Bare-Faced Messiah (PDF) - Apologetics Index

On 1 September, the day England and France declared war on Germany, he wrote to the Secretary
of the War Department: 'Because of the possibility that our nation may, in the near future, find itself
at war and because I well know the difficulty of finding trained men at the height of such a crisis, I
wish to offer my services to my government in whatever capacity they might be of the greatest use
. . .' He continued with a resumé of his career which was, for Ron, a model of restraint and veracity.
It was just possible that heinadvertently implied he had only left university in order to lead an
expedition to the Caribbean, and his military experience was perhaps just a little over-emphasized,
but by and large he stuck to the facts. He even had the grace to point out that though he had spent
five years studying psychology and human behaviour it was purely for his own benefit. His
'pioneering' notes on emotional reactions, he added, would be published in the coming year.
Unfortunately for Ron, two days later, President Roosevelt declared the neutrality of the United
States, temporarily thwarting his ambition to play a role in the defeat of Hitler.
Following the move to South Colby, Ron became accustomed to spending summers at The Hilltop,
burning the midnight oil in his little cabin in the woods and sailing the ruffled reaches of Puget
Sound in the Maggie at weekends, and winters in New York, where he could enjoy the amiable and
cosmopolitan company of his fellow writers.
He usually stayed in the cheapest hotel room he could find, but in the fall of 1939 he scraped
together enough money to rent a small apartment in Manhattan, on the Upper West Side at 95th
and Riverside. To make a place where he could work without distraction, he rigged up a curtained
enclosure about the size of a telephone booth, lit with a blue electric bulb to cut down the reflected
glare from his typing paper.
Most of the top science fiction writers of the day tended to gather in John W. Campbell's cluttered
office in the Street and Smith building on Seventh Avenue and it was there that other contributors to
Astounding and Unknown made the acquaintance of L. Ron Hubbard. L. Sprague de Camp thought
that he looked like a 'reincarnated Pan who had been doing himself a bit too well on the
ambrosia'[12] and Isaac Asimov, who greatly admired Ron's work, became quite flustered at
meeting him for the first time.
'He was a large-jawed, red-haired, big and expansive fellow who surprised me,' Asimov recalled.
'His heroes tended to be frightened little men who rose to meet emergencies, and somehow I had
expected Hubbard to be the same. "You don't look at all like your stories," I said. "Why? How are my
stories?" he asked. "Oh they're great," I said enthusiastically and all present laughed while I
blushed and tried to explain that if the stories were great and he was not like his stories, I didn't
mean he was not great.[13]
While he was in New York, Ron lobbied assiduously and moved inexorably towards the fulfilment of
a long-standing ambition - to be accepted as a member of the Explorers Club. He had often hinted,
over the years, that he was a member, but in reality it was an accolade that had proved singularly
elusive. The club occupied a handsome red brick and stone building of suitable neo-Gothic dignity
on East 70th Street, but its worth as a prime piece of Manhattan real estate was as nothing
compared to the privilege of being allowed to walk through the wrought iron gates as a member.
Membership of the snooty Explorers Club of New York, founded in 1904, conferred prestige, social
standing and influence. Ron longed to join this exalted fraternity, not least because it would, at a
stroke, forever legitimize his doubtful career as an explorer and adventurer.
He could be the most charming and sociable of men when he so desired and he worked hard to
make the right connections. On 12 December 1939, he was formally proposed for membership of