I will defend Michael Jackson to my last breath. I know he was INNOCENT, I know he was targeted because he was wealthy and famous and perceived as very vulnerable and that made him a target for all kinds of people. People who got anywhere near Michael Jackson thought they could profit in one way or another. People wanted MONEY from him from the earliest times. Even in his darkest hours, people were suing him, even in the most troubling time imaginable, people were after his MONEY. The pressure on this poor soul was just enormous. He was a brilliant genius and a kind, gentle soul who was TORTURED, EXPLOITED, PUNISHED FOR THINGS HE HADN’T DONE. I will always feel HONORED to have defended him


"The Michael that people read about and see on TV was not the real Michael. They portray him to be some weird, quiet, asexual, virgin, hermit, that he is not.
Michael Joseph Jackson was one of the most flirtatious men I've ever encountered. Always throws me that people think he is asexual or even gay. Michael loves women. Period. Black women, big women, little women, white women, tall women... all women. No woman could be safe around The King of Pop.
As shy as he was, he ever hesitated to place his hands on my hips or stare at different women. He would be embarrassed to be caught taken a peek at cleavage or a booty. It was always a big laugh catching Mike glancing at someone's assets. I saw to him being very much hetero."


"When you were in Michael Jackson's presence, you felt the energy shift, he had a special presence that is unexplainable. He was born special." ~ KEYA MORGAN


"Whenever he couldn’t sleep, we’d hear him in the studio. The way it was set up we could see the studio windows from the trailer. It’d be three-thirty in the morning, pitch black outside, the whole neighborhood quiet. The light in the studio would come on. You wouldn’t hear anything for a while. There was a TV in there; maybe he was watching videos or something. Then, about fifteen minutes later, you’d hear a bass line. You’d hear him adjusting the volume, the tempo, you’d hear his feet moving on the boards – and then that voice, that voice that sold millions of records. It would just come pouring out of him. Beautiful. Incredible.“

It gave me goose bumps. How could you not get goose bumps, hearing Michael Jackson perform like that? In the dead of night, just sitting there and listening by yourself, no one else around? We never really got used to it. It was always amazing no matter how many times we heard it.“


~ Bill Whitfield, Javon Beard (livvakter), Protecting Michael Jackson in his final days


"It was happy hour, everybody getting off work. Mr. Jackson was watching the people going in and out of the bar, and he said, 'One day, I'm gonna walk into one of these places and sit down and say, 'Bartender, give me a beer!' One day, I'm just gonna do it. I'm just gonna walk in and do it.'
He said it the same way a twelve-year-old kid would talk about growing up to be an astronaut. Like it was an impossible dream and someday he was going to get there."
~ Protecting Michael Jackson in his final days



I first met Michael when I was in Detroit. He came to Motown, and they were talking about this boy from Gary, Ind., and the Jackson 5, and everyone was excited. He was a little boy then. He would always come into the studio curious about how I worked and what I did. “How do you do that?” “Why do you do that?” I think he understood clearly from seeing various people do the music scene that it definitely took work. He must have been around 9 or 10 then, and I definitely felt that he would be someone. You heard the voice, and all he could do was grow. And that’s what he did.


I remember playing air hockey one time, and we were going back and forth. I play air hockey on the side as opposed to the end of the table because it’s more accessible for me to really understand what’s happening. He said, “Oh, you’re cheating.” And I said, “Aw, I’m not cheating, come on.” And we went on and on for hours, just playing air hockey and being silly. He had a childlike heart. And that was very, very impressive to me. At the end of the day, we’re all human beings, and for those who can’t see that it is possible for a man who’s an adult to have a childlike spirit, it doesn’t mean that they’re weird, it doesn’t mean they’re a freak or whatever ridiculous things people say. We have all kinds of people in the world. The most important thing is that your heart is in a good place.




Andrew Lloyd Webber talar om Michaels intresse att göra en film av Fantomen på operan (vilket var innan filmen från 2004 fanns). Andrew Lloyd Webber berättar att han kunde lätt ha sett Michael spela Fantomen.



"Michael had the wisdom of an old man and the enthusiasm of a child. He was a good-looking, but very shy, young man who hid his remarkable intelligence behind his soft voice and smiles. But don’t let the appearance fool you, there was, behind it, an artist who was a perfectionist to the extreme and consumed by the ambition of becoming the greatest showman in the world." ~ QUINCY JONES


One of the last paintings Michael Jackson ever purchased (in May of 2009) is called Meditations, by Patrick Whelan. It's a haunting painting of a young woman in a white robe in a fetal position, seeming at total peace. Michael was mesmerized by the painting and, according to someone very close to him, said, "This is how I imagine Lisa in my head. In fact, when I dream about her, this is how she looks. I have to have this painting." Of course, Michael purchased the artwork.
  In a email to a Michael Jackson fan named Teresa Mehrabian, the painter Patrick Whelan speculated, "He may have been planning to show it to her, or even to present it to her as a gift. But unfortunately, he passed so soon after its purchase that we can never know these things for sure. I doubt very much if Lisa Marie is even aware of its existence. I think it would be a very wonderful thing though, if she did see this work, because then she would know that she was still in Michael's heart even to the end. Perhaps one day she will see it. I certainly hope so. I really think Michael would have liked that."
  Presently, Meditations by Patrick Whelan is in storage with the rest of Michael Jackson's treasured art collection.
~ The Magic, The Madness, The Whole Story, J. Randy Taraborrelli


Certainly, there was never a bigger star than Michael Jackson. Whether it was the beautiful melodies of his music, the harmony as it poured out of his voice, or the staccato-like dance moves that reached an ultimate crescendo with his gravity defying moonwalk, Michael Jackson had a unique ability to inspire, to give hope to, to unite. Where others have tried – and often in vain – to use their talents and skills in a way that honors God and the inherent goodness of his nature, Michael Jackson was able to unite millions of people, regardless of race, creed, religion, age, gender, sexuality or nationality, behind messages of service and sacrifice, peace and love, hope and change and the freedom of expression. Whether through songs like "Heal the World," "We Are the World" or "Man in the Mirror," he brought the plight of the world's suffering to the attention of all as only he could. In many respects he gave a voice to the voiceless, a face to the faceless and hope to the hopeless. If a little American-African boy from Gary, Indiana, could make it to the 2,700-acre Neverland Valley Ranch in Santa Barbara, Caifornia, then maybe it was possible for anyone to make it. With hard work and determination, maybe we could all reach for our dreams. Michael Jackson certainly did just that, didn't he?


Like any truly inspiring teacher who wants to impact his students, Michael's methods in molding our creative process were inconspicuous. One of his most ingenious moves was to pose cryptic questions, sending us on a wild goose chase to solve riddles. We could tell he thought it was humorous to puzzle us. And, in a sense, this mind-bending game was one of the best ways we learned from Michael. Only we didn't know it at the time.
  Late one evening, I answered the phone.
  "There is something that every person in the world can recognize. What is it?"
  Oh, great. What the hell is he talking about?
  About twenty-four hours from the minute the first call came in, our phone rang again.
  "Well, what did you come up with?" Michael asked.
  "Umm, Mickey Mouse?" I responded. Is that the right answer?
  "Bush, that's a great answer, but we don't own that."
  "Think hard. There's something every person in the world can identify with. What is it?"
  As if Dennis and I could have an appetite after receiving calls from The Riddler at ungodly hours of the night, we did wind up going out to dinner that week. I don't know why it came so fast, but the instant I looked down at my place setting, there they were: fork, knife, spoon. Certainly every person in the world has seen these. And that's what I told Michael when I called him that night.
  "Great, Bush. Now put them on a coat for me."
  My immediate question to Dennis was, How? I had learned already there was no reason to ask Michael Jackson why. He didn't know why. There was no why. It was that genius way of thought that you just couldn't explain, so it was better to accept it than fight it.
  When Michael moved in the Dinner Jacket, he was captivated by the clanking metal utensils, because the silverware caught the light and sounded like keys dangling on a keychain. Visually and audibly, the jacket provided an entertainment factor. It offered a special effect all its own. That Michael could manipulate the effect himself made the jacket even more fun.
~ MICHAEL BUSH (missa inte att se besticken på jackan på bilden ovan!)


Bahrain is not an easy place to visit in the summer. Desert covers most of the thirty islands that make up the country, and in August it's so hot, humid and miserable that temperatures regularly exceed 110 degrees Fahrenheit. But this remote nation does offer one attraction. It's the perfect place for a troubled man to put distance between himself and his problems. Which may explain why it was there, in the Persian Gulf, that Michael Jackson sought sanctuary after the trial.
  In August of 2005, Michael turned fourty-seven. He had his freedom. But, in truth, his problems were far from over. Rather than relish his new independence, Michael had sunk into a deep depression, often suffering from panic attacks and insomnia as if traumatized by the trial. He refused to speak about it. This was not the "victory" that his friends and fans had fought for. After the verdict, the pop star all but disappeared from public view. There were no post-trial parties, no triumphant press conferences. In truth, Michael was in no fit state to celebrate. He was too ill. A couple days after the verdict, he checked into a hospital in Santa Barbara to be treated for exhaustion and dehydration. Not long after he was released, he took off, leaving Neverland, never to return.
  "He went into total seclusion," a source close to the singer told me. "He was depressed, anxious, unable to eat or sleep. He almost lost it all: his freedom, his family, his career. You don't just bounce back after something like that. He told me, 'To this day, I wake up feeling upset and scared to death, and it takes me a half hour to remember that it's over.'"
  The only person Michael saw in the weeks after the trial – other than his children and their nanny, Grace Rwaramba – was a therapist. For the first time in his life, Jackson decided to seek counseling. It was definitely a step in the right direction. He knew he needed help, and maybe it was an indication of growth that he actually sought it instead of ignoring the signs. "He felt totally victimized by Gavin, the rest of the scheming Arvizos, and also by the Santa Barabara district attorney, Thomas Sneddon," one of Michael's inner circle told me. "He had a difficult time getting past the fury he feels about the whole situation. One day he told me, 'God forgive me, and don't tell Katherine I ever said this, but I hate that kid. I so hate that kid.' Then I remember he looked at me for a moment and he said, 'Part of me thinks, no, that's not right. You shouldn't hate. But then I think, I can't help it. I hate that kid for what he did to me. My therapist is telling me that I need to get real with myself and feel what I feel, not suppress it like I usually do. Well, how I feel is that I hate that kid. I do."
  As described to me, what Jackson had been experiencing sounded akin to post-traumatic stress syndrome. He had persistent nightmares about the trial, replaying his head the lurid evidence against him, the many witnesses, the pornography shown to the jury, the look of anguish on his mother's face. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and it made him feel raw and, if at all possible, even more disconnected.
~ The Magic, The Madness, The Whole Story, J. Randy Taraborrelli


On 12 November 1993, looking thin, tired and haggard, Michael Jackson performed what would turn out to be the final show of his Dangerous Tour at El Estadio del Azteca in Mexico City. The rest of the engagements were canceled.
  Apparently, Michael's mental state had truly disintegrated while in Mexico City; the damage to his $12,000-a-week, five-room suite on the fourty-second floor of the Hotel Presidente was evidence of his serious abuse of drugs. After he checked out, the hotel staff was stunned to discover that the carpets in the living room and in Michael's bedrooms were stained with vomit. There were deep dents and cracks in the plaster of the living-room wall, as if someone had either banged his head, or his fists, against it. There was enough rubbish in the room to fill two large trash bags. There was scribblings on the walls ("I love you. I love you."), and even on the fabric of some of the furniture. Chewing gum was squashed into the carpet, everywhere.
  After the final show, Michael, Elizabeth and Larry boarded an MGM Grand 727 jet, chartered for the occasion by Elizabeth, to London. When they arrived at Heathrow Airport, bodyguard Steve Tarling met them on the tarmac. All three had on dark glasses and long coats with hoods covering their heads, as if on some kind of espionage mission. As he walked to the waiting van, Michael seemed drugged, help up on one side by a cloaked Elizabeth and on the other by her husband. [...]
  The strategy had been to drive Michael directly to Charter Nightingale Clinic. However, that plan had to be changed when it was learned that reporters had begun to stake out the hospital because word had leaked that Michael might be showing up there. Instead, Michael was whisked off to the home of Elton John's manager, John Reid.
  He didn't even make it inside the house. As he stepped from the van, he crumpled onto the ground. "That's it," Elizabeth decided. "The press be damned. He has to go straight to the clinic. Now."
  In a matter of hours, Michael was at the Charter, taken in through the laundry entrance in what turned out to be a successfull effort to avoid the paparazzi awaiting his arrival in front. He was immediately searched for drugs and, sure enough, eighteen vials of medicine were found in one of his suitcases. Of course, they were confiscated. After a quick induction meeting, Michael was officially enrolled in the center – albeit in a way befitting the King of Pop: he took over the entire fourth floor of the hospital, at fifty thousand dollars a week, and was expected to remain there for about a month and a half. Michael was immediately put on Valium IV, part of the process of weaning him from painkillers.
  The next day, 13 November, Michael announced in a press statement that he was canceling the remainder of the tour because he was now an addict. He explained that he had begun using painkillers seven months earlier after having undergone reconstructive surgery for a scalp burn suffered during the filming of the Pepsi commercial in 1984. "The medications were used sparingly first," Michael said, but increased as the molestation allegations consumed him.
  "As I left on this tour, I had been the target of an extortion attempt and shortly thereafter was accused of horrifying and outrageous pain in my heart," he said in the statement. "The pressure resulting from these false allegations coupled with the incredible energy necessary for me to perform caused me so much distress that it left me physically and emotionally exhausted. I became dependent on the painkillers to get through the days of the tour." Of Elizabeth Taylor, he said that she'd been "a source of strength and counsel as this crisis came about. I shall never forget her unconditional love and encouragement in helping me through this period."
Michael got his first taste of much-needed counseling.
  Rehabilitation is never easy, but it's even more challenging for people who have lived privileged lives. During his first night there, he roamed the halls asking other patients if they knew "a secret way to get out of here". He didn't want to listen to the authorities. No one told him what to do in his private world, and he expected that it would be the same at Charter. It wasn't. Soon, he found himself mopping floors, which he hadn't done since he lived in Gary.
  In the days to come, group therapy also proved to be difficult. Michael had never been in any type of therapy program. How could he now be expected to sit in a room full of strangers and be candid about his personal life?
  Led by well-known therapist Beechy Colclough, Michael's private sessions were more intense and productive than the group ones, during which he hardly spoke for fear that someone there might go to the tabloids. It was during private sessions, according to someone still close to Michael, that he begun to finally deal with the root of so many of his problems: his anger at Joseph. It was a fine line, though, between blaming his father for everything that had ever happened in his life and taking responsobility for some of it himself. In the past, Michael had never been one to own up to his actions, always intent on blaming family members, the press and even his fans for actions that have caused him unhappiness.
  "In therapy, he began to see that he was his own worst enemy," said his associate. "It was slow-going, though. He was not eager to accept that he could change his life if he would just change his mind about it. Old habits die hard. He was determined to dwell on his lost childhood, on how mean Joseph had been to him, how cruel Even had been to him. He practically equated them as one and the same."
  After many hours of therapy at Charter, it seemed as if Michael had a sudden rush of clarity. "It's me", he told his associate. "It's not Joseph. It's me. Not Evan. I'm the one who blew it, and I need to start over again. I want another chance."
  "You can have it, Michael," said his associate.
  "I deserve it," Michael said, crying. "Do you still believe I am innocent?"
  "I do."
  Michael didn't say anything for a few moments. Then, finally: "When I get out of here, I'm starting over. Let's end this thing with Evan. I want my life back."
~ The Magic, The Madness, The Whole Story, J. Randy Taraborrelli


"He felt that this of him being wacky and weird and crazy worked for him, and maybe for a time, it did. I don't know. I was always against it. I always thought he was bigger, better, than the image. I always thought the image did him an injustice." ~ LISA MARIE PRESLEY


In days to come, Michael and Lisa forged a surprising friendship, speaking on the telephone nearly every day.
He truly was misunderstood, he told her. "I know you think I'm gay," he said. "But I'm not. I get tired of people thinking I am gay. But, oh well, fuck them. I know you have heard a lot of things about me, in fact," he continued, "but most of it isn't true. And the stuff that is true, you shouldn't hold against me." He winked at her.
  "Hey, I'm a married woman," Lisa said. "And you're coming on to me."
  "Yes, but are you happy?" Michael asked.
  "See?" Michael remarked. "I knew that. You look like a woman who needs to let go and have some fun. You look like a woman who needs to hook up with me."
  Lisa was unable to disguise her surprise at his candor and his ... normality. She recalled staring at him thinking, Who is this man?
Lisa recalled, "I thought to myself, Wow, this is a real guy. He swears. He's funny. I told him, 'Dude, if people knew who the hell you really are, they would be so surprised. People wouldn't think I was crazy for being into you if they saw who you really are; that you sit around and you drink and you curse and you're fucking funny, and you have a bad mouth and you don't have that high voice all the time.'"
  "He said, 'Well just don't tell them.' I thought he was normal and that everything you saw of him publicly was just a mask."
~ The Magic, The Madness, The Whole Story, J. Randy Taraborrelli


After centuries of fighting for freedom as a people, it’s funny how Michael was probably the freest man our culture had seen thus far. I feel this way because he simply refused to live by the narrow set of rules that have been historically set for men of color. He never performed an act centered on being a pimp, a player, a thug, a hustler, or any other hyper-masculine stereotypical Black male caricature. He was accused of being gay, soft, weird, and worse but he stayed true to himself. That is the real definition of freedom. He was never ruled by the rules of society and he did not apologize.” 
~ Skrivet av ett fan inför "Black History Month" i USA


We were at a shopping mall in Virginia one afternoon. Javon had gone to get the car. I was waiting with Mr. Jackson by the exit with mall security. Somebody had recognized him and a small crowd had formed. He was signing a few autographs, waving to folks. It was a friendly situation, not a mob or anything. As Javon pulled up and opened the door for Mr. Jackson, this guy from the back of the crowd yelled out, "Fuckin' child molester!"
  I heard it, plain as day. I looked at Javon; he'd heard it too. We were just praying that Mr. Jackson had missed it. But after we got in the car and drove for a bit, he leaned forward and said, "Guys, did you hear somebody say something back there?"
  "No, sir," I said. "I didn't hear anything. You hear anything, Javon?"
  Javon shook his head. "No, sir."
  Mr. Jackson said, "I thought I heard someone say something very mean. I could have sworn. You guys aren't lying to me, are you?"
  "No, sir."
  We didn't want to lie to him, but we knew what would happen if we confirmed it. Hearing someone call him a child molester? That would completely shut him down. He'd close the door and vanish into his room for at least a week, and we didn't want that to happen.
  We drove on with nobody saying anything for the next ten, fifteen minutes, and then out of the backseat he said, "I would never hurt a child. I would slit my wrists before I ever did anything to hurt a child."


“Michael can go out and perform before 90,000 people, but if I ask him to sing a song for me, I have to sit on the couch with my hands over my eyes and he goes behind the couch. He is amazingly shy.” — QUINCY JONES


"He would always take time to see the sights. When we were rehearsing in Liverpool, he stopped the practice session so that we could look at some beautiful clouds that had wafted in. That's Michael. They closed down the Louvre in Paris for a whole day while Michael and the rest of us went through. In Rome, Franco Zeffirelli gave him a big party. All of the créme de la créme was there, and suddenly Zaffirelli couldn't find Michael. He looked all over and found Michael in a room with a bunch of kids in their pajamas, playing. He's the most natural, loving person I've ever known, a very good person, as corny as that sounds. He'll see a picture of a baby, and if it's cute kid, he will go gaga over the picture. During the tour, on his nights off, he would go into a toy store and buy ten of this and ten of that and then stay up all night long putting batteries into toys, making certain each one worked so that he could have them ready to give to kids backstage the next day. As if he didn't have enough to worry about."
~ Seth Riggs, Michaels vocal coach (Han talar om tiden under BAD Tour)
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