I noticed two posts relatd to the Portugal Porto Mission President during 1988 - 1990 (President Daniel L. Copeland). During my "missionary daze" of 1988-90 I spent 11 months in the Mission office as financial secretary; as a "mission office missionary" some of us had to stay at the mission home or we had to interact quite a bit with the "mission staff".

One day, one of the ladies working at the mission home happened to be in the mission office and handed me a package of photographs she had just developed. As I was perusing them, I noticed her eyes got wide and she lurched toward me to grab them from my hands - just as I was approaching the "swimming pictures". She was sporting a white bikini and was enjoying the pool with President Copeland.

So - no surprise to me that she eventually became the successor Mrs. Copeland. He was a bit on the young side, though - only 37 when he started as the mission president there.

Interesting times... learned all about how missionary president's receive stipends (as I had to cash and deposit them monthly); and, learned that some missionary presidents, at least this one - enjoyed swimming. Also, I regularly overheard him getting severely chastised via telephone calls with an "apostle" (I believe it was Nelson) regarding goals and numbers.

Interesting stuff. Keep it coming.

if it was then he is an acquaintance of mine. Although extremely tbm, he is a kind and nice guy. He was probably a great MP.

My MP was a religion professor at Ricks/BYU-Idaho and Minority Leader in the Idaho legislature. Not particularly wealthy, but he had been a stake president and was pretty well-connected.

I respect and love my mission president, who was always good to me.

My mission president (the one above) was a bit of an over-bearing tyrant; I could tell that he had been a successful businessman, but, he had the demeanor of a spoiled 5 year old brat. He had an amazing mind for number crunching and could tally figures in his head with amazing speed and accuracy (faster than I could punch them onto a calculator). I respected him as a businessman, and it seems he respected me as someone who "got things done" - but, other than that, we did not like each other.

One of my better memories is when he "allowed" us to actually have a p-day morning (during my mission office time, we never had a p-day). At that time, I was not staying in the mission home, but was about a mile away in an apartment. We received a call the night before to report to the mission home for breakfast (a Saturday) for breakfast and for some basketball. I was not comfortable with the idea of playing basketball while the rest of the crew (district missionaries) were out bothering people. Nevertheless, I went, but neglected to postpone a short district meeting that had been planned for that morning.

The mission president was about 6'4" (but I was about the same, but a lot skinnier). I smile as I remember this move: I faked like I was passing the ball to my companion, but, instead I bounce-passed the ball through the mission president's legs, I jumped past the mission president, caught my pass to myself, and dunked on him. He didnt' want to play after that (remember the demeanor of a 5 year old spoiled brat part above...)

He got even with me about a half hour later when he chewed me out for not canceling the short district meeting that had been previously planned that morning. He was pretty scathing; I just gritted my teeth, squeezed my hands into fists, and let him rail; in the "real world", I would have told him to F-off, but, I was a full-fledged mormon drone at the time and believed that I had to tolerate his crap. When I opened the door to the room and stepped out, the bathing bikini vixen mission staff lady was very sympathetic realizing I had just endured a mortifying ass chewing from her swim partner.

I always told everyone that I would never, ever, work for someone like him in the "free world" as he was an ass. Having to interact with him on money matters always made me think, "...I wonder if Joseph Smith treated people like the mission president does..." I was afraid to find out until about 7 years after the mission and discovered that Joseph Smith was a much more detestable ass.

Pretty sure I was present for the game you described. I was in the office for two months with you. You and I would drive to the post office and bank pretty much every afternoon. You to make the bank deposits and me to ship out cases of Book of Mormons.

I remember Dan ripping me a new one for wearing a Swatch (it was 1989, for hell's sake and not all of us could afford swanky gold watches like his).

I always thought he picked the wrong mission home maid to shag. The never-mo "A" was cool, but I always thought "N" was hot. Plus, she spoke English very well.

It always amazed me that you were able to endure working in the office as long as you did. If I remember correctly, you had meetings with Dan almost every day.

I'm pretty sure I remember you - and - am glad to hear there are a number of ex-Oporto Portugal exmos passing in and out of these lists. And, if you are who I think you are, I'm elated you got out of the "regime" just like I did! I actually resigned back in September 1997.

My exit summary is item 73: http://www.exmormon.org/whylft73.htm

I hope you're catching a lot of trout!

Mike Jensen - down in Texas
mjjense@yahoo.com

Did you guys know a sister McGee from Houston?

Yeah, some times it's hard to say good things about TBMs. I had some really fucked up asshat companions that I hope die painful deaths unless they changed after their missions, but my mission president, who was a native Japanese, was one of the kindest people I've ever known. Both he and his wife both seemed to really love us as individuals, not just church merchandizers.

He really was the only reason I stayed out a full two years.

1997resignee, I also served in the same mission and the emphasis on numbers was one of the first things that really turned me off. Dan always came across as an egotistical phoney and his youth, good looks and success never fooled me so when I found out he took up with the maid, I wasn't shocked. I would love to have a Porto Mission reunion for all the missionaries who have left the church. I know more than a few!

1997resignee, I think we could have a whole Porto thread. I have some really good stories! I bet we all do!

He was a pompous ass and a liar, a manipulator, a bully. He suffered from a short man complex. Years later, when I saw "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?", Judge Doom's weasel henchmen reminded me of our APs.

My MP had been an insurance executive, so he was all about high-pressure sales techniques. And he also sucked up to his bosses. He created a huge rule book/manual. It might have inspired the brethren to create the White Bible.

He was also a bit of an idiot. I was sent to mission HQ to recover from hepatitis, and one of my responsibilities was producing the monthly mission newsletter. I spend my days in a glorified closet printing and collating them. One day, I had "The Messiah" playing softly on a cassette machine to keep me company. The MP walked by during one of the instrumental sections.

"Elder! You're only allowed to listen to the Tabernacle Choir!"

"This is. It's the Choir doing Handel's 'Messiah.'"

"I don't hear any Tabernacle Choir!"

"It's an instrumental passage. The choir comes back in in a moment. Ah, see?"

"Harrumph... well... um... don't go listening to any unauthorized music!"

I was also in a special subset of the mission assigned to teach the "Lamanites." In a mission conference, the MP was going on and on about the BoM being The Key to Conversion®. If our contacts would only read the BoM, they would be filled with the Holy Ghost, yadda yadda yadda. I raised my hand and asked, "President, how is this supposed to work when we have people who are nearly illiterate and for whom English is a second language?"

There was a long pause. You could almost see Reality and the Inspired Program wrestling in his head. "Harrumph... well... um... just having the BoM in their homes will cause the Holy Ghost to testify to them the church is true blah blah blah..."

But the biggie for me was when he lied to my parents about the seriousness of my illness, then lied to me about lying to my parents.

On the other hand, I had to thank him (and a visiting GA) for showing me how ungodly the divinely-appointed church leadership actually was. It helped me down the road out of the church.

I had the exact same conversation with a district leader and Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture where the MTC did the choral parts.

Idiots.

Details please. Was the president recently widowed, or getting a price on the side.with the hired help?

To answer Luis C. Ferr - no, the guy was not a widow. He was married, had a son at the time around 9 or 10 (who he made do splits with missionaries from time-to-time... and, invariably he went with me). Rumor was, at the time, that the pres was "shooting blanks" and that the kiddos were adopted (although they did seem to bear resemblance to the pres's wife). Whatever was going on with the maid, he was able to keep it fairly discrete, other than the fact that his paramour-to-be was walking around with some inflamatory photos.

I distinctly remember looking at photographs of her sporting a white bikini (flip, flip, flip); it was about the fourth or fifth where I see her sitting on the man's shoulders, the six photo is of him holding her in his arms, and a few more where she's drying off in what appeared to be a translucent white bikini. I have no idea who took the photos, but, I'm pretty damned sure it wasn't his wife. It made me look at the maid in a whole new light.

The pres and I had a mutual respect (he was amazing with numbers and I"got things done"); but, I still applied pressure when I could. I remember a couple of college girls wanted to meet him, so, I hooked them up for an interview. I recall he spent about half an hour with them, when he was finished - I made a point to ask him if he had done all those annoying things he required us to do as missionaries (basically - did you blitz 'em and beg 'em to be baptized). He gave me a disgruntled look and told me to get them some books (I don't recall which ones).

After nearly 11 months of no p-days, he finally tells all of the office guys that we're taking a p-day trip. He hauls us up to Braga and to a nearby city that had a castle (of sorts) and took us to a pretty chic restaurant (and even paid!). It was a good day. Then, next transfer - that's where the terd sent me. I guess his thinking was that since I'd already seen the sights, I'd keep busting my ass bothering people and trying to dunk them.

I had a group of missionaries for which I was responsible who created an "underground" sort of newsletter that was critical of how things were done and the focus on numbers. I recall the APs were pissed and the pres wanted to know who was responsible... he got nothing but crickets - as I tended to agree with the critique.

She was the maid in the mission home at the time.(muito escandaloso!) Pretty sure he got exed for it but has since come back.

Dang Autocorrect makes me illiterate.

Is the same guy that owned the jewelry store?

Lou

Yep. Same guy. I am an 88-90 Porto alumnus as well. He was a pompous GA wanna-be on the mission, but his fall from grace afterwards was ironically the best thing he passed on to me. When I heard about it all while I was a student at BYU, it really rocked my testimony. I couldn't understand how this man I trusted (even though he led through fear and intimidation) had been lying the whole time. If that was the case, how should I reinterpret some of the "spiritual" experiences I was convinced I had shared as one of his valiant missionaries? I remember a reunion in Utah not long after where his wife was there, and she was trying her best to do damage control and salvage tender testimonies like mine, but the damage had been done for me. Still, I stayed, and obeyed for far too long. I married in the temple and sucked it up, but always retained my doubts. I went through the motions for so many years until some major life events finally imbued me with the courage to leave.

Luckily I see very clearly now. My experience in the church is finally fading into a distant haze. I studied and read until I had no doubts, and I resigned my membership last year. In the end, I thank Mr. Daniel L. Copeland. Without that wake-up call so many years ago, who knows where I would be today?

Yeah, God bless Sister Karen and her attempts to "bear witness" in Portuguse. :) I can still hear it...

"Ay-oh say kay day-ose vee-vee. Eee kay elly ahma cada ume dee nose."

I think she had a good heart. On the contrary, I think her ex-hubby was a tool. A geek who got picked on as a kid who paid it forward by making kids who were only 18 years his junior feel like crap because their numbers weren't up to padrão.

I saw the pic of the last reunion on Facebook. The number of missionaries there combined with the number of still-active members baptized in the Porto mission from 88-90 wouldn't equal half the number of exmo missionaries that he created.

Oh my! You just brought back so many memories!

Makurosu, you hit in on the head!
"His role as mission president in his mind was to gain enough clout with the Brethren to make him a General Authority, and he was not going to let any needy kids stand in the way of that."

I used to think my mission president was such a self-important buffoon, and I still do -- but so were most of the rest of them. When Stray Mutt talks about his mission president, I can picture it. Actually, I think Stray Mutt's MP was an even bigger asshat than my MP. This Copeland sounds like the patron saint of asshats. I have no doubt, because I've seen what can go on in a mission. It's great to get some validation about it.

I was so distraught after my mission and dealing with my MP's narcissism that I saw a psychologist five years after I got home, and it really helped. It stopped the mission dreams anyway.

I remember people at BYU saying that the mission program and the way it is organized is proof that the Church is inspired. I used to wonder about that. No, the mission program, if other missions are anything like mine, is proof that the Church is NOT inspired.

I'm to the point now where I'm able to think about good conversations I had with my mission president, and some good advice he gave me. I don't think he was intentionally evil. He just did not have the capacity to empathize with his missionaries, and nobody was helping him to do that. His role as mission president in his mind was to gain enough clout with the Brethren to make him a General Authority, and he was not going to let any needy kids stand in the way of that.

Thanks for the fascinating stories about the Portugal mission. The tales of the GA wannabe and his bikini-clad maid are special, to say the least.

Dh's best friend from high school served in the Portugal mission, but his service predated this Copeland fellow. Sadly, dh's friend, after completing his mission, came home and married in the temple, had five children in quick succession, and then put a gun in his mouth and shot himself when he was in his early 40s. Dh and I had been long gone from Utah by then and had lost touch so we never really knew the reasons behind this horrific tragedy. But, we are still saddened by it.

As for the comment from PortoafterDan: "the truth is still the truth and always will be". Yep, truer words were never spoken.

And, with respect to the church and the doctrine, it's not true. It simply is not true. In fact, it doesn't even pass the smell test. As my highly educated and very intelligent boss (who has read the Old and New Testaments, the Koran and the Book of Mormon) told me: "Even if my politics were aligned with Mitt's, I could never vote for him because he believes (or at least professes to believe) in the complete and utter nonsense that is the Mormon religion.

I always appreciated what a poster on these boards (was it Craig P@xton?) used to say about the church and truth:

"It's not my fault that it's not true."

Wow,

You guys have got to get together and write a book about the Portugal Porto mission. I'll buy it. Sounds fascinating!

I was in the same mission at the same time as Stray Mutt. Our mission president had all the compassion and leadership techniques of Adolf Hitler. If any of you have seen footage of the Nazi Nuremburg rallies that will show what our zone conferences were like.
I had just settled in with a new companion in an area close to the mission home when one evening he pulls out a miniature Sony television from his locked trunk. He was quite a hockey fan and being in Canada there were plenty of games to watch. I knew this was not going to end well no matter what I did so I just ignored the situation.
One day when we returned to our apartment we discovered that someone had broken in and taken the television. Since nothing else was taken I was sure that it was the district leader or zone leader. My companion would not calm down however, and insisted on filing a police report since the lock of his trunk had been pried open and the contents strewn all over.
The police dutifully took the report, interviewed our landlady and I thought that would be the end of it. Boy was I in for a surprise.
The next week we had a "special" zone conference at the mission home. In typical fashion we were ridiculed and berated for not living the rules, not working hard enough, not doing this, not doing that ad nauseum. The mission president made a special point of letting us know how we were not supporting his pretty boy asshat zone leader. At the height of the presidents harrangue the doorbell of the mission home rings and there are two police offers who want to talk to the mission president.
I knew exactly what this was about and had to fight the urge to grab some car keys and head out the back door to the airport.
(Fortunately, no passports needed in Canada at that time).
It must have been quite a discussion because we could hear most of it even though it was behined closed doors. Apparently our busybody landlady took mental notes of everyone that came to our basement apartment and had enough of a description to give the police a solid lead.
The only thing I took solace in was the fact that the mission president had finally encountered someone (the police) whom he could not bully into submission.
The discussion finally ended and the police were going to arrest the zone leader unless my companion withdrew his complaint. The mission president and my companion disappeared into the president's office and shut the door. I was right outside and since they were both yelling at each other I could hear most everything that was said. It was not pretty, the only thing the president was interested in was keeping his record "spotless" and having to report to SLC that one of his missionaries was in jail would be hard to explain. The fact that the zone leader was using gestapo tactics and breaking the law somehow eludid him.
They finally came out, the complaint was withdrawn and the police left. I thought this was over and we could all calm down, but no, a scapegoat was needed and that was going to be me.
The mission president brought me into his office, closed the door and for the next hour proceeded to let me know that I was the worst piece of missionary scum he had ever encountered. If I had been a dutiful little nazi informant none of this would have happened. He even threatened to send me home!
It was glaringly obvious that his dictatorship had been ruffled and someone was going to have to pay. Oddly enough, I felt a strange calm through the ordeal and I realized that like all narcissists, he was going to do what he wanted regardless of what I said.
We ended up having a "special fast" to determine what to do with me. It must have worked, because I was not sent home.
What I should have done is wait a week, gone to the airport, called him, said f... you, boarded a plane and gone home on my own terms.
My mission oddly enough was the beginning of my unraveling of my belief in mormonism. An interesting side note on this episode I found out years later was that the mission president tried to send a letter to my parents saying what a poor missionary I was but a friend of mine that was the mission secretary at the time shredded it. That elder did more for me with that simple act than he will ever know.

My mission president seemed to be like most of the missionaries... lacking passion and just doing the required Lord's works. He was a successul businessman, but I wouldn't call him wealthy and/or CEO material.

He and his wife were on a couple's mission 'next door' (in Stray Mutt's and Jubhut's mission) before he was called to start up my mission.

This Porto Portugal mission looks like it went away in 2011, absorbed into other missions.

Guess the either reflects poorly on Mormonism or the Portuguese. Business is contracting in Portugal. Maybe they should sell something they can use there.

My mission president was an awesome guy, doen to business no-nonesense. He was on first name basis with then apostle "Tommy" Monson. He owned a number of corporations back in the LA area. One of them, he left to his incompetent son and the company got sued, my president had to go home early, 1.5 years early. He was replaced by the one of the most incompetent, self righteouss idiots I have ever met.

I was in Lisbon from 88 to 90. My mission pres was a douche bag. When the Porto mission had better numbers we got our asses chewed. It was all a numbers game.

I ONLY recognize swimming as pleasurable if it's Skinny-Dipping...