Nearly 40 years ago, a young L.A. Times journalist named Edwin Chen got this wild lead,

a story that seemed too bizarre to be true.

It just had all the ingredients. It had sex. It had fame. It had kind of a guy with a way out there idea.

It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime tips that reporters dream about getting.

I went to the editors and I said, you guys are not going to believe this, what I'm working on.

And they couldn't believe it.

They laughed and said, that can't be real.

Chen's bosses at the L.A. Times told him to investigate the story he stumbled upon.

So he drove 30 miles from his office in San Diego to the gates of a lush 10-acre estate.

He cruised down a long driveway, flanked by well-manicured lawns, to a grand home with

an American flag flying high in front. Chen was greeted by the estate's owner, a fabulously

wealthy industrialist. He looked like he could fit right in with the parents on Leave it to

beaver. Dressed shirt with a tie on, very neatly dressed, hair combed, just very proper and dignified.

Chen entered the estate house and sat in an airy family room across from this man, Robert K. Graham.

They started talking about what brought Chen there in the first place.

Graham's bold vision, an experiment that would remake humanity as we know it.

Right away, I could tell he was a real believer.

The evidence Chen needed to confirm his tip was right here on this estate. So, after chatting for a bit, Chen and Graham stepped back outside and walked down a grassy hill.

And there was like a concrete bunker, a small one, maybe the size of like a bathroom in a house.

And you stepped down, it was concrete, and then it was a heavy, heavy door.

I think it was like a steel door.

It almost was like one of those bank vaults.

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