Heaven's Harlots: My Fifteen Years in a Sex Cult (15 page)

Esther held a major meeting with leaders in Paris in which she ranted about the deplorable conditions in the nursery, attacking especially the lack of structured schedules, of cribs, beds, and playpens, and of Montessori equipment or even educational toys. In addition, she sent a letter to all the other Family homes, citing the Paris nursery as an example of what not to do.

I remember when she finally came into the nursery to chastise its nursery workers. “I cannot believe that you girls actually let the babies sleep on the floor here. Do you think that is a good way to take care of God’s children, or any children for that matter? How in the world were you girls raised anyway?” she fumed.

There were only two of us present, myself and another young mother.

Rahab had conveniently had herself transferred to another home soon after Esther’s arrival. I was upset at her for leaving me alone, but many years later I learned why Rahab had been so eager to escape Esther’s presence. It seems that Esther, her own sister-in law, had taken Rahab’s first baby from her and given her to another woman to raise. No complaints were ever voiced since Esther was our Queen.

“Jeshanah, I heard you were trained in Ellenville. Well, I know Ellenville had a very good nursery. Pearl herself went through there on the way to London, and she was very impressed. Surely, you know better. Why don’t you have access to hot water in here? Why don’t you have a refrigerator just for the children’s food? And never again do I want to hear of a home anywhere in our Family where the babies sleep on the floor. Do you understand?” She spoke to me as if I had it within my power to do something about the conditions of our nursery. Surely she must know that the humble servants did only what they were told to do.

If the leader of the home told me that babies sleep on the floor, I put them to sleep on the floor. (It wasn’t actually the floor, there were clean mattresses and sheets. ) One of them was my own son, who’d had a handmade cradle when he was born. Of course, I did not like him to sleep on the floor, but he was a “revolutionary baby,” and in the Family we did it the revolutionary way. Which meant, do what your leaders say, and don’t ask questions. Maybe she did not know how the proletariat lived, having never been anything but a leader.

“I wouldn’t even let my baby in your nursery. I went out immediately and bought a foldaway crib when I knew I would be traveling,” she added.

“What do you girls have to say for yourselves?” I was literally biting my tongue to keep from responding. I could not tell her that we simple servants did not have money in our pocket, or in the bank, or under the bed, or anywhere else, to go out and buy a crib.

I could not even buy baby clothes with money my mother sent specifically for the baby unless I got permission first.

“I am just going to have to write the world about this,” she said, meaning the Family around the world. “I want everyone to know that this should not happen again.” She left our wonderful Paris home to bring her baby back to the safety of the Italian child-care center, and she wrote her letter, mentioning the lack of cribs. I took comfort in thinking that anyone in the Family with half a brain would realize that mere nursery workers could not go out and buy cribs. It was like saying,“Let them eat cake!” But there were deeper worries about why I did not like a fully equipped nursery. Esther had only brought her youngest baby with her, but she had four or five others who had been left back in Italy as she traveled around Europe. I could foresee a time when I would have to leave Thor behind in an institutionalized children’s home, and my fears were realized. Within a year, Esther’s trained child-care workers had come to Paris and set up nurseries and schools, and from the time he was eighteen months old, I had to leave Thor at the school located about twenty miles outside of Paris. He cried every time he had to return, and I tried to be “revolutionary” about our separation. Thor was allowed to stay with me on weekends only, and as I became more involved in the music world, many of my weekends were taken up with activity. I consoled myself that now Thor at least had a bed, although in a room with a dozen other toddlers, he had a regular schedule, unfortunately enforced by spankings and other disciplinary measures, and he had Montessori classes. But he didn’t have me to hug him when he fell and cut his lip, to praise him when he used the potty, or to acknowledge his genius when he surprised the “teachers” by adding numbers before they taught him how. I wanted to be there for every new piece of life he discovered, in pain or in joy, but after Esther’s visit, I was temporarily banned from child care. My plan of staying in the nursery to be with my son had failed. I now fit the archetype of the “bitter” Miriam instead of the skillful baby-watcher. Life was not offering me easy problems with easy solutions.

Hopie came by to see us after Esther left and explained that she also got a good going over.

“Don’t worry, honey, God only dishes it out to those He knows can take it. You are a strong sister, and the Lord is going to use you mightily.” I was encouraged by these words from the Bible, even though I knew they were used repeatedly in any situation where a disillusioned brother or sister needed uplifting.

In the end, the cribs were never bought, since our finance brother said we could not afford them. Therefore, I was given a provisioner and a few quota-free days to go out and try to get some free baby cribs.

With Esther gone, the Paris home returned to its old joyful ways. The musicians and singers had two fairly successful records, though none of us knew where the money went. Our leaders were busy working out contracts with the system producers, and meanwhile, all the Show Group, as we were called, were told to go on litnessing-and making quotas like normal disciples. That must have been another organizational decision initiated by Esther. We spent our days practicing, and then ventured out on litnessing sprees with big quotas to make.

Lately, we had begun using the method called “hustling” to make our quotas. In pairs, with one singer and one collector, we performed uninvited at outdoor cafes. Stationing ourselves in front of our unwittingly captive audience, we played a few songs on the guitar, and then the collector went around the tables with a hat to collect money and hand out Mo letters. On a good day, we could make our 100franc quota easily in a few hours. I often brought Thor with me in a stroller, especially before the schools were set up. Of course, that was a problem when it rained, or when we got out of the home too late, which is what happened on the eventful night when we started singing inside the metro trains.

Cal and I asked Nahum, our lead guitarist, to go hustling with us. He was a dark-haired, broody fellow, who played great guitar. I had brought Thor along that evening since it was a weekend and the nursery was closed. Not only did we start an hour after the good hustling times, but it was raining and cold. None of us wanted to litness the old way, by going up to people and asking for a donation while forcing our Mo letters on them. We tried singing inside the metro station corridors, like the traveling hippies we saw, but few people would stop, and even fewer left a donation. Sitting on the bench while waiting for the next metro car to take us to the ChampsElysees, where we thought we might find some people in the cafes under the awnings, Cal had a bright idea.

“Why don’t we sing inside the cars,” he said. “The people are stuck in there and they can’t get away.”

“I think it’s a great idea!” I said encouragingly. “I’ll collect, and Cal can hold the stroller.

We all had a quota to make, so it was worth the try. We entered a car half-filled with sleepy, unsuspecting riders. Standing together at the front of the car, Nahum strummed a note, Cal held on to Thor’s stroller so it would not move, and I called across the car,“Bonjour. Nous avonr quelques chansons pour vous” (“Hello, we have a few songs for you”) by way of introduction. After three songs, in which we all sang and Nahum held the passengers captive with his guitar, I aggressively invaded the privacy of every rider on the metro car by holding my basket under their nose and offering a piece of unsolicited literature.

Asking for a donation, I smiled and gave the letters out to everyone.

The whole procedure took about five metro stops. When we were finished, I said,“Merci,” and we moved on to the next car.

“How did it go?” asked Cal anxiously, as we sat on the bench to wait for the next car.

I surrendered the basket to him, and he counted over 20 francs.

“Wow,” said Nahum. “That only took about ten minutes. We can get our quota in an hour.” Indeed, in less than an hour we had collected 176 francs. Each car seemed to get better. God was blessing us!

After our last car, we got off the train and sat on the metro station bench in a state of exhilaration.

“What are we going to do about this?” asked Nahum. He was already thinking that we should keep this a secret for ourselves. Cal was a little more magnanimous.

“I think we should tell our leaders about this and let them decide. It would be nice if the metro cars could be the exclusive territory for the band members, since we have so little time for litnessing.” All of the Paris Family homes lived by selling letters on the streets or singing at cafes, but since there were now so many of us—over five hundred during the peak time of 1974 to 1976—the best litnessing and singing spots were becoming saturated. Before we discovered metro singing, the whole Paris turf had to be divided, with each home vying for the best hustling areas. At one time we had three separate Show Group homes in Paris and a few regular homes, which I never visited.

Since most Family members learned to sing and play basic guitar, the method of making one’s quota on metro cars was certain to become popular.

“I think mothers should be included,” I said. Even though I was considered part of the band, through my dancing, I knew how hard it was for mothers to make their half quotas, and I saw this as a great opportunity to ease their added burdens.

We told our house leader Micah what had happened, but word got out and within a month all the Family members in Paris were singing on the metro cars. Depending on who was the top leader in Paris at the time, different rules were made about who could go on the metros. During the “band only” rule, a lot of unbrotherly feelings arose among the regular Family members. Of course, all of this planning was made without ever consulting the metro authorities. For years we played cat and mouse with them, always on the lookout for the metro police. Many times, we would be taken to their station and told we were not allowed to sing in the cars, only in the corridors between the metro stations. All this did was waste our time. The metros were too lucrative to give up. By the time I left Paris, we were singing on the brand-new RER, which ran to the suburbs in twenty-minute stops.

We always turned in our money every night, along with the literature count, but everyone knew we only gave out literature to fill up the statistics on our reports. If we did not make our quota, we were not supposed to come home, however, this rule was usually not obeyed.

Instead, privileges were taken from us. For instance, once Cal did not make his quota on time and he was told he could not go on a planned trip to Mont-St. -Michel, so another couple in the band, Breeze and Abraham, went out that night to make it for him. Cal and Nahum, who often sang together on the metro, were also the only brothers to be picked up by police and taken to the police station. When the authorities found out that their visas were long overdue, they were going to be sent out of the country. However, since they were important members of the band, our producers stepped in and obtained proper visas for all of us.

I was not aware of what our producers, who were not in the Family, did or did not do for us financially, however, when we all went on the road, we usually stayed in cheap campgrounds, while our leaders and the producers stayed at fancy hotels.

The Spirit was moving in the music direction, and we landed our first big contract to produce an album. Our Show Group name was Les Enfants de Dieu, which means “The Children of God.” Our first album and the singles “My Love Is Love” and “Liberty” became big hits with the French teenagers, and through contacts that our producer had, we were asked to perform at radio shows, on French television, and to join the famous Europe One tour of France as performers. In 1976 we toured Spain, Holland, Belgium, Germany, and England.

The French have a fascination with live spectacles, called the “gala,” which is a cross between a Las Vegas show and a music concert. Many French performers spend the winter in Paris, performing on TV or radio or at local theaters, and then go on the road with a gala in the summer.

These shows require musicians, vocalists, sound technicians, lighting technicians, and, usually, dancers. With the amount of talent and personnel available through our Family, putting together a gala was a piece of cake. Our galas were really a fancy inspiration time for us, something we had been practicing for years.

Every one in the Paris Family wanted to be involved, and when word got to Italy and England about our shows, performers were sent to Paris.

Sure enough, Queen Esther soon wanted to leave her real-life castle in Italy, the home of a duke whom one of our women had married, and she returned to the Paris home to be in on the act.

When the Show Group first started, I stayed with nursery work. Many of the female singers had children, and I was needed more than ever to take care of babies. In addition, Thor was now a little over a year old, a very cute age, and I enjoyed staying with him as much as I could. We were now living in a seven-story building where we were “squatting” in the Bourse area of Paris, the equivalent of New York’s Wall Street financial district. A nursery was set up on the top floor by the sisters who had been trained under Esther. The nursery overseer begged me to stay in the nursery, and I did so happily. However, when Hopie heard that they needed dancers, she sent for me. I became the only nonsinger in the group, since all the other girls doubled as backup chorus and dancers.