Cultic Studies Journal, Vol. 11, No. 1, 1994, Page 32
JIM: I don‟t think it should be public knowledge what we earn. It‟s not that we have anything
to hide in that area.
BERNADEANE: We have nothing to hide.
JIM: People think we have a lot more money than we do. We walk with high self-esteem, we
dress well it‟s how the person displays themselves.
They went on about how much money they didn‟t make and about how I shouldn‟t be so
interested in money anyway. Finally, they said they did not know, precisely, how much money
they make, but they could certainly get those figures for me.
I did some math in my head. It costs $845 to go to the annual CBJ convergence in Scottsdale.
If the expected 1,000 people show up, that‟s close to a million tax-free dollars for
Chuckbernieandjim. (CBJ, or “Flame Foundation Inc.,” is listed with the IRS as a church.)
Anyway, the event I attended in Tel Aviv costs $175. About 300 people showed up, so that‟s
another $52,500. The three-day event I attended in Scottsdale cost $175, times 400 people,
so that‟s another $70,000. They have about twelve of these events a year. They also have
parties it costs $15 to get in. It costs $25 to subscribe to the CBJ magazine, Forever Alive. It
costs $6 for each of the twice-weekly CBJ meetings. It costs $1 for a pitiful sheet of paper
listing fellow Immortals. It costs $20 for a CBJ “DEATH SUCKS” T-shirt, $5 for the “FRIENDS
DON‟T LET FRIENDS DIE” license plate holder and $99.95 to subscribe to the CBJ cassette
series, so you can enjoy a cellular intercourse in the privacy of your own home.
All those dollars could add up to something like $2 million a year, but it‟s the “heart money”
that makes up, perhaps, the biggest chunk of cash. I talked to people who give the
organization $5,000 a year, and I talked to people who give so much more than that that
they were too embarrassed to tell me how much. And it was odd the way so many of the
Immortals said the same thing, almost word for word, about money: “I wish I could give
more to CBJ, and I don‟t care what they do with the money.”
I asked Chuckbernieandjim how they respond to people who accuse them of being a cult.
“Oh, nobody says that anymore,” BernaDeane said.
Chuck said it was stupid, pointing out that people can, after all, leave CBJ at any time. He
said that Scottsdale is no Waco. There is no compound. There are no gates. You are free to
come to the meetings whenever you want, and you are free to leave whenever you want.
It‟s entirely your choice, they said. And it‟s not a very complicated choice. You can stay or you
can leave. You can live or you can die.
***
I wondered what it must feel like to be immortal and then to suddenly be asked to be mortal
instead.
I found a couple I‟ll call Albert and Marie. When they realized eighteen months ago that their
then-23-year-old son had gotten involved with a group of people who claim to be physically
immortal, they tried to reason with him.
He blew up, according to his parents. “He will just get up and scream and beat his chest,” said
Albert, a Washington, D.C., attorney. Marie, a writer and community activist, recalled two of
the more intense incidents: “He basically had a psychotic fit, which I don‟t mind if I never see
again. He gets up and his pupils dilate and he‟s shaking and he‟s yelling things like “You want
me dead! That‟s why you‟re saying things like that! You‟re trying to kill me!” Or he‟s saying
“You‟re dead! You‟re dead!”
This from their handsome, athletic, creative, cum laude son.

Cultic Studies Journal, Vol. 11, No. 1, 1994, Page 33
Like many of CBJ‟s truly devoted followers, their son eventually moved to Scottsdale. (He had
met up with CBJ while living in Tel Aviv.) You can be a part of CBJ while living anywhere in
the world, but Scottsdale is generally considered the CBJ paradise. Most people live in group
residences, six or seven to a house many volunteer to work in the Flame Foundation office,
CBJ‟s U.S. headquarters, and faithfully attend meetings two times a week.
Albert and Marie reported dramatic personality changes in their son after he joined CBJ. He
couldn‟t hold a job, not even a menial one. He couldn‟t find his way into the city from the
airport. When he came home to visit, he was vicious to his brothers and sister. “He does not
let a moment pass without pointing out their faults and telling them how they would all be
fixed if they would just join CBJ,” said Marie.
“He‟s lost his autonomy,” she continued. “He has surrendered his identity he doesn‟t think for
himself anymore, and that literally means he does not think for himself ...He thinks he is part
of a special elite. He thinks he can‟t leave the group because if he leaves he will die. It‟s
become a phobia.”
Albert and Marie have no idea how much money their son has given to CBJ all they know is
that his inheritance from his grandfather was gone within a year of his joining CBJ. So far,
they have made two attempts at exit counseling with their son. Both failed.
Other families have made serious attempts to pull their loved ones out of CBJ. Back in 1983,
a Tulsa family, seeking a court ruling that their 77-year-old mother was incompetent to
manage her affairs, charged that she had been bilked out of $150,000 by CBJ, which at that
time was publicly known as Eternal Flame. The judge denied the petition “with great
reluctance,” but the publicity surrounding the case did some serious damage to Eternal Flame.
A Phoenix television station secured the services of a Gray Panther with a tape recorder and
sent her to Eternal Flame meetings. The station then ran a week of special reports featuring
recordings of Chuckbernieandjim saying their usual inflammatory things, denouncing family,
demanding attendance, and just generally behaving like creepy cultists. Then 20/20 ran a
segment that, in that handy TV way, accused, tried and convicted Eternal Flame, while
entertaining millions with the story of a cult that preys on old people.
When I mentioned the 20/20 investigation to Chuckbernieandjim, Chuck sort of gulped. Then
he said, “I am so glad you brought that up.” He said it is a painful memory for him, so painful
that at one point he began to weep and Jim had to hold him up.
“We were set up,” Chuck said. “There was such a conspiracy ...the payoffs were unbelievable
...we were maliciously maligned ...it was a nightmare, everything, I wanted to hide, I
wanted to run away forever ...we wanted to sue, but we couldn‟t get an attorney that would
touch it for less than $50,000 down.”
And he didn‟t have $50,000. In fact, he went bankrupt. Bernie went bankrupt. Jim filed for
bankruptcy.
But that was then, and this is now. Things are going better now that the “Eternal Flame”
name is no longer used and Chuckbernieandjim feel positively resurrected as “CBJ.” These
days, the demographics of the group include only a small number of old-people Immortals.
Now there are HIV-positive Immortals, Immortals with cancer, as well as plenty of your more
generic Immortals who, like mortals everywhere, have serious problem with the notion of
being abandoned.
The pit of loneliness is the one sure hell all humans come to know. If it is not the trickiest
piece of the human soul, it is, certainly, the most easily tricked.
***