Order denies excess discipline: members claim they fled 'boot camp' in fear

National Catholic Reporter, July 26, 1996 by Gustav Spohn

CHESHIRE, Conn.--From the park-like grounds of a seminary nestled in these quiet woods, Fr. Anthony Bannon directs the American operations of the worldwide order of Catholic priests known as the Legionaries of Christ.

It is the first day of July, and the Legionaries Novitiate of Christ and College of Humanities is bathed in heat and golden sunlight. A gentle breeze blows as birds They are totally flit among the this is the fundamental fountains and life and if you or

Bannon, a will go to hell. thin Irishman with a high forehead and wire-rimmed glasses, is not in a talkative mood today. He was burned by the press once, he says, and he does not want a repeat performance.

On June 10 The Hartford Courant, the predominant newspaper in Connecticut, printed a front-page story describing the Legionaries of Christ as "militaristically styled" with a "boot camp like training program" both in Cheshire and at its 100-acre estate in New Castle, N.Y., formerly owned by the Rev. Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church.

The article quotes former seminarians in the order's novitiate training program as saying they were under such intense psychological pressure to continue their training that, when they opted to quit, they felt their only choice was to plan an escape and flee--which they claimed they did.

In addition, they claimed that letters home were scrutinized by staff before being mailed; that telephone calls had to be placed through a monitored switchboard; that they were ordered never to speak critically about the Legionaries.

The former seminarians claimed every aspect of day-to-day living was affected by the discipline of the order, from eating habits (never eat an apple whole, but pare it on a plate) to how to part their hair (always on the left).

Bannon talks at length off the record, but he reserves his on-the-record comments to a single statement discouraging any follow-up stories to the Courant article: "I think it's a disservice to the whole thing to keep generating further expansion of unfounded allegations."

Represents only a printed statement prepared in response to a series of questions faxed to the order the day before. The statement says the Courant article "conjures up images of guys running through the woods in fat goes, drill sergeant-like superiors shouting nose to nose--with newly arrived seminarians, etc."

"Our program is a balanced, healthy blend of prayer, study, work," the statement says.

Outside, some of the seminarians are sprucing up the grounds of the campus. Some are simply enjoying the outdoors. One reads on a bench next to a pond and two others enjoy the weather in bathing suits.

Nearby is a statue of Jesus with out-stretched arms, bearing the gospel inscription, "Come ad ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

"The seminarians spend much of their day in silence," Bannon's statement says, "have ample time for personal reflection and prayer (several hours a day), all of which is an aid toward anything but a robotlike, unthinking, fearful acceptance."

While the statement acknowledges that the seminary has "standards of conduct and personal presentation" for seminarians and "standards of behavior," it notes that the outcome is "communities and individuals who are deeply happy and at peace with themselves."

For Hugh McCaffery, 30, of Pensacola, Fla., his experience as a novice was anything but happy, according to the Courant account.

He was one of three former seminarians--the other two asked to remain anonymous--who reported such psychological pressure to stay in training that they felt their only alternative was the flee.

"They are totally trained to tell you this is the fundamental option in life, and if you don't choose it you will go to hell," McCaffery told the Courant.

McCaffery said he ran so fast from the order's estate in New Castle that he didn't even bother to pick up an $80 pair of sunglasses when they fell.

Another of the seminarians quoted by the Courant said it took weeks for the Legionaries to return his passport once he told them he wanted to leave a training facility in Mexico and return to the United States.

"I became disillusioned and left the legion over their brainwashing, which turns people into robotlike personalities, their unrealistic expectations, their pressure on members to obey rules and accomplish tasks, their ridicule, their secrecy, their manipulating and their pressure on members to raise money for the organization," he said in a letter to the Courant.

Attempts by NCR to reach McCaffery at his home in Pensacola, Fla., were unsuccessful. His mother, Carol McCaffery, explained in a telephone conversation that he no longer wants to talk publicly about his experience with the Legionaries, hoping to move on with his life. But she confirmed the Courant's portrayal of her son's feelings about the Legionaries.

"We're a good Catholic family, it's not that we're leaving the church or we're bitter or anything else.... It's not that they (the Legionaries) are terrible or anything. It's just that it's not for everybody. I guess they are doing certain things that maybe they shouldn't do, I don't know. I think Hugh has just kind of said what he wanted to and really doesn't want to say any more."