My Last Synanon Letter

By Cynthia Manuel

In 1968 I was a college student at Wayne State University, living in Detroit’s inner city slum housing.  I was experiencing psychological disintegration from an excess of sexual freedom, experimentation with drugs, and the rampant chaos and instability of the explosive sixties, including the horrors of Vietnam.  I had no direction and no anchor.  I was flunking out of college. 

Full letter is transcribed below

I sought help.  Soon I went down the rabbit hole into Synanon.  I grew from a bewildered newcomer to a borderline convert at the most exciting time in Synanon’s history.  I might have left early, except suddenly Synanon was changing.  There was talk of becoming an experimental utopia.  At the least, I always wanted to “change the world.”  We were such a unique, vibrant, integrated community.

Sadly, by the mid 1970s we seemed to be heading in a disturbing direction towards increasing authoritarianism.  My natural skepticism and resistance was growing.  However, I loved my work in The School and on Animal Husbandry, and still clung to the hope that I had found my forever home.   Then Chuck Dederich began promoting marriage and having children as a way of increasing the stability of the community.  I married John Frazer, a rising star.  We asked to be the leaders of a group of couples who wanted to go through the experience of childbirth together.  In a mood of sarcastic humor I dubbed us “The Breeders.”   Through effort, the couples formed tight bonds.

Fast forward to 1976.  All The Breeders had had their babies.  Unreasonably,  Synanon  moved us from the idyllic Tomales Bay to smog-choked Santa Monica.  Then four of us were in an unfair “jackpot” on a neglect of property charge.  L. and I were new, sleep-deprived mothers with no time to examine Bayview for needed repairs. My marriage disintegrated before, during, and after the birth of my daughter. 

All of a sudden, Chuck decided that babies drew women away from dedication to Synanon and there would henceforth be no more children in Synanon.  Some women were forced to have late-term abortions.   The Breeders group went from role models to deplorables overnight.  And then there was that Monday Night Game which was the beginning of what became known as “The Squeeze.”  Chuck said he wanted to squeeze 200 people out of Synanon, all those who were not true disciples.  My name was the first one mentioned.  I was betrayed by a woman I thought was a friend.  I had written her a letter describing how shocked I was that it was so hard to put Morgan in The School, being that I was a dedicated demonstrator.  I was the star scapegoat and landed in serious trouble because of that letter.  I heard Chuck Dederich shouting my name over The Wire while I was in the “guest room” with my new boyfriend.  I was dragged out of the room by the Synanon guard.  Chuck wanted me thrown out on the street.  I think Betty D. and Jarrie Tent saved me. 

The following letter describes the mental anguish I experienced deciding whether to leave Synanon.  I left on March 5^th with the aid of my sister.  I was able to re-start breastfeeding my daughter and began a new life in Michigan.   The adjustment to life outside the cult was akin to returning to earth from another planet.  I was a stranger in a strange land and no one could understand where I had been or what I had experienced.  I mourned my lost community. 

Santa Monica, California
25 February 1976

Dear  Laura,

Well, Morgan is in the school. My gut is wrung tight and aching. I do not know if I have done the right thing. Since I last wrote, I plotted to “escape” several times. On the first occasion, Morgan got sick for four days, and I could not go anywhere. On each of the following opportunities, something else happened that deterred me or changed my mind. Synanon is a habit. To leave is built in your mind as quitting, dying, insanity. I have felt guilty about leaving my friends of eight years after all they have done for me. Written in red letters on your conscience is the idea that after all Synanon has done for you—you must not only be eternally grateful and humble, but you must pay back with service—bringing up the newcomers in the Synanon way and supporting whatever is the latest experiment in Synanon. Synanon is a guilt-motivated community. One must be grateful for whatever they have (even if they earned it). People are made to believe they are incompetent and would never be able to earn what they possess materially. We are told how rich we are. After eight years, my lifestyle has changed little. I do not have what it takes to rise through the ranks. I do not have the money for immediate status, either. I will probably never be a part of management. What I am doing now is “dumping.” That is very negative for a Synanon person. I want to believe in Synanon still, but too many strange things have been happening. We are talking about commitment this year. I think I cannot go much further. Maybe I should leave. Then I try to imagine life outside of Synanon and I think that is frightening. I see so much that I hate. I have to think this over very carefully, Laura. Morgan is the most important person in my life. Could I give her the best life outside? Or, could Synanon raise her better, because here the community raises the children and not you? I have no say in what happens to her now. 

Tomorrow I am scheduled for the Stew. I feel as if this is my last chance to leave. Now I am scheduled for a job in Tomales, teaching science and outdoors. Everyone has gone out of their way to give me what I want. I could have left before I found out about a job at all, but now I feel I can’t leave because so many of my friends have gone out of their way for me. I feel like I would be fucking over them if I left now.

I’m afraid of disappointing everyone here, and fear the remarks and the feelings about me should I leave. I would be screwing everybody— a real object of hatred. I am still trying to come to terms with all of this. Maybe the Stew will help. I tell myself that I can still go after the Stew, that five more days in the school won’t fuck Morgan up more, even though I had to stop breastfeeding her. Laura, I should have left in December, then I should have left when the Monday night game happened.  It would have been good to leave after that. But the time has never been now for leaving. When push comes to shove, I just don’t know. I’m afraid to do it alone. I am afraid to do it when I don’t have an injustice or an easy excuse, an easy way out. I don’t have any money. I would have to sleep in a hotel with Morgan until you or the folks sent the money. I think about that and I don’t want to do it.

The only alternative to life in Synanon is life in a commune. That is the community lifestyle  I want, and it is enough “dropped-out” of the society that I do not like. That is the kind of place I want to live with Morgan. Tell me, do you know of any good ones? Do you know if I could live in one? I’ve heard of one called The Farm in Summertown, Tennessee, 38483. Could you do me a favor and find out about this place for me and send me the information? They have a great thing going about babies and midwifery. I saw a book published by them. What is their setup? I would love to live on their farm. Does anyone need a beekeeper with a baby?

Please let me know what your thoughts are these days. Please write. I need moral support or something. I need someone to talk to who does not have the Synanon point of view.

I do not want to fly back to the parents. Could I live with you for a while, if I left, until I could find a commune?

I don’t understand it. This is the revolution. Our school is great for liberating women. Yet, fuck, I don’t want to miss out on all the shitty diapers. I don’t want to not be there when she walks and talks. I want to bring her up.

Oh—I meant to tell you that John has been an ideal father since I returned. I could not get a case against him if I tried. Did I say that in my last letter?

The latest Synanon things:  vasectomies for the revolution, childlessness for the revolution, bald heads forever, and babies and parents are bad. There was talk of separating parents and kids so people will know the kids are raised by Synanon and not by the parents. That included six-month-olds. A lot of this is talk and not positive stuff yet. The direction seems to be that way, and people are all fucked up and frightened. Many are leaving every day—good people that I have always liked. Chuck says he wants 200 people to leave.

Is there any way that we can create an easy break for me from Synanon? You just can’t realize how hard this is. I need help. Got any suggestions? I’m still not sure what I should do, or what is the best for Morgan.  If it was just me, Laura, I would leave. But I must stress that I have got to think of her.

I will be out of the Stew on the 3rd and back in Santa Monica. I am scheduled to rotate on the 6^th. Can you give me some stand-by help in case I would like to go?

Just tell me what you think. How do you see the situation?

 Love,

Cynthia

P.S. I opened this letter after I wrote it to add a few positive words. You are probably as confused as I am about this whole thing. I’ve had extreme mood swings since a couple of weeks ago. I can go in a single day between extreme elation and comfortability in Synanon to extreme disgust, lack of trust, and resentment toward Synanon. I just came back from seeing Morgan. I gave her a bath and got her ready for bed. She seems much more independent since she went in the school. She does not usually even want to be held when I visit.  She tries to crawl out of my arms to go and play with a toy or other interesting object in the room. I frequently just sit and watch her play on my visits. When I am honest about it I know that my reason for wanting her outside of Synanon is purely selfish.  I  just want to smother her with mothering. I want to watch her grow and care for her. Of course, I also want my own life and a career or good (interesting) job. I am not sure if I could do all that outside of Synanon. Morgan seems to be doing OK. I only worry that she will not be held often, and when she wants to be held she will be left with toys to amuse her.

I played a good hard game with the woman who works with Morgan. I trust her. Again, I only worry that in our school we leave too much up to the peers and the environment.

Morgan is a very independent young lady, in general.  Morgan sends a smile.