I admired his persistence, but I thought he was more of a joke than a realistic option. I finally called him just to get him to stop calling everyone I knew. I used a computer line so I could block my name and number. No need to give him a direct channel to reach me.
I’d had a long day. I had just completed a massive project at the college, and I had taught Microsoft Word classes that afternoon. I was exhausted. My feet hurt from standing for hours, and all I had eaten the entire day was a stale bagel. I only planned for a five-minute conversation with Scooter. I didn’t have much to say other than “Please stop calling.” I had more important things to do. I wanted to spend the rest of the evening indulging in a long, hot bubble bath.
I dialed Scooter’s number, but my mind was on my much-needed R and R.
“This is Scooter.”
“Hi,” I said in a flat tone of voice. “This is Pattie Mallette, Justin Bieber’s mom.”
“Ms. Mallette, thank you so much for calling me back!” Scooter couldn’t hide his excitement if he tried.
I started right into my planned “thanks but no thanks” speech, looking at my watch to see what time it was. Before I knew it, my rehearsed speech turned into a long-winded, two-hour phone conversation. We chatted away like long-lost friends.
Scooter told me how he found Justin on YouTube and how my son’s talent blew him away. Then he told me about himself, what exactly he did for a living. “Just google me,” he suggested. “You can find out information about some of the projects I’ve done and people I’ve worked with.” (Later that night, I did search for him. I laugh about it now, but the first thing that popped up was a magazine article titled “Scooter Braun Is the Hustla.” To the right of that title was a picture of Scooter on a cell phone flanked by two hot blondes pawing him. It wasn’t the most encouraging first impression for a mother of a thirteen-year-old boy.)
While Scooter was definitely a fast and smooth talker—hey, it’s what he does for a living—something about him seemed genuine and warm. The conversation took off in all sorts of interesting directions. Scooter and I talked about everything from Justin and his potential career in the music industry to our faith. He mentioned looking at my MySpace page and seeing I was a Christian.
“I’m Jewish,” he told me. “Is that going to be a problem?”
How silly, I thought. “Of course not,” I answered. “Jesus was Jewish.” Sure, my initial thought pattern in this process had been a bit shortsighted. I had first approached these opportunities thinking Justin was going to be in the Christian music circle or at least would be represented by a Christian manager. But I had nothing personal against anyone of any faith, and I would never discriminate against someone’s talent, intelligence, or skills just because they didn’t share my beliefs.
Faith was important to me, and I had raised Justin with those beliefs and values. So of course I had hoped Justin would work with a manager who could continue to instill those same faith principles in his life. But the way this journey was unfolding, it didn’t matter what plans or wants I had for Justin’s future; it was obvious God had other ones.
Scooter ended the conversation by inviting us to meet him in Atlanta. “I’ll introduce you to some people down here so you can see for yourself that I’m legit, that I’m not blowing smoke. You don’t have to sign anything. You don’t have to promise to do anything. No pressure. No obligations. If you come and you hate it, consider this a free paid vacation to Atlanta. At least think about it.”
As persistent as Scooter was, I have to say he was never a jerk and never tried to bully his way into Justin’s life. I was always honest about any fears or reservations I had, and Scooter delicately handled our relationship with the perfect balance of tenacity and patience. He understood my suspicions about the music industry and always made me feel there was no pressure. So sure, of course I could think about meeting him.
I took time to pray after that phone call. There was no reason to talk to Justin about anything yet; I still had to mull things over in my head. It would have been easy for me to decide what was best for us based on what I wanted in a manager, but ultimately I wanted to hear what God’s best was. His ways were obviously very different from my ways.
At the time Jeremy lived in Winnipeg, twelve hundred miles away from Stratford. Though he and Justin didn’t see each other regularly, simply because of the distance, Jeremy and I had conversations during this time. He was both happy and worried sick about the potential opportunity. We shared the same cautiousness.
After Scooter’s offer, I talked to my spiritual parents John and Sue Brown and Ivan and Isabel, as well as other spiritual leaders at my church whom I trusted. When I met with these different people, I told them about my conversation with Scooter and Justin’s potential opportunity in the music business. I also regurgitated my fears about why I didn’t think it was a good idea. I strongly pled my case. “It’s dangerous,” I said. “It’s not safe. Justin is only thirteen years old. He’s a boy who still has a ton of growing up to do.” Despite my best efforts to convince these mentors why it was best for us to ignore these open doors, every one of them felt a peace about it.
Everyone except me. While I appreciated their sentiment, it still wasn’t enough for me. That’s when I remembered Gideon.
The Bible tells a story in Judges 6 about a man named Gideon. He wasn’t necessarily the most confident or secure man around. Nor was he winning any awards for courage or bravery. But for some reason God chose him to be a warrior and do some pretty important things for the nation of Israel. Unsure of himself and unsure whether God was really leading him, Gideon prayed one night for confirmation. He laid a wool fleece on the ground and said, “Lord, if I wake up in the morning and the fleece is wet with dew but the ground dry, I’ll know these plans are really from You.”
Gideon woke up to dry ground and a wet fleece. But he still wasn’t convinced. That night, he asked God for another sign, the reverse. And the next morning, Gideon found his fleece was dry and the ground wet with dew. He got his confirmation.
Like Gideon, I had fleeces of my own. I asked God for two things: confirmation that Scooter was supposed to be Justin’s manager (my pastor’s peace wasn’t confirmation enough) and an entertainment attorney. The latter may have seemed premature, but I didn’t want to even consider meeting with Scooter unless we had legitimate representation. I also didn’t want an attorney who was just a little bit familiar with the entertainment industry. I had been warned by a friend who had been burned; she strongly urged me to get a good lawyer. I wanted a big shot, someone who represented major players.
Justin’s talent and the massive amount of attention he was getting from his YouTube fame motivated me to make sure we were prepared, that we weren’t walking into a minefield wearing a blindfold. I didn’t want to find myself getting cornered or locked into a contract or deal, despite Scooter’s assurances there were no strings attached to our meeting. The fact was, I didn’t know a thing about contracts, negotiations, or anything relating to the music business. I knew absolutely nothing.
It seemed like an impossible fleece, at least in my eyes. I barely had enough money to put food on the table. I’d heard top-notch entertainment attorneys cost up to $900 an hour. Nine hundred dollars an hour? Are you kidding me? That year I barely pulled in $10,000 between all the jobs I worked. I couldn’t come up with $900 in a month! I would have to either win the lottery, get an impossibly high raise, or find an attorney who would work with us for free.
It wasn’t long before one of my prayers was answered. Scooter called one day to see if I had been thinking about his offer and how I felt about moving forward.
I was up front with him. “I can’t even think of making a commitment until I have an entertainment lawyer. I’ll be honest. This whole thing sounds exciting and glamorous, an amazing opportunity. But I’m not making any decisions or even entertaining the offer without a lawyer, and frankly, I can’t afford one, so I’m not sure how far this can go.”
/> Scooter didn’t hesitate a half a second. “Oh, that’s easy, Pattie. I’ll make some calls. I know a couple lawyers who work on a percentage rate. They don’t require any upfront costs. I know how talented Justin is, and I’m confident once they see his talent, plenty of attorneys will want to represent him.”
A few days later, I got a phone call from one of the top entertainment lawyers in the business, who agreed to take Justin on as a client. He told me that he’d worked with Scooter for a long time and had a lot of faith in him. “If Scooter thinks your son has potential,” he told me, “he’s probably right.” This lawyer had also watched Justin’s YouTube videos and could see for himself how talented Justin was. After we got off the phone, I did some research and found out that he represented a lot of big names in the industry. He was legit, exactly what I had in mind.
I was shocked. There it was, my fleece, right before my eyes. When I had thought of the idea of possibly having a top entertainment lawyer to give us advice, it sounded preposterous. Impossible. Against all odds. I never imagined it would realistically pan out. But somehow, and without much effort on my part, I found myself with a well-versed, experienced, and sharp attorney who knew the entertainment world inside and out.
One fleece down, one to go.
I still had to talk to Justin before confirming the trip to meet with Scooter. Surprisingly, it was one of the easiest conversations I’ve ever had with my son, considering the topic was such a big deal, so life changing.
I had just come home from work, ready to get out of my business casual clothes and into a pair of sweats. I sank into my favorite spot on the living room couch and opened Justin’s YouTube page.
A hundred more comments on that one video. Wow!
Hmm, someone wants Justin to do something by Michael Jackson.
Ugh! How could that guy say that about Justin? He’s just a kid.
Oh my gosh! We got another award for “Most responded to” video.
As I started eyeballing the new emails that had come in the last few hours, I heard the key jiggle in the front door. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” Justin barreled through the apartment and made his way over to me wearing a backward baseball cap and a hoodie. He looked like he was coming home only to go right back out. He was always busy doing something—playing sports, going to the skate park, playing video games at his friend’s house. If he wasn’t singing and I wasn’t holding a video camera, it was like pulling teeth to get him to sit with me and talk. He was the same two-year-old boy with wild energy, a toddler always on the move.
“Sit with me for a minute, Justin. I want to talk to you about something.”
Justin plunked down on the couch, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.
I took a deep breath, fully intending to keep the conversation light and casual. I didn’t want Justin to feel I was pressuring him in the slightest. “Do you like singing?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Do you love singing?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Justin?”
“A professional hockey or soccer player, probably. I don’t know. Why?” He started fiddling with his shoelaces.
“All right. Now, if you had the opportunity to sing and play music as a career, would you do it? Or even think about it?”
Justin sighed, annoyed at the litany of questions. I wonder if he had an inkling where I was going with this. “Yeah, probably. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
I looked at my just-barely-a-teenager boy. I doubted he understood the magnitude of what I would be asking him. I doubted he understood some of the sacrifices it would require. I doubted he understood that this wasn’t a joke, something we could afford to take lightly, like picking a new hobby or deciding which pair of soccer cleats to buy.
“Well, we have the opportunity to go to Atlanta to meet with some people and check it out. What do you think about that? You want to give it a shot?”
I closed my eyes, almost hoping he wouldn’t be interested so we could wrap up this talk and call it a day. We could go back to our normal lives without me needing to wrestle with these unique decisions about his future. I could continue living in my comfort zone. If Justin had said no, I would have called Scooter that very second and pulled the plug on that and future offers. And I would have kept making and posting videos of Justin only for as long as he wanted.
But Justin didn’t say no. His eyes lit up. He said, “Yeah, sure! When do we get to go?”
I set up a Skype call with Scooter. I wasn’t going to make the two-hour flight without Justin first meeting Scooter. The two of them hit it off immediately. Scooter’s young at heart, fun, and great with kids, and Justin quickly took to him. It was settled. Though I wasn’t going to make any decisions about Scooter until I got confirmation, we were going to Atlanta.
All systems were go, but I still wondered about my second fleece, my prayer to know without a doubt that Scooter was meant to be Justin’s manager. From the outside, he seemed like a pretty good guy. He sounded like he knew what he was doing. But still, I needed clear confirmation, not just peace.
A few days before our trip, I was running an errand downtown. I wanted to pick up some chocolate at Rhéo Thompson Candies, our world-famous local chocolate shop. I parked my car by a cute café and walked a few extra blocks, grateful for the sunny day and fresh air.
“Hey, Pattie,” I heard someone call out. I turned around and saw my friend Nathan, the same guy who organized a fundraiser for Justin for a drum set. He was walking with a young man I didn’t know. The guy he was with was looking at me weird. Not in a creepy way, though. It almost seemed like he wanted to say something but kept choking back the words. Finally he said, “I’m not sure how this is going to sound or if you’re going to think this is crazy, but I really believe I have a word from God for you.”
My heart started pounding. “Sure, let me have it,” I answered.
“I feel like you have been thinking or praying about working with a Jewish man. And I feel like God is saying ‘yes, yes, and yes.’ The favor of God is on him. God blesses everything this man touches.”
I was in awe. It couldn’t have been any clearer. This was someone I had never met telling me the answer to my prayer.
“Wow! Thanks! You are right on. I’ve been praying about this very thing.” I marveled at how God can operate in the strangest of places, in the strangest of ways, and through the lives of perfect strangers. We spoke for a few minutes, and I shared with them about the potential opportunity that was awaiting Justin and how reluctant I had been to pursue it.
God had answered my second fleece. It was official. I knew that at least for this season, Scooter was the right choice. I knew he would be the one who would play a significant role in Justin’s life and music career. I was expectant but somewhat nervous. I hadn’t a clue what lay ahead. I hadn’t a clue what doors our trip to Atlanta would open. Frankly, I would never have even imagined the possibilities in my wildest dreams.
CHAPTER
Fourteen
Justin and I boarded the plane for our two-hour-plus flight to Atlanta. Right before we stepped into the aisle to make our way to our seats, a pretty flight attendant tapped Justin on the shoulder. “Would you like a tour of the cockpit?” she asked, winking discreetly at me. “We’re not allowed to do this, but the captain said you can come and check it out.” Only moments earlier, I had mentioned to one of the crew that it was Justin’s first time on a plane.
As the rest of the passengers squeezed past us, many of them with carry-on bags that looked way too big for the overhead bins, Justin exploded in a mile-wide smile. “Sure!” I thought it was unusual, in light of the security aftermath of 9/11, that the crew allowed Justin in the cockpit, but we definitely appreciated the gesture.
Surrounded by an endless array of buttons, lights, and switches, the captain and co-pilot gave a brief overview of the flight systems. Spellbound by the flashing lights, Justin didn’t say much e
xcept “Cool” and “No way!” I rummaged through my purse to find a camera, the one I’d have glued to my hand the entire trip, and snapped a photo of Justin. My son grinned with one hand clutching the airplane throttle. His long, dirty-blonde hair peeked through the oversized hat the pilot was kind enough to let him wear. I had a feeling being able to tour the cockpit was the beginning of many firsts for Justin on this trip.
As the roar of the engines sounded when the plane started down the runway, Justin pressed his face against the window. We started picking up speed, the jet rumbling louder. The nose of the airplane began to lift, gently pushing us back into our seats. Justin was thunderstruck. “We’re going! We’re going! We’re going! We’re almost there!” The plane continued to rise, the last touch of the wheels grazing the runway. Hit with a sinking feeling in his belly as we soared into the open blue sky, Justin moaned, “Oh, my stomach. My stomach is like, bleahh!” But he quickly recovered, staring out the window as the city below became smaller and smaller. “This is awesome,” Justin burst out. “I can see everything!”
When we touched down in Atlanta and made our way through the busiest airport in the United States, we were nervously excited. Justin darted his eyes every which way, scoping out anything interesting or unusual. He had the same curious and inquisitive look as when we roamed the streets of downtown Toronto when he was six. But he wasn’t a little kid anymore; he was a teenager. Too old to hold my hand as we battled the midday crowd in the terminal, but still young enough that he needed me (though as a typical teenager, he probably wouldn’t admit it).
I sighed. He’s growing up too fast.
“C’mon, Mom, let’s go!” Justin snapped me out of my musings.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I muttered, playfully annoyed.
We made it through to the baggage claim area, calling Scooter as we walked to tell him we had arrived.
“Awesome! Look for the purple Mercedes out front,” he told us. “You can’t miss it.”
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