My name is Peter Schless. I’m a songwriter and have been a professional musician for over 45 years. And of those 45 years, over 20 were spent with Ron Miscavige day in, day out. In fact, it was Ron who invited me into our religious order in 1988 in the first place.
I have seen what Ron is now writing about his life, Scientology and his son. And that is why I am writing to you, to possibly shed some light on the stripes of this individual that you’re probably not aware of.
I have spent more time with Ron than he spent with his ex-wife Loretta, more time than he spent with his current wife, more than any of his children, more than any other living person. And knowing him as I do, I can tell you that he is factually running a con job on you with his book.
He actually tipped me off to his method as a con man “getting by in life” mentality when I first met him in the mid ’80s. At the time I was a successful songwriter (Jeffrey Osborne’s “On the Wings of Love,” Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo film music, etc.) and he confided a few things to me. He told me that when he joined the Marines as a young man, after basic training, he had figured a way to get out of work by rubbing shoulders with enlisted officers (i.e., top brass on the base) and offering to play at their weddings, outings, picnics, etc. for free. He said he was essentially buying “leverage” to use at a later time—“perks for perks” as he called it. And he used it. He was given a cushy job, had full run of the canteen and never had to do kitchen duty. In other words, he never had to work to serve his country while in the military. To him, it was a con game he built around leverage and perks and he bragged about it to me on many occasions. While this is, in itself, not considered a crime, it does show how he used people to his own advantage instead of having to work for a living.
He was simply too lazy to practice, a complete dilettante … all the while strutting around and bragging about the failed two-bit recording contract he was supposedly offered 40 years prior, under his “stage name” Ron Savage.
He carried on the same method of life here in our religious order, trying to get by with everything but what his job was supposed to entail: being a musician and writing usable music. And the pathetic part of this is that he was the weakest musician I’ve ever worked with because he never worked to be a professional. He wouldn’t work at it, study, listen or learn. He was simply too lazy to practice, a complete dilettante and was definitely way out of his league here, all the while strutting around and bragging about the failed two-bit recording contract he was supposedly offered 40 years prior, under his “stage name” Ron Savage.
And that is why it is insulting to me that he has the gall to talk about life here being rough or bad. Unreal. He was lucky to be part of our music team. We had the “onerous” task of creating music scores in what is arguably the finest music production facility in the world and in a completely distraction-free environment. His words are unbelievable.
And Ron had a great setup. Being such a poor musician, his actual modus operandi was to be entirely parasitic on others since he could musically produce virtually nothing of worth on his own. To get by in life, he used the fact that he was Mr. Miscavige’s “dad” to attempt to get favorable attention and treatment from other staff members (while if his son knew about his father’s behavior, he would have been appalled to hear of any kind of nepotism whatsoever) and get away with whatever he could. Ron also latched on to me—his free ticket to live a life of laziness over the 20 years he resided in my work area. I and the others in the music department did the work while Ron had it worked out to not have to raise a finger to produce anything. And by actual statistic, he didn’t. And I’m sure he knew this when he invited me into the religious order 26 years ago and was exactly what he had in mind all along because he knew I loved to work and I wrote successful songs. Between being “Mr. Miscavige’s” dad and not being competent enough to make a living, even as a bad lounge act at a Ramada Inn, he had the perfect con game in place.
Ron would regularly turn out trash and hide behind others who were producing–not dissimilar to his needing a ghost writer to “write” his book.
Unfortunately for Ron, there was no position in the Church of “First Dad” and when asked to produce a piece of music or write a song (i.e. his job), it became “the emperor had no clothes” scenario. His con man game fell to pieces because you can’t con a good piece of music into existence. So Ron would regularly turn out trash and hide behind others who were producing—not dissimilar to his needing a ghost writer to “write” his book. To me it’s clear that the only creativity he has displayed throughout his life is finding new and inventive ways to con people or get others to do things for him and then say he did it. It is obvious that he didn’t write the memoir. So, St. Martin’s Press is next on his list of cons, mark my words.
To prove the point, in 1998 our department produced an album of songs called “State of Mind.” Ron, the “composer,” wrote exactly nothing on that album. Not one song, not one note. Then two years later, another album. Again, Ron did nothing but make distracting phone calls next to me while we in the music department produced a really stellar album for our Scientology public. And for a third album in 2001, he managed to write two songs, both of which had to be rewritten so as to not make them laughable due to their cornball, pedestrian quality. I’m convinced this was due to his laziness and refusal to ever do any homework on the subject he was supposed to be composing for, another facet of his unprofessionalism. And this was in the face of having a music library at his disposal comprised of literally thousands of CDs that he was too lazy to walk the 10 feet to use, and a music librarian always ready to fetch whatever he needed.
So what was he doing? He spent most of his time hanging out, fuddling around, bothering other staff members, complaining about this and that and taking trips to the kitchen to cook polish sausage or pizzelles for his son—the one he is so viciously attacking presently.
And sure Ron would talk to his son occasionally. Obviously Mr. Miscavige cared a great deal for Ron, never forgetting his birthday, talking to him about how his ex-wife Loretta was doing, and that sort of thing. “Family matters” was what Ron told me his conversations with his son were about. Eagles games (being from Philadelphia) and so forth. And Ron would then promote his own pumped-up importance about being “dad” without having any idea or concept of what kind of work his son was having to handle as the leader of our Church.
So where, you may ask, did he get all of his supposed knowledge of the workings of the Church of Scientology? Did it float down the hill and was received by holy osmosis? It sure wasn’t by actually talking to anyone. Hell, like I said the guy is a 3rd rate trumpet player who writes bad songs nobody wants to listen to. The truth of the matter is that Ron Miscavige Sr. spent his time doing nothing of consequence except the occasional exuding of flatulence (which was, in my view, the only contribution he could manage during his tenure in the music department).
I could literally smell the rotten food in his car when he drove up to the recording studio—that was before he drove off without having the courtesy to let us know he was leaving.
So while Ron is writing his “memoirs,” I’m sure he can find a few wackos to commiserate with him on how rough it was for poor Ron here at Gold. I mean, he definitely had a problem while he was here since he wasn’t allowed to live like a pig in a sty smelling of garlic and littered with old, beat up exercise equipment here in his 5 star berthing. And then again, he’d have to do something about that nasty black line on the carpet from the front of the building to his room from all the food he dumped on the new carpet. And would have had to take care of the new car his son and daughters got him as a gift for his birthday instead of immediately trashing it (which is what occurred.) I could literally smell the rotten food in his car when he drove up to the recording studio—that was before he drove off without having the courtesy to let us know he was leaving.
And imagine this: He’s 80 years old and he is going to kick off, knowing full well that St. Martin’s Press will be left holding the bag full of all the absolutely, documentable, verifiable lies he concocted in his “memoir” in order to make a fast buck.
St. Martin’s will be responsible for printing outright lies which can be easily disproven in a court of law and easily documented by photographs and testimony from those who were unfortunate enough to work with him. And being the one who has spent more time with Ron than anyone else, you should know that there is nothing I’d rather do than tell the truth of the matter and set things right.
There are many very intelligent, highly likable people who’d LOVE to get a chance to talk about every minute of Ron’s last 25 years on the job with thousands of photographs to verify what they say. And there are plenty of people like me who can verify that his “facts” are merely the delusions of a very old man with a bad memory, making up stories and trying to make his fortune by pandering to a National Enquirer mentality.
So that’s the difference between Ron Miscavige and the rest of us here in the music department. He was, if I may use the phrase, a lazy musical dilettante and a bullshit artist on top of it. Really bad combination. At least Liberace could play the piano, and I’m sure he never tried to sell out his own family.