Chapter Text
Los Angles Times Article, July 18th, 1968
Written by Salem Monroe, Lifestyle & Features Assistant Editor
SATANIC CHURCH LOOKS FOR NEW BEGINNINGS, CELEBRATES THEIR NEW HOME IN HOLLYWOOD
It is still warm in the morning that Sister Imperator considers the amount of fuel in her tank while in a soft black cotton number. It is not easy being a foward facing nun in a church that covers such controversies, but, she is thinking of the day ahead.
“You know,” Father Nihil says from the shadow of a tree. “We keep making our coffins.”
“What?” Imperator speaks over the wind, turning around to look at him as he emerges from the dark. “What the hell does that mean?”
Nihil shuffles his feet, looks about the well-manicured church lawn that sits in the concrete Los Angeles. He does not respond.
Sister Imperator, a nun who is both too-new and yet very-old, has stepped out into the churchyard to collect the dear father and make sense of her mission. What is it? Party gifts.
For the unassuming Church of Satan, perched at a crossroads of two flowery street signs, located in the downtown Hollywood area- a small birthday celebration is going to be had. Sister Narrows, a recruit in the church, is turning 18. However, she is not the only one.
Sister Imperator, the poster child of this new church and covenant, does not speak on their beliefs in-depth and directs outsiders of the existence of a small box of free literature on the doorstep. However, she will talk about the ever-increasing amount of new followers- and their many celebrations.
“Now,” Sister says, turning to Father Nihil, the head of the church band, and face their marketing campaign. “What kind of cake should we make?”
They step side-by-side on LA’s concrete walkways, already natives to the heat and looks by Los Angeles on the street, wearing matching full black outfits. Though Nihil dresses in black slacks and a black shirt with a priest collar- Sister is wearing a short cotton dress that hits her mid-thigh. There is a large cut in the back, in the shape of a triangle, and her matching black school girl shoes give off the impression of being a trendy modern woman of these times. She ties up her blonde hair in a high ponytail and looks over her shoulders, almost like a hunting cat.
The church, which celebrates its 10th anniversary at its new home, was not always this open about their activities. Considered an opaque organization, once openly denounced by the community (and still is in many parts), they began opening services to the public in the past few years. Membership is encouraged, but not required, for the open services- yet their calendar holds many closed-door events and celebrations.
However, there have not always been times of such prosperity. The church came into a challenging financial crisis four years ago, tax and court documents recovered by local media sources show, specifically about their operations. Brought up at a recent town meeting at their old residency, Maywood, residents in the area have said that they wished to see the church disappear.
Brook Hall, a resident of Maywood for ten years, began posting flyers demanding their eviction from Los Angeles.
“It is not our job to pick up the slack of these bohemians,” Hall said after inquiring about the number written on the flyer. “I wanted to get the word out about these people, and so I wrote whatever information I had and requested calls.”
When asked about the nature of the calls she received, she said they were a ‘personal matter.’
In the documents that brought negative attention to the church, the papers noted that rent failed to be paid multiple times at their previous home in the Maywood area. Other documents showed lawsuits from families that alleged that the church had misrepresented itself as a non-profit when their family members signed volunteer contracts and received help and free labor under false pretenses.
The Church of Satan had moved many times over the years, and Church officials stated that it was due to being discriminated against for their beliefs and practices, saying the accusations of unpaid rent were another transgression against them. Sister Imperator tells of a broader phenomenon in their controversies.
“The reality is,” She says in step with father Nihil at the local intersection, holding a large tote filled with trinkets and decorations for the birthday party scheduled for the evening, “we’ve been hated since the start. Yes, the previous administration has moved a few times, and there may be some bad checks on the record that I am not aware of, but the church only moved to larger spaces where our congregation can worship in peace.”
The crosswalk sign in front of the pair lights up, and the motion of shadows in an unflinching sun crosses over the painted lines. “We don’t act like kings or lords over our people,” She says, “We are trying to have a good life.”
On the lawsuits and unpaid volunteers, Father Nihil steps into the conversation. He has spent the last two years involved with the church, ever since he met a few church members at a party. He volunteers to play music during public services.
“Given how often we are scrutinized by those who hate our beliefs, it’s not a stretch to see why they would sue us if one of their family members ends up joining,” He says,
“But we are still a non-profit, we do our best to help the community regardless of who they are. Those who ask for assistance receive assistance, and we have not broken any laws in giving that assistance.”
The decorations Sister is holding sparkle in the sunlight, casting reflections about, and they walk through the busy streets to their home turf. There, the church towers over all other structures- casting a change of character over the road it lives on, both an inviting and a warning shot when the sun begins to set. Dark brick makes up the building, with cobblestone steps and large black doors, but sitting is a free community library located in a birch-wood wardrobe.
The front doors have clean glass installed and open without any resistance- revealing two shelves of self-published literature and informational brochures on the church’s stance on political matters and introductions to their beliefs.
Inside, a hush falls over the pair as they head to the quaint church kitchen hidden deeper inside the building; with its deep green wallpaper and checkered floor, a free-standing kitchen island allows any supplies to be within reach.
Imperator claps her hands together, then adjusts her ponytail, “Now! we must make the meal!”
The meal, which consists of some favorites of the staff, leans heavily home-made. Rice is washed and cooked; spices pulled from the cupboards, bread baked after left to rise in the morning. And suddenly, every stationary hand is either chopping, stirring, flipping, or holding a hot cup of coffee. The kitchen and its adjacent dining room, only separated by an extension of the counter space- a half-wall with layered wood paneling, have chairs shuffled in from other places. Office chairs wheeled in, table flaps lifted, and silence makes a hurried getaway as every person begins chatting with each other.
Sister Narrows, a bright young woman turning 18 at the stroke of twelve (she so tells us), has been collected to sit in a chair at the head of the table. Her long habit opaque against the windows’ light on her back- but some blonde hair escapes the edges. He smiles wide at the mug places between her hands and the many people who travel about the table, wishing her good wishes. She speaks a soft northern accent- her hometown is right outside Chicago, she says.
“I’m thrilled I came here,” she says with a joyful noise. “I feel as though this is gonna be the best birthday ever!”
However, as Nihil begins sifting the flour, he opens the floor to a single question.
“do you think,” he begins and falters. Some voices hush while others continue. Imperator moves from one end to another in dinner prep, checking the potatoes for roots and onions of softness. “Do you think we are playing house?”
Imperator does not stop moving her hands, and the chopping sounds start to balloon over them- muffling any conversation from leaking out. “Do you mean, are we in the doll’s house?”
Nihil takes a long silence, awaiting the chopped vegetables on the cutting board, and looms over a hot cast iron pan. As they poured into the pan, Nihil speaks some words to the Sister. They huddle over the flying oil and aroma; the smell of spices does not reach the far end of the kitten with the gallery of witnesses till they come to some agreement and lean away.
Sister Narrows waves at Nihil from beyond the wall, separating them from the rest of the kitchen. He smiles and waves back.
“Now this is the perfect example of a doll. Look upon her cheeks- so rosy and red!” He yells across the divide, in a sing-song like voice. “Now, what would you enjoy for your special day?”
Narrows lifts both of her arms in a V formation and yells back, in the same timber, “All that you can give, any food you can prepare!”
Nihil returns the call, and they banter back and forth, reaching new ideas and pitch. Sister Imperator exhumes from Father Nihil’s shadow with bread on a black platter, the apron now loose from her waist.
“Will bread do?” Imperator places the platter on the table, “I have made you some good stew.”
Noise arises from the table, and Narrows begins to break the bread to the many idle hands surrounding her. The staff moves to gather supplies, plates, and bowls that don’t match, serving utensils of various sizes, pot holders placed in pleasing patterns to house the dishes. The meal itself was a vegetable stew, a loaf of delightful bread, a cucumber salad that must hail from the Midwest due to its strange colors, and a meat pie with a satanist symbol layered into the crust.
Grace is said, with all people joining hand, the meal commences. Father Nihil finds his seat across from Sister Nihil and several other nuns- and they continue a silent conversation with nods and quirks of a smile. It’s not long before a cake, chocolate with dark chocolate frosting, and small plates are passed around.
Sister Narrows tucks her hair behind her ear- as the candles are lit and make a silent wish. The staff’s clapping fills the room and takes over the whole of the building now. It feels like the whole earth has paused for one nice memento before daily life picks up again for the clergy.