I have hesitated posting this because it has been getting so much press lately. But heck, anything I can post here that gets Watchman in a dither I will do it! :-)
Bobby Fischer: another sad legacy of Armstrongism.
Fischer was invited to Ambassador College do do a chess seminar. Once there he got caught up in the mire of Armstrongism. He was already having lots of life issues and mental health issues.
Fischer's problems only multiplied the longer he stayed in contact with Armstrongism.
Harry Sneider, former Ambassador College PE Department trainer has his take on Fischer in this
The Journal article.
Ambassador Reports had this information about him in it's first magazine issues
Chess Champion Bobby Fischer had quite a lot to say about
the Armstrongs. In an interview with the Ambassador Report
editor, Fischer said, "I was trying to buy God." From 1967
through 1974 he gave a total of $94,315 to the Worldwide Church
of God. In 1972, the year he won his championship by defeating
Soviet champion Boris Spassky, he donated $61,200 to the Church.
He said, "This idea of Herbert's that you can't trust your own
thoughts - that's the key doctrine that I think has to be blasted
out. I would say that if there's one thing that is the whole
essence of Armstrongism, that is it. That's how he screws up your
mind, that's how he hangs on to people." He said further
regarding Armstrong's prophetic failure, that the Church would be
taken to safety in 1972, "Like the Bible says, when a prophet
makes prophecies that don't come true, then that guy is not of
God and you don't have to be afraid of him. Yet Church members
are afraid of him (HWA), and he's failed umpteen times. This guy,
Armstrong, in terms of religion, is the world's biggest loser....
But I was really upset in 1972 when Herbert Armstrong refused to
apologize. He could have just apologized and said, 'I became
overly enthusiastic. I wanted Christ to return so badly.
Everything seemed to fit. Please excuse me. I won't do that
again.'"
Fischer had not become disillusioned with God, but as he
came to realize that his relationship with Christ was a spiritual
one and was not dependent on massive contributions to a
self-proclaimed apostle, he did become disillusioned with Herbert
Armstrong. He said, "Herbert Armstrong has a way with words. You
know, he seems so sincere. He has all the right principles:
dedication, hard work, perseverance, never giving up. He's
dogged: he's persistent. You know, from reading his stuff and
listening to his sermons, you'd think he was very interested in
God. But when you meet him personally, there is nothing there at
all. I find Armstrong to be an egomaniac. He sitteth in the
temple of God saying great things as if he were God. He
apparently wants to leave his permanent mark on all he comes in
contact with and can bring into submission. He is simply a madman
who would love to rule the world."
(Obviously with the fame Bobby Fisher had, as the world's "chess
champion," he had met HWA, and you've just heard what he said,
"...you'd think he was very interested in God, But when you meet him
personally, there is nothing there at all." --- That says it all.
If you ever meet me, and I do have a little fame of sorts from
this Website, I hope you'll never be able to say such words as
Fisher said about HWA - Keith Hunt)
He gave over ninety thousand of dollars to to the church. This was a time that Armstrongism was using it's two celebrity "member's" as tools for better publicity. They were also exploiting Dan Truitte from the Sound of Music. GTA was trumpeting him out during the America Listen's Campaigns.
He got arrested by the Pasadena Police Department and shares his tale of woe here:
I Was Tortured in the Pasadena Jailhouse
He renounced his US citizenship, and was delighted when the World Trade Center was attacked. He despised Israel and the Jews.
Instead of playing tournaments, Fischer retreated to the protective cocoon of the Worldwide Church of God, an apocalyptic cult that predicted the end of the world every four to seven years and whose members tithed up to 30 percent of their income. Such protection came at a steep price. It was reported that out of his $200,000 income that year he donated $61,200 to the WCG. "They cleaned out my pockets," he later said. "Now my only income is a few royalty checks from my books. I was really very foolish." To show its appreciation for such a generous contribution, the WCG treated Fischer almost as if he were the very deity the Church's members had been waiting for. He lived in WCG-owned apartments, was entertained at fancy restaurants, and flew to exotic spots in the Church's private jet. And Fischer was set up on the first dates of his life, with attractive WCG members. A fellow WCG member, Harry Sneider, says that this hedonistic lifestyle had a detrimental effect on Fischer: "He got pampered and got a lot of attention. It made him soft."
Fischer's relationship with the WCG, like all the others in his life, didn't last. In 1977, after a bitter falling-out that led Fischer to claim that the WCG was taking its orders from a "satanical secret world government," he cut all ties with the Church. Then he crawled even further into his own netherworld. He began dressing like a hobo. He took up residence in seedy hotels. He began worrying about the purity of his bodily fluids. He bought great quantities of exotic herbal potions, which he carried in a suitcase, to stave off the toxins he feared might be secretly put in his food and water by Soviet agents. According to a 1985 article in Sports Illustrated, Fischer medicated himself with such esoteric remedies as Mexican rattlesnake pills ("good for general health") and Chinese healthy-brain pills ("good for headaches"). His suitcase also contained a large orange-juice squeezer and lots and lots of vitamins. He always kept the suitcase locked, even when he was staying with friends. "If the Commies come to poison me, I don't want to make it easy for them," he explained to a friend. Perhaps the most telling sign of his rapid mental deterioration was that he insisted on having all his dental fillings removed. "If somebody took a filling out and put in an electronic device, he could influence your thinking," Fischer confided to a friend. "I don't want anything artificial in my head."
The low point of Fischer's California sojourn came on May 26, 1981, when two Pasadena police officers stopped him for an ID check. By then he had unkempt hair, a scraggly beard, and tattered clothes, and looked like an aging hippie down on his luck. He also generally fit the description of a man who had recently committed two bank robberies in the neighborhood. He refused to answer questions and was taken to jail, where he spent forty-eight hours. "All he had to do was tell the police he was Bobby Fischer, the chess player, and the whole thing would have been over," a friend says. "But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Submitting to authority is a foreign concept to Bobby." A year later Fischer privately published a fourteen-page pamphlet titled "I Was Tortured in the Pasadena Jailhouse!" The pamphlet, which became a surprise best seller in chess shops across the country, is a melodramatic account of Fischer's confinement. The subheadings say it all: "Brutally Handcuffed." "Choked." "Isolation & Torture." "Sick Cop." The Atlantic
