Jacko, His Rise and Fall: The Social and Sexual History of Michael Jackson (43 page)

Springsteen asked Michael about the recent grosses on Thriller.

"I never learned to count that high in school," Michael said. "All I know
is that you, me, and Prince have gone to Pop Heaven."

Springsteen and Jackson would meet again in 1985 to record "We Are the
World," but the two artists seemed to have little interest in each other.

Sensing an arrogance in Michael that was off-putting, Springsteen gave
him some advice which he'd repeat often to other stars. "I believe that the
career of an artist can last as long as you look down into your audience and
can see yourself, and your audience looks up at you and can see themselves,
and as long as those reflections are human, realistic ones." He turned and parted, leaving Michael somewhat bewildered at the words he'd just heard.

Watching Springsteen go on his way, Michael became petulant, even
bitchy. "I don't know why they call him The Boss. Personally, I think he's
much overrated. He can't dance, and he can't really sing. Off key at best. I'm
bigger than The Beatles ever were. Not only that, but I'm much bigger than
Elvis Presley. If they called Elvis the King, what about me?"

The stage manager raised an eyebrow and said: "The Queen, perhaps."

The next day he was fired.

The Jacksons' final show at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles was not a
sell-out. DiLeo had to give away hundreds of tickets. In his hotel suite,
Michael was screaming in rage. On his final night of the "Victory" tour, right
before he went on, he heard that a federal grand jury in New York had indicted Don King on twenty-three counts of income tax evasion. "Couldn't happen
to a nicer guy," Michael said.

On stage that historic night of December 9, 1984, Michael stood in front
of his brothers and shouted at the audience: "We love you all! It's been a long
twenty years since my brothers and I have entertained you together. Love to
all." In a gesture of brotherly love, Michael blew pretend kisses at his brothers on stage.

In his autobiography, Moonwalk, Michael unrealistically summed up his
experiences on the "Victory" tour. "It was a nice feeling," he wrote, "playing
with my brothers again. We were all together again." The actual gossip associated with the tour suggested at the time, however, that Michael wasn't even
speaking to his brothers during the last weeks of the tour, and that Michael
claimed privately that The Jacksons would have been washed up long ago
without him.

Another segment of Moonwalk repeated a rehearsed, much-repeated
response from Michael about the gay issue, a question which had repeatedly
been raised during the "Victory" tour.

"I believe in relationships," Michael wrote. "One day I know I'll find the
right woman and get married myself. I imagine myself with thirteen children."

When the "Victory" tour ended in Los Angeles, it had played to more than
two million fans, grossing $50 million, breaking the $30 million record set by
the Rolling Stones in 1981.

The success of the tour spilled over into the Victory album, which also
sold more than two million copies.

Sean Lennon, son of the slain ex-Beatle, became Michael's new "best
bud" in spite of the significant age difference. Sean had been only five years
old when John Lennon was assassinated in New York, and the boy was only
nine when he began to "hang out" with Michael.

In the wake of her husband's death, Yoko Ono, Sean's mother, ordered 24hour security guard protection for her offspring, fearing kidnapping or something much worse. Despite her concerns for her children, Yoko seemed willing to entrust her beloved son to Michael, allowing the older entertainer to
spend hours or even days and nights at a stretch with Sean.

Many mothers who delivered their young sons to Michael over the years
might have been overwhelmed with the magnitude of his stardom, might have
been swayed by money, or else might simply have been naive. This was not
the case with Yoko Ono, one of the most sophisticated women in the entertainment business. For most of her life she'd known and befriended homosexuals
and was hip to what was going on. Obviously Michael didn't set off any alarm
bells within her, or else she would hardly have sanctioned turning Sean over
to his care and feeding.

For his part, Michael got to enjoy the company of a handsome and charming young boy. There must have been the added thrill of knowing that Sean was the son of the one Beatle that Michael most admired, considering John far
more talented than his former friend, Paul McCartney. "As a musician, John's
talent extended to his toenails," Michael told Yoko, who agreed, of course.

Although extremely protective of Sean's health and welfare, Yoko never
tried to be a domineering, smothering mother. She prided herself on rearing
her son without the normal restraints imposed on one so young. In other
words, if Sean wanted to urinate in the back seat of a limousine, he was free
to do so without fear of reprimand. Apparently, Yoko took the point of view
that limousine covers could always be re-upholstered. Yoko had received
death threats against her son, but she felt that because of Michael's heavy
security at Neverland, she had nothing to worry about . . . except perhaps
Michael himself.

To a journalist from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Yoko once said, "Every
mother worries, but I want Sean to pursue what he wants to as long as it's good
for him. I try to avoid a situation where mother and son stick to each other too
much. He has many friends, he communicates with many people."

Suddenly, Sean and Michael were seen everywhere, popping up at
Broadway shows-only musicals-and other events. The young boy often
spent nights in hotel suites with Michael, even weeks at Neverland.

At Neverland, the staff would often hear Sean and Michael playing the
song, "Beautiful Boy," which John Lennon had written for his son.

Sean once startled Michael by telling him that for many years he did not
know about John's previous life as a Beatle, and he kept no memorabilia or
records at The Dakota where they lived in New York. Sean claimed that he
learned about his father's musical background when a babysitter showed him
a copy of Yellow Submarine (1968).

Dark-haired and almond-eyed, Sean was amazingly bright, often making
quotations unusual for one so young. In 1983, he said, "Peace is a good thing.
So is smoked salmon."

Michael was obviously taken with the boy's Eurasian attractiveness and
charm. He often spoke of Sean's "rosebud mouth." The youth did not resemble either Yoko or John Lennon, but had his own distinctive look and features.

The young boy told Michael of his "undying love" for his father. "I can't
tell you how many times I walk into a store or mall and hear him singing,"
Sean said. "I get this really nice feeling, like he's still around. It's almost magical."

Once he showed Michael a photograph taken at his birthday party when
he'd turned seven. On the picture, he'd superimposed a picture of John and
then had superimposed two large tears on his father's cheeks. "He's crying
because he couldn't be at the party too."

As Sean got to know Michael more intimately and to trust him, he admit ted that he didn't want to be "just a clone of my father," but an artist in his
own right, capable of making his own distinct music. "The whole `son of John
Lennon' thing was dumped on me, and I didn't ask for that. All my father's
friends are waiting for me to fail in my dream, figuring I can spend the rest of
my life living off the old man's money."

Sean told Michael that he (Michael) and John (his father) "had it easy
when it comes to making music. To both of you, writing music and singing is
second nature. To me, it's very hard to make music." He asked Michael if he'd
teach him "the tricks of the business," and Michael agreed to, although he was
far too self-absorbed in his own issues to really do that.

"One day my music will bring people up in the world," Sean said. "Just
like your music does."

When Sean was thirteen, Michael cast him in his film, Moonwalker.

With Michael, Sean shared some of his deepest fears, mainly of being
gunned down as John had been in 1980. One night Sean revealed something
that he'd told only his closest friends. "I absolutely believe that my father was
killed on orders from the CIA who was bossed around by Ronald Reagan.
Revolutionaries like my dad are always historically killed by the American
government all except Castro, and they sure tried hard to get him. The belief
that Mark Chapman was some crazy guy who killed my dad for personal reasons is insane or naive."

Later, during the 1990s, as child molestation charges against Michael
were aired, one New York journalist tried to reach Yoko for her reaction,
knowing her own son had spent a lot of time in private with Michael. The
reporter wanted to know if Michael had ever been a substitute father for Sean
and did Yoko consider the singer a good role model. She had no comment.

In 1993, Sean's relationship made blaring tabloid headlines in Britain.
James DeBarge, the former husband of Janet
Jackson, made some explosive charges in a
taped conversation with a police informant.
During the time he'd been married to Janet,
he'd slept in a bedroom next to Michael's.
He claimed that he'd walked in on Michael
and Sean, catching them "together in a sexual way."

Bruce Springsteen

"All the boys who visited at the Encino
house slept in Michael's bed," DeBarge
reportedly said. He admitted to doing some
spying on Michael.

Or so it was reported in the press.
DeBarge could not be reached to confirm or deny these reports.

As his young special friends matured, Michael most often lost interest,
although with certain boys, such as Macaulay Culkin, a lasting friendship
emerged.

The last known encounter between Michael and Sean occurred in 2001
during a reception at Tavern on the Green in New York City's Central Park.
The invitation-only gala followed Michael's big 30th anniversary celebration
at Madison Square Garden.

A reporter for the British tabloid, The Sun, was seated at a table next to
Yoko and Sean. He noticed Michael enter the room and head immediately to
greet Yoko and her son. Ignoring Yoko for the moment, he turned on Sean with
an accusatory tone in his wispy voice. "You never return my calls," Michael
charged. "I leave messages for you all the time, and you never call back."

In spite of what appeared to be a rebuff to Michael, Sean has always been
respectful of him in the press. "If it wasn't for Michael Jackson, I probably
wouldn't make music now," Sean once said. "Thriller changed my life completely."

In 1984 Michael stood at the zenith of his career. He was celebrated
throughout the world, even in countries that many people had never heard of
before. "He was not just the King of Pop, but King of the World," Quincy
Jones said.

On a windy day in Los Angeles, when Michael came home again, there
was a distinct chill in the air. He sensed something ominous, and he couldn't
put his finger on it.

Wherever he went, whatever he did, the world was watching him and
judging him. There seemed to be eyes everywhere, as if hidden cameras had
been installed in every corner of Hayvenhurst. He once told Diana Ross that
he had no dark secrets to hide, and therefore had no fear of the press.

But now, at the age of twenty-six, he had many secrets, none of which he
wanted to share with the world, or even with intimate friends.

He could be himself only around children "because they have no masks,"
he told his mother Katherine. "Adults are filled with lies and deceit. Kids will
tell you the truth. You can share your innermost secrets and desires with
them."

What Michael didn't know then, but what he surely knows now, is that not
all children are alike. It's true that some children will hide your secrets and
never tell them to the world. Other kids will splash your innermost desires on
the front pages of tabloids. At this early stage of his life, Michael hadn't
learned to tell the difference between the two types of young boys he'd select
for "special friendships."

Nor had he fully realized that adults have ways of prying secrets, some times with manipulative pressure, from the minds of children, revelations that
could destroy certain people who engage in dark desires.

He knew that he was too famous to escape the voyeuristic attention of the
world, so he decided that, unlike a child, he would wear a mask when he was
out there-his reference to the world that existed outside the Encino compound. He would conceal his true nature and create a fake persona deliberately intended to deceive. "I want the world to see me not as I am, but as they
want me to be," he once told Katharine Hepburn.

"Good luck," Hepburn told him. "I've been doing that for years and getting away with it. I don't really care what anybody writes about me, as long
as it's not the truth."

Back at Encino, Michael was leaving the family compound with an
unknown blond-haired boy of great beauty, a Tadzio, perhaps no more than
twelve. He was going on a shopping expedition to buy the child as many toys
as he wanted.