Post by NatureCriminal7896 on Oct 8, 2021 9:01:09 GMT
"My production partner, Cardon, and I received a call in our office. She was Michael Jackson's assistant. She told us that Michael was a big fan of The Disney Family Album,a series we were producing for the Disney Channel at the time, and if we could make copies for him of all the shows we had produced, and also if we would like to have lunch with him at his home, bringing the Sherman Brothers, the famous team of Disney composers, Us.
My reaction was of surprise and astonishment. Having lunch with Michael Jackson? That was at the height of success—after Thriller and before Smooth Criminal.
It was a dream.
The day before we went to meet him for lunch at the Jackson family home in Encino, the LA Times published a story about his pet giraffe, Jabbar, who was being removed from the property by Animal Control officials because neighbors claimed jabbar ate the leaves from the trees. Perfect. I can't wait to see how Michael handled his pet giraffe being taken away. I thought, what could be more Michael Jackson than a situation like this?
Cardon, the Sherman brothers—Bob and Richard—and I arrived at the gate of the Jackson home at noon the next day. In front of us, half a dozen girls and their mothers ready to spot Michael. The large gate opened and we soon spotted the Jackson family mansion, almost an upper-middle-class tudor-style castle. A big garage with some cars parked outside.
In front of the main house, a townhouse converted into a recording studio whose entrance looks like a Disneyland store. Michael's assistant asks us to wait in a large living room with comfortable sofas and chairs. Its walls were covered with memorabilia —covers of magazines from around the world, platinum and gold records, photos of Michael with other celebrities and Grammys galore.
The centerpiece of the room is a glass box displaying snow white figurines 30 cm high and the Seven Dwarfs. Cardon explains that the figurines were a gift from Disney's Imagineering division.
I'll ask you to go to the bathroom. yes, I was nervous, and when I go back to the trophy room, Michael's sitting there with Cardon and the Shermans. It's a shock to literally see one of the most famous people in the world for the first time.
We spent half an hour or so in the trophy room with Michael, who mostly wants to talk about music with the Sherman brothers, which is good for me, because I really don't have anything I could say to Michael Jackson. I'd rather hear you talk to the Shermans. Michael asks them how they created songs for Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. What inspired them. How they collaborate. At one point Richard Sherman says that of all michael's recordings, his and his brother's favorite is Ben. 'Oh, yes, I like it too,' hesays.
Michael sings four compass of the song to us and I tremble like a lab rat. Michael Jackson. Singing, it was like the voice of an angel. When he's done, we're speechless. Anything, any voice or noise, would ruin the spell.
"That's beautiful," says Bob Sherman, breaking the magic.'
Michael asks if we'd like lunch. When we get up, I'm surprised at your height. Almost five feet, that's for sure. Cardon and I took a picture with him[photo above]. He wore a red buttoned shirt over a white T-shirt, black pants with high hem to reveal his white socks and black shoes.
It takes us to a large dining room with a long wooden table in the center of the room, under a huge Tudor chandelier and there is no doubt who should sit at the head of the table.
The conversation at the music store continues during lunch. At one point, Michael describes buying the Beatles catalog in the same way a person talks to a neighbor about buying a lawn mower.
He suggests that music catalog purchases is a big deal. ''I stayed at Paul's house while the lawyers worked it out,''he says. ''Paul and I watched cartoons and Linda made a soup''. Michael for a second before explaining what kind of pajamas he and Paul were wearing at the time.
I wait for the conversation to pause and start asking a question I was dying to ask —''What's happened to your giraffe? I'll tell you what. Jabbar? I saw in the Times that Animal Control took him away.''
"The lawyers are taking care of it," he said disdainly, and talks about music with the Sherman brothers again.
''What was Walt Disney like?''
What about Hayley Mills? What about the music of the drawings?''
Michael was curious. The food was good. He had a good appetite.
Once, during the comings and goings of his conversation with the Shermans, I turn to look at him and he's looking at me, and when our eyes meet, he quickly swerved away. He was super shy.
During our lunch, two things happened that caught my eye.
The first is that a phone in a small office adjacent to the dining room rang non-stop. For two long minutes without stopping. Until, with no one but us anywhere in sight, Michael says, in a voice so soft that I hardly hear —he says, I'd like the phone to stop ringing.
The phone never rang again.
He had a microphone, I think. Somewhere someone heard every word he said.
The second thing is that while our dishes were carried by a beautiful Scandinavian-looking lady in a white turban who I consider to be the chef, we heard children laughing, as if the sound was entering the room.
''Is anyone watching us?'' he asks the turban chef.
They're fine Michael, she says, gently. ''They are being cared for.''
''Would you like to see my room?' Michael asks. ''There's a lot of cool stuff there.''
''Yes, of course!''
We followed him down a ladder and to the top of it, there was his room. He opens the door and touches his ear for a second. You don't like what you hear —whatever it is, we can't hear anything. He knocks on the door as gently as you would touch a baby's head. It hits again, so soft, we can barely hear your fingers on the wood. Listen again.
''Ok, we can come in now,''he finally says, and opens the door.
Sitting alone in the middle of Michael's room, dressed in a red T-shirt and blue jumpsuit, is chimpanzee Bubbles.
Bubbles jumps across the room and jumps into Michael's arms.
We spent most of our time in Michael's room playing with Bubbles. The room is full of toys and props.
Michael points to a miniature three-dimensional piece by Peter Pan, another imaginers gift, cardon says. It's the scene where the kids are flying with Peter to Neverland, with the City of London below. In the foreground in the London landscape is the miniature Darling House, home of Wendy and her brothers.
Michael guides us to look through a tiny window of the miniature Darling house. I have to get down to look out the tiny window of the miniature house. The tiny window of the Darling house is the size of a fingernail. Through it, I can see a room of the house that is a perfect replica of the drawing. There's only one difference between this miniature and the drawing: a small portrait, the size of a Ladybug by Michael Jackson.
"Wow!,"' I say.
''I just love it, 'Michael mutters.
Michael then asks us if we wanted to see his recording studio and —'what do you think?'
''Yes!'' and here we go to see Michael Jackson's recording studio!
We left the room through a back door that opens onto a "backstage" staircase outside the house. An unusual but necessary feature, I think. Michael uses his hand to protect his face from the sun. ''I shouldn't be in the sun,''he tells us.
The entrance to the recording studio looks like a store on Disneyland's main street. A wooden flower stand parked in front. Gold leaf letters on the windows, identifying it as the Jackson Recording Studio.
We went into a kitchen. It's an unusual kind of kitchen. Every square inch of it —countertops, sinks, tables, cabinets—every surface except the floor and ceiling—is full of candy. Every kind of candy you can imagine, or have heard of, is here. Very sweet.
'Take it,'says Michael. There's too much.
Michael leads us down a narrow staircase to the top floor that has been divided into two parts. The part we enter is one sanctuary for Michael Jackson the other, dedicated to Jackson 5. In every corner there are wax statues of Michael Jackson, replicas of the world's wax museums like Madame Toussaud's. For a minute, I get vertigo, because everywhere I go, there's a Michael Jackson, five of them in all. Finally, the real line. He points out a glass box that shows six of his famous sequined gloves. ''People like to look at them,'' he explains.
As he shows us the Jackson 5 part of the room, I observe a Panavision camera set up to film his dance rehearsals. ''You're going to dance for us,''I say.
And he laughs and dodges and says, 'Oh, no.'" And for a few seconds I'm back in fourth grade, at recess, persuading a boy to dance, but he was like I said, rather shy.
As we walk down the stairs to his recording studio, we see smooth criminal's handwritten lyrics on the score he would record later that night —and I realize that lunch with us was probably the beginning of his day of his work.
The tour ends with a walk back to the courtyard, no doubt timed to the minute. The four of us got into our car and set off while Michael waved to say goodbye. Outside, a different shift of mothers and their daughters were waiting outside the gate when we left.
Sometimes I tell people I felt sorry for Michael Jackson when we left that day, but I think that's a perception that's grown over the years. He didn't look like a Lost Boy at the time. He looked like Peter Pan. The boy who could fly.
What we realize about Michael Jackson is that he never had a childhood.
As an adult, Michael's ideas about the childhood he lost grew, with all the imagination and money that a human being can pour into a company, in things like chimpanzees in his room and kitchen full of candy (..) in general, when I think about that day with Michael, I smile. He was still Peter Pan then.
I remember he said, '' How can I not be happy about this.''
— by Mike Bonifer, Disney Channel producer
My reaction was of surprise and astonishment. Having lunch with Michael Jackson? That was at the height of success—after Thriller and before Smooth Criminal.
It was a dream.
The day before we went to meet him for lunch at the Jackson family home in Encino, the LA Times published a story about his pet giraffe, Jabbar, who was being removed from the property by Animal Control officials because neighbors claimed jabbar ate the leaves from the trees. Perfect. I can't wait to see how Michael handled his pet giraffe being taken away. I thought, what could be more Michael Jackson than a situation like this?
Cardon, the Sherman brothers—Bob and Richard—and I arrived at the gate of the Jackson home at noon the next day. In front of us, half a dozen girls and their mothers ready to spot Michael. The large gate opened and we soon spotted the Jackson family mansion, almost an upper-middle-class tudor-style castle. A big garage with some cars parked outside.
In front of the main house, a townhouse converted into a recording studio whose entrance looks like a Disneyland store. Michael's assistant asks us to wait in a large living room with comfortable sofas and chairs. Its walls were covered with memorabilia —covers of magazines from around the world, platinum and gold records, photos of Michael with other celebrities and Grammys galore.
The centerpiece of the room is a glass box displaying snow white figurines 30 cm high and the Seven Dwarfs. Cardon explains that the figurines were a gift from Disney's Imagineering division.
I'll ask you to go to the bathroom. yes, I was nervous, and when I go back to the trophy room, Michael's sitting there with Cardon and the Shermans. It's a shock to literally see one of the most famous people in the world for the first time.
We spent half an hour or so in the trophy room with Michael, who mostly wants to talk about music with the Sherman brothers, which is good for me, because I really don't have anything I could say to Michael Jackson. I'd rather hear you talk to the Shermans. Michael asks them how they created songs for Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. What inspired them. How they collaborate. At one point Richard Sherman says that of all michael's recordings, his and his brother's favorite is Ben. 'Oh, yes, I like it too,' hesays.
Michael sings four compass of the song to us and I tremble like a lab rat. Michael Jackson. Singing, it was like the voice of an angel. When he's done, we're speechless. Anything, any voice or noise, would ruin the spell.
"That's beautiful," says Bob Sherman, breaking the magic.'
Michael asks if we'd like lunch. When we get up, I'm surprised at your height. Almost five feet, that's for sure. Cardon and I took a picture with him[photo above]. He wore a red buttoned shirt over a white T-shirt, black pants with high hem to reveal his white socks and black shoes.
It takes us to a large dining room with a long wooden table in the center of the room, under a huge Tudor chandelier and there is no doubt who should sit at the head of the table.
The conversation at the music store continues during lunch. At one point, Michael describes buying the Beatles catalog in the same way a person talks to a neighbor about buying a lawn mower.
He suggests that music catalog purchases is a big deal. ''I stayed at Paul's house while the lawyers worked it out,''he says. ''Paul and I watched cartoons and Linda made a soup''. Michael for a second before explaining what kind of pajamas he and Paul were wearing at the time.
I wait for the conversation to pause and start asking a question I was dying to ask —''What's happened to your giraffe? I'll tell you what. Jabbar? I saw in the Times that Animal Control took him away.''
"The lawyers are taking care of it," he said disdainly, and talks about music with the Sherman brothers again.
''What was Walt Disney like?''
What about Hayley Mills? What about the music of the drawings?''
Michael was curious. The food was good. He had a good appetite.
Once, during the comings and goings of his conversation with the Shermans, I turn to look at him and he's looking at me, and when our eyes meet, he quickly swerved away. He was super shy.
During our lunch, two things happened that caught my eye.
The first is that a phone in a small office adjacent to the dining room rang non-stop. For two long minutes without stopping. Until, with no one but us anywhere in sight, Michael says, in a voice so soft that I hardly hear —he says, I'd like the phone to stop ringing.
The phone never rang again.
He had a microphone, I think. Somewhere someone heard every word he said.
The second thing is that while our dishes were carried by a beautiful Scandinavian-looking lady in a white turban who I consider to be the chef, we heard children laughing, as if the sound was entering the room.
''Is anyone watching us?'' he asks the turban chef.
They're fine Michael, she says, gently. ''They are being cared for.''
''Would you like to see my room?' Michael asks. ''There's a lot of cool stuff there.''
''Yes, of course!''
We followed him down a ladder and to the top of it, there was his room. He opens the door and touches his ear for a second. You don't like what you hear —whatever it is, we can't hear anything. He knocks on the door as gently as you would touch a baby's head. It hits again, so soft, we can barely hear your fingers on the wood. Listen again.
''Ok, we can come in now,''he finally says, and opens the door.
Sitting alone in the middle of Michael's room, dressed in a red T-shirt and blue jumpsuit, is chimpanzee Bubbles.
Bubbles jumps across the room and jumps into Michael's arms.
We spent most of our time in Michael's room playing with Bubbles. The room is full of toys and props.
Michael points to a miniature three-dimensional piece by Peter Pan, another imaginers gift, cardon says. It's the scene where the kids are flying with Peter to Neverland, with the City of London below. In the foreground in the London landscape is the miniature Darling House, home of Wendy and her brothers.
Michael guides us to look through a tiny window of the miniature Darling house. I have to get down to look out the tiny window of the miniature house. The tiny window of the Darling house is the size of a fingernail. Through it, I can see a room of the house that is a perfect replica of the drawing. There's only one difference between this miniature and the drawing: a small portrait, the size of a Ladybug by Michael Jackson.
"Wow!,"' I say.
''I just love it, 'Michael mutters.
Michael then asks us if we wanted to see his recording studio and —'what do you think?'
''Yes!'' and here we go to see Michael Jackson's recording studio!
We left the room through a back door that opens onto a "backstage" staircase outside the house. An unusual but necessary feature, I think. Michael uses his hand to protect his face from the sun. ''I shouldn't be in the sun,''he tells us.
The entrance to the recording studio looks like a store on Disneyland's main street. A wooden flower stand parked in front. Gold leaf letters on the windows, identifying it as the Jackson Recording Studio.
We went into a kitchen. It's an unusual kind of kitchen. Every square inch of it —countertops, sinks, tables, cabinets—every surface except the floor and ceiling—is full of candy. Every kind of candy you can imagine, or have heard of, is here. Very sweet.
'Take it,'says Michael. There's too much.
Michael leads us down a narrow staircase to the top floor that has been divided into two parts. The part we enter is one sanctuary for Michael Jackson the other, dedicated to Jackson 5. In every corner there are wax statues of Michael Jackson, replicas of the world's wax museums like Madame Toussaud's. For a minute, I get vertigo, because everywhere I go, there's a Michael Jackson, five of them in all. Finally, the real line. He points out a glass box that shows six of his famous sequined gloves. ''People like to look at them,'' he explains.
As he shows us the Jackson 5 part of the room, I observe a Panavision camera set up to film his dance rehearsals. ''You're going to dance for us,''I say.
And he laughs and dodges and says, 'Oh, no.'" And for a few seconds I'm back in fourth grade, at recess, persuading a boy to dance, but he was like I said, rather shy.
As we walk down the stairs to his recording studio, we see smooth criminal's handwritten lyrics on the score he would record later that night —and I realize that lunch with us was probably the beginning of his day of his work.
The tour ends with a walk back to the courtyard, no doubt timed to the minute. The four of us got into our car and set off while Michael waved to say goodbye. Outside, a different shift of mothers and their daughters were waiting outside the gate when we left.
Sometimes I tell people I felt sorry for Michael Jackson when we left that day, but I think that's a perception that's grown over the years. He didn't look like a Lost Boy at the time. He looked like Peter Pan. The boy who could fly.
What we realize about Michael Jackson is that he never had a childhood.
As an adult, Michael's ideas about the childhood he lost grew, with all the imagination and money that a human being can pour into a company, in things like chimpanzees in his room and kitchen full of candy (..) in general, when I think about that day with Michael, I smile. He was still Peter Pan then.
I remember he said, '' How can I not be happy about this.''
— by Mike Bonifer, Disney Channel producer