Charles Dederich Sr., who died in Visalia, Calif., at age 83, founded an unusually successful alcohol and drug therapy group called Synanon and then turned it into a bizarre cult that became the target of many legal attacks. Family members said Dederich succumbed to heart and lung failure. A beefy, pugnacious-looking man of bluff charm, Dederich recovered from alcoholism and started Synanon in California in 1958 to treat other alcoholics. Its success brought it praise and emulation in the 1960s, especially for 'the Synanon game.' By the mid 1970s, however, former members described Synanon as a band of violent and paranoid fanatics, living a strange tribal existence with Dederich as the all-powerful chief. They told of obligatory head shaving for both men and women, compulsory divorces, marriages, abortions, sterilizations and vasectomies, a paramilitary force of 'Imperial Marines,' arsenals of guns, and vengeance attacks on lists of enemies and 'splittees,' as former members were called. In 1978, Dederich pleaded no contest to charges of conspiring to murder a Los Angeles attorney who was bitten by a 4 -foot rattlesnake planted in his mailbox after the lawyer won a large judgment from Synanon. The judge fined him $10,000 and sentenced him to five years probation, on condition he 'cease any connection with Synanon in any way, shape or form' as its leader, but allowed Dederich to continue to live at a Synanon facility. Superior Court Judge William Hogoboom of Los Angeles praised Dederich for having saved 'countless numbers from hopeless drug addiction and alcohol addiction.'
However, he said the program had 'degenerated' and 'the evidence is overwhelming that there has been physical harassment inflicted on those in the organization who wanted to dissent from its leaders.' Raised a Catholic in Toledo, Ohio, Dederich dropped out of Notre Dame, became a statistician and executive, and developed a serious drinking problem in the 1940s. After being helped by Alcoholics Anonymous, he set out to help others, operating from a storefront in Ocean Beach, Calif., that he called 'the TLC Club' for 'Tender Loving Care.' It served alcoholics and -- as the psychedelic sixties brought a wave of drug abuse -- drug addicts. Despite the name, Dederich's method was anything but tender. Using ideas he had picked up from AA and from his widespread reading, including Sigmund Freud, he put the addicts through a regimen of harsh truths, disciplined communal living, hard physical labor, strict rules and spellbinding oratory, often quoting one of his favorite philosophers, Ralph Waldo Emerson. TLC became Synanon (one story said the word came from a drunk's mispronunciation of 'anonymous' in the AA name). With a disciplined work force, and helped by donations from admirers and grateful alumni, it prospered and bought property, including a large building in Santa Monica, Calif., which was its headquarters for many years. Members participated in 'the Synanon game,' marathon sessions of no-holds-barred group criticism in which subjects were stripped of psychological defenses, forcing personality changes that made them less dependent on drugs or alcohol. One of the main rules was that physical violence was forbidden, but the verbal attacks were uninhibited, driving many subjects to tears. The group and its methods, particularly 'the game,' were praised by many researchers and law enforcement officials for effectiveness. Non-addicts joined to experience 'the game' and the communal lifestyle. Originally called 'squares' or 'lifestylers' to distinguish them from the addicts, they became increasingly important. Estimates of the membership ranged up to 8,000 at one time and the group, with assets estimated at $20 million, shifted its headquarters to a 3,300-acre ranch near Marshall, Calif., just north of San Francisco. From 1973 to 1975, former members said, it became less of a treatment community and more a closed society, with bizarre rules and social experiments, and its own armed force, the 'imperial marines.' The group began changing in many ways, former members said. One report said the group's swing away from non-violence could be traced to a 'game' session in 1973 when Dederich, annoyed by a woman's criticism, poured a can of root beer on her, breaking the prime rule. Former members said Dederich decided he wanted to get out of 'the dope fiend business' and had become convinced that the problem was not drug and alcohol addiction but a corrupt world outside the Synanon group. He was quoted as saying that members could only be saved by remaining within the group's closed-off communal life. Members, including teenage children, said they were beaten for trying to leave. Newly joining members reportedly were told to liquidate all their ownings -- homes, cars and other property -- and turn over the cash to Synanon. Many paid thousands of dollars into the group's treasury. After years of taking only a minimal salary -- never more than $2,500 a year -- Dederich raised his pay to $76,000 a year in 1975. He personally took half of a $600,000 libel settlement from a newspaper, then had the group award him a $500,000 'pre-retirement bonus.' When Dederich's wife died in April 1977, Dederich, in his words, 'sent up a flare, like any monarch of old times would have done -- I let out the word I was available.' Six Synanon women responded and he married Ginny Shoren, 31. After years of encouraging marriage and fidelity as a stabilizing influence, Dederich was so delighted by the remarriage that he launched 'Operation Changing Partners,' ordering his followers to do as he had done and get new mates. Some couples indignantly walked out. Synanon said only about 20 left, that another 230 dutifully divorced their spouses and married new ones, with husbands and wives sometimes helping pick their successors. Former members charged they were attacked by the group for leaving and subjected to harassment after they got away. One said he bought an attack dog, but intruders broke into his home and hanged the dog. Neighbors of the Marin County ranch accused the group of violent attacks on them. The Marin County Grand Jury called for an investigation of reports that there was an arsenal of weapons on the ranch and that Synanon was holding children against the will of their parents. At one point, Synanon, which filed libel and slander suits against many of the accusers and news outlets that reported the controversy, was involved in 20 different legal actions. Lawsuits were filed by parents who quit, seeking custody of children they said the group would not release. In 1978, Los Angeles attorney Paul Morantz won such a suit for a client, getting a judgment of $304,000 in damages. Shortly afterwards, Morantz was bitten and severely injured by a rattlesnake planted in his mailbox. He barely survived the bite of the snake, called by his doctor 'a granddaddy of a rattler.' Dederich and two of his followers -- 'imperial marines' Lance Kenton and Joseph Musico -- pleaded no contest to charges of conspiracy in connection with the attack. Dederich also pleaded no contest to charges of solicitation to kidnap and assault likely to cause great bodily harm. The prosecution played tape recordings in which Dederich could be heard telling his followers they could 'not permit people like greedy lawyers to destroy us. 'I'm quite willing to break some lawyer's legs and tell them that next time I'll break your wife's legs and then I'll cut your kid's arm off ... don't mess with us, you can get killed dead,' Dederich said in the recordings. The judge praised Dederich for having saved 'countless numbers from hopeless drug addiction and alcohol addiction,' but added that the program had 'degenerated' and 'the evidence is overwhelming that there has been physical harassment inflicted on those in the organization who wanted to dissent from its leaders.' ---
Copyright 1997 by United Press International. All rights reserved. ---
