Bare-Faced Messiah (PDF) - Apologetics Index

Although the house had three rooms upstairs, Ron decided he needed more privacy for writing and
employed a local carpenter to build a rough pine cabin in the trees at the back of the property which
he could use as a 'studio'. He put in a desk and typewriter and went back to work, churning out
such stirring epics as 'The Baron of Coyote River' for All Western, 'Loot of the Shantung' for
Smashing Novels and 'the Blow Torch Murder' for Detective Fiction.
The responsibilities of fatherhood weighed lightly on Ron's shoulders and he ignored any
suggestion that he should adapt his working habits to accommodate family life. He liked to work all
night and sleep all morning, sometimes not making an appearance until two or three o'clock in the
afternoon, at which time Polly would be expected to produce 'breakfast'.
Although he was selling stories almost every week, they never seemed to have enough money and
the owner of the general store in South Colby was frequently threatening to cut off their credit. Ron
was completely unconcerned by the mounting bills. One day he took the ferry into Seattle and came
back with an expensive phonograph that he had bought on credit at the Bon Marche department
store. When Polly despairingly asked him how he was going to meet the payments he replied, with
a grin, that he had no intention of making any. He figured it would be at least six months before Bon
Marche got round to repossessing their property, meanwhile they could enjoy it.
Financial worries apart, Polly was perfectly content at The Hilltop. She enjoyed being a mother and
was a keen gardener, spending much of her spare time clearing the ground around the house and
planting shrubs and flowers. Ron was less easily satisfied by the quiet charm of South Colby and
made frequent trips to New York 'on business'. As his absences became longer and longer, Polly
suspected, correctly, that he might be seeing other women - she was also acutely aware that there
was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
It was not philandering that took Ron away from home so much as the reality that being stuck out in
the backwater of South Colby was uncomfortably at odds with his perception of himself. He had
spent much of his adult life vigorously and successfully promoting himself as a 'dare-devil
adventurer'. It was a description that would be used about him time and time again and he never
tired of it. But it was also an image that needed to be sustained, bolstered here and there, and he
could hardly do that sitting in a cabin in Kitsap Country. No, he needed to be in New York holding
his fellow writers in thrall with epic tales and making sure everyone knew that Ron 'Flash' Hubbard
(he sometimes admitted to 'Flash' as a nickname) was 'quite a character'.
Who dared doubt it? Absolutely not the editor of Thrilling Adventure, who was pleased to share his
conviction with his readers: 'I guess L. Ron Hubbard needs no introduction. From the letters you
send in, his yarns are among the most popular we have published. Several of you have wondered
too how he gets the splendid color which always characterizes his stories of far-away places.
'The answer is, he's been there, brothers. He's been and seen and done. And plenty of all three of
them!'
In July 1936, New York literary agent and columnist Ed Bodin added a further feather to Ron's
crowded cap by reporting in one of his columns that Ron had hit a staggering one million words in
print. It was a claim as pointless as it was absurd, yet it would be remorselessly escalated over the
years until by 1941 Ron was being variously credited with an output of between seven and fifteen
million words.[12]
Whatever the real figure, Ron was certainly proud of his productivity, the sheer number of words he
was able to hammer out of his typewriter, and there is no question that he was a truly prolific writer.