Progressive Alinsky Organizers Infiltrating Churches in San Diego

Al Capone, a model for Alinsky
Al Capone, a model for Saul Alinsky

San Diego Organizing Project is a “progressive” activist group, which bases its work on the anarchistic, revolutionary principles of community organizing developed by Saul Alinsky. Saul Alinsky acknowledged Lucifer in his book, “Rules for Radicals.” He sought out the successors of Al Capone’s mafia in Chicago and lived closely with them to study the organizing principles of the mob. He described himself as an honorary member of the mob, cognizant of their many murders and a willing participant in their orgies.

They present a nice face to deceive the public, but goals of these progressive community organizers in the Church, like elsewhere, are generally to promote social change that is contrary to traditional church teachings and/or detrimental to American national interests, such as,

● Encouragement of massive illegal immigration
● Promotion of the homosexual/LGBT agenda
● Acceptance of abortion and ghoulish medical experimentation with aborted babies

2 Corinthians 11:14 Well, no wonder! Even Satan can disguise himself to look like an angel of light!

Alinsky said that the ultimate goal of his method is simply to “gain power,” overthrowing the old system by whatever means necessary. Subversive destruction of the church from within would be just one means of obtaining that goal, which is a also a goal of the related ideology of cultural Marxism. This is occurring all over America, not just in San Diego. Though the effort precedes him, he has enhanced it as a part of Obama’s war on Christianity.

Alinsky reveals some of the background and purposes of his organizing principles in the following interview done in 1972. See shorter excerpt at bottom of this page.

Playboy Interview with Saul Alinsky

San Diego Bishop McElroy Promoting Immigration Lawlessness
With Alinskyian Community Organizers


First Lutheran Church of San Diego

First Unitarian Universalist Church and South Bay Campus

Greater Antioch Church of God in Christ

Holy Spirit Catholic Church (associate member)

La Mesa First United Methodist Church

Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church

Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church
(Note: There are two churches by this name, the SDOP member is the one in San Ysidro, not the church by the same name in Rancho Penasquitos.)

Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Catholic Church

Paradise Valley Seventh Day Adventist Church

Revival Time Church of God in Christ

St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church

St. Jude Shrine of the West Catholic Church

St. Mark’s City Heights Episcopal Church

St. Stephen’s Cathedral COGIC/ Second Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction Church of God in Christ

North San Diego County

St. Thomas More Catholic Church (Oceanside)

The following is video of a presentation on Alinski Organizing, presented in San Diego on October 25, 2015.

Catholic writer Stephanie Block speaks about the influence of progressive, Saul Alinsky-style community organizing groups within Christian churches. Stephanie is author of Change Agents: Alinskyian Organizing among Religious Bodies, a four-volume exploration of the history, ideology and damage done by these faith-based, politically progressive groups. She edits the New Mexico-based Pequeños Pepper and is founding editor of the Catholic Media Coalition.



This is a quote from the preface of Alinsky’s book on community organizing, “Rules for Radicals.”

“Lest we forget at least an over the shoulder acknowledgment to the very first radical: from all our legends, mythology and history (and who is to know where mythology leaves off and history begins – or which is which), the very first radical known to man who rebelled against the establishment and did it so effectively that he at least won his own kingdom – Lucifer.”


PLAYBOY: Did you continue your life of crime?

ALINSKY: Crime? That wasn’t crime — it was survival — But my Robin Hood days were short-lived; logically enough, I was awarded the graduate Social Science Fellowship in criminology, the top one in that field, which took care of my tuition and room and board — I still don’t know why they gave it to me — maybe because I hadn’t taken a criminology course in my life and didn’t know one goddamn thing about the subject — But this was the Depression and I felt like someone had tossed me a life preserver — Hell, if it had been in shirt cleaning, I would have taken it. Anyway, I found out that criminology was just as removed from actual crime and criminals as sociology was from society, so I decided to make my doctoral dissertation a study of the Al Capone mob — an inside study.

PLAYBOY: What did Capone have to say about that?

Alinsky, an honorary Chicago mobster
Saul Alinsky, an honorary Chicago mobster

ALINSKY: Well, my reception was pretty chilly at first — I went over to the old Lexington Hotel, which was the gang’s headquarters, and I hung around the lobby and the restaurant. I’d spot one of the mobsters whose picture I’d seen in the papers and go up to him and say, “I’m Saul Alinsky, I’m studying criminology, do you mind if I hang around with you?” And he’d look me over and say, “Get lost, punk.” This happened again and again, and I began to feel I’d never get anywhere. Then one night I was sitting in the restaurant and at the next table was Big Ed Stash, a professional assassin who was the Capone mob’s top executioner. He was drinking with a bunch of his pals and he was saying, “Hey, you guys, did I ever tell you about the time I picked up that redhead in Detroit?” and he was cut off by a chorus of moans. “My God,” one guy said, “do we have to hear that one again?” I saw Big Ed’s face fall; mobsters are very sensitive, you know, very thin-skinned. And I reached over and plucked his sleeve. “Mr. Stash,” I said, “I’d love to hear that story.” His face lit up. “You would, kid?” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Here, pull up a chair. Now, this broad, see . . .” And that’s how it started.Big Ed had an attentive audience and we became buddies. He introduced me to Frank Nitti, known as the Enforcer, Capone’s number-two man, and actually in de facto control of the mob because of Al’s income-tax rap. Nitti took me under his wing. I called him the Professor and I became his student. Nitti’s boys took me everywhere, showed me all the mob’s operations, from gin mills and whorehouses and bookie joints to the legitimate businesses they were beginning to take over. Within a few months, I got to know the workings of the Capone mob inside out.

PLAYBOY: Why would professional criminals confide their secrets to an outsider?

ALINSKY: Why not? What harm could I do them? Even if I told what I’d learned, nobody would listen. They had Chicago tied up tight as a drum; they owned the city, from the cop on the beat right up to the mayor. Forget all that Eliot Ness shit; the only real opposition to the mob came from other gangsters, like Bugs Moran or Roger Touhy. The Federal Government could try to nail ’em on an occasional income tax rap, but inside Chicago they couldn’t touch their power. Capone was the establishment. When one of his boys got knocked off, there wasn’t any city court in session, because most of the judges were at the funeral and some of them were pallbearers. So they sure as hell weren’t afraid of some college kid they’d adopted as a mascot causing them any trouble. They never bothered to hide anything from me; I was their one-man student body and they were anxious to teach me. It probably appealed to their egos.

Once, when I was looking over their records, I noticed an item listing a $7500 payment for an out-of-town killer. I called Nitti over and I said, “Look, Mr. Nitti, I don’t understand this. You’ve got at least 20 killers on your payroll. Why waste that much money to bring somebody in from St. Louis?” Frank was really shocked at my ignorance. “Look, kid,” he said patiently, “sometimes our guys might know the guy they’re hitting, they may have been to his house for dinner, taken his kids to the ball game, been the best man at his wedding, gotten drunk together. But you call in a guy from out of town, all you’ve got to do is tell him, ‘Look, there’s this guy in a dark coat on State and Randolph; our boy in the car will point him out; just go up and give him three in the belly and fade into the crowd.’ So that’s a job and he’s a professional, he does it. But one of our boys goes up, the guy turns to face him and it’s a friend, right away he knows that when he pulls that trigger there’s gonna be a widow, kids without a father, funerals, weeping — Christ, it’d be murder.” I think Frank was a little disappointed by my even questioning the practice; he must have thought I was a bit callous.

PLAYBOY: Didn’t you have any compunction about consorting with — if not actually assisting — murderers?

ALINSKY: None at all, since there was nothing I could do to stop them from murdering, practically all of which was done inside the family. I was a nonparticipating observer in their professional activities, although I joined their social life of food, drink and women: Boy, I sure participated in that side of things — it was heaven. And let me tell you something, I learned a hell of a lot about the uses and abuses of power from the mob, lessons that stood me in good stead later on, when I was organizing.

Another thing you’ve got to remember about Capone is that he didn’t spring out of a vacuum. The Capone gang was actually a public utility; it supplied what the people wanted and demanded. The man in the street wanted girls: Capone gave him girls. He wanted booze during Prohibition: Capone gave him booze. He wanted to bet on a horse: Capone let him bet. It all operated according to the old laws of supply and demand, and if there weren’t people who wanted the services provided by the gangsters, the gangsters wouldn’t be in business. Everybody owned stock in the Capone mob; in a way, he was a public benefactor. I remember one time when he arrived at his box seat in Dyche Stadium for a Northwestern football game on Boy Scout Day and 8000 scouts got up in the stands and screamed in cadence, “Yea, yea, Big Al. Yea, yea, Big Al.” Capone didn’t create the corruption, he just grew fat on it, as did the political parties, the police and the overall municipal economy.

PLAYBOY: How long were you an honorary member of the mob?

ALINSKY: About two years. After I got to know about the outfit, I grew bored and decided to move on — which is a recurring pattern in my life, by the way. I was just as bored with graduate school, so I dropped out and took a job with the Illinois State Division of Criminology, working with juvenile delinquents. This led me into another field project, investigating a gang of Italian kids who called themselves the 42 Mob. They were held responsible by the D.A. for about 80 percent of the auto thefts in Chicago at the time and they were just graduating into the outer fringes of the big-time rackets. It was even tougher to get in with them than with the Capone mob, believe me.

In this same interview, Alinsky was asked where he wanted to go after death and he replied “to hell,” because that is where the have-nots — that he organizes — will be. Presumably, he was joking that he would organize hell to overthrow God. Ironically, only a couple months later, Alinsky died of a sudden, massive heart attack on the streets of the very wealthy community of Carmel, California, where he had been residing not exactly with the have-nots.