ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Friday, July 5, 1996 TAG: 9607050106
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: AUSTIN, TEXAS
SOURCE: Los Angeles Times note: below
There is a crisis of faith in the atheist world.
Madalyn Murray O'Hair - the cantankerous grand dame of godlessness, the self-designated ``most-hated woman in America,'' the driving force behind the U.S. Supreme Court's landmark 1963 decision banning school prayer - has disappeared.
Vanished. Literally without a trace. It's been almost nine months since anyone has heard from the sharp-tongued, 77-year-old nonbeliever. Or from her son, Jon Garth Murray, 41, or her granddaughter, Robin Murray O'Hair, 30 - both of whom helped her run the American Atheists Inc. headquarters here in a fenced, unmarked building shielded by mirrored glass.
For more than three decades, O'Hair has devoted her life to the cause of secularism, picking unpopular fights and waging them as zealously as any evangelist. Given such an obstreperous history, her prolonged silence is not just odd, but ominous. It has thrown the atheist movement into no small turmoil, halting many of the organization's activities and leading her flock to conclude that whatever explanation eventually surfaces, it is doubtful to be good news.
``If she ever shows up, I'm going to chew her butt off for putting me through hell,'' said Orin ``Spike'' Tyson, the group's executive director, straying from the atheist lexicon.
Since August 1995, when O'Hair posted a note outside the headquarters saying her family had been called out of town ``on an emergency basis,'' rumors have jelled into hunches, and hunches have solidified into theories. But so far, there is no more evidence backing the plausible scenarios than there is discrediting the fantastic ones.
Not even Phil Donahue could come up with an answer, despite hiring a private investigator to track down O'Hair, whom he wanted as his final guest in May, 29 years after she appeared on his inaugural show.
For those inclined to speculate, the possibilities are tantalizing. At first, American Atheists officials kept in touch with O'Hair by cellular phone, reporting that she was merely on a vacation from her manic, seven-days-a-week schedule. On Sept. 28, communication broke off. Three plane tickets to New York, where O'Hair was planning to protest Pope John Paul II's visit the following week, were never used.
One of the earliest explanations surmised that O'Hair, who has diabetes, was gravely ill or dead. Worried that Christians would pray for her soul - or, worse, claim she had experienced a deathbed conversion - O'Hair had long ago stated her desire to be privately cremated.
``I don't want any damn Christer praying over the body or even putting his hands on it,'' she wrote in a 1986 article, ``Plotting Atheist Funerals.'' That included her estranged son, William J. Murray, the young plaintiff in her anti-prayer lawsuit, but now a Christian activist who describes his mother as ``dysfunctional.''
The merits of that version, although it seemed promising last fall, have dissipated with time. Surely, her body would have been disposed of by now and a death certificate issued. It also fails to account for the whereabouts of her son and granddaughter. ``I am certain that it will take most of the day, when I die, for Jon and Robin to get rid of the body, but I expect them to be back at the American Atheists Center the next day digging into the work,'' O'Hair wrote in the same article.
Less charitable observers have focused attention on her money, suggesting that O'Hair is either living the good life or running from the law. Even before she disappeared, finances at American Atheists were rocky.
O'Hair's son and granddaughter also were being hounded by the Internal Revenue Service, which contended they used atheist money to buy everything from luxury cars to the northwest Austin home that all three shared. Although the IRS had been seeking as much as $1.5 million in back taxes, the case has been settled for just less than $37,000, according to their Washington attorney, Craig Etter. Given the vastly reduced sum, Etter doubted that the tax dispute was related to the family's disappearance.
``More importantly,'' he said, ``these are not the type of people who run from their adversaries.''
A former American Atheists employee, however, has alleged that O'Hair's financial misdeeds go far beyond that. David R. Travis, who worked at the Austin headquarters for three years, contends that O'Hair pleaded poverty to her employees while secretly funneling assets into overseas accounts, including a New Zealand fund with nearly $1 million. After the family disappeared, Travis said he reported his concerns to IRS investigators, who have refused to confirm or deny whether they took any action. ``It's a bitter pill, but what I have seen indicates that Madalyn is more dedicated to herself than she is to atheism,'' said Travis, who now works for the IRS as a temporary tax examiner in the noncriminal division.
Those claims are disputed by the American Atheists Center, which insists that Travis misinterpreted whatever documents might have fueled his suspicions. None of the organization's money is missing, according to Tyson, who has been monitoring O'Hair's bank accounts - as well as other electronic records - in hopes of discovering some sign of life. ``It's dead,'' he said. ``Deader than a doornail.''
The final theory is that the three were the victims of foul play. Although she hardly seems like a threat to social order, O'Hair's name is still capable of rankling the faithful; every few years, an old rumor pops up that she is petitioning the Federal Communications Commission to ban religious broadcasting - a spurious story that, as recently as 1995, was swamping the FCC with millions of mailed protests.
``It's a possibility, considering how many people hated her,'' said Tyson, who moved into the O'Hair home earlier this year, a decision he described as a security precaution. As time goes by, the possibility seems to grow stronger, but Tyson has yet to call the police and report the family missing. It would be fruitless, authorities agree, given no evidence of a crime.
``If you're an adult,'' said Austin Police Department spokesman Mike Burgess, ``it's not against the law to disappear.''
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