untreated mental illness. Republican congressman Tim Murphy said if attitude adjustment, as advocated by Tom, had any sway, then mental illness could have been cured during the Salem witch trials: “By promoting such a theory, Cruise is providing false hope that deters people from getting the help they need.”

  Shortly after Tom’s appearance on the Today show, a concerned mother anonymously posted this message on the NBC Web site:

  I would like to tell how Tom Cruise has impacted our family’s life. I have a daughter who is bi-polar and must take medication. It is a disorder that, so far, no one can help other than with medication. When Tom was everywhere doing his rants about medication, she listened intently (bi-polar folks can be led very easily so please don’t pre-judge) and decided that Tom probably was right. She was feeling just great so she decided to stop her meds and then she began a downward spiral. We were told last night, since she has now decided to self-medicate with alcohol, that she may have 2 weeks to live. Thank you, Tom, so much. You are a complete fool and I’d like you to come and do your magic on her and help our family through our grief.

  There were similar posts on the Web site for the Dr. Phil show after he hosted an on-air discussion of the issues raised by Tom.

  While there was no way to verify the accuracy of the posting, and Scientologists could dismiss an unsigned comment as mischief making, there is nothing anonymous about Jeannine Udall. As she watched Tom’s rant on the Today show from her home in California, she could barely contain her anger. A tall woman from a solid Mormon family, Jeannine joined Scientology at the age of twenty-five, when she was working as a secretary at Universal Studios. A fellow staff member had been pestering her for months, but what finally sold her was the fact that John Travolta and Tom Cruise were members. If it was good enough for Tom Cruise, she reasoned, it was good enough for her. That reasoning nearly cost her her life.

  At first all was well. She joined a Scientology-front organization and earned good money in sales, progressing to Operating Thetan V. Jeannine spent seventeen years as a loyal and hardworking foot soldier for the Scientology cause, then a combination of unfortunate events sent her into a downward mental spiral. In 2001 this once happy-go-lucky girl drove to Santa Barbara, wrote notes to her friends and family, and prepared to throw herself in front of an oncoming train. She was suffering from severe mental illness and had become morbidly depressed.

  Yet because of her Scientology beliefs, Jeannine refused to see a psychiatrist. Even when her family forced her to go for help, her conditioning fought against it. Eventually, after treatment at the WindHorse Clinic, in Boulder, Colorado, she checked into the Wellspring retreat in the Midwest. After many hours of counseling, she was finally able to address her guilt and sense of worthlessness after escaping Scientology. Her message to Tom Cruise? “God forbid he or his children ever gets sick as a Scientologist. Psychiatry saved my life. It is not the evil he says it is.”

  Jeannine was lucky: She is still alive today. For others the association with Scientology has proved fatal. After Tom’s appearance on Today, an ad appeared in LA Weekly that blamed the actor and his church for the death of Scientology auditor Elli Perkins, a fifty-four-year-old wife and mother who was stabbed seventy-seven times by her schizophrenic son. He had stopped taking the medication prescribed for his condition because of the precepts of Scientology. Significantly, the stabbing took place on the annual celebration of L. Ron Hubbard Day, March 13. The ad read: “Thanks, Tom Cruise and the Church of Scientology, for your expert advice on mental health. Elli Perkins was killed on March 13, 2003, by the schizophrenic son she was told to treat with vitamins instead of psychiatric care.”

  When Tom was lecturing Matt Lauer in June, his fiancée was watching from the wings, silent and unseen. By late October, Katie Holmes was front row center—she, Tom, and Sea Org disciple Jessica Feshbach Rodriguez guests of honor at the annual Patron Ball at Scientology’s British headquarters, Saint Hill Manor. At first glance the black-tie evening seemed like a conventional social occasion. It was only when a video came on showing the violent destruction of the psychiatric profession as part of a campaign of “global demolition” that the zealous nature of the gathering became clear. Whatever her misgivings, Katie stood with Tom and applauded wildly as David Miscavige roused his audience with colorful rhetoric about the enemies of Scientology while rattling off rapid-fire statistics about the organization’s successes.

  One disillusioned member of Scientology, who attended the event, compared the evening to a fascist rally. “It can be extremely unpleasant to be a live witness to evil,” she said. “It’s not something you’re reading or watching on TV. You’re there. And the indoctrinated are there with you. You see the evil and you want to do something. But you know that if you do, you’ll be taken away, turned over to ‘the authorities,’ and that will be the end of you.”

  It was a baptism of fire for Katie Holmes, who was surrounded by Scientology, completely immersed in it. As one former member noted ironically, “Maybe Tom will show a video of the event to Katie’s parents. I’m sure they will love it.” Throughout, Katie looked at Tom with “unblinking adoration,” not only when he received a standing ovation for his donations to the cause, but when he was praised by Mike Rinder, commanding officer of the Office of Special Affairs, for his stance against psychiatry. According to Rinder, such was the impact of Tom Terrific that, just one day after one interview and two days after another, the Food and Drug Administration issued so-called “black box warnings” on two psychiatric drugs. When Tom spoke, the world listened.

  As the Scientologists listened to Tom, they watched Katie intently. There was perhaps a knowing curiosity in the way that Sea Org disciples looked at her. Or rather at what she was carrying. Days before the Saint Hill event, Katie had severed one of the remaining links with her old life by firing Leslie Sloane-Zelnick, her publicist since the early days of Dawson’s Creek. On October 5, Sloane-Zelnick had been replaced by Lee Anne DeVette, who wasted no time in announcing to the world that Katie was pregnant with Tom’s child. This had not been part of Katie’s career game plan.

  During her days on Dawson’s Creek, Katie, then twenty-one, had visited a tarot card reader in New York’s East Village. She was horrified when the cards predicted that she would be a mother in 2006. “I don’t want to be a mother at twenty-seven,” she wailed. Her Catholic parents, who had disapproved of Katie’s plans to live with her previous fiancé, Chris Klein, were reportedly unhappy that she was pregnant out of wedlock. Despite a letter from Katie’s new publicist urging parishioners at her church in Toledo to refrain from public comment, a family friend, Kathleen Jensen, spoke out. “I can’t imagine what her parents are going through right now,�
� Ms. Jensen said. “She really needs to get that baby baptized in a Catholic church.”

  Under normal circumstances, Scientologists would also have taken a dim view of pregnancy outside wedlock. As public Scientologists, Tom and Katie would have been forced to appear before an ethics officer and been deemed to have committed an “overt,” a harmful act that is a sin. If a Sea Org disciple had committed the same “overt,” she would have been sent to the Rehabilitation Project Force, the Scientology version of a labor camp.

  Tom and Katie, of course, did not live by the same rules as other Scientologists. If Tom was ecstatic at the news of Katie’s pregnancy, inside the world of Scientology there was excitement bordering on hysteria. Some sect members sincerely believed that Katie Holmes was carrying the baby who would be the vessel for L. Ron Hubbard’s spirit when he returned from his trip around the galaxy. True believers were convinced that Tom’s spawn would be the reincarnation of L. Ron Hubbard. Some Sea Org fanatics even wondered if the actress had been impregnated with Hubbard’s frozen sperm. In her more reflective moments, Katie might have felt as if she were in the middle of a real-life version of the horror movie Rosemary’s Baby, in which an unsuspecting young woman is impregnated with the Devil’s child.

  Ironically, as absurd as this theory sounds, within the sect it was entirely plausible. The Scientology founder predicted he would return to Earth in some form some twenty years after he had “dropped his body.” Nor was this the first time that Scientologists had been gripped by this frenzy. When Hubbard’s daughter Suzette gave birth to a red-haired son—the same coloring as the sect’s founder—the infant was followed around the base at Hemet by curious believers. It became so unnerving that Suzette’s then husband, Guy White, decided it was time to leave the movement. This belief in Hubbard’s return goes to the very top of the organization.