The Cult of Ole

But even as new people were drawn to Anthony, other people in the group were backing away. Stephen was disturbed by Anthony's insistence that he'd discovered ancient truths unknown to Christians for 2,000 years. "I always admired his intellect," Stephen says. "But after 2,000 years of people studying the same theology, I can't buy that he's figured it out and nobody else has. In many respects, Ole is a modern Gnostic, which means those who have special knowledge and they impart it once you get into the cult." He came to the conclusion that Trinity was becoming cult-like.

Life Together

When Larry and Pam Ferguson unlocked their front door after a 1980 vacation, they found the usual piles of mail and newspapers--as well as a disturbing surprise. Five strangers had moved into their home.

After being involved with Trinity for four or five years, the Fergusons had given a house key to Anthony in case of an emergency. When he learned that a certain couple and their three children were homeless, Anthony simply moved them into the Fergusons' house. Ask first? Ridiculous. The family needed help. Anthony's mantra was, "What's mine is yours. If you don't have what you need, I'll help you get it."

The Fergusons often took in the needy but resented Anthony's presumption. Nor did Anthony or the group help the Fergusons financially during the months the alcoholic couple and their children lived with them. "The family got mad at us because we didn't buy enough meat," Pam says.

In 1978, the Fergusons became the first Trinity "marriage," with Gary Buckner presiding over the nuptials. The second: Doug Duncan, who married a woman he met during his sowing-of-wild-oats phase.

"Until then it was this laid-back, hippie Bible study," Duncan says. The group was soon meeting six nights a week and on Sunday for a meal and "big group," with singing and worship.

The community was taking form. In 1980, Gary and Judy Buckner bought a house on Columbia and started fixing it up; they were followed by John and Joysanna Rutledge. Others would move nearby. Anthony was living rent-free in a home in North Dallas owned by the Rutledges. After taking a vow of poverty, he was being paid $50 a week by the Trinity Foundation.

Many of those drawn to him had troubled childhoods. "It was, 'We're all losers, and I [Anthony] may be the chief loser and this is the last stop before hell,' instead of 'I can do all things through Christ,'" says Larry Ferguson, who was on the board of Trinity for several years. Other former members say the result was a dynamic shaped by Anthony's personality: cynical, contemptuous of the unenlightened, obsessed with sex, backbiting and gossipy.

"Ole didn't really see the value in people," Ferguson says. "He loathed himself. He was constantly trying to build up his sense of self-worth at the expense of others. It's tragic. He has a wonderful mind and a lot of talents."

But as early as the '70s, there were signs that Anthony's behavior and moral standards didn't fit the usual Bible study leader. "Ole was very promiscuous," Ferguson says. "He had lots of women. Some became part of the group, and some were already part of the group."

Ferguson and others, however, still held to the old evangelical standard of no sex outside marriage. And some people dared to call Anthony on it. "There were pretty heavy confrontations," Ferguson says, "and Ole backed away from it...He was trying to have it both ways." (Anthony insists today that he has been "celibate" since his Christian conversion in 1972.)

Betty Olmstead started coming to the Trinity Bible study in the late '70s and credits Anthony, through his radio show, for her Christian conversion. But she remembers being disturbed by the attitude of the women in the group: They, like Olmstead, were attracted to Ole Anthony.

Olmstead says one woman in the group confided to her that she'd slept with Anthony and now he was ignoring her. Olmstead wrote Anthony a private letter saying he needed to address the issue and was stunned when he read it to the entire group. The woman openly admitted her role in the affair, but Anthony insisted the woman was a liar and that he had no memory of the relationship. "He wouldn't be honest," Olmstead says.

The bizarre situation led the group to define what sexual behavior was permitted outside marriage. Anthony's stance: Everything was allowed "except penetration," say several members involved in the discussions.

After hearing Anthony and her roommate going at it one night, Olmstead, who was in an adjoining room, concluded that Anthony exempted himself from that one prohibition. The sex issue simmered below the surface, with standards becoming stricter over time. By the early '80s, Anthony considered unmarried sex "spiritually criminal behavior."

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