Have you ever wondered what a day might have been like in the life of a famous and enormously popular rock ‘n roll idol? Or what that life might have looked like from the perspective of the most famous man in the world? Have you ever imagined riding along on Michael Jackson’s shoulder as he moved through the moments of his life – those very public events – as well as those more private, quiet, unpublicized occurrences that few of us ever got to witness up close and personal?
Well, I have and I’ve written some of those imaginings as stories with descriptive scenes, lots of dialog and casts of characters. The block quoted excerpts below are derived from a short story that I wrote in the early days of my obsession with Michael Jackson. Much of what you will read in this post was written in 1995 at about the time of the stillborn One Night Only concert at the Beacon Theater in New York scheduled to be broadcast on HBO.
The cast of characters includes Michael as himself, of course; Bill Bray, head of security since Michael’s Motown days and Stacy, an Epic executive who accompanies Michael as a representative of his record company. Her assignment is to spy on Michael’s activities and report back to Thomas at Sony. Stacy starts out thinking Michael is a megalomaniacal, spoiled brat who has gotten too big for his britches and requires taking down a peg. She is stunned to discover otherwise as she follows him from place to place and sees him in all kinds of different circumstances, experiencing his life firsthand. Needless to say, this learning experience influences her to change her mind about this man she understood so little when their relationship began. As they move through the days, they become close friends and we catch a glimpse of daily life for the superstar and his entourage – at least daily life as one who has not experienced it imagines it might have been.
The purpose of revisiting some of these imaginary events is to try to put ourselves into the story because while we may know – intellectually – that such events occurred regularly in Michael Jackson’s life – to observe them from a first person perspective changes them somewhat and allows us, as observers, to experience them, even if only in our fertile imaginations.
Michael finished dressing and they ate a hurried breakfast of fruit. Then they marched down the hall toward the elevator. All of the security guards that Stacy had seen running down the hall earlier surrounded them as they neared their destination. They stopped about ten feet short of the doors and Bill glanced nervously around to be certain that everyone was alert. As the doors opened, Bill and another guard entered and checked the elevator. When they were assured that Michael would be safe, Bill motioned for him to come forward.
Stacy had never witnessed such a display. She turned her head to look at Michael, but he wasn’t even paying attention to the precautions taken to ensure his safety. Stacy, on the other hand, was stunned. She had never considered searching an elevator. What was Bill looking for? Did he really expect to find someone lurking in the empty elevator?
Michael felt Stacy’s tension and was puzzled. He looked at her, raising his eyebrows as if to ask, “What’s wrong?” but there were too many people around for her to ask him about this odd behavior. Instead, she shook her head and smiled up at him, reaching for his hand to give his fingers a squeeze with her own. The contact with his flesh and his fingers closing around hers calmed Stacy a little. She would wait until they were alone to ask him about this. Little did she know that her day would be filled with similar incidents.
The elevator’s motion stopped, but one of the guards held his finger on the button which kept the door closed as Bill looked around at all the guards to be certain that each was ready. Then, he looked briefly into Michael’s eyes. “Ready?” he asked, winking at Stacy. The guards nodded briefly. “Okay, let’s go,” Bill said. The guard released the door and the double doors slid back to reveal the lobby of the hotel. It was empty of all but guests. It seemed that Stacy could hear everyone’s sigh of relief. Hurriedly, the group bustled towards the rear exit into the underground parking garage below the hotel. An armored van was waiting for them, the chauffeur relaxing against the back of the driver’s seat. As he noticed the approaching group, he sat up stiffly and started the engine.
When they were seated in the armored vehicle, Stacy quickly decided to ask about the elevator incident. She turned to face Bill across the back of the van. “What were you looking for in the elevator?”
Bill Bray looked at Stacy … then at Michael, before he responded, “Mike, normal everyday people don’t take the security precautions that I take with you.” Michael nodded slowly. “Michael is an internationally- known figure, Stacy. Internationally-known figures live a little differently from the rest of mankind. They are often the target of threats, death threats.” Stacy’s eyes got wider as Bill continued, “In addition, Michael’s fans frequently hide in elevators or in corridors waiting for him to leave the hotel. Although they really don’t intend to hurt him, it causes problems when too many of them mob him at once. I’m sure Mike doesn’t even notice my caution anymore, but to someone unaccustomed to checking and rechecking, my behavior might appear intimidating. It’s my job to protect him from overzealous fans and from lunatics who might want to make a place for themselves in history by killing Michael Jackson. I’m not one to take my responsibilities in this matter lightly and Mike knows it.”
Michael nodded slowly as Stacy inquired, “Someone has threatened to kill you? Why?”
Michael answered her question with a graceful, casual shrug of his shoulders. “I was ten or eleven years old when I got my first death threat. I was attending school in Los Angeles when my parents were called to the school by the principle. He demanded that they remove me and my brother, Marlon, from the premises because they couldn’t afford to upset the rest of the students or their parents. I’ve been threatened so often since then that I’ve lost count of the times. Bill, can you remember?”
Bill just shook his head calmly. “Lots,” he exclaimed.
An edge of panic and disbelief colored Stacy’s voice. “Recently?” she asked softly, “has this happened recently?”
Michael’s eyes turned towards Bill as he shook his head, but Bill faced him down and steadily, calmly replied, “Mike, you know she has to know what she’s facing if she continues to travel with you. She can’t be allowed to move forward until she has seen the path she travels. We wouldn’t be protecting her that way.” Bill’s eyes turned towards Stacy as he spoke, “Last Wednesday was the most recent threat against his life. He performs tonight, so I expect that someone will call before the performance.”
“My God, Bill … Michael … you’re not serious!” Stacy roared. Her panic had overtaken her. She envisioned Michael lying on a stage, the side of his head bleeding into the hard wood beneath him and the vision shook her to her very soul. “How do you live like that?”
Michael took her shoulders gently between his hands turning her to face him, gentling her fear with his calm. “Stacy, I’m still here and this has been going on for a very long time. I ignore it. And I trust Bill to protect me. Fear will kill your spirit faster than any bullet can kill your body.” he whispered. Turning to Bill, Michael winked, “Are we going to have time?”
Bray glanced quickly at his watch before he spoke. “A little, maybe, Mike. Not long. You’ve got the theater reserved for rehearsal until just before the show and the gang is probably already there – maybe half an hour.”
Michael rested his head against the back cushion of the car seat. “Stacy, we’re going to make a short stop before heading for the theater. You don’t have to come in, if you don’t want to, but you’re welcome, if you do.”
Stacy looked from Bill to Michael’s resting profile. “Hospital, right?” she said, “Of course I’m coming in, Michael.” She studied him quietly until the van stopped again at the back entrance of a large metropolitan hospital and they were whisked inside and straight up the elevator to the pediatric wards and private rooms. As Michael passed beside the beds talking to the children, shaking their hands and touching their faces and heads, Stacy watched each of his movements. The kids were excited that he had come to visit, calling out to him, their eyes lighting up as he spoke to each of them quietly. A white clad nurse approached Michael and talked to him briefly. Michael followed her out of the large ward and down the corridor to a private door. Stacy couldn’t hear what they were saying, but there was an urgency to their conversation. She glanced over toward where Bill stood, leaning against the wall. Slowly, she trailed after Michael and the nurse. They still talked quietly in the hall, the nurse’s hand resting on the closed door. Michael nodded and glanced back to where Stacy approached. He held his hand out for her, silently inviting her to join him. Stacy clasped his fingers and held her breath as they entered the darkened room.
Intravenous equipment made small beeping sounds in the room and respirators hummed mechanically. A small bandage-swathed head rested against the pillows. Mylar tubes ran from the child’s mouth and nose, connected to the breathing apparatus beside the bed and mingling with smaller tubes connected to the child’s pallid hand, resting bonelessly on top of the blanket. The child’s eyes were closed and her body was still. The nurse said, “She’s been like this for two weeks, not stirring, being fed intravenously.” Michael raised his finger to his lips, motioning the woman to silence. He released Stacy’s hand as he approached nearer to the comatose girl and looked down at her in silence. He turned back to the nurse and asked, “What’s her name?”
“Katherine,” she responded.
He turned back to the child, picking up her tiny, fragile-looking hand with his, placing it gently in his other hand as his fingertips stroked her pale flesh. “Katherine, this is Michael Jackson. I know you can hear me where you are. Listen to me. Hear the sound of my voice, Kat, and turn back. You’re headed in the wrong direction. Follow the sound of my voice. The nurse told me that before you fell into your deep sleep, you asked if she knew me, if she thought I might come to visit you. Well, Kat, I’m here.” Michael stopped speaking briefly as the door to the room opened very silently and two people entered, a man and a woman. Michael released Katherine’s hand and placed it back on the blanket. He approached the pair and spoke to them very softly. “The nurse told me about your daughter. I hope you don’t mind me coming in to visit her.”
They were stunned to be face-to-face with Michael and very tongue-tied. “No, we don’t mind. She’s a big fan of yours,” Katherine’s father replied extending his hand to offer it to Michael.
“Thanks,” he replied, briefly shaking the man’s hand.
Michael returned to the child’s side and placed her tiny hand in his again, stroking her limp fingers with his. “Kat, keep following my voice. Your mom and dad are here with me and they’ve been very worried. It seems you’ve kind of lost your way. I think, maybe, if you follow my voice, it will help you get back. Stacy, come here and grab hold of my hand. As a matter of fact, I could use all of your hands linked together. I’m going to ask the nurse to open the curtains so that you can see the light, Kat. Maybe it will guide you back.” Stacy had grabbed his outstretched hand. Soon, she felt the child’s mother’s fingers holding her left hand firmly and her eyes were blinded briefly as the curtains were raised and sunlight flooded the room. Michael’s voice could be heard clearly above the mechanical beeps, whirs, and hums as he continued talking to the child in a soft, calm voice. “Kat, I don’t want you to be afraid. You’re fine, just a little lost. I want you to return the way you came when you wandered away. If you listen very hard, I know you can hear me and see the sunlight pouring into the room. Follow the light and my voice, little one. We’re all waiting for you.”
Everyone within the room was holding his breath except Michael. He turned to Katherine’s father and said, “My mother’s name is Katherine. What’s her favorite song?”
Katherine’s father shrugged, but her mother quietly responded, “She loves Heal the World, Michael.”
He smiled easily at the child’s mother, “Thank you. Kat, did you hear your mom’s voice. She’s here with me and she really wants you to come back to her. I don’t want you to be afraid, little one,” he said as he gently kissed the child’s forehead. Then, Michael began to sing to her so softly that Stacy had to strain to hear his voice. When he had finished the song, he released the child’s hand and kissed her again. Michael turned to the child’s parents and said, “Talk to her and sing to her. She needs a focal point, a loved one’s voice, something to help her find her way back. Please call me at the Four Seasons when she comes around. I’ll come back.”
The parents smiled and nodded. As Michael led Stacy out of the room, she watched as a small tear escaped his eye. Stacy pulled him to a halt in the quiet corridor outside of Katherine’s room. “Michael,” she said quietly, “please stop.” Michael stopped, looking down into her eyes. “Michael … I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that before in my life. Have any of them ever come back?” she inquired, thinking of all the children’s hospitals he had visited through the years.
“It happens,” he replied, “not as often as I’d like, but it does happen. Stacy, miracles happen every day. It’s the person who recognizes them, believes in them that attracts them. It’s like a paper clip being attracted to a magnet, kind of. I believe strongly in these kids … and they believe strongly in me. That’s why the rumors and speculations are so painful to me, because they shake the kids’ faith. In the cases where the kids have come back because they heard my voice, the explanation lies less in my voice than in their faith in me. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll ever understand this, Michael,” Stacy said quietly, “but each moment I spend in your presence, I learn something new and shocking about you. And I love you very much … more each minute.” Stacy rose onto her toes to kiss him lightly and fleetingly on the cheek. She wondered what the news media would make of this visit to a children’s hospital which had so hurriedly been added to Michael’s itinerary for the day. Even more, she wondered what a reporter would make of Michael’s brief visit to Katherine’s room.
Michael and Stacy crossed the room speaking to the kids, laughing with them and touching them. Michael had had several boxes of toys distributed to the children while he was visiting Katherine and the evidence of his passage was obvious to all as paper and cardboard cartons littered the ends of the beds.
At the end of the large room filled with children playing with their new toys, Michael turned and smiled that beautiful, open, honest smile. “Bye, guys! I’ve got to go to work.”
Their caravan left the hospital precincts as quietly as it had arrived with no fanfare, no announcement. Their ride to the theater was very quiet. Michael calmly looked out the tinted window as Stacy rested against the back of the seat, contemplating what she had just witnessed, still trying to reconcile this Michael Jackson against the accounts of his life she had read. She relived moments with the kids and heard his soft voice calling out to a lost little girl in a hospital in New York.
Suddenly, she was jolted from her quietude by a loud noise that grew louder as they neared their destination. Bill came swiftly and decidedly to attention as he said, “OK, Mike, we didn’t make it. You know the drill. Stacy, you are now, according to a certain mutual friend, my responsibility. So, please, don’t try to be brave. This is going to be scary. Don’t fight it. Just follow my instructions and you’ll be all right. Stacy, are you listening to me?”
Stacy nodded, “Don’t worry, Bill. I’m a firm believer in giving the experts full credit in matters of their particular area of expertise. What is that?”
“That is a sea of people who are waiting for our friend, Michael,” Bray replied tersely. “Stacy, I want you to remember what I am saying to you, so, please, look at me.” Stacy’s eyes were huge in her head as the noise rose to several decibels above painful and the van had not stopped yet. She turned slowly to look at Bill as he continued, “I know you are not used to this, but this is his life. Fear is not the problem. Don’t be ashamed of it. Don’t try to hide it. Don’t fight it. We will protect you. I have a dozen of the best personal body guards ready to keep them off of you. It’s important to protect your eyes, your face. Keep moving and you’ll be OK. Are you with me?”
Stacy nodded, “Yes, I understand. Keep moving and leave the rest in your hands. But, Bill, can you tell me, exactly what are we going to do?”
“Why, Stacy,” he replied laughing, “we’re going to do what any sane, level-headed man would do in the same circumstances. We’re going to hurl ourselves through the middle of that crowd that you hear. God, what a life!”
“Oh, boy,” she said, distinctly worried, “I can’t wait!”
Bill’s voice rose above the clamor surrounding her as she heard pounding on the outside walls and windows of the van. “Good, coz you won’t have to. We’re here. Mike?”
“I’m Okay, Bill,” Michael’s voice was calm. He looked down into Stacy’s upturned eyes and said, “If it comes to a choice, Bill, you know what to do.”
“Mike,” Bill was shouting now to be heard above the pounding and screaming outside the van. “It’s not going to come to a choice, for God’s sake.”
Michael just raised his brows, “Bill … you know what to do?”
“Yes,” Bray shouted, “Yes, I know what to do.”
The van rolled to a stop and was pummeled by a thousand fists and the screaming was enough to bring tears to Stacy’s eyes. They waited until the vehicle was surrounded by Bill’s men. Then the door opened and Bill exited first and shouted as Michael descended from the van, “Michael, I’ll get Stacy. You get inside. Understand?” Michael nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” Bray grinned.
Immediately, they were engulfed by a jumping, screaming, grabbing mass of humanity and they trotted directly into the midst of the turmoil surrounding them, a phalanx of six brawny bodyguards parting them as they went. Stacy lost a shoe as she ran within the cordon of bodyguards surrounding her. She remembered Bill’s words about protecting her face too late to avoid a scratch. In just a few moments, they were inside the theater with the doors bolted against the mob, still jostling and screaming outside.
“Now, see, wasn’t that fun?” said a voice by her side. Shaking, she turned to see Bill’s hand stretched out toward her. Inside it rested her shoe.
“Funny man,” Stacy said breathlessly. “How often do you have to do this, Bill Bray?”
Bill laughed out loud. “Oh, not often. Just every time he goes outside … except when he is inside the gates at Neverland, that is.”
“Stacy, are you Okay?” Michael asked from close behind her.
“Yes, Michael, I’m fine. Just a little shaken,” she replied turning towards him.
“You’re bleeding, Stace,” he said softly, blotting a drop of blood from below her left eye with his finger.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just a scratch, Michael,” she said, trying to smile up at him, but failing miserably. “Really, I’m fine. Just let me catch my breath.” He reached out to cradle her head against his heartbeat and rock her in his arms.
“You’re shaking, woman,” he said, brushing the top of her head with his lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She nodded into his chest. She fought the tears with all her strength. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have to toughen up considerably if she expected to continue to travel as part of his entourage.
“Yes,” she finally responded. “But I think it’s time for a visit to the little girl’s room.”
“Bill, stay with her?” he asked. As Bray nodded, Michael turned to go backstage. Stacy rushed into the ladies room and sank gratefully onto the couch in the foyer. How did this man take the emotional turmoil he lived with daily? No one could be that strong, that determined. Her mind recoiled as she contemplated his life from the age of ten years, when he had almost been choked to death when the fans had grabbed a scarf wrapped around his neck and pulled. He’d had to insert his hands between the scarf and his neck and scream for help. He’d always lived like this … death threats … running through masses of screaming teenagers … yet, he was a sea of calm and peace and serenity. Surely, he had been scared to death at ten, must still be scared to death.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has requested that all food and drink be stowed in the kitchen. Please return your seats to the upright position and stow your dinner trays in the locked position in the seat in front of you. We are about five minutes from our destination. The weather in reality is hot and humid. The Captain has lit the fasten your seat belts signs and we are preparing for landing. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with us today and will plan your next trip with us. This imaginative interlude has been brought to you by withachildsheart. Thank you for flying with us.