archived as http://www.stealthskater.com/Documents/Kramer_1.doc [pdf] read more of Kramer at http://www.stealthskater.com/PX.htm#Kramer note: because important websites are frequently "here today but gone tomorrow", the following was archived from http://www.mrkabc.com/news/kramer01.html on January 21, 2002. This is NOT an attempt to divert readers from the aforementioned website. Indeed, the reader should only read this back-up copy if the updated original cannot be found at the original author's site. Far Out Taylor Kramer -- rock musician, rocket scientist, entrepreneur -- has vanished into thin air. He could be a suicide. A homicide. A runaway. An Alien Abductee. Finally, he is what he always wanted to be. A legend. by Richard Leiby, Washington Post Staff Writer 10/06/96, p. F01 The Washington Post -- The day he disappeared, Philip Taylor Kramer -- who was worth more than a million dollars -- had 40 cents in his pocket. In his head, he carried secrets -- some said to be of incalculable value. An aerospace engineer, he knew how to configure the flight path of a nuclear missile. A computer executive, he developed revolutionary technology to compress and transmit data. A student of theoretical physics, he pursued particles and equations that he believed would someday permit objects to move faster than the speed-of-light (i.e., "warp speed") making possible travel to the stars. These facts alone set the disappearance of Philip Taylor Kramer apart from your average milk-carton missing persons case. Add one other: The rocket scientist was a 'rocker'. Kramer could expertly lay down the throbbing bass line for "In-a-Gadda-da-Vida" -- the baroque hippie anthem he used to perform as a member of the band Iron Butterfly. Now we're talking! The case has been reported on "Unsolved Mysteries" and "America's Most Wanted." There have been "sightings". There is conjecture about sinister global conspiracies. Was Kramer abducted by America's enemies? A U.S. congressman thinks so. Is Kramer trapped by his own technological wizardry, imprisoned somewhere in cyberspace? It's one theory. Many people believe that when Kramer vanished on Feb. 12, 1995 -- last known location: a green Aerostar mini-van on Highway 101 about 30 miles north of Los Angeles -- he entered another realm. And in a way, whatever the truth of his disappearance, they are right. Philip Taylor Kramer, age 42 when last seen, has become part of popular mythology, dwelling in the same corner of our pre-millennial landscape as the living Elvis, the UFO crash at Roswell, N.M., and the evil designs of the One World Government. "Someone may have grabbed him," says Rep. James Traficant (D-Ohio), who knows Kramer's family and has urged the FBI to fully investigate the national security implications of the disappearance. Foreign or domestic terrorists could have brainwashed Kramer for "nefarious purposes", Traficant says - - namely, to launch a nuclear strike. (The FBI briefly looked into it and says there is no reason to suspect such a plot.) 1 "Somebody put a gun to his head," suggests Ron Bushy, Iron Butterfly's drummer and Kramer's closest friend, "because he'd just made a breakthrough in this new technology." The fact is that Kramer's disappearance is mysterious. His company was mired in bankruptcy, and in those final days he was clearly emotionally distraught. From a cellular phone, he called '911' to say he was going to kill himself. But was the call made under duress? No body was ever found. The van was never found. An extensive aerial search yielded no sign of a submerged vehicle. Resilient and eternally upbeat, Kramer had weathered setbacks in the past without cracking. He had no history of psychiatric problems. He didn't use drugs or drink. He adored his children. A 6-foot-5, 220-pound man is likely to stand out, dead or alive. Kramer's family and friends circulated thousands of fliers and pursued hundreds of purported sightings and leads nationwide. All to no avail. His credit cards were never used again. Neither was his cell phone. "We've got no motive, no evidence, nothing," says private investigator Chuck Carter, a former cop and DEA agent hired by Kramer's business partners. "Pick a scenario, any scenario," says Detective Tom Bennett, who's handling the case for the Ventura County Sheriff's Department. Officially, Kramer has been entered into a national missing- persons database as "endangered". Traficant -- one of the more eccentric congressmen, who prides himself on his lone-wolf independence -- vows further investigation by his staff: "There's some funny things here," he says. Some sad things, too. "I long to have his dead body found so that I can end this," says Jennifer Kramer, who married Taylor (everyone called him 'Taylor') in 1987. "I don't care why he's gone. Look at what I'm left with." "I still grieve terribly. I know every inch of his body, every vein in his foot that's popping out," she says. "I intended to be with him the rest of my life." Recently their 6-year-old Hayley has been seeing Daddy in her dreams. She's been asking whether Mommy can put up a little stone in a cemetery. A place for her to go and pray and bring flowers for Daddy. Words and Music Until he or his body turns up, we can't know for sure what happened to Philip Taylor Kramer. But we can search for clues, like everyone else. On the Internet, some people are looking for evidence in the words to "In-a-Gadda-da-Vida", which brought multi-million album sales and world fame for San Diego-based Iron Butterfly in 1968. The song is as good as any a place to start. 2 "Dunh, dunh, da-da-da dunh-DUNH-dunh-dunh …" goes the simple bass line -- a riff that might have reasonably supported a tune lasting 2 minutes but which the musicians attenuated to cover an entire album side -- 17 minutes 5 seconds. Its lyrics were pedestrian: "Baby, don't you know that I love you/ Don't you know that I'll always be true." Its interminable wdrum solo and Gothic keyboard noodling render it practically unlistenable today. Yet it became the first certified platinum album in history. It stayed on the album charts for 140 weeks. "In-a-Gadda-da-Vida" held a power and attraction far beyond its musical merit as stoners stuck their heads next to pulsing speakers and attempted to divine the song's greater message. Even the title was a mystery in a way. It was the drummer's exact transcription of singer Doug Ingle's drunkenly slurred words when he finished writing the song after a gallon of cheap wine at 3:00 in the morning. He was trying to say "In the Garden of Eden". This turned out to be accidental marketing genius. Now every fan would be able to put forth his own theory about the meaning of the words. Taylor Kramer performed "Vida" hundreds of times on tour as both bassist and singer. But he never liked to talk about his time in the group -- he seemed embarrassed by it. Why? Perhaps because Kramer had nothing to do with Iron Butterfly's signature song. In fact, he wasn't even in the band during its late-'60s heyday. Kramer joined a regrouped version in 1974 -- 3 years after the original band broke up. The 2 albums that Kramer recorded with the group went nowhere on the charts. Asking Kramer about his stint in Butterfly was like asking Pete Best what it was like being a Beatle. But all his life, Kramer wanted to be known for doing something significant. He didn't want to make a fortune, but he wanted people to know his name. Maybe that's our first good clue. On the Road That Sunday morning driving on Highway 101, Kramer made 17 cell phone calls to family members, friends, and business associates. The last call came into the California Highway Patrol's 911 switchboard at a minute before Noon: "911, can I help you?" "Yes. This is Philip Taylor Kramer." "Uh-huh. This is 911. Can I help you, Sir?" "Yes, you can. I'm going to kill myself ... " A few seconds later, the polite, measured voice was gone. "Hello? Hello?" the operator said frantically. Silence. 3 Happier Times Christmas Day, 1994. It's a month-and-a-half before the disappearance, and things couldn't have seemed more normal at the Kramer household. Carols on the stereo. Cookies and sweets left for Santa. Visits from relatives bearing gifts. Barbies for Hayley, a hockey stick for then 13 Derek. And Dad with the video camera, recording it all. After Hayley tries on her new holiday dress and "fairy princess" shoes, Dad puts her on a pedestal (literally) so she can display them for the camera. His own childlike excitement builds as the little girl opens her gifts: "Oh, my gosh! Your own roller skates. The big-girl kind!" At one point Kramer sets the camera on the dining room table and lets it roll. The video shows an athletic, amiable giant in white shorts and a loose blue shirt. The Kramers seem to want for nothing here in their $250,000 ranch-home-with-a-pool, set amid raw canyons in a newish Thousand Oaks subdivision. Dad can't keep his lens off Hayley, then 4. She gets annoyed at one point: "Set the camera down!" "Hayley, just one thing," he persists … then whispers, eerily: "I love you." Is this a clue? It is almost as if he were planning his escape and feeling regret.