Michael Jackson

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  According to The Handbook of Nonprescription Drugs, ‘As the sun’s ability to darken skin is much greater than that of Hydroquinone to lighten it, strict avoidance of sunlight is imperative. Although sunscreens may help, even visible light will cause some darkening. The preferable packaging of Hydroquinone is in small squeeze tubes. The dosage is a thin application of 2 per cent concentration rubbed into affected areas twice daily. Once the desired benefit is achieved, Hydroquinone can be applied as often as needed to maintain de-pigmentation.’ Some have noted that Michael’s fingernails seemed brown and discolored on Martin Bashir’s 2003 documentary about him. One possible reason for this is that Hydroquinone stimulates pigment-producing cells in the nail plate, making them darker rather than lighter.

  In the 1980s, he was diagnosed with the skin disease Vitiligo. (Some doctors have speculated that the Vitiligo is not as much hereditary as it is the consequence of damage done by bleaching chemicals over the years. Vitiligo makes the sufferer sensitive to sunlight.)

  In the late 1980s, Michael’s dermatologist, Dr Arnold Klein, diagnosed him as having discoid lupus – an auto-immune disease that causes darkening or lightening of the skin – on his scalp.

  There are two variations of lupus: discoid, which is skin deep, and systemic, which can be deadly. As a part of the treatment for discoid, Michael’s doctor prescribed the skin lightening creams, Solaquin, Retin A and Benoquin. As a result, Michael was told that, more than ever, he had to avoid all sun exposure – which is one of the reasons he is often seen shielding himself with an umbrellas on sunny days. Also, Michael had to endure the direct injections into his scalp of hydroxy chloroquin – a steroid – in painful, recurring treatments.

  Presently, his lupus condition is in remission.

  Michael also uses plenty of pancake makeup to even out his skin, which makes him appear even lighter.

  In terms of specific plastic surgeries, he will admit to only two nose jobs and the cleft in his chin, but it does not take a cosmetic surgery expert to see that cheek and chin implants and all sorts of other work, including on his eyes and lips, are not beyond the bounds of possibility. Trying to actually detail the work Michael had had done is simply not possible; only he and his surgeons can fully document the extent of it – and it also seems, at least to people who know him well, that he truly doesn’t remember it all.

  Some professionals have gone on the record saying they believe Michael suffers from body dysmorphic disorder, a psychological condition of people who are obsessed with their appearance, work on it constantly and have no concept of how they are perceived by others.

  Certainly, Michael has not had it easy. In 1995, when he released his composition ‘Childhood’, on HIStory – Past, Present and Future, Book I, many people were bored to tears by the notion of him still going on and on about his missing boyhood. However, the song is about more than just his lost youth; it’s a plea for compassion and understanding. If one truly contemplates and reviews the challenges he has faced with his appearance, the fact that Michael Jackson is ever able to muster the self-confidence to make well-scrutinized, public appearances seems almost a miracle.

  A Maddening Decade, An Uncertain Future

  By 1990, both family and career pressures continued to take their toll on thirty-two-year-old Michael Jackson.

  In June of that year, Michael was in negotiations with Disney Studios to lend his name to a new robotic attraction at their theme parks. At the same time, David Geffen, who was affiliated with MCA (a division of Universal), wanted Michael to appear at the opening of the Universal Theme Park in Florida, as did Steven Spielberg. However, Michael Eisner, head of Disney, told Michael that if he had anything to do with MCA-Universal, he would never be able to be associated with Disney again. This was pressure.

  Michael desperately wanted Disney, and Michael Eisner, in his corner, but he also wished to maintain his friendship with David Geffen and Steven Spielberg. He anguished over this matter for weeks until, in his mind, the dilemma became overwhelming.

  On 3 June 1990, Michael was admitted to St John’s Hospital and Health Center in Santa Monica. Accompanied by Steven Hoefflin, he was gripping his chest and looked dizzy, pale and weak. It was later reported that he had suffered chest pains while doing his Sunday dance exercises.

  The hospital immediately ran a battery of diagnostic tests, including an HIV test. Michael’s blood work came back from the lab negative, as expected. However, it was determined that he suffered from an enzyme deficiency and was anaemic, probably due to his strict vegetarian diet.

  Michael’s hospitalization made headlines for days. President Bush, Liza Minnelli and Elton John all telephoned to wish him well. Katherine and other family members visited. LaToya sent a dozen black roses, an odd gesture, but, said LaToya, ‘I think they’re beautiful.’ Fans held all-night vigils outside of the hospital.

  It was reported that Michael was diagnosed as having a condition called costochondritis, a cartilage inflammation in the front part of the ribs, an ailment most commonly found in young athletes who exercise sporadically. The condition is caused by overexertion and stress.

  ‘What bullshit,’ one of Michael’s former close associates noted. ‘The kid had an anxiety attack.’

  Indeed, Michael had exhibited the symptoms of sweating, shaking and panting often associated with a classic ‘panic attack’, a psychological problem sometimes suffered by people under great stress and anxiety.

  Michael had suffered such attacks when he was a teenager; he still has them from time to time, today. After his hospital stay generated such worldwide publicity, he was apparently embarrassed to say that he’d had a panic attack, had his representatives come up with a disease no one on the planet had ever heard of, and the public had to accept it.

  Michael’s spokesman, Bob Jones, did admit that Michael had been ‘under some stress, lately.’ He said that Michael was particularly saddened by the AIDS-related death of his friend, eighteen-year-old Ryan White, who won a long court battle to attend public school and overcame prejudice against himself and other AIDS victims. Bob also said Michael was still upset over the deaths of his maternal grandmother, Martha Bridges, who died in May, and Sammy Davis, Jr., who also died that month. Moreover, Michael was agitated because work on his album was not progressing quickly. He didn’t mention the real problem: whether Michael should be loyal to Universal or to Disney – not to mention what he’d been through recently with his family members and business associates.

  After Michael was released from the hospital, he went about the business of reorganizing his affairs. He had said privately that when he returned from the Bad tour, he would fire everyone on his staff. ‘I don’t trust anybody,’ he said to one associate. ‘Except Katherine.’

  Frank Dileo had been dismissed after the tour was over, and Michael apparently felt no regret over the decision. He still communicated with Frank, but only through middlemen, and only when he was agitated about something. For instance, when Michael heard that someone was again spreading rumours that he was a homosexual, he had an associate telephone Frank demanding to know if it had been he who was the source of the story. Frank was hurt. He later said he wondered how a person he once considered to be a son could be so mistrusting of him. However, he’d always known Michael was a suspicious person. Two months before Michael fired Frank, he purchased from a New York-based security firm a briefcase featuring a hidden tape recorder for himself and six Voice Safe telephone scramblers for his home. The briefcase could be used to tape meetings secretly, and the scramblers made it impossible to tape the user’s conversation off a telephone line.

  After the Bad tour, Marshall Gelfand, Michael’s accountant of seven years, was given his walking papers by John Branca. Michael felt he was too conservative in his investment strategies and had John hire a new accountant, Richard Sherman, who also worked for David Geffen.

  By the summer of 1990, Michael had also begun to have doubts about John Branca. In recent months, despite John�
�s many professional strengths, Michael allowed his insecurities – and it was said by his associates, David Geffen’s personal feelings about John – colour his perception of the high-powered attorney. For instance, Michael suddenly became overly concerned about the identities of John’s other clients. Frank Dileo was not permitted by Michael to even have other clients, but John was an attorney who had been practising law before that day in early 1980 when Michael came into his office. By 1990, he had twenty-five clients in addition to Michael.

  Earlier, in 1988, John Branca had represented The Rolling Stones’ Steel Wheels international tour. When Michael telephoned him one day about a business matter, John mentioned that he would be in Barbados for a week. Michael wanted to know the reason for the trip. When John told him it was for business purposes, Michael became suspicious. He wanted to know what kind of business John had in Barbados. Rather than lie, he told him that he was meeting with Mick. ‘Mick? You mean Mick Jagger?‘ Michael wanted to know. He was upset.

  John finally admitted that he was representing The Rolling Stones tour. ‘Well, is it a big tour?’ Michael asked. ‘It’s not going to be as big as mine, is it? It’s not going to be bigger than mine, is it?’

  There was probably no way to calm Michael down at that point. Next, he wanted to know where the Stones would be playing. When John reluctantly told him they were thinking about the Los Angeles Coliseum, Michael became even more anxious. ‘The Coliseum!’ he exclaimed. ‘The Coliseum! Why, that’s bigger than the [Los Angeles] Sports Arena, where I played. How many dates? They’re not playing as many dates as me and my brothers played at Dodger Stadium, are they?’ He was frantic. The only way to end it with him was for John to beg off the line, saying he had another call.

  When John Branca took on Terrence Trent D’Arby as a client, Michael was again upset. He considered D’Arby competition, just as he did Prince. Michael asked John to drop D’Arby. John said he would do it if Michael absolutely insisted upon it. However, Michael then telephoned D’Arby, with whom he had never spoken, to let him know that he (Michael) had no control over John Branca, and that if the attorney should ever drop him as a client, it would be entirely his decision because, as Michael told D’Arby, ‘I have no problem with Branca representing you.’ Actually, Michael was trying to maintain friendly relations with D’Arby in case the two should ever decide to record a duet sometime in the future.

  When John Branca found out what Michael had done (Terrence Trent D’Arby’s manager telephoned John immediately after D’Arby had hung up with Michael), he was as disappointed in Michael as he was angry. In the end, John decided not to drop D’Arby as a client; Michael just had to live with it.

  Most observers felt that representing Michael had become more taxing and demanding than ever for John Branca. In the spring of 1990, John and Michael had a meeting during which John said he felt the time had come for him to share in the equity in Jackson’s publishing company. He explained that he wanted to devote as much time to developing Michael’s publishing holdings as possible, and in return he wanted five per cent of those profits. John must have known that it would be risky to make such a proposition because Michael is known to be thrifty when it comes to compensating his repre-sentation. He feels that the occasional Rolls-Royce or expensive watch is a fair demonstration of his appreciation to his advisers; he doesn’t favour giving them extra percentages. Up until this time, John had worked for Michael on a monthly retainer. On certain extraordinary deals, a percentage would be worked into the deal for him. For instance, he did receive five per cent of the profit on the Victory and Bad tours. (In contrast, though, Mickey Rudin, Frank Sinatra’s attorney for years, received ten per cent of Sinatra’s tours.) At this time, Michael was feeling psychologically poor as a result of the Moonwalker debacle. He told John he would consider his proposal. Then, he decided to talk the matter over with David Geffen.

  At this same time, David Geffen was trying to convince Michael that he should break his CBS Records deal by utilizing a contract loophole. Michael’s contract with CBS had been signed in 1983, and then amended after Thriller in 1985. David felt that the seven years that had lapsed since the original agreement gave Michael an edge in renegotiating the entire deal because California state law forbids personal service contracts of a longer duration. Industry observers felt that David was trying to lure Michael away from CBS so that he could sign him to his own label.

  Though Michael’s contract with CBS had expired, he still owed four more albums to the label. Yes, after the seven-year duration, Michael could probably have left CBS Records. The company could not enjoin him from recording for another label. However, it could sue him for damages, the amount of which would be based on the estimated loss of profits from the albums he did not deliver. This dollar amount would be derived from the combined sales figures of Off the Wall, Thriller and Bad. CBS Records could have mounted a huge lawsuit against Michael. David was willing to overlook the possible litigation (‘It’ll all work itself out,’ he said), however John Branca was not willing to do so, and he was the one representing Michael, not David.

  When John and David engaged in a heated argument over the logic of trying to extricate Michael from his recording contract with CBS Records, John told him to mind his own business. David hung up on him.

  David then telephoned Michael and, apparently, tried to sour him on John Branca by saying that John had been uncooperative, and that the reason Michael didn’t have ‘a good deal at CBS’ was because of John’s close relationship with the company president, Walter Yetnikoff. Michael allowed himself to be swayed by David, never stopping to consider that he truly did have the best deal in the record industry and that John Branca was the man who had secured it for him.

  John Branca’s work with Michael Jackson can only be compared to Colonel Tom Parker’s representation of Elvis Presley. Even though John was not Michael’s manager, he certainly had the kind of impact on his career that Colonel Tom had on Elvis’s. In 1980, when John began representing him, Michael’s net worth was barely a million dollars. Ten years later, in great part due to John’s negotiating skills, the net worth was close to $300 million, including the publishing holdings, which were valued at close to $200 million. That leap in holdings was a tribute to Michael’s artistry, no doubt; but it also spoke well of John’s negotiating skills. Despite all they had been through together, Michael now doubted John.

  A couple of days after John’s difficult conversation with David Geffen, John met with Michael. Something had changed in Michael, and it became clear as the two of them spoke; Michael barely listened to what John said and he seemed hostile towards him. The two engaged in a heated discussion about CBS and whether or not Michael was obligated to record for them. The meeting did not go well.

  When it ended, John went back to his office in Century City. The next day, he received a letter by special messenger from Michael’s new accountant, Richard Sherman, whom John had recently hired: John’s ‘services were no longer required by Michael Jackson.’

  Michael was sorry to lose John Branca, but he didn’t get sentimental about the loss. The way he looked at it, John made a fortune doing what he loved to do, representing Michael in major show-business deals. When it was over, it was over. Michael swiftly replaced him with three seasoned law veterans: Bertram Fields (for litigation), Alan Grubman (for negotiations with CBS), and Lee Phillips (for music publishing) – all closely associated with David Geffen.

  In March 1991, Michael Jackson finally came to terms with CBS Records, now known as Sony Corp. The deal was structured on groundwork laid by John Branca – including a 25 per cent royalty rate and Jackson’s own label (then called Nation Records). Michael’s spokespeople claimed that the contract guaranteed a return of hundreds of millions. Press reports implied that Sony actually handed over a billion dollars to Michael. In fact, Michael could receive $120 million per album for the next six if sales matched the forty-million-plus level of Thriller. If they didn’t, he wouldn’t. With advances a
nd financial perks, the deal was worth about fifty million dollars to Michael, nicely eclipsing Janet Jackson’s thirty-two-million-dollar contract at Virgin Records.

  Where Michael Jackson’s career was concerned, the future seemed to rest on the commercial success or failure of his next album. That was the case in 1991, and remains so, to this day.

  PART NINE

  Michael Meets Jordie Chandler

  May 1992. Imagine Michael Jackson standing on the side of Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, his jeep steaming at the side of the road while other cars whisk by in two busy lanes in both directions. With so little knowledge about automobiles, Michael had always wondered what he would do if he was ever alone when his car broke down. He reached for his mobile phone and called 911. He was told that a disabled automobile did not qualify as an emergency situation, and that he should call Directory Assistance to locate a tow-shop. ‘But I’m Michael Jackson,’ he protested. ‘Can’t you help me?’ The answer was, ‘No.’

  As he stood next to the car fretting about his next step, Michael was spotted by the wife of Mel Green, an employee of a nearby car-rental business, called Rent-A-Wreck. She telephoned her husband and said, ‘You will not believe who I just spotted on Wilshire Boulevard kicking the tyre of his broken-down car. Michael Jackson! You should go there and see what’s up.’

  Mel Green raced to the scene and, sure enough, there he was: Michael Jackson wringing his hands, pacing back and forth and kicking the tyres of his vehicle. ‘I got him,’ Mel said, calling Dave Schwartz, owner of Rent-A-Wreck.