Losing Faith

Window cleaner, Brian Hoyt at home in Boise. He lost his faith around the age of five, when a baby died in his arms in the course of a failed healing.

Letting them die: parents refuse medical help for children in the name of Christ. The Followers of Christ is a religious sect that preaches faith healing in states such as Idaho, which offers a faith-based shield for felony crimes – despite alarming child mortality rates among these groups.

The shield laws that prevent prosecutions in Idaho are an artifact of the Nixon administration. High-profile child abuse cases in the 1960s led pediatricians and activists to push for laws that combatted it. In order to help states fund such programs, Congress passed the Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act (Capta), which Richard Nixon signed in 1974.

But there was a fateful catch due to the influence of Nixon advisers John Erlichman and J R Haldeman, both lifelong Christian Scientists. Boston College history professor Alan Rogers explains how the men – later jailed for their role in the Watergate scandal – were themselves members of a faith-healing sect, and acted to prevent their co-religionists being charged with crimes of neglect. “Because Erlichman and Haldeman were Christian Scientists, they had inserted into the law a provision that said those who believe that prayer is the only way to cure illness are exempted from this law,” he said.

They also ensure that states had to pass similar exemptions in order to access Capta funds. The federal requirement was later relaxed, but the resultant state laws have had to be painstakingly repealed one by one. Some states, such as Oregon, held on longer until high-profile deaths in the Followers of Christ church in Oregon City attracted the attention of local media; over time the state reversed course.

As a result, several Followers of Christ members in Oregon have been successfully prosecuted. In 2010, Jeffrey and Marci Beagley were convicted of criminally negligent homicide after the death of their toddler, Neal, who died from a congenital bladder blockage. In 2011, Timothy and Rebecca Wyland were convicted of criminal mistreatment and the court ordered that their daughter Aylana be medically treated for the growth that had been threatening to blind her. Later that year, Dale and Shannon Hickman were convicted of second-degree manslaughter two years after their newborn son died of a simple infection.

Next door, Idaho presents a polar opposition to Oregon. Republicans, who enjoy an effective permanent majority in the state house, are surprisingly reluctant to even consider reform. Last year, the governor’s Task Force on Children at Risk recommended change: “Religious freedoms must be protected; but vulnerable children must also be appropriately protected from unnecessary harm and death.” Democratic legislator John Gannon proposed a repeal bill which he “never thought would really be that controversial”. The chairman of the senate health and welfare committee, Lee Heider, refused to even grant it a hearing, effectively killing it.

Brian Hoyt, who lives in Boise, grew up in the Followers of Christ church. Hoyt is a fit 43, and lives in a well-scrubbed suburban neighborhood. He runs a successful window cleaning business that started with a squeegee mop and a bucket after his teenage escape from home left him with no cash and few educational opportunities. When I visited him, his house was being renovated – what was once a “barebones bachelor pad” now accommodates his partner and step-children. Slowly, Hoyt has developed the capacity for family life, after a life in the sect left him “unable to relate to families” for a long time. “I didn’t understand the concept,” he said.

He lost his faith around the age of five, when a baby died in his arms in the course of a failed healing. While elders prayed, Hoyt was in charge of removing its mucus with a suction device. He was told that the child died because of his own lack of faith. Something snapped, and he remembers thinking: “How can this possibly be God’s work?” His apostasy set up lifelong conflicts with his parents and church elders.

In just one incident, when he was 12, Hoyt broke his ankle during a wrestling tryout. “I ended up shattering two bones in my foot,” he said. His parents approached the situation with the usual Followers remedies – rubbing the injury with “rancid olive oil” and having him swig on Kosher wine. Intermittently, they would have him attempt to walk. Each time, “my body would just go into shock and I would pass out”.

“I would wake up to my step-dad, my uncles and the other elders of the church kicking me and beating me, calling me a fag, because I didn’t have enough faith to let God come in and heal me, while my mom and my aunts were sitting there watching. And that’s called faith healing.” He had so much time off with the untreated fracture that his school demanded a medical certificate to cover the absence. Forced to take him to a doctor, his mother spent most of the consultation accusing the doctor of being a pedophile.

He was given a cast and medication but immediately upon returning home, the medication was flushed down the toilet, leaving him with no pain relief. His second walking cast was cut off by male relatives at home with a circular saw.

Other people who have left the group, such as Linda Martin, told similar tales of coercion, failed healing using only rancid olive oil, and a high level of infant mortality, isolation and secrecy. Violence, she said, was “the reason I left home. My childhood and Brian’s were very similar.” Deaths from untreated illness are attributed to “God’s will. Their lives are dominated by God’s will.”

Martin and Hoyt have both lobbied to change the laws, with Martin in particular devoting years of patient research to documenting deaths and other church activities. Hoyt has faced harassment online and at his home, and church members have even tried to undermine his business. So far, their testimonies of abuse have not convinced Idaho’s Republican legislators. Senator Heider, for one, describes the Followers of Christ as “very nice people”.

Campaigners such as Mariah Walton, Janet Heimlich, Linda Martin and Brian Hoyt are determined not to let this matter rest in the next legislative session. A new “Let Them Live” campaign, involving a television ad campaign featuring Mariah, is being coordinated by Bruce Wingate at Protect Idaho Kids. Resources are limited, but all are confident that improved public awareness will build pressure on legislators. Gannon, the Democratic legislator, says for his part that his bill will be back next year. “It’s not going to go away,” he says. “Dead children don’t care about the first amendment.”

Museum Of Clean

Museum of Clean to open in Idaho: Pocatello, Idaho — Don Aslett challenged a group of local youth to square off in a squeegee window cleaning contest against none other than the cleaning guru himself at the Museum of Clean.  At the request of a The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints group, the entrepreneur opened up the doors to his six-story building to provide the group with a sneak peek in advance of the museum's soft opening celebration slated for Nov. 18-19.

The Museum of Clean, located in Pocatello, Idaho, is the world's first museum dedicated to the value of "clean." The facility showcases cleaning instruments dating back 2,000 years and offers hands-on, interactive cleaning demonstrations and displays. Owner/curator Don Aslett looked to Idaho Power to help make the museum as energy efficient as possible. With high-tech lighting, heating and cooling systems that use as little energy as possible, the museum saves money and leaves a smaller footprint in the community around it. Aslett's goal is to achieve a LEED Platinum rating.

Don Aslett, owner and founder of Varsity Contractors, Inc.–one of the nation’s most successful cleaning companies–and self-made millionaire, has revolutionized both the home and the workplace with his popular cleaning services, products, and books. His media-genic personality, business savvy, and unique housekeeping philosophy prove a winning combination–whether he’s sharing decluttering secrets on Oprah, demonstrating his Time Saver cleaning products on QVC, or designing the Clean Green World building to house his Museum of Clean.

Aslett’s own collection began with the acquisition of a 1907 hand-pump vacuum. Over the next fifteen years thousands of historic items related to cleaning have been added through donations from friends, employees, family, and vendors. Recently the Peter Frei collection from the Boston area was purchased for $300,000. Housed in Varsity’s corporate headquarters, the collection has grown to 6,000 pieces, all of which will find a home in the new Museum of Clean. The museum will be a combination of new construction and renovation of a stately, six-story, 1920s, goliath in Pocatello’s up-and-coming historic warehouse district.

“The theme, purpose, and value of the museum will be to sell the public on the value of ‘clean,’” said Aslett. Cleaning efforts over the centuries will be chronicled through displays, demonstrations, and even dramatized in a cleaning melodrama. Items dating back more than 2000 years along with an amazing collection of pre-electric vacuums, are part of the Aslett/Varsity collection.

Poor Man Window Cleaning

If you're feeling sorry for yourself because you're a victim of hard times, you might want to consider Brian Hoyt's story. Hoyt washes windows for a living. But he wasn't always a window washer. He used to be a computer network administrator. He wore expensive clothes, drove a BMW, lived the so-called good life. That changed in 2001, when he was riding his motorcycle and a hit-and-run driver left him unconscious by the side of the road. He had to have three back surgeries, his boss fired him for missing too much work, and he spent three and a half years in physical rehabilitation. Poor for the first time in his life, he was denied benefits "because I was a single white male. I'd lost my job and couldn't work at all. I went in to apply in a wheelchair with my arm in a sling and a morphine drip, and they said they couldn't help me."
A hard-luck story, right? Not really. Instead of thinking of himself as a victim, Hoyt made the most of what he had. "I had a roll of paper towels and some Windex. So I went up and down Fairview and Milwaukee and said, 'Hi, I'm Brian, I'm poor, and I need to wash your windows so I can eat tonight." It was a hard sell at first. But once he got past what he calls "the gatekeepers" to business managers or owners, "people were really nice." His first clients were the Paper Cottage and Rent-A-Center. And he made a deal with Papa John's to pay him in pizzas, so he didn't have to worry about going hungry any more.A friend gave him money for a squeegee, a squirt bottle and more paper towels, and a small business was born - Poor Man Window Cleaning.
Only a small fraction of the businesses he approached hired him. One of those that didn't was Schlotzsky's Deli, where he met cashier Beth Straker. "He didn't get the windows, but he got me," she said. They were married five months later. Over time, the business grew enough that Hoyt was able to buy an old truck and better equipment. He says he's "come a long way from Windex and paper towels." He now has a pressure washer and reverse-osmosis purification system that reduces labor time. And he's expanded from washing only businesses' windows to doing residential windows and cleaning sidewalks, awnings, signs and building exteriors. Things were going pretty well until last year.
Sound familiar? "In June, my phone almost didn't stop ringing with customers calling to discontinue because of hard times. I lost half of my business in 2008." This year hasn't been any better. From working 23 days a month, he's down to nine. In November, someone backed into his truck and knocked his 18-foot ladder through one of his truck's windows. The culprit left a one-word note, "sorry," but no contact or insurance information.
"It's not a good time of year to be driving around without a window," he said. Three days after Christmas, an ember in an ash bucket beside their fireplace ignited and caught Hoyts' house on fire. It had been five days since they'd had a fire in the fireplace and the ashes were cold, but one ember at the bottom of the bucket was all it took. The damage was covered by their insurance, but they had to move out for a month while it was repaired. Hoyt still goes to therapy for his injuries. He has migraine headaches, and he says the accident destroyed his photographic memory. "I used to remember everything. Now I have to write everything down." He's not complaining, though. Not even a little bit.
"I'm a happier person than I was before the accident," he said. "I'm nowhere near as motivated by money. I used to be really into clothes and the look and the way I presented. What I've learned is that every day is what you should live for. Without that first breath of oxygen in the morning, it doesn't matter what else you have." I asked him if he ever felt like the writers of the classic blues lyric, "If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all." "There's a lot of Irish in me," he said, laughing. "Luck o' the Irish, potato famine. But I'll tell you another thing I learned. "Then he said something we'd all do well to remember. Words to live by in hard times.
"You can cry in your beer or do something about bad luck. It's only as bad as you let it get."