MJJ THE KING

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Майкъл Джаксън!

    Снимки с история

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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Вто Юли 20, 2010 11:21 pm

    1984- When Michael Jackson met Michael Jackson




    Michael Jackson was a 10-year-old newspaper boy for the Star 25 years ago when he met the other Michael Jackson, the superstar. "I still remember it. It was a pretty cool event. Meeting him, you got to see a different side of him. He was just a really nice guy. That's what I remember about him, just being so kind and patient," said Jackson, 35, who teaches history and civics at his alma mater, Orillia District Collegiate Vocational Institute. As a boy, Jackson was constantly teased about his name and "not being the real Michael Jackson." He was also a huge fan of the King of Pop, who in 1984 was in the midst of his Victory Tour and at the height of his fame. Jackson's mother, Ann, wrote tour promoters Concert Productions International and asked if they could help fulfill a young fan's wish. They agreed. On a chilly October night, accompanied by former Star reporter Joyce McKerrow, the Grade 5 student and his mom slipped through a side door at Exhibition Stadium and were taken to a private room. The singer, just minutes before he was poised to go on stage, offered Jackson and his mother some juice, signed an autograph and did his best to put them at their ease. Jackson recalled that when the media came into the room to shoot pictures of the two Jacksons together, the singer "clammed up." "But when they left, he was back to normal," Jackson said, recalling the singer as soft-spoken and a bit shy. The singer's manager soon came in, reminded Jackson to put on his trademark sequined glove and the magic moment was over. "That's the sad thing, that Michael does have that public image. But in my memory... for those 10 minutes, he just treated me really, really well, he made me feel comfortable, he made my mom feel comfortable. That to me is him," Jackson said. "I've met prime ministers ... and they've never made me feel that comfortable," he said.


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Сря Юли 21, 2010 8:17 pm

    Michael by Peter

    http://montreuxmusic.com/mmm/content/view/192/244/lang,english/




    Първият път, когато срещнах Майкъл Джаксън, беше зад кулисите на The Forum в Лос Анджелис в началото на юли, 1980 г. Той беше на концерта на Куин онази вечер и дойде да види групата след това. Прекара време с Джон Дийкън и си говореха за „Another One Bites the Dust”, за която Майкъл каза, че трябва да стане сингъл. Прекара време също и с Фреди. Беше на 22 годишна възраст, а беше като развълнуван тийнейджър. Той наистина се бе насладил на шоуто и все още го държеше емоцията от него.

    Следващият път беше няколко години по-късно, когато Фреди бе поканен в къщата на Майкъл в Енсино, намираща се на север от Холивуд. Пристигнахме в къщата и преминахме през охранителната кула на портата. Слязохме от колата и се озовахме пред къща, построена в стил „Тюдор”, направена от тухли в долната част и бяла мазилка и дървени греди в горната част. Майкъл дойде да ни поздрави с голяма усмивка, очевидно горд от къщата си. Преди да влезем вътре, той настоя да го придружим на обиколка из двора. Никога няма да забравя как Фреди Меркюри вървеше през калта, обут в бели дънки и бели обувки за тенис, и говореше с лами! Майкъл ни показа всички животни и след това ни заведе до езерце, където имаше лебеди. Той изпитваше истинска любов към тези животни и птици; те бяха част от неговото “семейство”, както приятелите на Фреди бяха част от неговото.
    Майкъл ни заведе вътре в къщата. Не знам колко стаи имаше в нея. Знам, че Майкъл живееше там с майка си Катрин, двете си сестри Ла Тоя и Джанет, и имаше стаи за гости, ако някой реши да остане за нощта. Когато влязохме в стаята на Майкъл, ми направиха впечатление три неща, които ми дадоха представа за него... Навсякъде по стаята, на пода, бяха златните и платинените му награди за „Трилър”. Очевидно, те значеха много за него, държеше ги близо до себе си, но не изпитваше нужда да ги показва на света, не изпитваше нужда да показва на всички колко е добър. Второто нещо беше огромен терариум до стената, със змията му. Много неща се писаха в пресата за това любимо негово същество, и то беше в стаята на Майкъл, но завардено с тежки, дървени дъски и много тухли. Той може да е бил негов „приятел”, но беше укрепен здраво. Третото и последно нещо беше – в средата на стаята имаше двоен матрак на земята.
    Фреди попита Майкъл „Къде е леглото? Имаш достатъчно пари, за да си купиш!” Майкъл отговори „ Когато спя, обичам да спя близо до земята”.
    „Но ние сме горе на първия етаж!” отвърна Фреди.
    Бяха ни показани много стаи, включително и филмова стая, където имаше огромна видеотека с филми. Гледах един, докато Фреди и Майкъл работеха, в компанията на Джанет.
    Друга прекрасна случка беше, когато Фреди бе в тоалетната, Майкъл ме заведе в стаята му с видео игри и играхме ранна версия на тенис на маса. Имаше двама играчи – единият черен, другият бял. Започнахме да играем и Майкъл предложи всеки да играе с противоположния цвят – „Аз ще играя с белия, а ти с черния!”
    По пътя към студиото в задната част на партера, бяхме заведени в кухнята, където ни представиха на Катрин, майката на Майкъл. Тя беше много мила и гостоприемна. Когато Фреди помоли за пепелник, тя му даде капачка от буркан със сладко, тък като никой в къщата не пушеше!
    Работеха върху песента на Майкъл ‘State of Shock’, която се нуждаеше от още един вокал, който Фреди с радост предостави. След като бяха готови с вокалите, песента имаше нужда само от миксиране, но за съжаление след тази сесия, нито Майкъл, нито Фреди нямаха свободно време, така че Майкъл извика Мик Джагър за вокалите и песента беше издадена в този вид.

    Следващия път беше по повод една песен на Фреди, по която той работеше по това време. Имаше мелодия с пиано и Фреди бе написал няколко думи. Той седна на пианото и позволи на Майкъл да опита с пеенето. На местата, където Фреди не беше написал думи, каза на Майкъл да импровизира, което той и направи, използвайки думи за любовта.
    След това Майкъл поръча храна за всички. Имаше огромни плата с меса, салати, хляб и плодове. Започнахме да ядем, но Майкъл не докосна храната, тъй като по това време беше стриктен вегетарианец и ядеше само храна, приготвена от майка му.

    Беше започната работа и по трета песен с работно заглавие ‘Victory’. Имаше само един техник в студиото. Нямаше нито инструменти, нито музиканти. Майкъл и Фреди работеха по един и същ начин. В началото на една песен, се нуждаеха само от ритъм и след това прибавяха музика и инструменти. Майкъл имаше добре замислена идея за басовия ритъм. Той и Фреди бяха в контролната стая с един техник, а аз прекарах 5 минути потропвайки в ритъм по вратата на тоалетната!! Някъде в архивите на Майкъл има запис с мен!!
    Студиото беше работно място и за Фреди, и за Майкъл, но гледайки ги, можеш да си представиш две деца в игрална зала. И двамата размятаха ръце във въздуха и избухваха в смях, когато някой от тях направеше грешка, но също така това беше сериозно занятие. Мислейки си сега за онова време, гледайки тези двама майстори да правят музика заедно, ме кара да настръхвам.

    Кой беше Майкъл Джаксън за мен? Срещнах красив, млад мъж. Той и Фреди имаха много общо. Той беше самоуверен и вече невероятен музикант и изпълнител. Беше находчив и добре овладял техниката на работата си и мило човешко същество. Никога не ме е третирал по различно от Фреди. Мислеше и за другите в ситуации, които дори можеше да не го засягат. В няколкото разговора, които проведох с него, останах с впечатлението, че той има малко приятели. Работеше почти през цялото време и имаше много професионални връзки и колеги. Може би вече беше малко самотен, налагайки се да има охрана от ранна възраст и налагайки се да прибягва да търси забавления на закрито, за които друг на неговата възраст би могъл да излезе навън. Той беше само с 3 години по-млад от мен, а още не беше порастнал!! Все още искаше простите неща в живота да му донесат радост и намери малко спокойствие при животните си.

    Питър Фрийстоун, личен асистент на Фреди Меркюри в периода 1980-1991г.


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Нед Авг 22, 2010 10:35 am

    Brad Sundberg: Remembering a friend.



    Remembering a friend

    Today marks the one year anniversary of his death. Over the course of the next few days you will likely hear his music, see news about his estate or kids, perhaps hear jokes and rumors. His enormous debt has apparently been lowered from $500M to $300M with income continuing to flow, thanks to the business team controlling his estate. According to Sony Music, 31 million of his albums have sold since he died. The movie "This Is It" grossed $260 worldwide. His videos will be in heavy rotation this weekend, and his lighthearted Captain Eo will continue to draw crowds at Disneyland and Epcot Center in Walt Disney World.

    People are beginning to remember that beyond all the tabloid headlines, eccentricities and accusations was a remarkably talented guy who created a soundtrack for millions of people. He was an entertainer, plain and simple, on stage and off. He was also a good client, boss, and friend.

    Many of you know that I worked with him on countless projects spanning some 18 years. I have had the opportunity to meet and work with many "famous" people, but none more interesting or polarizing than this man. When people learn that I worked with him for such a long period of time, they are understandably curious. Typically, the opening line is, "So, was he as weird as he seemed?". But I can't really blame them. The media did a great job of painting him in such a way that it seemed he rode around on a monkey carrying the Elephant Man bones in a backpack wearing pajamas on his way to a Boy Scout camp.

    Recently an article was published by a friend of mine in the Huffinton Post. It went into great detail about how out of line the press was during his 2005 trial. The event became a global media circus, with soundbites and sensationalism taking the place of facts. When 14 jurors found him not-guilty, the story was over and the tents were packed up.

    It is not my job to convince you that he was innocent or "normal." I can only share memories of working with him in the studio and at his home, known as Neverland Valley Ranch.

    When I wrote the following article shortly after his death, I received countless notes of appreciation for introducing people to the artist that I knew. I will continue to write and compile these stories, as he was a truly unique individual, and he deeply impacted my life and career path.

    If you can turn down the media madness for just a few minutes, I would like to tell you about a friend of mine that died a year ago. His name is Michael Jackson.

    Gone Too Soon

    In 1985 I got married, got my first job in a recording studio (Westlake Audio), and met one of the kindest young men I have ever known, Michael Jackson. Quite a year. To Brad and Michaeleven attempt to sum up a nearly 20 year working relationship and friendship with Michael in one article is impossible, but let me try to give you a glimpse into the incredible world I was privileged to be a part of.

    Michael was working on Captain Eo for Disneyland and Epcot Center. He was fresh off the Victory Tour, the Thriller album, his dominance of MTV, and he was back in the studio. I wish I could remember our first meeting, but it was likely just passing each other in the hallway. He was always warm, yet shy. Over time we would chat now and then, but it took time to build the trust.

    Around that same time he did an often forgotten album, The ET Storybook. This was when I met Quincy Jones and Bruce Swedien. Early in 1986 the team moved into Westlake Studio D in Hollywood to record the BAD album, and welcomed me in. I worked other sessions during the day, but at night I was invited to sit in and learn. Eventually I worked my way up to technical director for the team, and the trust was solidified. It was during this time that Michael nicknamed me "Really Really Brad," a twist on the chorus, "Bad, Bad, Really Really Bad." Check the album credits, it's there.

    Over the next ten years I worked with Michael doing tour prep for the BAD tour in 1988, then back in the studio for the Dangerous album in Los Angeles, followed by the HIStory album in New York. Toss in countless music videos, the HIStory tour, the Moonwalker project, Blood On The Dance Floor album, and various side projects, and I got to know him pretty well.

    So who was Michael Jackson, and why did he have such a profound effect on my life? Not for a moment do I pretend to have been a close friend of his, or a confidant. Rather I worked for him and with him, and considered it an honor.

    He was a consummate professional. If his vocals were scheduled for a noon downbeat, he was there at 10 am, with his vocal coach Seth, singing scales. Yes, scales. I would set up the mic, check the equipment, make coffee, and all the while he would sing scales for two hours.

    He typically drove himself to the studio alone. For a while he drove a big Ford Bronco with dents and scrapes on it. He was not a great driver. More than once he called into the studio to say he would be late after being in a fender bender.

    He was intensely curious about "normal life." He asked me about Christmas once, and couldn't understand how kids could wait until Christmas morning to open the gifts. You see, he was raised Jehovah's Witness, so Christmas was not celebrated in the Jackson family.

    Since I was so close to this world, let me try to give you some insight. A "typical" MJ album would take between 10 and 16 months in the studio. His budget allowed for as many as 100 songs to be recorded for any given project. Some would be discarded early on, while others were fine tuned. Musicians would be brought in to add their textures and ideas, but in the center of it all was Michael. The team was remarkably small given the scope of the projects. Each project was slightly different, but typically there were less then eight of us working day to day, from the first day until the project was mastered. No entourage. No Elephant Man bones. No groupies. No drugs. Just music. And food.

    During the BAD album, Fridays quickly became known as "family day." He would have his two chefs, affectionately known as the Slam Dunk Sisters, prepare a large dinner for the crew, musicians and any family members that might be around. Since I was working sometimes 80 hours a week, it was not uncommon for Deb to come have dinner with us. Michael loved these family get togethers. In later projects I would bring my girls, whom he loved and would play with. There is one moment in time in my head when Deb brought my daughter Amanda, who was just a baby at the time, into the studio for the afternoon. She set up a play mat and brought some toys, and Michael sat and played with her for a while. He looked at Deb and said, "This is her own little world, isn't it?"



    Brad and MJ playing Jenga

    When you work in this environment, your sense of normal begins to shift. It was not uncommon for celebrities or VIPs to stop in. One day the Secret Service searched the building for a couple hours before Nancy Reagan came for a visit. Next it was Princess Stephanie from Monaco. (She has a cameo on the song "In The Closet.") The chimps were common guests in the studio, as was a giant snake, both of which I would wind up holding during MJ's vocals. Michael loved mixing fun and work, but work always came first.

    I have watched him write many songs, and the process is amazing. I asked him where they came from, and he said they were gifts from God. He could hear the entire song in his head before we could get tape on the machines. He would sometimes sing the drums, bass, percussion, keyboards, etc., and we would later bring in musicians to replace his demo tracks.

    His lounge would be decorated with Disney posters and old Hollywood memorabilia. He loved innocence, and displayed gentleness, humor and patience.

    This driving work ethic also had to escape from time to time. There were many days we would show up at the studio, only to find he had flown to Europe or Japan for a few days, and neglected to tell us. This sometimes meant an unscheduled few days off for us, which was awesome.

    There were however memories that he would sometimes share about the endless travel and work schedule when he was just a boy. I remember him telling me about grown women throwing themselves at him when he was just 9 or 10 years old. One story I will never forget was him telling of flying with his dad and brothers through a lightening storm at night. The plane was being tossed around, lightening was flashing, and he started crying in fear. His dad ignored him, embarrassed. A flight attendant sat with until the plane cleared the storm. Hearing him tell that story, with tears in his eyes, gave a glimpse into his life.

    There are few people I have worked so closely with for so long than Michael Jackson. There were many months when I spent more time with him than I did my own wife. Somewhere around 1991 he asked me to visit a ranch he had purchased, and design a sound system for a carousel. The next thing I knew I was at Neverland Valley Ranch, in Santa Ynez, CA. There was construction everywhere, and the amusement park was in the early stages of installation. Over the next few years Michael asked me to build system after system, putting music on the bumper cars, in the petting zoo, on two trains, all around the amusement park, the boat lake, the train stations, and eventually inside the house, and inside his bedroom and bathroom. Deb loves to tell of the times Michael would call at 2 in the morning (his sleep schedule was never normal) to talk to me about a new attraction he had coming to Neverland, and if I would put music on it. I still have an old answering machine tape of him thanking me for one of the systems we had built.

    Michael had very little patience when it came to new rides. When the second train was ordered for the ranch, we were flown to Ohio to install the lights and music before it was trucked to California. That way, as soon as it rolled off the truck onto the track it was ready for Michael. He lived for those moments!

    In it's day, Neverland Valley was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. He loved that ranch. He could act like a kid, drive golf carts, throw water balloons and just have fun. Week after week the buses would roll in, bringing inner city kids, Make A Wish kids, friends and families. I have been there with sick kids whose dying wish was to spend a day with Michael.

    As Neverland grew, I got the bug to continue building systems, and eased out of the recording studio. Soon I was working for Elizabeth Taylor, building a massive outdoor music system for her, followed by my good friend Quincy Jones.

    This was the Michael I knew. Innocent, perhaps child-like at times, but not childish. A professional who worked to be the best performer in the world, yet knew how to have fun. If he was comfortable, he would laugh and joke with everyone, but if someone was there that made him uncomfortable, he would disappear.

    We used to say there were two Michaels: the one we worked with, and the one who went on stage in front of 100,000 people and entertained them. There have always been singers and dancers, but Michael was in a class by himself. I have been to perhaps 12 of his concerts (my daughter Amanda was on stage with him in Paris with several other kids singing "Heal The World"), and there is really no one that comes close to his level of artistry.



    Yes, there were allegations. No, I don't believe them.

    Yes, he changed his color and facial shape. No, I really don't care.

    I have worked with plenty of normal looking people who thrive on pain and anger. I'll take a guy who might be abnormal looking and eccentric yet shows kindness, love, generosity, patience, humor and humility any day of the week. I could write page after page of simple acts of kindness I have seen firsthand.

    But the eccentricities increased.

    The last time I spoke with Michael was around 2003. He wanted some additional work done at the ranch, but clearly things had changed. It was an awkward conversation between us, with me declining to do the work for what he was offering. Then he drove away in a golf cart. As I walked to my car, I knew it was the last time I would ever see him. I remember looking across the valley with the amusement park well past it's prime, the grass not as green as it once was, and Michael driving over the bridge back to his house. I was a long way from that hallway in a studio where we first met nearly 20 years before.

    But I would not trade a minute of it.

    Thank you Michael, for letting me be a small part of your world. You have taught me more than you will ever know. Your friendship and trust is something I will always cherish. Rest in peace my friend.

    Brad.

    Само едно ми е сранно как може да наричаш някого "приятел" и да твърдиш, че си е променил цвета на кожата, когато той е казал, че има заболяване. Твърде "приятелско" ми звучи. scratch


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Пон Яну 24, 2011 6:22 pm



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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Нед Фев 27, 2011 12:03 am



    Summer 1984 - David Smithey a fourteen year-old fan fulfills a lifelong dream. He is invited to visit Michael Jackson in his home in Encino. David, a victim of cystic fibrosis had long wished to meet Jackson. The two young people shared an afternoon watching movies in the private screening room, eating lunch and playing video games. Before leaving, he was treated by the superstar to a black sequined glove and his red leather jacket from Beat It. Seven weeks later, David Smithey died.

    :-(((


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Сря Мар 02, 2011 9:22 pm

    Michael Jackson Slept Here
    At a difficult time in his life, the King of Pop was looking for a safe haven—and wound up at our house.

    On his final night in Loudoun County, Jackson hosted
    a gathering at the house, where he introduced his three children
    to the Walters family and posed with Taylor, 15, McClaine, 13, and their mother,
    Robin. All photographs courtesy of Del Walters


    This is the story of how Michael Jackson—the King of Pop and at the time one of the world’s most wanted men—hid out at my family’s house.

    Among his staff, Jackson was referred to as the Principal. In our family, he was known as the Secret—one we kept for nine days five years ago. We believed then, and do now, that not revealing Jackson’s whereabouts was the right thing to do. Now that he’s gone, I can tell why and how we did it.

    It was March 2004. The previous year, Jackson had appeared on TV explaining why he believed it to be normal for adults to share their beds with children, that it was the most loving thing you could do. What he saw as innocent a Los Angeles district attorney saw as criminal. Rumors were swirling that Jackson would be indicted on charges of child molestation by an LA grand jury. The King of Pop became a subject of ridicule. Gone was the cute boy who had swooned his way into the hearts of generations. He was replaced by a man-child, a suspected pedophile.

    In April 2004, Jackson was to receive an award from the African Ambassadors’ Spouses Association for his humanitarian work. But few of the journalists seeking credentials for the event cared about his work in Africa—they wanted to ask him about what had happened at Jackson’s Neverland Ranch. So a routine trip to Washington became anything but routine. Jackson needed a place to stay, and those closest to him were finding that there was no acceptable room in a Washington hotel.

    The real-estate agent assigned to locate lodgings for him was running out of options. Stopping for a bite to eat, she saw the April 2004 Washingtonian. It featured a “Great Places to Live” article with me, my wife, and our two children on the cover. The story talked about how we had designed a house near Leesburg with no walls and plenty of open space. The agent knew us well enough to pick up the phone and ask whether we’d consider allowing Michael Jackson and his children to stay in our home.

    What would you have done if a friend had called out of the blue and suggested that Michael Jackson might be interested in staying at your home? We first assumed she was joking. But she was serious.

    On the previous Sunday, the sermon delivered by our minister, Reverend Dr. Norman A. Tate, had been about the Good Samaritan. Reverend Tate was the first person we consulted. Should we offer Michael Jackson safe haven? That night, following a lengthy family discussion and vote, we ironed out the details and began preparing for the Jackson family’s arrival.

    Michael Jackson traveled with an entourage of 14. There were two cooks, three nannies, three children, personal assistants, tutors, security men, and Jackson himself. He moves in, you move out. (We stayed at a hotel.) Those who surrounded him called him the Client or the Principal. Rarely was he referred to by name. There were stretch Hummers and Suburbans that suggested a visit by a head of state—which is what our neighbors suspected.

    Before he moved in, the house had to be prepared. His entourage covered all glass windows and doors. He was to have white bed linens and towels only. His favorite scent, a mountain fragrance, was sprayed everywhere and lingered for weeks after his departure.

    Then, under the cover of darkness, he arrived. His private jet flew in and out of the Leesburg airport.

    That evening as he moved in, we dined at a local restaurant, courtesy of the entertainer, and wondered whether he was enjoying our house as much as we did. We wondered whether he admired the views of the Blue Ridge Mountains from the deck and whether he took a stroll and noted the seven species of birds that call our acres home. Did he play the baby grand piano? Did his children frolic in the small dance studio? Would he enjoy the pool and hot tub and five acres, or would he just hole up and hide?

    The next morning brought invitations for us to attend several events, including a BET reception and the African ambassadors’ reception.

    Before Jackson’s arrival at the BET affair, a who’s who of Washington’s African-Amercan elite waited patiently. There were plenty of nasty remarks; some couples talked about how they wouldn’t let their children anywhere near Jackson. Then he arrived and the stampede began. Those who had ridiculed him the most were first in line.

    His assistant ushered us to the front of the receiving line. We were told Jackson wanted to meet us first to thank us for allowing him and his children to use our home. He talked about the family pictures on the walls and how comfortable the place felt.

    It was all very pleasant, but you could tell there was something unsettled about him. You could tell what he coveted most: He’d grown up without a childhood, and our house is filled with the kind of childhood memories money can’t buy—baptisms, first-birthday parties, family adventures.

    To keep his stay at our house secret, we arrived there in the morning in time for the school bus to pick up one of our two daughters. We were always met by one of Jackson’s bodyguards dressed in all black. I finally told him that if he wanted Jackson’s presence to remain secret, he shouldn’t meet us every morning looking like Mr. T.

    Reporters were in high gear searching for Jackson. We feared a media circus in our neighborhood. Our daughters, then 13 and 15, went to school each day wondering if their world would unravel.

    On day eight, we were surprised Jackson wasn’t ready to leave, as the agreement had called for. That night, he arranged for a private wine-and-cheese reception at our own house so our children could meet his. He was more than gracious. While I worked, my wife and daughters were greeted by Jackson and his three kids. They spoke of childhood and normality. His children were very talkative; he was soft-spoken but playful. My wife described him as a gentle soul who obviously loved his children and they him. He also was willing to discipline his kids. He posed for pictures and agreed to autograph many things, including CDs.

    By day nine, Jackson and his children were gone.

    The empty wine bottles hidden around the house hinted at a man we now know was deeply tormented. There were other signs, but my wife and I have agreed they will remain secret. We knew from his representatives that Jackson tended to live nocturnally, sleeping during the day and roaming the house at night.

    A visit by guests to our house now always leads to a conversation about Jackson’s visit. His picture, taken when he was standing by our baby grand piano, sits atop a table in the living room. Almost everyone sees it and wonders what it was like to talk to him and have him live in our home.

    I’m always asked why I’ve never talked about Michael Jackson’s stay at our house. I say I met Jackson three times in my life—twice face to face.

    Most African-Americans of my generation were introduced to a young Michael Jackson through the radio or by a friend who had one of his records. For me it was a 45-RPM played at Sonny Mason’s barbershop in my hometown of Wheeling, West Virginia.

    The second encounter was in 1984 when Jackson and his brothers kicked off their Victory Tour in Kansas City. I stood out among the other reporters covering it because I didn’t appear to care about Michael Jackson the celebrity as much as I did the revenue the tour represented in the cities it visited. That night, I received two tickets to attend the concert and a private reception at Kansas City’s Arrowhead Stadium. In a receiving line for the Jacksons following the concert, I met Michael in person for the first time.

    The third time was the Washington visit.

    I, too, wonder why I’ve never talked before about his stay in our home. Was it because Jackson and I were the same age or the fact that, like so many African-Americans, I liked to remember the little kid from Gary, Indiana, more than I did the man with another reputation?

    Perhaps, as Reverend Tate suggested, it was just the right thing to do.

    As word of Michael Jackson’s death on June 25 spread, my family mourned the man we’d met not as the King of Pop but as a person trapped inside a world that was and was not of his own creation, a man who came to us through his representatives in need of a place to stay. As I sat on our deck and looked west toward the Blue Ridge Mountains, I hoped he now was seeing what I see each and every night—a perfect sunset.

    http://www.washingtonian.com/articles/people/13134.html


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Чет Мар 03, 2011 11:16 am











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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Нед Мар 13, 2011 10:28 pm

    Michael Jackson- The Driver Laughing



    Michael Jackson- The Driver (as told by his Mother Katherine)

    In Photos: Michael Jackson driving with his niece

    Michael usually drove himself to Kingdom Hall and his field-service
    routes. He’d finally gotten his driver’s license in 1981, at the age of twenty-
    three. Initially he didn’t want to learn to drive.

    “I’ll just get a chauffeur when I want to go out,” he said when I began
    nagging him about getting his license.

    “But suppose you’re someplace and your chauffeur gets sick?” I reasoned.

    Finally, he relented and took some lessons.

    After he began driving, Michael decided that he enjoyed being behind the
    wheel, after all. The first time he took me for a ride, he ventured up to
    Mulholland Drive, a winding road in the Hollywood Hills. It was a hair-
    raising experience.

    “I’ve got a crook in my neck and my feet hurt,” LaToya, who was also in
    the car, complained afterward. “I was putting on the brakes’ with my feet and
    ‘steering’ the car with my neck trying to keep it on the road. I was so scared!”

    It was white-knuckle time for me, too. Michael drove fast. He also had the
    same habit that I have: driving right up to the car in front and stopping on a
    dime.

    After that, Michael started going out by himself.

    “You shouldn’t go out alone,” I told him. “Get Bill Bray to go with you.”

    But Michael wouldn’t hear of it. “I’m tired of having security with me
    every time I go someplace.”


    When he began driving, Michael told me that he would never go on
    freeways; he thought they were too dangerous. So I was shocked one day
    when Michael suddenly drove us onto a freeway ramp.

    “Wait a minute, Michael, what are you doing?”

    “I can drive the freeways now!” he said, laughing. He had changed his
    mind about freeways when he saw just how long it took him to get around Los
    Angeles without using them.

    Michael’s first car was a Mercedes. Then he bought a black Rolls-Royce,
    which he later painted blue.

    It was in the Rolls that he was stopped one day -- not for fans outside the
    gate, but by a Van Nuys policeman.

    “This looks like a stolen car,” the officer said. He didn’t recognise
    Michael, who wasn’t wearing a disguise that day.

    Michael explained politely that he did, indeed, own the car. But the officer
    went ahead and ran a check on the car, and found that Michael had a ticket
    outstanding.

    The next thing Michael knew, he was sitting in the Van Nuys jail.

    Bill Bray bailed him out. I didn’t even know what had happened until he
    came home.

    “You should have asked the officer what a stolen car looks like,” I said
    after he related his adventure. Perhaps the cop had felt that a young black man
    didn’t belong behind the wheel of a Rolls.

    But Michael was not only put out by the experience, he professed to be
    happy.

    “I got to see how it felt to be in jail!” he exclaimed.

    Source: Katherine Jackson's "My Family"


    http://twitpic.com/494sby


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by for all time on Пет Мар 25, 2011 11:30 pm



    Michael & Me

    It's definitely the worst picture of me ever taken, but how could I not post it? Can't a blogger try to ride a media frenzy? I would have posted it sooner, but it took me a while to find.

    In 1998, I had a short chat with Michael Jackson, and the proof is above. We were both at a small amfAR benefit in LA to honor Dr. Arnold Klein, Jackson's dermatologist.
    I had never heard about Klein until this night, but apparently amfAR was founded in his LA home, and his website claims he's raised "over $300 million for HIV research and care."

    But this isn't about Klein -- it's about Michael and me. He came with his wife at the time, Debbie Rowe, but for an awkward moment, I saw him standing alone during the cocktail reception. So I walked up and introduced myself. I thanked him for his AIDS charity work, and told him I was amfAR's token HIV positive board member. He was painfully shy. I asked him what he was up to these days, and to be honest, I don't really remember his reply -- something about a casino project I think.

    A few seconds later, the amfAR photographer asked for our shot, and my best buddy Michael put his arm around me, with his un-white-gloved hand on my shoulder, and smiled.


    Addendum: I just Googled "michael jackson casino," and it turns out my memory was pretty good -- he was planning to open one.


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Съб Апр 02, 2011 10:37 am

    Photo of a Girl

    In April of 2009, you might have seen Michael coming out of a building with a photo of a girl in his hand. It was on fan message boards for a while…and the question of who the girl is came up a lot. Well that girl was me and at the time I found it VERY embarrassing…but of course now I cherish it. People on the internet came up with different things like “It’s his girlfriend”, “It’s Blanket’s mother” and one gossip site even said it was a photo of the new face he wanted after surgery.
    Just to give a little background, followers often gave photos of themselves to Michael. We gave Michael a lot of photos of us all posing together, alone, with him, etc. The more Michael saw you, the more he remembered who you were and your name and things you told him about yourself. I remember one of his bodyguards telling me, “Always include a photo with your letters. He likes photos and he remembers you that way.” I always carried stationary, pens, markers, stickers, gifts and photos in my trunk to always be prepared with something to give to him.
    On this particular day I had emptied my stuff out for some reason and only had a few developed photos inside my car. I just really wanted to always give him something so I quickly wrote a note on the back of one of the photos and gave it to him when we saw him inside. We said our hello’s and parted different ways so I didn’t see him exit out the building.
    After that he went shopping to a few stores including Off the Wall on Melrose and the Ed Hardy store. I don’t remember if it was during the drive to the Ed Hardy store or when I was done and going home but I got a call.
    “Oh my God! There are photos of Michael holding your photo!”
    I quickly went online to try and find it and sure enough it was all over the internet already. I got red in the face and was so embarrassed…and I got made fun of for it by my friends for MONTHS. But of course, now it is something I treasure. <3 So there it is, there is no real “story” behind the photo. Fans have fantasized some really weird theories about the incident. LOL I wanted to tell Michael about the photos and how funny it looked but I never got the chance to because I started seeing him less and less…I’m sure at some point I wrote about it in my letters but it wasn’t ever discussed. And I’m okay with it being that way…


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Съб Апр 02, 2011 5:19 pm

    The Day I Met Michael

    Many friends of mine have asked me to share this wonderful experience. I’ve tried my best to tell it somehow, but I think it’s impossible to describe such a deep, strong emotion. What Michael gave me on that day is beyond words.

    Before I begin, I’d like to say that Michael was not only my favorite artist, he accompanied me through different times of my life; during the lightheartedness of my adolescence and also in my hardest times. His music was actually the sound track of my life. Thanks to him I met my husband, not to mention the wonderful friendships that I made.


    When I was a child, I called my secret diary “Michael,” and every time I wrote something in it, it was like I was speaking to him. I remember that I covered up my room’s walls with all of his photos, but in particular, I had his poster in life-size beside my bed portraying him lying down; he really just seemed to be on my bed. I remember it looked so natural that my little nieces were scared of it. They adored Michael, but still they were so scared that he would turn into a werewolf. If you only knew of all the conversations that I had with that poster….well, I was 11 at the time. Many children have their imaginary friend; I had Michael Jackson.




    The first great emotion that I felt was on May 23rd, 1988, the first time I went to see him in concert (I was 17 years old.) It was in Rome at the Flaminio Stadium, the first European stop on the BAD Tour.



    Oh my God, what a concert!



    In 1990, I married Giuseppe, better known as “Peppe Michael Jackson.” I’m not joking when I say that he was famous for his resemblance to Michael.



    In 1991, my first child Tania was born. Needless to say, she already knew Michael from her mother’s womb. On July 4th, 1992, I attended another concert. It was during the Dangerous Tour, and only those who have seen this concert can understand how wonderful it really was.



    In 1993, Vincenzo, my second child, was born. A great joy for me, but unfortunately that year, I had to face a very tough reality. Tania, my daughter, was diagnosed with Autism.



    It’s not that easy for a 22-year-old girl to discover she had an Autistic daughter. I’m not referring only to the hurt of finding out, but it’s not easy to handle such trouble at that young age (it’s never easy; whatever age is it, honestly). Thanks to God, He gives us, besides all the pains and the sorrows in our life, also the strength and the dignity to face them.



    Growing up and becoming a mother never reduced my love for Michael. On the contrary, it increased. Perhaps it was because I always identified myself with him. Michael and I had so many things in common. Our childhoods and the things we missed during that time, and having 3 sisters and 5 brothers increased my love for him more, I guess.



    In 1996, I knew that Michael would have started his HIStory Tour in Prague. Some of my friends were getting ready for the tour, and I was feeling very bad because I knew that having two little children would keep me from ever going with them. As “fate” would have it, my neighbors were from Prague. They knew very well what I felt for Mike. I’ll never forget that night when they told my husband: “Come on you! Michael Jackson will be in our town. Let Stefania go see him with her friends. Our house is midtown of Prague and is vacant, so she could stay there. We will help you here with the babies.”



    When my husband said yes, I couldn’t believe it! It seemed to me as I could fly! Since that day my dreams started, and I said to myself: “This time I will not be satisfied only by watching him on stage. He must know that I exist. He’s got to know what he gave me and what he represents to me. I’ll have to do something to impress him.”



    So I got a canvas, 2 x 3 meters, and I started painting on it. I just had such a strong inspiration. I knew so well what to do; Michael sitting under a tree with the Walt Disney characters all around him. Peter Pan sitting on his knees; a river, a lawn, many children and Topo GiGio (whom he really adored) waving the Italian flag. I had lots of time to do it since I would not see Michael for many months. 'I’ll make it.' I repeated to myself, and I kept on painting with all my love.



    Finally, on September 5th, I landed at the Prague airport with my friend Vania and my canvas. Sonia and Patrizia who were also from Naples, were waiting for us. They had arrived two days before. We went to our friends’ house to drop off our suitcases, and then we rushed off right away to the Intercontinental Hotel where Michael was staying. On our way in the car, Sonia told me she was lucky enough to have hugged Michael the day before. Some fans were allowed to stand within the barriers placed in front of the hotel entrance. She was even allowed to enter with another group of fans into the restaurant where Michael was. I was happy for her, but at the same time I was regretting that I had not been there the day before. Maybe (who knows) Michael could have seen my canvas. This thought kept repeating itself.


    Finally, we arrived near the hotel. We knew we were getting close because we could hear hundreds of fans screaming all around. They were gathering under the canopy of the hotel. I began trembling like a leaf, especially when I looked up and saw beside his window an enormous tarpaulin, affixed with the MJ mark on it.
    Suddenly, everyone started screaming louder and the crowd flocked together. “Michael! Michael!” Yeah, it was him! He was leaving to go to Letenska Park for rehearsal. We couldn’t see him; we were behind too many others. This is when I had my first hysterical breakdown and cried. We all went to the Park; his voice resounded everywhere. We could hear him clearly as he rehearsed, and each time the wind blew stronger and moved those tarpaulins that divided us, we could even see him. He was stunning!

    That night I couldn’t close my eyes for the thought of the next morning, when we would have to leave in the early dawn to get the best places to stand at the hotel. We were the first to arrive that morning, September 6th. We put my drawing within the barriers just in front of the main entrance, so when Michael would come out he would surely see it just in front of him.

    The long wait began. Meanwhile, several fans began to arrive increasing the crowd in an amazing way. They were coming from every part of the world. Many of them came up to me to compliment me on my drawing. Michael’s photographer approached me and started taking pictures of it, very satisfied. A little bit later, Michael’s cameraman was there too, and videotaped the canvas for what seemed to be a very long time. He congratulated me on a great job as well.

    I was certainly very flattered by that, but I wanted Michael. I wanted to see his eyes looking down on my canvas, and then hope that our glances would cross into one another’s. I had dreamed it for so many years. Finally, into the later part of the morning, the hotel door opened. Everybody started screaming “Michael! Michael!” I was paralyzed. I couldn’t believe it; he was just a few meters from me. He was gorgeous!

    He wore black trousers, a red shirt and a black jacket. At one point he looked down at the drawing. He even stopped to do his thumbs-up as if to say, “Okay!" He took a few steps forward to say hello to the crowd, and then he came back to sit in the car. He must have gone to the wrong vehicle because he got out and went to another car. (There were 2 of the same looking cars parked in a row.) Wayne, his bodyguard, called Teddy Lakis (star promoter) and pointed to the drawing. He came over to us and said, “Michael likes this drawing very much, he‘d like to have it.” Since I had lost my tongue to speak, my friends answered, “Oh, yes! This was drawn just for him, but she would love to have the pleasure of giving it to him personally.” He went back to Michael to report what he was told, and then returned to us and said, “Okay, Mr. Jackson is going to visit the President, but when he comes back he said you’re invited to go up in his room.” After those words, I couldn’t understand anything more. I laughed, I cried, I trembled, I stammered; I was totally out of my mind!

    He hadn’t much make-up on and he was gorgeous! His hair was tied in a strange way; a sort of loose ponytail. He wore the same red shirt of that morning, but had on different trousers. I was trembling so badly and praying, ‘God please, I don’t want to cry and look foolish, so please give me the strength to control myself and stand on my own two feet.’

    I went on staring at him; I did not want to miss anything. Suddenly, Wayne motioned to me to open the tube and I made a fool of myself once again. Since it was huge and very heavy, I made it crash into the chandelier with a terrible clatter. Luckily it didn’t break, and I only managed to say in a whisper, “Oh, sorry.” It was in that moment that his eye caught mine, and he smiled with the sweetest expression.

    As the bodyguards rolled out the canvas, Michael stood up from the chair with an, “Oooohhh!” as if to say, “At last!” He began to observe it with the enthusiasm of a child. He was very sweet because I was very nervous, and he tried to make me feel at ease by commenting on it aloud and smiling, “Oh my God, it’s wonderful!” Then, without turning away from the picture, he came closer to look at it and he started shouting, “Oooohhh, Topo Gigìo!” dwelling on the final i of the name. Everyone was laughing at his childlike behavior but me. I was paralyzed.

    His eyes lit up like those of a child in front of his favorite toy. Apart from Wayne and Yanik, there were some kids in his room and a woman whom I think was their mother: She had always been with Michael since his arrival in Prague, but I did not know who she was.

    When Michael saw Topo Gigio with the Italian flag in his hand, he asked me, “Are you Italian?” I answered, “Yes”. The woman immediately began to speak to me in Italian and said, “Oh, how nice, I’m Italian too. Where are you from?” When I answered, “I’m from Naples,” Michael smiled at me and said, “Oh, I love Naples.”

    He kept on analyzing the picture; concentrating on every single detail and saying, “Oh boy, it’s wonderful, wonderful!” Luckily the woman helped me by acting as an interpreter. Michael asked me, “Why did you choose to portray us under a tree?” I answered, “I don’t know, it has been a sort if inspiration. I saw it in my mind before painting.” He said, “Oh, sure. You had a vision! That tree means a lot to me.”
    Then the woman smiled and said to me, “Wow, he said he will bring it home and put it in his room.” I couldn’t believe it and I just said, “Thank you.” He said, “No, thank you! You gave me such a beautiful present. It is full of love.” He went on saying, “Thank you, I love you.”

    Wayne, who was holding up the canvas together with the woman, told Yanik to take a picture. Unfortunately, at that moment Michael put on his mask. I believe he did so because he had almost no make-up on. I could clearly see some spots of vitiligo on his face, in particular between his cheek and the right ear. Then he gave me his hand, and invited me to stand close to him for the photo.

    I don’t know how I managed to stand on my feet, especially when I felt his hand holding my hip. I wore an openwork t-shirt, and I could feel his fingers touching my skin; he smelt of vanilla perfume. It was the hardest time of my life. My heart was beating so hard that I’m sure he could hear it too. In the meantime, Yanik was fighting with the camera and couldn’t get the picture. Michael said something, but I couldn’t understand. He told Yanik something like he was the only one who could be a true bodyguard, and then he teased him by saying, “Hello, Yanik, you know that if you don’t push the button you can’t take the picture, don’t you?” Everybody started laughing. I was still feeling Michael’s hand on my hip and I felt very dizzy. It seemed like the whole room was moving around me. I took a deep breath and smiled while Yanik finally took the picture. Michael exclaimed, “We did it!”

    That was the most beautiful moment in my life; his beautiful eyes were staring at mine. He understood that I was much too excited and so he asked me, “Are you ok?” with such an incredible sweetness. That was the real moment that I did let myself go. I threw my arms around him sobbing, “Oh, Michael.” He hugged me too; he held me so tightly and I broke down and cried. That was the one thing I never wanted to do in front of him, crying just like every common fan, but I accumulated too much tension so I could not hold it back. Michael, with all his sweetness, kept on caressing my head and my back. If I could have, I would have stopped the time and stayed in his arms and felt his warmth, heard his voice and smelled his perfume into eternity.

    I couldn’t believe it. I dreamt of that moment since I was a child. I have imagined that scene a million times, and now I really was there in those arms. God, he smelled so good, and how tight he was holding me! I shall never be able to describe what I felt at that moment. Never!

    Since I couldn’t stop crying, I told him, “I’m sorry,” and he said to me, smiling with such an indescribable kindness, “Oh-oh! It’s all right.” He stared at me with that particular glance that only he has and asked me again, “Are you ok?” It was incredible! Just a few moments earlier he looked like a child to me, and now only a few minutes later he took the stature of a father figure. I told him, “I’m fine, thank you.” Then he smiled and asked me with some curiosity what I had in my bag.

    I actually didn’t realize that I had been holding my bag since I entered the room, but I was so excited I didn’t think to put it down anywhere. Inside of it I had my children’s photos, and a letter that I wrote for him in which I had opened my heart; writing all that Michael meant to me, and giving him all my support for all that he had to endure. He put down the bag on the table and began to leaf through the photos. I told him, “These are my children.” He replied, “Oh, congratulations, you already are a mother. But they’re such beautiful kids!” I said, “This is Vichi, he’s 3, and he has imitated you since he was only one.” He smiled, saying that Vichi was really a beautiful baby boy.

    Then I showed him Tania’s photos, and I said to him that she’s Autistic. He said, “Oh no, I’m sorry! I do know Autism. They live in a world all on their own.” “Sure," I replied, "and you are part of her world too. Since she was a newborn baby, she always listened to your music when she breaks down and cries. She needs to listen to your songs to calm her. She does not play any kind of game, so most of the time she usually spends her hours watching your videos. When we were at the hospital, we had to take the video player and all of your VHS tapes with us to make her stay quiet.” He became serious, slowly taking a careful look at Tania’s pictures, visibly touched.

    He said nothing at first, and then spoke. “She’s beautiful. Her glance; her smile is wonderful. Can I take her pics?” “Certainly you can," I replied. “How old is she?” He asked. “She’s five,” I said. “Can she speak?” “No, Michael. Unfortunately I never heard the sound of her voice.” He said, “No! My God! She‘s so beautiful! Is there something I could do for her? Do you need my help? How can I help you?” I simply thanked him. I could have asked him to let Tania meet him because he often gave hospitality to many disabled children in Neverland, but I did not have the courage to ask. I’m still regretting this decision. I’m sure that Tania would have been so happy there. She loves to see him singing and dancing.

    Michael took my hand, and looking into my eyes he said, “Don’t ever lose your faith or your hope, and don’t stop fighting for her. Never! Don’t give up!” We embraced each other once again, and just as I was crying I said, “Thank you Michael, I love you!” and he answered, “I love you too; I love you more.” It was such an intense moment; so special that I have real a difficulty telling it. I fear that it may go away somehow.

    I always knew that he was a sensitive, kind of person, but at that moment he was sensitive only for me. He was really touched, and he made me feel all his support and all his love. What a wonderful man; so humble and special! (Here, I start crying again) Then he took my letter, and I said, “Michael, please, it’s so important to me that you’ll read my letter.” And he said, “I’ll do it tonight, I promise.”

    Unfortunately, it came my time to say goodbye. Wayne was already waiting for me close to the door. I said to that woman, “Please, I have something more to tell him.” I would have told him that I felt so sorry for him; for everything he had to go through because of the charges and the wickedness he suffered. I wanted to say these things to him even if I had already written everything in my letter. I was only able to say, “How are you?” But I’m quite sure he knew what I was referring to. In fact, we looked into each other’s eyes and I felt really in tune with him. He thanked me and he told me he was fine, also thanking us for the gestures of love that he received from us in which he gained more and more strength. I told him, “Please, take care of you, and don’t forget you’ll always have our support; we will always be with you.” “Ooh, thank you, I love you so much. God bless you,” he said. We said goodbye, and while I was walking to the door I reminded him to read my letter once again. He brought his hand to his lips and kissed the index and the middle finger, and then he placed them to his heart saying, “I swear it.”

    I almost crossed the threshold, when I realized that I had forgotten to take the paper bag which had some gifts in it that my friends gave me to give to Michael. I turned back with confidence, took the bag and said, “Oh, I forgot to give Michael these things” Red faced, I went back over to Michael. He looked at me smiling. I threw this enormous bag of gifts into his hands, and instead of telling him that those were my friends’ gifts for him, I said: “These are my friends.” God, how embarrassing. Everyone there was laughing. Michael made fun of me, looking into the bag with his eyes open wide. We all were laughing; it was really a nice moment and Michael was so cute. He asked me to help him hold the bag while he took the items from inside. I don’t know how I contained myself because from that moment on, I can’t recall anything. I don’t remember how we said goodbye. I don’t remember who brought me downstairs. I don’t even remember if the girls who came up with me had left already or if they came down with me. I only know that I found myself sitting and crying on the sidewalk.

    Separating myself from him was one of the most difficult moments of my life.

    Thirteen years have gone by, and I still have not remembered what happened; my mind completely removed the moments after I left. He dedicated so much of his time to me making me feel loved….me, a perfect stranger! He was really a gift of God!

    Thank you Michael, you are really an angel….. You will always live in my heart. I love you!

    Stefania Capasso

    Невероятно силен разказ, който истински просълзява.


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by for all time on Съб Апр 02, 2011 9:56 pm

    И мен ме просъзли! Това е изживяна мечта!


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Чет Юли 21, 2011 3:02 pm

    Michael Jackson in Italy


    Precisely he arrived to Solda, near Merano in Alto Adige.

    Solda

    Michael Jackson arrived to the Ortles, for two days. He was really him: the great singer. He was not a double. He came with his agents and his body-guards for relaxing a little bit and because he was going to clinch some deals.

    On account of this event Solda will enter into the history and it will obtain a lot of free publicity. Everything happened thanks to the brilliance of Paul Hanny that should do all sort of things for Solda. This time he didn't belive that would have recived a prize so wonderful.

    Michael Jackson arrived to the Ortles Friday in the afternoon. He arrived by a Mercedes that had impenetrable glasses. Behind there was another car with his body-guards, his managing director Kathleen A. Kelly and the other manager Myung-Ho Lee. The singer had been picked up at the airport of Innsbruck where he had landed by his private jet after a flight from London. The big artist had to face a problem: he felt a big pain at the right ankle plastered for a long time. The staff of Michael had called Solda's doctor, she had prescribed him some pills and the pain vanished.

    Michael went to bed at 8 p.m. for a brief rest, then he got up and he dined with his managers and his body-guards. Michael ate speck, cheese of Stelvio malga and he drank mineral water only. From Merano came the "La Zag" group that played some songs for half an hour and they were really excited. Solda inhabitants gave to the great artist a bank note of ten "Sulden Tschosch" (this banknote has printed for enjoyment).

    Michael and Jürgen Todenhöfer
    He also recived a decorated stone that had been taken from Ortles. He appreciated a little bunch of edelweisses: Michael didn't know those flowers. Jackson went to bed early and his staff went to dance at the Solda "Apres Club".

    Saturday morning Michael had to clinch some deals, then he was ready to go to Innsbruck's airport. Suddenly he decided of staying at Solda and he said: "I want to see the village, here is pleasing". The staff phoned to Innsbruck and the take-off was cancelled. The great artist began reading, he was always alone. He met some persons for deals then at 6 p.m. he decided to go for a walk around Solda. He got up on his car and he wished to see typical places. He was fascinated by the mountains, by cableway which goes up to Milano Hut and by artificial icy wall built at village. Nobody noticed his presence. Michael seemed to be happy because he was able to isolate himself.



    At the evening Paul Hanny persuated Michael to dine in a typical restaurant. Hanny guaranteed him the privacy and Jackson agreed. He ate at "Hartmann's Weinstube" and he was served at table by Mrs. Johanna and her daughters. He ate "spaghetti" with fish and mussels and he appreciated them very much. Restaurant's guests didn't move when the artist got up for going to the bathroom. Somebody recognized him but nobody disturbed him.

    Michael webt to bed at 9 p.m. Sunday morning Michael stayed at home, because he had to meet someone probably for getting deals. He ate quickly and then he left for Innsbruck. Paul Hanny remember with a great emotion that Michael had asked him to drive the car and he was very happy to do it. The body-guards and his managers followed Jackson' car along all journey. At Innsbruck airport Hanny arrived at the Jackson's personal plane ramp surrounded by some agents. Michael came down his car and embraced Hanny for a long time. He left him a special dedication too with his autograph. Paul Hanny was very touched.




    Pills from Doctor for Ankle Pain

    Doctor Raffaella Ortler Stocker said: "I didn't wait this kind of patient". Friday evening the doctor, that has her ambulatory at the village, recived a call for a medical examination that she didn't forsee. She said:" I knew that there was a famous guest but I didn't think that was Michael Jackson, a singer that I love very much. It had been a very quick examination: the artist had a break at the ankle and it was plastered. He felt much pain, probably caused by the stress and the tiredness for the jet lag and for his journey from Innsbruck to Solda by car. I prescribed him some pills for calming his pain. I exchanged a few words with him, using a little bit of English that I learnt at school. He was a normal patient for me, but honestly I have to say that I was excited because in front of me there was a great artist that behaved me very kindly".

    Why at Solda?
    How is it possible that an artist so famous had chosen this village situated to the Ortles for a short holiday? Everything started from a request that an entrepreneur asked to Paul Hanny, Solda's promoter, for having a house in a typical Tyrolese style built. The entrepreneur, that was Solda guest for long time, entrusted everything to Hanny who called Venosta artisans, so carried out the building in a short time. The entrepreneur, that invested a lot of money for this "Bauernhaus", was enthusiastic for his new house. He thanked a lot Paul Hanny and he promised him "a big favour for getting Solda known better".






    The German entrepreneur in that period was making perfect a lot of agreements with Jackson's staff: he thought of defining them at Solda. So the entrepreneur had phoned to some people for defining all details concerning at the short stay that was at "Bauernhaus" last wekkend. The great Michael so arrived to the Ortles: Paul Hanny was delighted!


    Private concert for Michael Jackson...


    March 9th, 2001
    We had been called to Solda (a well known tourist place for skiing and climbing in South-Tyrol, Northern Italy) to play at dinner for some important people. For whom, we weren’t said. Can you imagine our heartbeat rising up when we learned that is was the King of Pop, Michael Jackson himself we had to play for??? (He was there on occasion of a business-meeting with promoters or so). Our music appealed to him so much, that he stopped eating and began to swing on his chair. At the end of the evening he shook hands (!) with us and said: "Nice music."

    Goodbye Michael!

    ...and for his bodyguards!







    Sources:
    The Daily Newspaper "Alto Adige" of 13.3.2001 ~ http://www.solda2000.com/jacksonen.htm
    http://www.lazag.it/newsengl.htm


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Вто Юли 26, 2011 10:22 pm



    ...на днешния ден..
    July 26, 1991

    Michael pays a visit to the Youth Sports & Art Foundation in Los Angeles. This Foundation supports families of gang members, and helps dealing with drug-abuse. Michael talks to the kids and presents them with a wide-screen TV set and a financial gift.


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Вто Юли 26, 2011 11:39 pm

    Миличкото, то телевизора е по- голям от него.
    Благодаря, smile flower


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Съб Юли 30, 2011 9:17 pm

    eх..

    On March 1, 1988, Michael attends a specially arranged press conference with Pepsi to preview the new four-part Pepsi ads and to present a $600,000 cheque to the United Negro College Fund, earned from ticket sales for his March 3 Madison Square Garden concert. He was given an honorary degree and award for his charitable contributions, he shyly declares: “I can’t believe I’m a little nervous, but I really am embarrassed. I appreciate everybody coming. First, I do want to thank God, who makes everything possible. Then, my dear mother and father who are in the audience, thank you for all you have done for me. I really appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.” Afterwards, he goes on with a special praise for the UNCF: “I would like to say this about the United Negro College Fund. An education opens a person’s mind to the entire world, and there is nothing more important than to make sure everyone has the opportunity for an education. To want to learn, to have the capacity to learn and not to be able to is a tragedy. I am honored to be associated with an evening that says this will never happen. Thank you. I love you all.”


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Пон Авг 15, 2011 11:58 pm



    August 15, 2004

    Michael Jackson is a special guest of Reverend Cecil “Chip” Murray at the First African Methodist Episcopal Church in Los Angeles, California. The artist, his youngest brother, Randy Jackson, entertainer Steve Harvey, and attorney, Thomas Messerau have comfortably sat towards the back of the church and enjoyed the service.

    After Michael left the church he made his way to the Cecil F. Murray Education Center, a small school a block away that is run by First AME Church. There, he was scheduled to greet a class room full of about 25 African-American children.


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Съб Авг 20, 2011 11:08 am

    Your Friends and Mine


    In 1987, country singer, Kenny Rogers released a book of a collection of photographs he had taken of some of his famous friends, titled “Your Friends and Mine”. Rogers recounts the story of the idea behind the book’s creation and publishing. In one of the photos, Jackson poses with Bubbles the chimpanzee in his arms, the entertainer being dressed casually, in worn jeans and a simple shirt. Rogers’ several other photos of Jackson feature another black-and-white shot of him sitting on the floor and holding a fedora up to his face.

    Below, is the book’s introductory excerpt about how Rogers met the entertainer, and his pleasant impression of the star he would call a “friend”:

    “The first person I shot for the book was Michael Jackson. In 1986, I hosted the Grammy Awards telecast in Los Angeles. That night, my son Christopher met Michael backstage. Christopher had always loved Michael. He would even dress like him at home […] As it happened, Marianne, [Roger’s wife] sent me some flowers with a little plastic Grammy attached. Unbeknownst to me or anyone else, Christopher took the plastic Grammy, walked into Michael Jackson’s press conference, and handed it to him. The next day, Michael called to tell Christopher how much he appreciated it. He also invited him out to his house to see his animals, so Marianne and Christopher went out to Encino. Michael knew I was a photographer, he mentioned that he’d like it if I took a picture of him and Christopher together. I called Michael th next day to set up an appointment, and he agreed to come down to my studio. I told Michael during our first session that I was thinking about doing a book of portraits and calling it Your Friends And Mine. I had heard about his chimpanzee, Bubbles, and we did a shot with the chimp. Later on, Michael and I did another session alone, at his request. That was the start. Michael Jackson’s agreeing to be part of the book was, in fact, the jumping off point for the whole project. Michael Jackson is unique, both as an individual and as a performer. Yet, while I’d been around him many times, I never honestly felt I knew him until we spent a day together in the photography studio. As I explained earlier, Michael had invited Christopher, my youngest son, to his home to see his zoo. They had such a good time that Michael, who heard I was a photographer, suggested I take a picture of him and Christopher in my studio. I told him of my ideas for this book and asked him to bring his chimp, Bubbles. There were maybe twenty-five people in the studio that day, and the chimp was the center of attention. That meant the focus was off Michael, and I think the relative anonymity gave him a chance to relax. And Bubbles was so human it was almost frightening. He would take Christopher by the hand, walk over to the refrigerator, open it, take out a banana, and hand it to him. Christopher was amazed – we all were. The session was the first time I’d had the chance to be one on one with Michael. It means a lot to me to be able to say that not only do I love his music, but I also like him very much as a person and consider him a friend.”





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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Сря Ное 02, 2011 5:18 pm



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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by smile on Пон Ное 21, 2011 12:17 am


    November 20, 2000:

    Elissa Mingino, a 7-year old girl suffering from leukemia gets to fulfill her biggest dream, meeting her favorite singer: Michael Jackson



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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Чет Дек 15, 2011 10:34 am



    "Оксфорд стрийт е една от главните улици на Лондон и там винаги има много хора.
    Така че, когато Майкъл се отправи към магазина и излезе от колата, там вече имаше няколко стотин фенове и продължаваше да се събира тълпа от лондончани и туристи. Изведнъж Майкъл видя някой сред хората, който беше нисък на ръст и в опасна ситуация,защото можеше да бъде смазан от тълпата. Майкъл внезапно вдигна ръце и извика така, че замрази не само тези, които стояха наоколо, но цялата Oxford Street. Той извика "STOP! STOP! ТHERE IS A CHILD!!!"
    Очевидци разказват, че е било невероятна гледка да се види как всички са замръзнали, като че ли им е било наредено да го направят предварително, сякаш участват в заснемането на кадър и режисьорът е казал на актьорите да спрат и да обърнат глави на една страна.
    Майкъл започна да си проправя път из тълпата и щом стигна до мястото видя, че там няма дете и тихо се поправи: "Oh...an old lady... /"О .... Една възрастна дама ..."/
    Беше забавно. Майкъл стоеше до дамата и, като че ли я предпазваше от тълпата с ръцете си и й помогна да стигне до неговата кола. След това я закара до дома й.
    На следващия ден в Daily Mirror имаше снимка как Майкъл придружава старата жена до колата, с надпис: "Певецът Майкъл Джексън помага на пенсионер в капан сред тълпа от негови фенове."


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Вто Яну 24, 2012 8:12 pm



    This poem I wrote for Michael back in 2004, when he was going through a very difficult time. I sent it a day or two later, a messenger came to my door to give me a bag of gifts. I was about to sign the shipping, when he said that there was more. He returned with a large metal object that seemed to be chirping. I thought, how nice, someone’s sent one of those mechanical birds, but when I uncapped the cloth that covered it, I realized that there were no mechanical birds, but 2 beautiful white doves or pigeons and they were very much alive.

    Together with the birds was a lovely and hertfelt note thanking me for the poem and telling me that he had been touched by it. Also, there was a book about exotic birds and bird food for an entire year.

    I took the box with birds to the yard and named them “Billie Jean” and “Bad”

    One night an animal that roamed the house attacked “Bad”, and I thought that being so close, soon Billie Jean would die with a broken heart. As a tribute to his indomitable spirit, “Billie Jean” continues chirping 5 years later. Keep on singing, sweet bird.

    Sadly, Michael never had the opportunity to sit with me to put music to the poem, and I’ve kept it in my files. I hope it can sent an inspirational message to the world..something that Michael always tried to do with his music, his charity, and his life. My friend Michael is gone too soon, but his light will never fade.

    Rest eay, dear soul. “Buzzie Wuzzie” (this is what Michael always called me)

    Remembrance
    by Buz Kohan

    Big storm blowing
    Danger growing
    Wind coming up from
    Every side
    Air is filled with
    Flying objects
    No relief
    No place to hide

    Fury follows
    Shaking, breaking
    Taking charge
    Complete control
    Whirling, swirling
    All around me
    Trying to
    Destroy my soul

    All so senseless
    I’m defenseless
    Caught in a frenzy
    Wipped and tossed
    Pushed and shoved and
    When all is chaos
    All is lost

    More harsh raids
    Resistance fades
    I am alone, wind-
    Blown and beat
    Wind, you win
    I must give in now
    In disgrace, I
    Face defeat

    The, from way off
    In the distance
    There comes a tiny
    Shaft of light
    Growing brighter
    Growing lighter
    Shinning through me
    Endless night

    From a tiny
    Ray of sunshine
    There comes a brilliant
    Amber glow
    Touching all that
    COmes before it
    As I watch it
    Grow and grow

    With the sunlight
    Comes the voices
    All getting louder
    More intense
    Speaking to me
    Pain and anguish
    Let the healing
    Now commence

    Let the truth
    Emerge before us
    Let all the lies be
    Drowned in shame
    Le the storm
    At last disperse to
    Clear the air
    Clear my name

    You, my friends you
    All sustain me
    There to defend when
    I’m attacked
    You restore my
    Faith and courage
    When mirror
    Has been cracked

    You surround me
    With your passion
    Guiding my steps when
    I’m unsure
    Through your love I’m
    Wrapped in sunlight
    Once agin I
    Feel secure

    For your faith, I
    Make this promise
    I shall fail your
    Trust, I swear
    No disaster
    Can destroy me
    Long as I know
    How much you care
    Long as I know
    Your love is There!


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    Re: Снимки с история

    Писане by andeli on Нед Мар 04, 2012 12:32 am



    MJ with Marielle Tourelle

    TVN24 reached out to Marielle,who as a young girl greeted the singer at the Warsaw airport. “When I was with him I felt that this is my friend.He was a normal person with a beautiful soul.”

    “Everyone waited for his arrival,among the people was such positive energy,great enthusiasm and a great adrenaline.All were excited,smiling.Older women are crying,kids going wild – they behaved very differently than usual,” says Marielle.Jackson landed in Poland 20 September 1996 and gave a concert at the Warsaw Bemowo that 120,000 people watched.

    At this concert,Marielle,daughter of the Polish-French marriage,appeared on the scene.The girl accompanied the singer throughout the whole visit in Poland.

    Their friendship didn’t stop there,Mariella was also at his concert in Paris. “I danced with him at a concert in front of 100 thousand people.Always a group of children entered the stage for the song “Heal the World”.Because he believed that children can improve the world.Well,the rest of the kids went,but I took the whole song.Then I felt a part of this mission.It’s one of my most beautiful memories.”

    As a child,Marielle met with the singer several times. “It’s always been a great experience.Thanks to him my childhood was very colorful,he inspired me to look at the world differently.Always treated me like an adult,not talking in childish language,and always made sure I felt very important,” she says.

    Marielle and her family lived in the same hotel with Jackson in the Paris suburb of Paris and Disneyland.According to her,despite the huge popularity of Jackson,he did not look down on people. “He was a normal man with a great sense of humor.He had a very soft voice – it was amazing that he was a delicate person,compared with what was on the scene.Very well guarded,to have time only for themselves,to be able to recover,” she recalls.

    Marielle knew it from the private side. “When I was with him I felt that this is my friend.Once,I wanted to go with him to the museum.I suggested it to him,and he answered me: “how much I would give to be able to do it,but it’s impossible.I’d have to go with lots of bodyguards “- she adds.

    According to her,Jackson was not only a “great hero”,but “person with a very beautiful soul.” “He wanted to inspire people,help them,make them happy.He looked at everything artistically and idealistic.They said it was naive,but I think he really believed that if you want you can change the world.He wrote all the lyrics to those songs and they show how he was.He was singing “Heal the World”, “No matter whether you’re white or black”.

    Marielle does not believe in rumors about the singer,and believes the media destroyed Jackson. “He was not a pedophile.It’s a silly rumor.He did not change his color,just had a skin disease.I hope now everyone understands that these things were not true,” she concludes.

    Marielle today lives in London,studying at the London School of Economics.


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